What the Queen Wills: A Gender Swapped Cinderella Retelling E-Book

AJ Tipton

• Herausgeber: AJ Tipton
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Happily ever after has never been so HOT. 

In a magical kingdom far away, there lived cursed princes, warrior women, and mighty magic. What the Queen Wills is a sexy gender swapped Cinderella retelling where the heroes have become heroines, the heroines have become heroes, and nothing is as it seems. 

Eliot is sexy, sensitive, and tired of scrubbing floors for his bullying older brothers. While they scheme for more power, Eliot dreams of attending Queen Cassandra's Gathering--an elite soiree for the most sexually skilled--and meeting the woman of his dreams. 

Perhaps he's already met her. The kind and lovely Amelia works for Eliot's brothers, and is Eliot’s best friend in the world. But when her employers turn violent, she’s forced to flee, leaving Eliot behind. Striking out on her own, she finds a job and a home at the palace under the eye of the gorgeous and powerful Queen Cassandra. 

As lust...and perhaps something more...begins to kindle between Amelia and the Queen, can Eliot still win her heart? 

In this tale of seduction, liberation, and intoxicating strangers, even the humblest of peasants has a shot with the Queen if she so wills. 

NOTE - This novella contains FFM, group sex, polyamorous love, sex toys, and light BDSM. 

This STANDALONE novella is part of the "Sexy Gender Swapped Fairy Tale" series which can be read in any order. There are no cliffhangers, and each short ends as it should: happily ever after.

Leseprobe

What the Queen Wills

A Gender Swapped Cinderella Retelling

AJ Tipton

Illustrated byLydiaChai

Copyright © AJ Tipton 2015 The right of AJ Tipton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 (or other similar law, depending on your country). All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author, except in cases of brief quotations embodied in reviews or articles. It may not be edited, amended, lent, resold, hired out, distributed or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s written permission. Permission can be obtained from [email protected]

This book is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is purely coincidental.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Cover art photos provided by BigStock.com, Morgue Files, Flickr.com, and Upsplash.com.

Created with Vellum

Eliot’s face hit the wood floor with a wet thump. His head spun from the impact and his vision blurred so badly he almost didn’t see the leather boot swinging towards his ribs. He absorbed the hit, letting a cry escape his lips. A drop of blood hit the floor and he hoped the cut on this forehead wouldn’t leave a scar.

Well, this is a bit of an overreaction.

Eliot grit his teeth and clenched his fists, trying to resist his natural impulse to fight back. He was taller and stronger than both of his older brothers; he could easily thrash them both if he wanted to.

But that wouldn’t be right, he told himself for the third time. I owe them so much.

“Eat this, you spineless twerp!” Artie, the oldest, said as he ground ashes from the banked fireplace all over Eliot's face, then spat on him. Artie was built like a boxer, muscular but short. Shadows from the fires of the wall torches made him look like a squatting troll. “Nobody would want a freak like you at their Gathering.”

Artie's cracking voice echoed off the walls of the dank servants’ quarters. They'd already broken three of the chairs and Eliot just hoped they didn't use the fireplace pokers as more weapons for his punishment. The cinders covering his face itched and burned where they made contact with the cut on his forehead.

“Tell ‘em, Artie!” Mitch, the middle brother, chimed in, contributing nothing as usual. As short as his brother, Mitch was slender where Artie was wide, with a beak-like nose and bad posture that exacerbated his weasel-like appearance. He leaned against one of the old carved wardrobes, picking his teeth with grimy fingernails.

Eliot had nearly made it to a Gathering this time. He’d received his very own invitation, the first ever specifically addressed to him. He had barely believed it at the time.

The toe of Artie’s boot got him in the stomach and Eliot wheezed. So it was too good to be true after all.

He’d known his brothers didn’t approve of him going to town Gatherings, considering his affliction. If it wasn’t for the encouragement of their maid, Amelia, he never would have dared to try and go at all. Eliot assumed, or at least hoped, that despite their tough love, they would be happy to see he was invited. He hadn’t realized his brothers would react so strongly to catching him trying put his costume together.

He knew now. They’d caught him in the middle of getting dressed, nearly bare except for the few strips of fabric necessary for an appropriate Gathering outfit: a serviceable codpiece out of his brothers’ throw-away scraps of leather and belts.

They’d burst in, radiating fury. The crisscrossing blue veins in Artie’s forehead protruded with rage to an alarming degree. Mitch, meanwhile, didn’t look so much angry as gleeful—with an unprecedented level of sweat dripping from his forehead to show it—at Eliot’s anticipated punishment.

“We raised you, you ungrateful dipshit. What makes you think you have the right to do anything without our permission?” Artie’s voice cracked halfway through the last word.

Another boot slammed into Eliot’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. Mitch took his cues from Artie, kicking at the same spot Artie’s foot just struck.

“Yeah, we fucking raised you, you oversized runt,” Mitch repeated.

As Eliot curled into a ball, heaving for breath, Artie and then Mitch turned on Amelia, fists clenched and deep V’s in their foreheads signaling their anger wasn’t purged yet.

Eliot felt a cold stillness fill his chest as his brothers advanced on Amelia. She had only been working with them for a few months, a lithe blonde in her early twenties whose kindness had surprised him from the start.

But then, she didn’t know about his affliction. His brothers had told him as soon as he hit puberty that any woman who knew about his condition wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him.

Amelia was too beautiful, sweet and kind to ever consider being with someone like Eliot, but he adored her nonetheless. Eliot couldn’t stand the thought of any harm coming to her. As Mitch advanced upon her, Amelia tried to get behind one of the chairs and made a grab for one of the skillets hanging on the wall. Artie was too fast.

“And you, bitch!” Artie bellowed, grabbing her forearm and swinging her around to face him. “Who gave you the goddamn right to interfere?” He sniffed in her face, capturing her wrists with both hands. “You thought this little turd could actually go to a Gathering?”

Mitch moved towards the restrained woman, snorting and giggling under his breath. “Yeah, you ain’t got the right, bitch!”

This isn’t right! Eliot couldn't watch any more. He leapt to his feet, ignoring the pain screaming from the bruises and cuts all over his body. His brothers had treated Eliot like a disobedient mule all his life, but watching them prey on an innocent woman like Amelia was too much to bear. He clenched a fist and swung hard, rolling his hips as his shoulder rotated, knocking Artie to the ground.

Blood sprayed across the room. Artie’s nasal bone was no match for Eliot’s punch and shattered on impact. Mitch immediately ran from the room, letting out a high-pitched, nasal scream as he fled. Artie wobbled on his feet, pinching his nose to stem the flow of blood running down his chin.

“You better stay here, freak.” He spat, sending a small mist of blood out into the well-kept room. “You know where you belong.” He stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” Amelia’s voice was barely a whisper. Her hands trembled as she crept across the room, her fingers nervously combing her mussed hair back into place.

Eliot crumpled to the floor, bruises already beginning to bloom on his exposed skin. “I just need a minute...ow!”

Amelia dropped to her knees beside him, her hands already probing Eliot’s flesh, expertly examining his wounds. He couldn't help noticing the perfect curve of her full lips. They were so red and plump, they looked painted. “It doesn’t feel like you have any broken bones, so that’s good news at least.” She smiled up at him, her bright blue eyes shining.

Eliot struggled to think of anything other than the feel of her hands on his body. Despite his best efforts, his dick began to grow hard, pressing into the scant fabric of his half-sewn codpiece. “I’m sorry they were so rough with you,” he said, working to keep his voice steady. “They’re not bad people.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow and snorted softly, but her gentle hands continued their examination. Her fingers caressed and explored the muscular flesh of his back. He had to stifle a moan as she ran her fingers over his shoulder blades, his ribs, his spine. Her hands were so soft and delicate, and he relished every touch. No woman had ever touched him like this.

Her touch felt heavenly, not only because of the smoothness of her caresses, but knowing the sweet strokes were from Amelia, the gentle soul he already admired so much; her every probing touch sent shivers of want to his cock.

“They are bad people, Eliot,” she said. “You shouldn’t let them treat you the way they do.” Amelia’s hands wandered down to Eliot’s bare legs as she spoke. Her eyes focused on the bulge forming beneath the leather codpiece. “We can keep going, if you want?” Her big blue eyes looked into Eliot’s, almost daring him.

“Forget the costume. I’m not going to the Gathering.” Eliot’s voice was soft in defeat. He couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and touch her. He slowly stroked his fingertips up and down Amelia’s arm, smiling as she shivered at his attention.

Amelia's amazing mouth curved up in a wicked grin. “We can have our own party right here.”

Eliot nearly fell over in surprise as Amelia slid into his lap, capturing his lips with her own. He groaned against her luscious mouth as he ran his hands up and down her back, pulling her close while unzipping her dress. Amelia wrapped her legs around Eliot’s back, rubbing her core against the soft ridges of his abs as she wriggled her arms and chest out of her dress. He helped pull the fabric off her body and jumped a little as her hard nipples rubbed up and down his chest.

“You should know something,” he started to say before she grabbed his face and pulled his lips down to cover her peaked nipple. He quickly flicked his tongue against the sensitive flesh, loving her deep moan of pleasure.

He was becoming painfully hard against Amelia’s leg, and he savored each moment of contact as she squirmed and writhed against him. He moved his mouth up her chest in a series of small kisses until he reached the nape of her neck, sucking at her delicate skin. He moved his hand slowly up her stomach and ribs until he reached her breast, kneading and molding the tender flesh still damp from his tongue.

Amelia pulled his head up from her neck, eyes dark [...]