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For you BDSM fans out there, this is the other novella in Forced Pleasure collection. It’s unedited but I’m working on that now. The summary is that Young Gawith has been with his poly family now for two years after having met Francine (from Forced Pleasure) and being trained by her two dominants. Everything is going swimmingly until he meets Samantha, the submissive of his dreams. She takes him to a new level in their play and has captured that part of his heart he’d left alone for so long.

An accident on his part threatens their relationship as does her unknown feelings about being in a poly family. Can Gawith find the true courage in his dominant nature to give her forced pleasure, and his heart?

“I love her, I think.” Samuel “Gawith” Jones stood with his pipe hanging from his mouth, blowing a puff of G. L. Pease Chelsea Morning into the air.
Francine looked up from her paperwork and met his gaze. “You may. But are you going to do anything about it?
His jaw twitched. That was always the question and still it irritated him. He pulled his bent pipe from his mouth and paced back and forth across the wood floor.
Francine sat at her desk dressed in a loose pair of jeans that showed the rise of her thong when she bent over. Her top, long sleeved dress shirt was black and tucked into her jeans much to Gawith’s chagrin. Her breasts pushed out the shirt and let him imagine though he’d seen them numerous times.
Basic heels completed the outfit. Dark red curls fell on both sides of her face, emphasizing the pretty sparkles of jade green eyes. “You did say she might be open to our style of relationship. She seems special to me if you ditch us for private nights with her.”
He didn’t miss the teasing tone of her voice yet was there an undercurrent of jealousy? Gawith shrugged it off. The poly family he’d become a part of over the last two years had really helped hone who he was, and it made him proud. Francine would have to deal with her issues. Besides, it’s not like she didn’t have two men in her life, already.
Samantha was a special woman. She was nearly as old as Francine and had managed to occupy an empty space in his heart. Where Francine was petite Samantha was tall. Long black hair flowed over slender shoulders and curves that pillowed nicely against his face when they shared a bed.
Her experience as a submissive had helped him see a different side of dominance. She wasn’t Francine, so Samantha’s reactions weren’t predictable.
More to the point, he had no idea how she felt about him. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m the right dominant for her.”
Francine blinked. “You’ve been trained well.” She licked her lips.
A delicious shudder raced through him. Gawith smirked. His body had taken quite a beating over the last two years but his reward had been a greater sense of self control over more savage urges in the bedroom. His emotions were easier to manage and he thought more before he acted.
He owed that all to the night he met Francine in the Goth club.
What a memory that was. Surrounded by two definitely potent, very alpha males who allowed him to participate in the ritual that completed Francine’s heart by letting Micah give into her had given him a deeper understanding of his own nature as a dominant.
Well, dominant in training anyway.
The only thing that had been left out of the equation had been a woman who submitted solely to him.
Francine “Are you ready to move on? Are you willing to accept that she may not like a poly family? Or that she can’t handle the weight of your emotions?”
That was the decision he’d have to make. The love and support given to him by not one but two men had been integral to his quick growth. A troubled home life forced him out into the cold, lonely world where he found himself hiding his bisexuality, hiding his lifestyle and basically lying to his friends about who he was.
The other Goths in his group weren’t really into the BDSM scene. Not the way he was anyway.
Gawith took another pull from his pipe, enjoying the weight of smoky latakia mixed with bright Virginia reds and yellows for added sweetness. Smoke billowed around his head and his eyes followed the drift.
Francine waved the thick cloud away and offered a smile.
She’d been a part of his heart since the beginning when he’d met her at that club. He’d worn his heart openly on his sleeve once the sex ended and then shut himself down quickly.
Francine chided him for that. “I don’t need you to love them like I do, but I need you to love me.”
“I do.” He muttered from above her. He remembered how her arms were bound above her head and the smile she wore after he’d just finished filling her again. Her legs had been spread and her body bruised from his mouth.
She licked her lips and met his gaze. There was no mistaking the seriousness in her eyes. “You do but you need to show me. I’m still a woman, Samuel.”
He hated how she called him by name when he fucked up. “I know but…”
“Let me go, please.”
Gawith nodded reluctantly. Carefully, he released Francine’s hands and undid the restraints on her legs.
Francine stretched and rotated her shoulders as though easing tension from her neck. Then she wrapped them around Gawith’s neck. “I’ll only give you something worth dying for, my little Gawith.”
He exhaled loudly. The realization hit him. She was offering her heart to him, just as she had her two Dominants.
Her caring hand was rough in all the right places, and her heart’s capacity for love was obvious with everything she did. They made love that night, but as lovers, not dominant or submissive.
The memory of confusion scored him even now.
A year later, she’d followed through on her promise, even when he found a woman that had to occupy a different spot in his heart. He sighed and sat in the wooden chair next to her desk.
She took his hand. “I know. It’s a tough choice. But we’re here for you.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“You know,” she ran her tongue over the bottom of a luscious lip that hardened most men instantly; “She could be a stepping stone.”
She always did that. Played devils’ advocate for his heart. Gawith knew she could be just another in the long line of women that existed, in the Lifestyle just to serve a purpose. But he didn’t want to admit the woman he’d spent a great deal of close and personal time with, a woman who had taken his training to another level, was just a stepping stone.
He didn’t want to search the rest of his life for the woman that would ultimately be his, before anyone else’s. As it was, he felt old. Gawith sighed again.
Francine’s fingers massaged his wrist. “I hate to say it but nothing in this life is certain other than the obvious. If you’re going to go for it, do it all the way, Gawith.”
He shook his head and took another puff of his pipe. “I know.” He stared out the window at the bright sunlight street below. People milled about with their day, not even caring what went on above or around them.
Gawith found them interesting and could usually be distracted by the scene of so many tourists and locals wandering down Market Street.
Not today though.
“For what it’s worth,” she swiveled the chair and gave him a profile view, “if you need to, you’re more than ready to fly on your own, my little Gawith.”
He nearly dropped the pipe in his hand.
“Relax,” she faced him now, crossed her arms over her chest and smiled that sad, lonely smile that told him all he needed to know about her words.
She would make the sacrifice for his heart so he could give Samantha his all.
He started to speak but stopped. Retrieving the pipe tool from the corner of her desk, he unconsciously began stirring the tobacco in his pipe. He tapped the ash out and picked up the lighter and flicked open the top. He stared at it; the jet black finish with a large G engraved on the side of it reminded him of yet another tie to his poly family.
Once lit, he took another pull from his pipe and turned to Francine. “Perhaps we’ll find out tonight when we meet. Are you and Micah coming along?”
She shook her head. “Yeah. I think it’d be good to be there for you in case something goes wrong. The bondage thing is easy obviously but if she wants your mark,” Francine let her voice trail off.
“Say it.” Despite his commanding tone, his eyes still begged.
She met his gaze. “It’s quite delicate for you both.”
He nodded at the memory of their last time together. “Indeed. I had that accident with her and-”
She cut him off. “It was just that. An accident. Nothing in this world is perfect one hundred per cent of the time. She healed, right?”
“She did.” He spun away. The night in question was a mess. Samantha wanted his mark over her breast. She wanted it while they were fucking, which was out of the question, but he could promise her she’d get the mark, bleed and then he’d pound into her his orgasm and give her release.
What started out as a delicate blood play scene with heavy bondage quickly spun out of control when his fingers slicked with blood and the knife slipped out of his hand, cutting very close to a major artery. And he fainted.
Francine waved a hand at him dismissively. “You’re young. Mistakes happen. Learn from them and move on. Give it to her tonight. We’ll be there to watch over you. I promise.”
Gawith growled but Francine was right. Samantha had healed and forgiven him.
He couldn’t forgive the failure on his part. They’d avoided heavy cutting, bondage and more importantly, the little things that made their relationship unique. Hell, it’d been a month since he’d seen her. They talked on the phone but he kept his responses short to any questions she’d asked and he’d tried his best to keep her talking.
He slumped against the chair and stretched his legs. “I hope this turns out okay.”
She patted his hand. “It will turn out for the best. You’ve got a lot to learn still, my little Gawith.”
Closing his eyes, he puffed once again on his pipe and felt tension slowly ease from his shoulders. Francine’s touch was like that, a comfort in the darkness of his world. Samantha took things a step further, bringing him into the light.
Doubt was a killer; he’d learned that in the five years he’d been on his own. It niggled at the mind and derailed the best laid plans. Gawith shrugged and tapped the last bit of ash into the tray on Francine’s desk. “I think I’m going to get outta here early. I need to get ready and you know the time it takes me to dress.”
She slowly released his hand. “Okay hon. Go get some rest. Call Samantha. Tell her you love her and you’ll see her tonight. Then we’ll see if I’m right.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. Francine had told him on numerous occasions that Dom space could be achieved it he’d only let it. She said often how Samantha could go into subspace a lot easier if he’d only let himself go.
Dom space, that elusive place some dominants went to when they were in mid scene was a euphoric feeling that rivaled orgasm and chocolate. Hell, it rivaled that vintage tobacco Micah had shared with him after their first scene together.
It was hard to beat smooth sweetness that grew more complex with every puff.
Yet Samantha would be the one to bring him there if only he’d allow himself to find freedom without worry.
“Are you going to run from your heart forever, Gawith?’

3 Responses

  1. OK, you just gave me a great idea for a book, based on my own training as a Master by being a Slave, but it’s down at #4 on my list of project.

    Might even be a bi story.

    Sorry, bossman.

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