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Bethany's Surrender
Bethany's Surrender
Bethany's Surrender
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Bethany's Surrender

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James has one pushy submissive on his hands, though he’s just discovering what those words mean. His busty beauty tracked his cellphone, and shot video of his brutal break-up sex with his scheming ex. Simultaneously aroused and confused, James wins Bethany’s heart again by being completely honest about the encounter. Now Bethany knows what she wants.

When an aborted public tryst instigated by Bethany ends up attracting the attention of the police, everything goes wrong. Will Bethany be allowed to surrender to James, now that she knows with burning certainly exactly what she needs? And where she needs it?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherGulliver Noir
Release dateJun 14, 2013
ISBN9781301233519
Bethany's Surrender
Author

Gulliver Noir

Gulliver Noir is the quintessential man of all trades. He's been a construction worker, a fast-food slave, a market-researcher, a software executive, an industrial video producer, and through all of that, a writer and storyteller.He's interested in the ramifications of total honestly in personal relationships, non-conventional family structures, alternative sexuality, freedom of expression, and personal fulfillment and self-discovery. His fiction combines real life experiences with well-researched anthropology and imagination.

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    Book preview

    Bethany's Surrender - Gulliver Noir

    CONFESSIONS OF A DOMINANT MAN 3:

    Bethany’s Surrender

    By

    Gulliver Noir

    Bethany’s Surrender

    (Confessions of a Dominant Man 3)

    Published by Gulliver Noir at Smashwords.

    Copyright © 2013 by Gulliver Noir.

    Smashwords License Statement

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    AUTHORS NOTE: All characters engaging in adult activity in this work of fiction are twenty-one years old or older.

    ALL HAIL THE GLORIES OF SATURDAY MORNING.

    You've worked, pretended to work, or are ashamed not to have worked for five whole days in a row. You've lived through your Friday night, and if you haven't over-indulged, and have been careful not to have children, the remainder of the weekend welcomes you like a lover with open arms. Get up early and go for a run? Sure, if you're into that sort of thing. Sleep till noon? No problem. Lounge about in bed and fuck until the need for espresso drives you outdoors? Check.

    I knew what I wanted.

    I groped for Bethany, my eyes still half closed, before tuning into the sound and smell of hardwood-smoked bacon crackling in the kitchen.

    Outside someone was mowing his tiny postage stamp lawn. Going to college a hundred miles from home meant I was relieved of all lawn care responsibilities, beyond picking the occasional beer can or used condom out of our off-campus apartment house's tiny brick easement. This was a good thing. I grew up in the suburbs. I was tired of lawns.

    My roommates Ned and Leah were out of town, and so the cook in the other room had to be Bethany. I hadn't thought she'd get up and leave without asking for permission. Bethany was a serious scholar, trilingual, a dedicated progressive, and, as it turned out, as kinky as a British School Boy. Five foot four inches of luscious curves, above and below, with long blonde hair, elfin features, blue-green eyes. From the neck down, an hourglass of trembling fleshy submission. My girlfriend? My slave.

    The girl who'd insisted I find closure with my ex, Helen. Who had spied on us engaging in vicious, brutal break-up sex. And who'd been so overjoyed at my honesty afterwards, at my inability to achieve orgasm with

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