The Big Submissive Part III - Reduction

By Eugéne Thicke

Rising from his deepest despair yet, Rory Cartwright fights back to the surface of his dark emotions to emerge as a stronger, more confident man. Doctor Sandra Gillard is a proactive shrink who picks up her clients, dusts them off, and swiftly pushes them back out into the world to stand on their own feet.

Follow Rory as he meets a new furry friend, and begins putting his life back into order. Everything is falling into place, but then there is a telephone call that threatens to weaken Rory’s resolve. Will he Change Gear or will he regress? Read on and find out ....

This is the third part of four in the series. Please note that this publication contains 12 300 words, and is approximately 56 delicious pages Thicke.

This m/m storyline contains several elegantly written, yet racy scenes of Bondage and Submission, and it is intended for a mature audience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eugéne Thicke
• Release date: Aug 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502295613

Book preview

Chapter 1

My life is now a mind-numbing blur. I have not left the penthouse in nearly two weeks. I suspect I have not eaten much, or bathed in as long. I am not sure. It is all a hazy stupor. A long, excruciating agony. I wish the pain would blur and fade, but it does not. Currently, it is the only reality I know vividly. I am not sure, but it might be the only thing keeping me hanging on to the precious thread of life. Pain can sometimes remind us we are alive.

At some point during the course of my last weekend with Oliver, I must have driven myself back into the city. Through the fog of my existence, I seem to recall driving very fast, not seeing very much, the wind was blowing the hair in my eyes. It must have been really windy .... Oh, wait! I remember now! With the roof down, I drove as if the devil was pursuing me. Perhaps, I was chasing him ... it is possible.

I recall the screaming of horsepower, and incredible velocity. The country whizzed past at high speed. There was no thrill in it, just desperation. I must have arrived back safely as I am here, in a few broken pieces. It is coming back to me. I do not want it too, and I take another long swill, draining the bottle in my hand.

Those memories seem as if it was another lifetime, conceivably even a different person. I vaguely recall that I was happier then. I might be mistaken. Who knows? I certainly do not — not in my state. I have raided the entertainment area in the penthouse, and taken to my bed with an ample supply of alcohol. I had no idea the bar was so well-stocked. It has been a steady cocktail mix. Ordinarily, I do not drink very much, and therefore, any bottle will do.

I smile in a sadistic fashion at the word. Ordinarily! I am anything but ... I am a freak! Screwed up! Where is that bottle? Empty? All ready? How is that possible? Oh, well, there is more where that one came from ....

I make a random selection from my cache, and unscrew a cap. I take a greedy swig, and it burns all the way into my sensitive, and empty stomach. My head begins spinning with a greater velocity. There, all better! I have been sick! Very sick! I told Trish.

Trish, I shaid, I am mumbling like the drunk that I have become. Trishy, I’m shick, hold all my calls. Imha shick fuck! Imha not working again until ha feelsh better, I shaid.

Trish was concerned, but respected my orders. She has cancelled all my appointments, every day, with growing alarm. I did not notice any of this, naturally.

There is a loud buzzing in my head. It is so annoying. It is not in my head, though. I realise that the noise is emanating from the foyer. Some maddening person is leaning on the buzzer. Oh, for heawen’s shake!

I burrow deeper under the grimy bed sheets. If I stay here long enough, the world will forget me. I am sure of this. Oliver did, and so will everyone else. Except for whomever is at the front door. They seem to be insistent. Oh, go shway!

I have barricaded myself into my penthouse for a reason. If I wanted company, I would throw a soirée. There is plenty of libation. The noise just does not go away. It is relentless. Who ash turned up the volleyume? Eish too loud. Shtop it! I grumble.

The buzzer persists, and the cacophony ratchets up a notch. Soon the buzzer is held down, and someone is banging on the door. My head hurts so that I could burst into tears. There is no solution for the situation. I will have to drag myself out to the foyer, and summarily kill the person disturbing my unhappy hour.

I slide back the dead bolts, and pull open the door, hanging onto its handle for support. What? Trish is standing before