Not Even Death-Forever Your Master

By B.B. Blaque

Markus’ final lesson and the end phase of Calico’s journey is to discover a world she never has before—the vanilla world. It’s time to spread her wings, run free, and do things she’s never dared imagine. Only after finding out about the other side and how “they” do things, will she be able to fully consent to life as a slave.

When faced with the freedom to choose—what will she do?

The reality of the vanilla world is a frightening, eye-opening, and exciting experiment. In fantasy she quickly finds she can have both. When the BDSM world collides with the vanilla, Calico finds herself floating through a surreal wonderland where all her sexual fantasies are possible and nothing is taboo or off limits. All the Masters return to lead her journey of self-discovery.

Will she be led back to the dungeon?

Who will be her happily ever after for the next journey?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.B. Blaque
• Release date: Dec 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370016426

B.B. Blaque

I'm a hopeless romantic. Even when I think it's hopeless, it always woos me back . That is the power of hope and with hope anything is possible. I believe in the transforming power of love, even when done wrong, it always leaves its mark on your heart, coloring how you will love in the future. With these things in mind, I write about transformation, acceptance and overcoming--through and with love. I choose to write about Domination and submission and the subtle nuances of these relationships that take them beyond role play. I'm inspired to write by things I see, smell, experience and largely by what I hear. Music and the sound of someone's voice are two of my favorite indulgences. I've written for as long as I can remember and now, I'm truly inspired to do more.

Book preview

Not Even Death

FOREVER

Your Master

A Novella

B.B. BLAQUE

Copyright © 2016 B.B. BLAQUE

All rights reserved.

Photo Credits

Konradbak-A young lady got stuck-Dreamstime.com

Curaphotography Warrior Face Dreamstime.com

Konradbak |Sportcar Dreamstime.com

Lebedinski Black Guitar| Dreamstime.com

Feedough- Business man unbuttons his jacket-Dreamstime.com

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Thank you for your support

Dedicated to

My Monkey Doodle—I love you every second, of every minute, of every day!

To my Master, K Bar—I love you eternally, still, always, forever, and to infinity!

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Happily Ever After

The cold rain won’t stop falling. It hits my skin, leaving streaks. Icy brown marks drip down my arms before hitting the ground.

The air around me is full of the disturbingly sweet scent of the rain.

And cookies?

Everywhere are pastel piles of frosting towering atop little white pillows of spongy cake. Jimmies, dots, and candied hearts splash the sidewalks—floating along on the brown river—rushing to the curb and down the drain.

This is when I begin to fall—without a net.

It happens every time.

Past bakers’ dozens and oodles of colorful little cushions—I fall.

Marshmallow fondant roses billow past, flitting by on the way toward the bottom.

I can only say toward—I haven’t made it there yet.

I just know when I finish my free fall into the vanilla world…it’s gonna leave a mark.

CHAPTER ONE

Jordan Bishop stared out onto the city. He’d feel like a king if it weren’t for the nagging conflict tearing him apart.

So, how much of an ass were you, Jordan? Like Bishop hard or full on douche bag?

He really had to think about his response. His head rested in his hands—like the weight of the world was marching through his mind getting too heavy to hold.

Ya know, some would say they’re one and the same. He knew how some thought of him. Not everyone understood his methods even if they approved of the outcome.

Then, there was the look she’d given him. She understood and accepted him.

I know you can be a dick, no doubt, but how did she handle it?

The Bishop knew he was being evasive. If he’d been having the same discussion with Minx, she’d be disciplined for dodging the question. Why in hell can’t I answer directly?

She looked….confused. But you saw how high she was the night before. He stopped and drew hard on his cigar—watching the smoke billow above Lofty Devotions. He was avoiding—the answer, the thoughts, the feelings.

Yeah, she was some kinda beautiful that night. You didn’t exaggerate there, my friend.

Maybe it was the endorphins, Jordan suggested. He wasn’t used to being overly concerned with the feelings of others—it just wasn’t part of his current make-up. Psychologically, he’d get a general read on a sub. If they were transparent it would be clear anyway. Feelings didn’t typically come into his sphere of thought, even with Minx, his chosen slave. They shared a symbiotic relationship of Sadist/masochist, but love and emotion weren’t part of it.

This time was different. He didn’t dare see deeper or know more. Have I been enchanted by that little imp now? If I saw more, would I feel…something?

Are you getting soft, Bishop? his friend asked. He was used to Jordan—the open book. His mentor tended to rattle on incessantly when the mood struck. Now it seemed he was actually tongue-tied. What’s the matter—does the Cat have your tongue? He knew he was testing the boundaries but couldn’t resist.

Jordan shot him a narrow-eyed glance that let him know he was treading on thin ice. I knew I had to cut things cold. This won’t be an easy lesson for her, and if I know Calico—and now I feel I do—she’d prefer the rose thorns to what lies ahead. He was trying to regain control of himself and the situation.

So, you pushed her away for her benefit? He was trying sincerely to understand. Or your own?

Does it really matter who’d benefit? It was already plotted out, just as you were—part of the master plan. Jordan’s shoulders slumped forward, causing him to almost curl into himself on the seat. It was not typical Bishop posture.

Do you want her? Is that why you were a dick? He studied Jordan’s micro-expressions, obscured by his hand. His body language spoke volumes even if his words were few. Dude, you do want her—or you think you do!

The Bishop rose to his feet—solid shoulders back—head firm. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? That’s not part of it—not part of any of it! At no point is she meant to become mine, you know that as well as I do.

His stoic side was objective, logical, but behind his words was a fire born of emotion. She’s meant to learn this lesson. By the Masquerade, she’ll know what and who she wants. Just take care of her between now and then.

I don’t want the little alley cat, street urchin. Do I? He thought about her growth—those pleading amber eyes lined with delicious tears. He felt her sweet, peaceful slave heart beating as she’d slept. That look…acceptance. Fuck that—I do not! Do I?

As if answering the silent question, his friend spoke. You don’t really want her—you want the idea of her. You’re hungry for the acquisition and nothing more.

More had begun with less. He thought back to the first time Markus mentioned the little pickpocket.

"Markus, have you lost your mind? She’s a street kid. What on earth could you possibly see in that?" Jordan knew his friend suffered the loss of his family deeply. He’d pushed away any possible entanglement that entered his field of vision. Why this girl? He’s wealthy beyond imagination, good looking, smart, and aside from being completely devoid of emotional capability—a fantastic catch.

"No, I can assure you, I have all my faculties in order. I’ve watched this girl for awhile. She’s no slouch, believe me. Markus sipped scotch from a heavy rocks glass, staring out at the city below, trying to find the words to explain. I’ve noticed how smart she is. How she does what she does, without getting caught is just remarkable."

"Since when do good pickpocket skills make someone a suitable companion?" Jordan butted in, flabbergasted by his friend’s twisted logic.

"It isn’t only that, but really, you should watch her, Markus said, turning from the window. I know she doesn’t turn tricks. I’ve even paid people to proposition her to test out my hypothesis. She brushes them off like they’ve got the plague, as if they’re beneath her."

"And what have you ascertained from your experiments, Dr. Freud?"Jordan couldn’t believe his friend was attempting to sell this line of bullshit.

Markus laughed at the jab. You can tell a lot about people by watching them in their natural habitat. I’d expect you to know that.

"Since when did you become so scientific? Jordan was now pacing back to the bar and pouring another finger of scotch. You’re going through all this to get laid?"

"No, not to get laid—to strike an arrangement with this girl. I could have sex whenever I choose. It isn’t about that"

It was clearly not about sex. Women threw themselves at Markus’ feet, and he had no use for any of them. Even on the street, she has scruples—self-worth and boundaries—lines she won’t cross—rules. It also tells me she’s as boxed up emotionally as I am.

"So what do you want me to do? What sort of arrangement are we talking about?"He knew better than to attempt to change Markus’ mind. He was as stubborn and staid as they came. He’d tried fixing him up—it never worked. Maybe this idea would become something. Maybe it would be the catalyst for him to try someone more his speed.

"I want you to follow her. Take pictures, video—protect her if needed. If you don’t turn up anything more sordid than what I already know, then I’ll approach her with the deal."

"And that is?" Jordan was almost afraid to know.

"I will offer the option for her to be my slave—simply. There won’t be any emotional ties—just a man and his property. I’ll care for her and you will train her to my specifications."

"Wait, you want me to train an alley cat? Do you expect me to part the East River too?"

"She can do it—I have faith. I doubt she wants a love connection; she’s a survivor. I think I could be her best hope of living—thriving—not just surviving. She’d ultimately become my companion."

"Let me get my staff. If I’m gonna perform miracles, I have to be certain I have the right equipment." He couldn’t fathom what was being asked of him. His only solace came from the hope she wouldn’t make it to the first day of school.

"So it’s settled?" Markus asked, sipping more