Will has no interest in women. He thinks them all animals to be trained, beaten. It doesn't take him long to discover his preference for men, but time and error reveal how wrong his view toward women is. Before long, he is able to separate the way he treats women, which is still horrific, from the way he regards women, as fellow human beings.
How does a slave become an equal? What does it take for a young man to see women in a new light?
In the fourth installment of her Blue Moon House series, Angelica introduces Will, a slave boy from the early nineteenth century. You can purchase Slave on Amazon. Smashwords, All Romance Ebooks and Naughty Nights Press.
Angelica Dawson is the author of Blue Moon House, which has been in the top ten best-selling titles at Naughty Nights Press for over six months. She has also written two short stories, “The Highest Bidder” and “Leave Taking” which were each included in anthologies. She contributes flash fiction to several blogging collectives and excerpts from work in progress can also be found on her blog. She is active on Facebook and Twitter.
She has been writing for several years and having sex a lot longer than that. Angelica is a wife, mother and environmental consultant. Her love of plants and the outdoors is not diminished by the bloodsucking hoards – mosquitoes and black flies, not vampires.
Here is an excerpt from Slave:
He continued to thrust, punctuating random ones with a slap on her ass and never releasing her hair. She pulled her head, however, slowly and steadily, trying to drop it to the bed. He could feel how weak her legs were, not holding her up any longer. Her arms weren’t bracing anymore either, limp.
“Yes, yes.” It was as though she’d forgotten how to make him stop. Dropping her hair, he reached around her torso and took hold of both nipples, pinching hard while pulling as far as he could.
A feral scream tore from her throat and her legs kicked, trying to free herself.
“Stop, please, stop,” she cried at last.
Will let go and took hold of her, turning her in his arms before placing her on the bed. He ran a hand over her face, feeling how slick with sweat she was, how hot her skin had become. “Terrance? Water, please?” he asked, not wanting to leave her. “What is your name?”
She blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy. “Daedra.”
“Thank you, Daedra.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Terrance returned with a tumbler, and Will propped Daedra up while putting the glass to her lips. She sipped carefully, but Will tipped high, the water trailing down her chest. When he took the water away, he spread that stream over her breasts, trying to cool her down.
“Thank you, Master,” she said again, her voice raspy and slow. She was obviously exhausted.
“Sleep, Daedra.” He kissed her forehead and felt very protective of the woman he had just pressed so hard. Retrieving a rag and moistening it with the wash water, he put it on her head and left the room, pants in hand.