But if I lose him completely to George…
Well, I know I’ve survived one such loss, and probably can again.
George, on the other hand, is dying. I feel this to the depths of my soul.
I cannot in good conscience let that happen.
* * * *
Luck requires a lot of hard damn work. I spend the next several months working in secret on two fronts—trying to figure out some way to keep George alive short of enacting my plan, and acclimating Declan to his potential future. If forced to go for the nuclear option, at least I will have biological need on my side to coax George into going for it.
George and Ellen had an active and healthy sex life, and no doubt the loneliness and self-imposed celibacy is also chipping away at him.
I also know George’s sadism was limited mostly to the physical realm, whereas I have no problem being…well, downright evil.
Meaning my boy is starting to undergo periods of forced chastity. Sometimes locked up, sometimes not. Obedience is something I’ve insisted on from the beginning. The hornier he is, the more eagerly obedient he becomes.
We make it through the second holiday season without Ellen, but I realize George won’t make it much longer. Aussie turns eighteen this coming summer, even though she’s already away at her first year at Vanderbilt.
Once she turns eighteen…
I’m afraid at that point any leverage I might have to convince George to stay with us is gone. I’ve debated whether or not letting him put himself out of misery would be the kinder thing, and I always circle back to one clear, concise point—
My girl would want me to do anything within my power to keep him alive. Ideally, I want this to happen before George is slated to go to DC in February to give the keynote speech to the National Governors Association. I want to send Declan with him for that, and if they’re already an item, it’ll make it that much easier for Declan to keep him calm.
It’ll make the entire upcoming re-election campaign easier for George.
The first week of January, I make my decision to enact Plan B. It’ll take nerves of steel on my part, and more than a smidgen of luck that’s beyond my control.
When late January hits and George explodes one Monday afternoon in his office when it’s just me and Declan with him, about not wanting to fly to DC, I know the pump is primed. He’s emotionally raw, physically exhausted, and mentally fried.
That means I need to start taking chances with Declan and praying luck is on my side. George was no stranger to having sex in the office, according to Ellen. It was something she enjoyed, too, because she saw how it usually calmed him, settled him, especially if he was having a long, bad day.
Which is how George ended up “accidentally” walking in on me and Declan in my office the next evening, with the boy naked and bent over my desk and getting plowed by a strap-on.
The look on George’s face when he eases the door open almost makes me laugh out loud, which could’ve ruined everything. I need him to come in, for his lizard brain to kick in and for the lonely, horny Dom to take over.
Kind of like hunting in a baited field, I guess?
Finally, he does. I have Declan so deep in the zone, and so horny after two weeks of not letting him come, that I know if I stay calm, and George stays calm, that Declan will hopefully stay calm and go with it.
George might be a sadist, and a Dom, and a motherfucker, but he’s soft-hearted. Ellen told me he never let her go to bed horny if she was in the mood, even if he wasn’t. Especially if he’d worked her up earlier in the day and didn’t let her come then.
I hoped what he’d survived hadn’t broken that part of him so completely that he wouldn’t be able to tap into it now.
Poor Declan. No, I didn’t obtain his consent, and neither did George. Not really. The thought that this could backfire in a very horrible way on both me and George was never far from my mind, but I had to trust my boy wouldn’t use this against us in a court of law.
If he tried?
Well, among other things, I have very compromising pictures and video I took of him over the past few months, which he has no idea I have. Pictures and video of him blindfolded and eagerly fellating a dildo, for starters. Video of him begging to do it for me, of eagerly begging me to fuck him with one.
If that’s not enough?
I have more evidence.
Evidence I pray I never need to use, because it means things between us are so irretrievably broken that I’m forced to take such drastic measures to protect George and myself.
Oh, yes. I’m a bitch. Absolutely. Feel free to call me that, because I own it.
