iso: beta ISO: Beta for BDSM erotica novella/novel long term

[Thorn Wilde]

Looking for a beta for a new novella (or possibly novel, not sure yet). I've actually posted a story about these characters before, as part of the 2015 Secret Santa. It's called Twenty-Three Days of Advent. 

 

This story will be a longer work about how Lance and Keenan met, how their relationship began, and so on. And there will be lots and lots of sex, obviously, including multiple kinks, some less conventional than others. I'm looking for someone who's openminded and not squeamish to beta read the chapters before publishing, with focus on plot, dialogue, and characterisation. 

 

The idea for this story began back in the early days of 50 Shades-mania. That franchise appeared on my radar when people from the BDSM community criticised it for creating a harmful picture of what BDSM is, for failing to be safe, sane and consensual, and so on. So I thought, wouldn't it be fun to write a story with a similar dynamic (boss/subordinate), but where the relationship isn't the toxic mess found in that particular far too popular work of "literature"? And also gay, obviously.

 

Working title: Mr. Grahame Will See You Now

Length: 15k words so far, will likely be a chaptered novella

 

Summary: After leaving Her Majesty's Armed Forces, Keenan finds himself with little to fall back on. On a whim, he applies for a position as personal assistant to Lance Grahame, managing director of Red Ink Publishing. Keenan didn't expect himself to be so drawn to his new boss, and much less for his feelings to be returned, and he soon finds himself involved in a sexual relationship that is everything but conventional.

 

Excerpt:

Spoiler

 

The phone on Emily’s desk rings. She answers, says, ‘Yes sir,’ and puts it down again. ‘Mr. Grahame will see you now,’ she tells me. ‘Just take the lift to the tenth floor.’

 

I glance at my watch. It’s only been five minutes. I stand up and get in the lift.

 

The lift opens onto a room with an empty desk, another black leather sofa, and an open door. I walk up to the doorway and knock politely on the jamb.

 

‘Yes, come on in,’ says a deep and patient voice, and I enter a large office. There’s a black leather sofa group in one corner, and bookshelves fill the opposite wall. Dead centre, before the grand windows, stands an enormous desk, all brushed metal and smokey glass. A simple but comfortable looking chair stands on my side. On the other is a high backed leather office chair, facing away from me. I don’t know what I expect when the chair swivels around. A Bond villain, perhaps. But the man in the chair is not that.

 

He is, perhaps, thirty-five, or maybe a little bit younger. His features are fine, his skin fair, and his hair a short cropped, dark brown. He’s dressed in a crisp charcoal suit and a blue tie that perfectly matches his eyes. Simply put, he is by far the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on.

 

He smiles and stands, stretching out his right hand across the desk. ‘Lance Grahame.’

 

I take the remaining steps towards the desk and take his hand. ‘Keenan Jones,’ I reply. ‘Nice to meet you.’

 

He is slightly shorter than me, but powerfully built with broad shoulders. His handshake is strong, too, and his hands ever so slightly rough. He looks me up and down with a curious little smile, and then lets go.

 

‘Please, have a seat.’ He gestures to the chair next to me. I do as I am bid, and he resumes his seat as well. ‘You’ve been in the military.’ It’s not a question. I nod.

 

‘Yes, sir. Army.’ I glance at the papers on his desk. My cover letter and CV look back at me.

 

‘Mm. Takes one to know one. I was a Royal Marine, myself.’ He follows my gaze. ‘I suppose it’s all in there, eh? Haven’t actually had time to read it yet. My resigning PA screened the applications for me. I figure no one can do better at finding her replacement than the woman herself. You just missed her, I’m afraid. So! What makes a soldier want to be my new PA?’

 

‘Well, I’m good at taking instructions, and I had a desk job for a while. I type fast. I like meeting new people. The army taught me a thing or two about teamwork and people skills.’ I cringe inwardly. It sounds so rehearsed, even to my own ears.

 

Mr. Grahame nods thoughtfully. ‘Are you interested in publishing at all?’

 

The question takes me by surprise. ‘I . . . N-not as such. I mean, I don’t really know much about it, and I haven’t had time to . . . I only got the call yesterday.’

 

He smiles. ‘Don’t worry, it’s just a question. Let me tell you a bit about what we do here.’ His tone is light and his posture relaxed, but somehow he seems to ooze authority. It’s comforting to me. ‘Red Ink Publishing deals in books. We publish mostly novels, but also cook books, children’s books, you name it, really. We’re not the biggest player, we’re not Bloomsbury or Penguin, but business is better every year. As managing director, I oversee our operations, meet with prospective clients, and other boring things. I’m also editor in chief of our literary magazine, Red Ink Review. Your job would be to manage my appointments, take phone calls, liaise with the company’s different departments, assist with paperwork, filing, that sort of thing. I may also at times require assistance with more personal matters, as the title no doubt implies. Nothing too arduous, I would imagine. Was all that clear?’

 

I nod. ‘Yes, sir.’

 

‘Excellent! When can you start?’

 

I blink. ‘I . . . You mean I’m hired?’

 

‘Of course. So, what do you say?’

 

I clear my throat. ‘I can start at any time, sir.’

 

‘Splendid. Jennifer’s last day is Monday, so if you come in then she can show you the ropes. We’ll send you an official offer within the next couple of days along with paperwork for you to sign. Just take it with you on Monday.’

 

I frown. ‘You’re really hiring me, just like that? Without checking my references or anything?’

 

Mr. Grahame shrugs. ‘To be honest, I made up my mind when we shook hands. There’s much to be learned from a handshake, and there’s something about you, Keenan.’ The way he says my name is almost a purr, and I have to swallow.

 

‘All right. Well, then thank you, sir.’

 

I almost expect him to tell me there’s no need to call him sir. He does not. He gives me that curious little smile again. ‘Then I will see you on Monday. Nine o’clock.’

 

I return his smile. ‘Looking forward to it, sir.’

 

 

[Thorn Wilde]

I've found someone. Thanks!