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Title: Inherent Cost
Author: Alicia Cameron
Publisher: Forbidden Fiction
Cover Artist: Siol na Tine
Genre: BDSM, Drama, Gay, Paranormal, Science Fiction
Release Date: 08/09/2016
A train wreck outside Hojer injures Jere and Wren, destroying their anniversary bliss, and thrusting them back into the dangers of their home, where slaves like Wren are treated as animals. While Jere struggles for consciousness, Wren is seized with the other slaves. When Jere comes to the rescue he is furious to find Wren kenneled, neglected, and abused.
For the last two years, Jere has been using his status as a healer to protect Wren and his second slave, Isis. Wren’s controversial fire talent is getting harder and harder to hide, Isis is desperate to escape to her family in a free state, and Jere’s compassion is making enemies of powerful slave owners. Meanwhile, upcoming elections are stirring political unrest. Jere supports a reformation that could improve the lives of Arona’s slaves by treating them in human clinics like Jere’s, instead of sending them to animal healers. But the slavers are only motivated by the threat of an untreatable infectious disease spreading inexorably towards Hojer.
The more Jere becomes involved in politics, the more his clinic and his household come under scrutiny, prompting the Arona slave regulation board to harass Jere, questioning his ability to manage his clinic, and threatening to take away Wren and Isis. The two slaves are preparing to be evaluated, when Jere stumbles upon information that could separate the three of them forever.
Cut Scene from Inherent Cost: A Speech to Fantasize About
Inherent Cost takes the familiar characters introduced in the first two books of the series and shoves them into new and exciting settings. Unfortunately, there just weren’t enough opportunities for the boys to get some playtime in! Thinking back, my very first draft of this book included about as many sex scenes as the final cut did, but some of the specifics got scrapped as I edited, adjusted, and changed the plot entirely. One of the scenes that I absolutely loved just didn’t quite fit, but I’m going to share it now.
Here’s a little background. As the one and only medical doctor ad psychic healer in the rural slave state in Hojer, Jere is rightly an expert on medical needs. Despite the fact that he has only lived in Hojer for two years, and had lived in a free state the rest of his life, the community looks to him when making decisions about the medical needs of the slave population. Should slaves see veterinarians or animal healers, since most of the town considers slaves animals, or should they see doctors or human healers, since they share the same physiology as “real” humans? A terrifying new disease is spreading across the world, making people’s flesh rot off their bones, and Hojer wants Jere’s input on how best to manage the slave population. In the final cut of Inherent Cost, a very similar scene takes place much later, but Wren and his fantasies aren’t included—I couldn’t keep those from the world, could I? Here’s a cut scene from Wren’s perspective while Jere is addressing Hojer.
“I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you have a chair!” Jere’s voice was outraged in Wren’s head. The psychic connection they shared allowed them to have these private conversations, despite being in the middle of a room full of people. Of course, Wren’s master didn’t agree about their rightful places. Since the day Jere arrived in Hojer, just over two years ago, he had been utterly outraged that slavery even existed, much less that he had inherited a slave of his own.
“I can’t believe you threw a fit about it!” Wren countered. He had been appalled when Jere had done that earlier today. Of all places, to throw an adult-sized temper tantrum at a state-wide press conference, at which Jere was one of the keynote speakers, had been silly at best, dangerous at worst. Wren didn’t care that he and Jere were lovers, or that Jere didn’t really support slavery, or any of that, he cared about looking the part and accomplishing their goals, something that Jere was letting slip by in his chivalrous attempt to stop Wren from lowering himself by kneeling on the floor, like a slave should. “Pay attention, you’re being asked something.”
“I’m picturing them all in their underwear,” Jere said, keeping a straight face for the audience.
Wren focused hard, imagining a perfectly clear picture of Jere in his underwear. Poking at the mind connection a little bit, he sent the image over to Jere, inviting him to join in the fun. He knew Jere’s imagination would instantly go to the thought of being undressed, hinting at the sensual times they had together. The slight blush he could see on Jere’s face indicated that he had picked up on it. Feeling rather proud of himself, Wren sat back on his heels, content to let Jere think about that image for a little bit.
Wren considered the podium, the strange little symbol of authority, the respect it demanded. A piece of wood, as artificially created as the entire institution of slavery. He looked at Jere standing up there, and he couldn’t help but think that he would be better suited standing there instead, strong and tall, while Jere was on his knees beneath him. Jere liked being on his knees, and Wren was always happy to put him there. They had role-played plenty of times in the past, trying out different personas and characters, spicing up their already hot sex life. Wren decided that they should try this scenario out as a fantasy. It would be far more interesting than listening to the opposing sides recite their viewpoints and arguments.
As he knelt at Jere’s feet, Wren idly extended the fantasy, imagining that he was clutching either side of the wooden podium while Jere worked his cock, bobbing up and down. Perhaps Wren would even be giving some sort of speech or presentation of his own; never mind that he hated crowds, and that nobody would want to listen to a slave anyway. In his version of events , there would be a crowd of rapt attendants, completely clueless that he was fucking the face of another man just out of their eyesight.
He imagined the room clearing out after a while, grabbing Jere by the hair, dragging him up, kissing him, and throwing him over a table. There always seemed to be a table in rooms like these. Wren had no idea why, they usually just held papers or snacks. They would be far better used to hold up the willing body of someone to fuck, someone like Jere who would spread across the surface and beg to be taken, smiling at the thought of doing something so forbidden in such a public place. Wren could just imagine pushing aside the coffee and uninspired pastries and throwing Jere down in their place, pinning him to the top of the desk as he forced his way inside of him. The height of the table would be perfect to offset their height difference; besides, Jere didn’t seem that much taller than Wren when he was on his back. Wren imagined taking a fistful of Jere’s hair and holding him down, watching as Jere struggled to take him in deeper. Wren would take his pleasure and leave Jere moaning and begging for more. It would be perfect, they would fuck right there, heedless of anybody seeing them, because, after all, they were two powerful figureheads, maybe of a company, maybe of the whole state, nobody could stop them from taking their pleasure where they wanted to, and what pleasure it would be!
Wren was jerked back to reality by the sound of clapping. Jere was looking at him, an amused expression on his face, and Wren realized that Jere must have finished with his speech.
Wren stood, infinitely grateful that the weather was cold enough that he had worn a long shirt, one that covered the slight bulge that he had developed in his pants as a result of his fantasy. He moved next to Jere, and they made their way to the back of the room, where Jere stood next to him, too stubborn and kind to sit in the audience while Wren knelt off to the side with the other slaves. Jere had explained to the event organizers that he and Wren both needed to be near an exit in case of a medical emergency, but Wren knew that Jere just wanted to stand in solidarity with him. It was one of so many reasons why Wren loved him.
About the Author
Alicia Cameron has been making up stories since before she can remember. After discovering erotica during a high school banned books project, she never really turned back. She lives in Denver, Colorado with two tiny dogs and a rabbit who conspire regularly to distract her from doing anything productive. By day she works in the mental health field and is passionate about youth rights and welfare. In her spare time, she enjoys traveling, glitter, and punk rock concerts.
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