Sylvia Hutchison clawed her way to the top of a male-dominated profession. She made her bones the old fashioned way, in the upright position through hard work and consistent success. The last act of the retiring chairman was to promote her to chief executive of their largest east coast operation. By then, Sylvia’s reputation had been shaped and formed by the cut throat environment and the undercutting and backstabbing endemic of investment banking.
Sylvia was shrewd having taken classes in dressing for success and thinking for power. The lethal combination of beauty, brains and cunning toppled more than one supervisor whose naiveté led him to deadly overconfidence.
Sylvia recognized talent both as an asset and a potential threat to her perch. She learned how to get the most out of people, winning their respect and trust before subordinating their will to hers. She was driven by earnings potential and understood the business better than her mentors. And she read the political landscape like a gambler read the table. She never stood on ceremony. Her Ivy League pedigree taught her the golden ruled about money and power. She craved both and refused to be denied. Working her way up the professional ladder she was mistakenly viewed as a young and supple flower ready to be plucked.
She had an affinity for Russell Radcliffe. She had worked with him on several deals. His depth of knowledge of facts made him one of her favorites. That’s when she realized he could be a key to her continued success.
Sylvia’s innate ability to read people told her there was something different about him. After her assent to the corner office she set up private dinners with each member of her senior staff; encouraging them to bring a wife of significant other. This would give her the opportunity to tunnel below her employee’s professional façade and learn every quirk, nuance and character flaw.
Amanda Radcliffe, Russell’s wife, mistook Sylvia’s unvarnished praise of her husband as the pathway to the dreams of avarice. The two women talked when Russell excused himself to use the restroom. Mandy revealed her husband’s doting ways; a stark contrast to his crisp buttoned down office demeanor. Sylvia correctly interpreted this as desire to be subordinate, which she exploited slowly and methodically until Russell was sinking quickly into Sylvia’s quicksand of domination.
For every slip towards oblivion there is a toehold or ledge to retard the slide. When Russell finally realized he was doomed to be Sylvia’s submissive at first he allowed himself to fantasize, fueling his desire to please. When Sylvia took her role as dominatrix too far Russell gathered the last vestiges of self-respect and dignity to being the slow and arduous climb from the dank darkness of Sylvia’s emotional dungeon.
Sylvia was shrewd having taken classes in dressing for success and thinking for power. The lethal combination of beauty, brains and cunning toppled more than one supervisor whose naiveté led him to deadly overconfidence.
Sylvia recognized talent both as an asset and a potential threat to her perch. She learned how to get the most out of people, winning their respect and trust before subordinating their will to hers. She was driven by earnings potential and understood the business better than her mentors. And she read the political landscape like a gambler read the table. She never stood on ceremony. Her Ivy League pedigree taught her the golden ruled about money and power. She craved both and refused to be denied. Working her way up the professional ladder she was mistakenly viewed as a young and supple flower ready to be plucked.
She had an affinity for Russell Radcliffe. She had worked with him on several deals. His depth of knowledge of facts made him one of her favorites. That’s when she realized he could be a key to her continued success.
Sylvia’s innate ability to read people told her there was something different about him. After her assent to the corner office she set up private dinners with each member of her senior staff; encouraging them to bring a wife of significant other. This would give her the opportunity to tunnel below her employee’s professional façade and learn every quirk, nuance and character flaw.
Amanda Radcliffe, Russell’s wife, mistook Sylvia’s unvarnished praise of her husband as the pathway to the dreams of avarice. The two women talked when Russell excused himself to use the restroom. Mandy revealed her husband’s doting ways; a stark contrast to his crisp buttoned down office demeanor. Sylvia correctly interpreted this as desire to be subordinate, which she exploited slowly and methodically until Russell was sinking quickly into Sylvia’s quicksand of domination.
For every slip towards oblivion there is a toehold or ledge to retard the slide. When Russell finally realized he was doomed to be Sylvia’s submissive at first he allowed himself to fantasize, fueling his desire to please. When Sylvia took her role as dominatrix too far Russell gathered the last vestiges of self-respect and dignity to being the slow and arduous climb from the dank darkness of Sylvia’s emotional dungeon.
Gates of Submission
New Boundaries
Book One
Nikki DiCaro
Genre: LGBT Fiction
Publisher: Can’t Put It Down Books
Date of Publication: July 28, 2016
ISBN: 978-0-9972024-3-4
ASIN: B01HH7JSUG
Number of pages: 315
Word Count: 103,216
Cover Artist: Genevieve Lavo Cosdon
Book Description:
Russell has lost everything; his wife Mandy, his children and his suburban mini-mansion. Left with only the tatters of a once successful life, he discovers the courage to venture beyond the boundaries of conventionality. Stripping off his male exterior, Allison makes her debut, bringing a ray of hope that life might offer more than pain and confusion. His boss, Sylvia, a dominant and beautiful sexual powerhouse, has other ideas after discovering his deepest secret. As Sylvia’s hold on Russell tightens he is torn between shame and desire. Can he break free from Sylvia’s grasp? Will he choose to be: Russell or Allison?
Excerpt:
DIVORCE. THE
WORD RATTLED around in his brain like a steel ball in an old-fashioned pinball
machine. The papers had arrived at his office that morning by courier; he was
officially divorced. Russell Radcliffe pulled his cherry-red Mercedes Benz
convertible into the garage of his modest rancher and slid the transmission
lever into park. Stung by the events of the day, he sat quietly, struggling
with the dramatic change in his lifestyle. The five thousand square foot
McMansion, the pool with elaborate cabana complete with wet bar and massage
table, the Mercedes and the Range Rover, the country club membership, the
well-earned upscale lifestyle—gone. The dream life with his children and the
woman he promised to love for better or for worse were now a memory.
When days were
rosy and nights sultry, the couple fell for the trappings of opulence. To
support their lifestyle Russell and his wife mortgaged themselves right to the
edge, not close enough that a fall from grace was eminent, but close enough
that Russell could feel the spray from the waves pounding on the financial
rocks below. The last brick in the wall crumbled; the mansion—her dream
home—had a for sale sign with a picture of a 40-something big-haired, big
nailed, real estate goddess in the front yard. The real estate market had
softened putting a large portion of their nest egg in harm’s way. His wife got
to remain in the house with the two teenagers, forcing him to relocate. She
wanted everything before she would cede his car to him. He wanted that car; he
needed that car. He equated the car with his identity even more than the house.
Russell replayed
those last days of their marriage. In one fell swoop, Mandy revealed she was
having an affair and had the divorce papers served to his office the next day.
Not only was he not getting any, an interloper had been planting in his garden.
He told Mandy that he was willing to forgive her, that she would regret leaving
him, that she couldn’t stand on her own two feet.
***
“Come to your
senses Mandy. Quit this foolishness and think it through.”
She had laughed.
“Do you think I haven’t thought this through? Do you think I’m doing this
because I want to get your attention?”
“I don’t
understand why you’re doing this to me. I just want you to stop. Adultery is
against the law.” His voice was strained; he wanted desperately to get through
to her. His wife stood arms akimbo, her long sleek legs ran from her blue
skirt, through nude pantyhose, and slid perfectly into navy blue patent leather
pumps. She was attractive, even after two hard pregnancies. Her auburn hair
wafted in sultry waves across her soft shoulders ending elegantly just short of
the middle of her back. Large hazel eyes were framed by high cheekbones, thin
nose and highly sculptured eyebrows. Her complexion hinted at regular trips to
the tanning salon.
“When you
started wearing my clothes I knew it was over. You were the one who turned our
marriage into a farce, not me. ” Her tone was accusatory. “And don’t think
threats will work with me, kiddo. I can ruin you if you put me in that
position.” Her gaze was cold steel.
Russell looked
her over; he would have begged her to stay if his pride wasn’t so strong. He
loved her; she was his female role model; everything he wanted to be in a woman
he saw in his wife. But he couldn’t condone her desire to find pleasure in
another’s bed. Looking away he calculated his options; they were bleak. Losing
his job wasn’t an option. He had worked long and hard to parlay the master’s
degree in finance into a high profile position with an investment banking firm.
He figured he would be summarily dismissed if his superiors knew he was
transgender.
After the
divorce he licked his wounds and decided to buy down-market. The shock of a
smaller place on a postage stamp lot made him wish he hadn't been so critical
when his wife unceremoniously disclosed her extramarital affair. He lost that
struggle and was losing others. He would never give up his femininity even
though it had meant losing his wife, who realized she wasn’t the only woman in
his life. This had cut her deeply and she had made him bleed.
As he sat in the
car with the engine running he considered pressing the activator button to
bring the garage door down and seal off the garage. Just one click and he would
fade slowly into eternal sleep.
About the Author:
Nikki DiCaro has been writing novels, inspirational essays and poetry for over ten years. Her novels focus on complex characters whose real-life problems touch on the issues of the day—from workplace harassment to divorce to transgender/LGBT issues. Gates of Submission is the first novel in her five-book series, “New Boundaries.” Its spicy plot twists will keep you on the edge of your seat.
When not creating fascinating characters and sensual scenes, Nikki writes inspirational essays which she posts regularly on her website, www.NikkiDiCaro.com. A proponent of parity, equality, and unconditional acceptance she is a frequent speaker and presenter on gender sensitivity and workplace equality.
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