by Jodi Payne
Soft Limits
Jodi Payne
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Soft Limits
Copyright © 2019 Jodi Payne
All rights reserved
Edited by Flat Earth Editing
https://www.flatearthediting.com/
Cover Art Tiferet Design
http://tiferetdesign.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
First Edition, published September 2019 by Tygerseye Publishing, LLC.
ISBN: 978-1-7330076-4-1
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Tygerseye Publishing, LLC, www.tygerseyepublishing.com.
Soft Limits: A Deviations Novel
Fans of the iconic Deviations series will fondly recall Bradford as the beloved owner and Master of the elite and exclusively male BDSM club that anchors the series, and also as the wise man who introduced Tobias and Noah.
Dominant Bradford’s story is one defined by sudden opportunity, unimaginable heartbreak, and new-found purpose. His calling is to provide a safe and supportive environment for men in the lifestyle. Bringing Dominants and submissives together is his superpower, yet he feels fated to be alone himself.
In this prequel to the series, you’ll discover how Bradford is first drawn to Nikki, a beautiful and hungry young man living on the streets, and the unexpected ways Bradford grows and changes while helping Nikki understand a world of strange, new desires.
Deviations readers already know the outcome of Bradford and Nikki’s journey together. Soft Limits is a deep-dive into Bradford’s story, into what makes the Dom tick, and how he ended up with ownership of the club. It also introduces Nikki, the sub that tests Bradford’s patience, steals his heart, and soothes his soul.
To the stunningly loyal, enthusiastic, and supportive fans of the Deviations Series:
You asked for this book, encouraged me to write it, stuck with me when I struggled, and waited~forever~so patiently. It’s hard to put into words how grateful I am to you for supporting and lifting up this series for well over a decade.
This book is definitely yours.
Acknowledgments
First, I have to acknowledge Chris Owen, who one day, nearly fifteen years ago, posted in LiveJournal: “Anyone want to write a BDSM story with me?” Naturally, this book could not exist without the time, emotion, and energy we put into the series together. Without her blessing, this book could not have happened.
Second, I must thank BA Tortuga and Julia Talbot. As pioneers and leaders in LGBTQ+ publishing, without their forward thinking and willingness to bump up against a resistant romance market way back in 2003, a set of M/M BDSM romances like the Deviations Series might never have seen the light of day, let alone print.
And last but definitely not least, I need to thank my beta readers, a trio of great people and hugely supportive fans that read the book while I nervously chewed my fingernails. They gave me their honest thoughts and notes and helped me with important things like continuity, voice and staying true to the series. They assisted with every manner of seemingly tiny details that would matter to the readers that know these books, many of them even better than I do. None of them have chosen to name themselves publicly so I won’t here, but they know who they are. Much love and gratitude to you all.
Contents
Author’s Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Want more?
About the Author
Also by the Author
Author’s Preface
Dear Reader,
Hello, and welcome back to the Deviations Series!
Yes, you’re in the right place. Soft Limits is a prequel. But while one certainly could read it first and not become too terribly “spoiled” for the rest of the series, it’s actually intended to be read last.
The Deviations series wrapped up with the publication of Safe Words in September of 2010, almost ten years ago. I’ve written Soft Limits as an opportunity for fans of the series to revisit some of the supporting characters, to learn more about the history of the club, and to get inside Bradford’s head—something that didn’t happen in the original series at all.
I quote below a Facebook post I made in July 2018 that says everything I really want to say here. I’ve copied it word-for-word and typo-for-typo. I wrote this post after a respected colleague called the series “iconic”. I was floored, honored, and incredibly proud to have someone say they believed we’d influenced a genre.
I won't call them out, but someone respected and very kind called the Deviations Series "iconic" this morning. I might faint.
The first book in the series was originally published 12 years ago this fall. Submission is now available in French (and the rest of the series will follow). The third book was just released in audio last week. People wear pagers and drive PT Cruisers in these books, people! And the only character that has a cell phone is incredibly wealthy. LOL I am continually stunned, appreciative, and gratified by the fact that people still read them, and even more that people still rec them. Wow.
We did a TON of research back then--including interviews with Doms and subs who were in the 24/7 lifestyle. We were given open access to FetLife board discussions. We made visits to BDSM shops and had discussions with their owners. We even had one amazing Mistress who ran her own fetish club put herself essentially on call for when we had questions. People were excited about the books because Romantic BDSM was rare back then. Nobody cared who the pairing was or that the main characters were gay, they cared that their lifestyle was being represented in a positive, affirming light.
We never imagined the books would become what they have. Meeting all those people and writing the series was one of the best things I've ever done. I am so grateful.
The Deviations Series and its characters will always be near and dear to my heart. Writing them deepened my understanding and appreciation for so many aspects of the BDSM lifestyle and the kinky world in general-- sexuality, service, power exchange, care, respect, and the many ways we fall in love—not just once, but over and over, every day. And as often happens when I write, I learned a great deal about myself as well.
I am excited to put this book out into the world for you to read and enjoy. I hope it prompts you to revisit the series too! If you’re interested in more discussi
on about the books, its characters, the lifestyle, or just want to meet some fellow fans, come join the Deviations Facebook fan-owned and fan-run group at:
http://bit.ly/TobiasVincentsDeviants.
As always, thank you for reading!
Jodi
1
The city was lovely in June with the onset of warmer days and summer just starting to take hold. Bradford enjoyed a soft rain shower; it was a welcome respite from the growing heat. A downpour like this one though, was nothing short of a goddamn nuisance.
As he hastily shouldered his way into the local coffee shop to escape the deluge, he found himself longing for the familiar, comfortable, and dry confines of his club. With his cozy brownstone right next door, he rarely headed outdoors anymore, except for the occasional stroll to clear his head or take in some fresh air on a nice day.
This was not a nice day, but he’d had an important meeting this morning with his leathersmith that required his presence at the craftsman’s workshop, and so he’d been obliged to venture out of his neighborhood. He shook out his umbrella and retreated into the breezeway, taking another moment to remove some of the water from his overcoat as well before pushing his way through the second set of glass doors. He smoothed his hair back with one hand and sighed as the cooler air of the café and welcoming scent of coffee washed over him.
Ah, yes. Coffee would set him to rights.
There was a decently long line, but Bradford didn’t care. He planned to sit in a window seat with the newspaper and slowly sip his coffee, silently cursing Mother Nature as he waited for the weather to pass. Besides, rain or no, he had no intention of rushing home to the club after he’d gone to such lengths to make sure he was covered for an afternoon off. No, he was going to sit right here, read and people-watch, and remind himself that although the nonstop hustle of the city wasn’t the reason he’d relocated here many years ago, it was one of the reasons he’d stayed. He really ought to try to get out more.
A couple barreled into the café sans umbrellas. The pair of them looked like drowned rats and were laughing about just that when they took their place in line behind him. Bradford shook his head. He remembered being young and penniless, though not fondly. He much preferred being mature and comfortably situated. It afforded him the opportunity to do exactly as he pleased, which, for an experienced Dominant with particular and often expensive tastes such as himself, was essentially nirvana.
They finally moved a bit, and Bradford took two shuffling steps forward. In front of him was a young man of perhaps twenty, who was tapping a chewed-up pen against a damp newspaper. He leaned around the boy for a better view, curious and assuming it to be a crossword puzzle, but discovered it was in fact the classified ads. He became acutely aware, now that he was in closer proximity, that the young man smelled faintly of vanilla.
Bradford blinked and shifted away slightly, thinking that being close enough to take in a young man’s scent and enjoy it was fine in the privacy of his club, but here in a busy café it might make him appear to be a dirty old man.
Never mind that he was one.
“Who’s next?” a barista called out and the line moved.
Bradford couldn’t seem to refrain from looking the young man over. His army-green jacket was a bit large and hung on narrow shoulders. He wasn’t terribly tall and his shoes were worn and soaked through. He had a gray scarf knotted around his neck, water still beading on it in several places.
“Next!” They moved again. Bradford heard the young man sigh and watched him rub each eye in turn with the heel of his hand. Bradford frowned, keenly aware that the city could be rough on young people. It certainly did seem to be rough on this one.
While he was contemplating that, the young man stepped up and ordered.
“Small coffee, black.” The boy tapped a granola bar on the counter and dug through numerous pockets but in the end, put the granola bar back.
“Just the coffee?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Oh, hey.” He leapt into motion, smiling at the barista. “I’ve got his coffee. A doppio for me, please, extra hot. And a turkey club.”
The young man looked startled and very confused. “I…uh.”
He remained stoically silent until the barista slid their coffees across the counter, followed by the sandwich in a to-go container. He paid, still not answering the young man for the time being, then hustled the boy away from the counter and over to a nearby table. “Sit, boy,” he ordered.
The young man glanced up at him sharply with wide blue eyes. Not just any blue, he noted, but a deep sapphire, and they were moderately terrified. Bradford swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. Please, have a seat.”
The young man didn’t sit, but after a long moment, Bradford did. He put the sandwich down on the table and slid it over toward his young companion.
“I don’t do that,” came a quiet reply.
“You don’t eat?” Bradford asked casually, pretending not to catch on. The young man was hungry; that much was evident. He was thin and he hadn’t yet bolted. “Look, it’s yours. Take it to go if you’d prefer to eat alone, or I invite you to sit with me.” He set his umbrella on the floor and shimmied out of his wet raincoat, letting it fall off his shoulders and over the back of his chair.
After another moment’s hesitation, the young man abruptly sat down and tucked into the sandwich. “You dint haf to,” the boy said as he chewed, his mouth overly full. “I ate yesterday.”
Well, that explained the sunken cheeks and the narrow shoulders. “Naturally, I didn’t have to; it pleased me to do so,” Bradford replied a bit defensively and followed that with a sigh. Really, he wasn’t fit for conversation outside of the club anymore. “That is to say, I wanted to buy it for you.” He watched the young man devour the sandwich, pieces of bacon and lettuce sticking out of the corners of the boy’s mouth. He rolled his eyes at himself and touched the edge of the young man’s newspaper with one finger, sliding it closer to look it over as he sipped his doppio slowly. “Delivery boy, third-shift stocker, parking lot attendant, hm…” Bradford glanced up at the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Nikki,” the young man answered, chewing still.
“Nikki. I see.” He shifted in his seat. “Do you have a last name, Nikki?”
Nikki shook his head. Whether that meant “no” or “none of your business” was difficult to tell, but he assumed the latter and didn’t press the issue. After all, he could count on fewer than the fingers of one hand the number of people who knew his own last name.
“Well, Nikki.” He drew out the name, trying it out on his tongue. “Been in town long?” It was obvious the boy had not, and as Bradford expected, he got another shake of the head.
“I see.” He leaned forward, closer to Nikki, who eyed him warily but didn’t appear to have any intention of putting down his half-eaten sandwich. “Boys without last names have a very hard time getting work in this town.” Nikki searched his eyes for a moment and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “However,” Bradford said grandly, much too grandly for a small local café, “I have need of a dishwasher, and perhaps some other errand-type work, if you are interested.”
The offer hung in the air between them, and he couldn’t be sure which of them was more startled by it: Nikki, who stared at him frozen in midchew, or himself. He most certainly did not need another dishwasher. Where the hell had that come from? Damn those blue eyes. And that soft voice. And smooth skin.
“Christ.” Bradford swore under his breath, hiding his consternation behind another sip of strong coffee. You’re too old for such lechery.
Nikki shrugged, finally. “Yeah? Okay. Thanks.”
And just like that, Bradford had himself a brand-new dishwasher.
Huzzah.
2
Despite the rather dubious rationale surrounding the boy’s hiring, Nikki turned out to be a very reliable employee. He showed up on time, worked as much overtime as needed without complaint, and in the month that he’d been s
taffed in the club’s kitchens, he hadn’t missed a single day.
For his part, Bradford hadn’t seen so much of the inside of his kitchens since he’d taken over management of the club years ago. Something brought him in nearly every day now. At first it was under the pretense of checking in on Nikki, getting a report from the head chef, or some such business-related excuse. When that became too obviously unnecessary, he would find other reasons to stop in.
“Can I help you, sir?” Chef asked as he came through the door from the main dining room.
“The boy still seems to be working out, hm?”
Chef looked up from his paperwork to glance in Nikki’s direction. “Reliable, minds his own business, follows directions, quite capable.”
Bradford nodded.
“Did you have a concern, sir?”
“No, I just…he is of particular interest to me, if you must know, Reggie.” Bradford set a tray and a glass of water down on the worktable. “These were left in my office.”
“Master Bradford, I am positive one of your house boys can handle such mundane errands for you,” Chef teased. “It’s their pleasure to serve, after all.”
Bradford raised an eyebrow. Reggie had been with the club for a long time and ran a tight ship. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the man was suspicious. “Watch yourself, boy, or I’ll have to take a spatula to your ass again.” That had been a most creative evening.
