Chapter 24
Some months later...
K felt his battered body as it was dragged up from the bowels of one of The Boss’ yachts. He’d put up a hell of a fight and knew he was lucky to be able to stand upright, even if one leg was in better shape than the other... The boss’s lackeys put a gun in his face, ready to execute him. “On your knees.” K hesitated, Francine was not the only one without a fondness of that position.
They’d finally figured it out, dullards that they were, at primate speed they spotted the deliberate trail he’d finally had to resort to leaving for them before they’d caught on to what he’d been doing for months, hiding their money in the bank accounts of the very whores who they’d been abducting and selling. He was like a goddamn reverse pimp Peter Pan. What kind of sick fuck does that they wanna know? “Well, what can I say? Pussy has always been my weakness.”
K spit blood, still on his feet, trying to stall for time, inching toward the yacht's guard rail. “I didn't want your blood money,” his lips are bruised and bleeding, one eye swelling shut “and why should it go to the state? So I channeled it where I thought it would do the most good.” They hit him again, inadvertently shoving him closer to the side of the boat, K couldn't hide his smirk. The dumb fucks. They gun rose a little higher. Too bad The Boss wasn't here, he was always much better at interrogations. A few drops of rain fell through the murky dark and hit the yacht from above. A storm was coming and a sudden a gale rocked the boat and sent K overboard with a splash, his silent form disappeared beneath the glacier cold of the waves.
The sea was an inky black, embracing him quietly like a jealous mistress. They could barely see a few feet in front of them and K had been beaten and bruised. The lackey raised his gun, but another stopped him, “Idiot! Don’t shoot that over the side of this boat, what if there’s a ricochet or something? Where miles off shore!” The gun was regretfully lowered. K would never have told them what happened to the money anyway, and as far as they knew he had no family. It’s not like he’d kept any of it, and now it would seem he’d found a watery grave.
They looked at each other. "We're miles off shore, he's as good as dead."
* * *
Miles away in her cloud of covers and her silken nightgown Francine was shaken awake, her skin cold beneath her warm blankets. It’s not a cold from the softly spinning fan above, it’s a cold that’s come from inside her. She held the blanket more tightly around her and snapped on the bedside lamp before grabbing the water next to her bed. The water she’s still kept there since - since she was with K.
The lamp gave a gentle glow over the room crowding out the shadows of her dreams. K, she’d been dreaming about him again. Dreams of lust and possession, desire and control, but this one really shook her up.
This one felt like love and loss.
She took another sip of her water. He was in her thoughts, her dreams almost every night when her guard was down and she was asleep. At first she just assumed it was because he was probably dead, and she was mourning. But then she realized how presumptuous that probably was. K was nothing if not resourceful, and people left other people every day, just because their relationship was dead didn’t mean he was.
She picked up her phone sliding the icons over to voice memos: Hello Angel, if you’re hearing this... The message wound down to it’s inevitable conclusion. She really should erase it. She hadn't heard it for over three weeks now. That was pretty damn good. She sighed placing the phone back on the nightstand, the white cord dangled from the back where it was plugged into the wall.
She sighed as she laid back against the pillows. A broken record repeated in her head, the same way it had the second day after she realized she was back on her own. A lot prettier, more desirable women were left, for a lot better reasons than she was. In retrospect, she had been a lot of trouble for him, it didn't mean he was dead. It could just mean he wanted a fresh start, for both of them. He had never promised her forever, she shouldn’t have expected anything else at the end of their strange relationship, except that he move on.
He wasn’t dead, of course not.
She hoped not - every day.
She leaned up and took another sip of water before she slid back beneath the covers trying to get in a comfortable spot. Her dream came to her and so did a frisson of the old fear, the old anxiety as it pricked up her skin.
When she was afraid at the cabin it was like he knew, and he’d just hold her. Less and less she began to slip inside the safety of her own mind. He’d get her something to drink, or sit next to her, and pull her close to his side. Or sit her on his lap and hold her, stroke her hair. Do whatever little thing comforted her.
My submissive... he’d whisper to her, like he had found gold, like she was the most precious thing in the world. My Francine... She reached over and turned off the light, the room was back in shadows, moonlight peeked through the curtains.
She wished he was here now.
Sir - Her Master. K.
More and more it was like those months together were a hazy dream. The cabin was gone and she had very little to remember her time from there. She remembered being taken, and of course her life now, but more and more her time with him was fading into the background, he was fading into the background. His memory becoming more and more intangible like steam as it mixed with the cooler air.
He’d had money. She knew that now. He’d always had money, he’d just taken her to a place where they had lived very modestly. But now she saw the signs. Being able to live off the grid, the late model truck, the computer and iPad brought in without a second thought...the crazy tracking collar. These things could not have been cheap. Then of course there were what she had come to think of as the “goodbye gifts.”
He had money and with the way he looked along with the consistent performance in bed He was definitely a 10, what the past generation would have called a “catch” and she...
She’d never been what she or anyone else would consider really desirable. She could see it so much more clearly now. Their relationship was hopelessly outmatched and imbalanced from the beginning. He’d given her the gifts at the end because he’d felt guilty. That had to be it.
Once she’d left the cabin and moved on as best she could with her life, eventually the sane part of her had kicked in. Really, it would have only been a matter of time before he’d eventually have tired of her anyway. Men like him always did, if they ever looked her way at all. It was good that he left her when he did and they didn't leave together - like she had wanted. It saved them both what she was sure would have been a lot of embarrassment later on.
She sighed, the old familiar ache of missing him like a prickly cloud gathering inside her chest that spread with rank pain throughout her entire body. Her thumb hovered seconds over the glowing arrow before gently landing. Hello Angel, if you’re hearing this...
Part 2: Summer
Chapter 25
Francine became a different woman. Her hair is sleek, her soft blond hair highlighted and ironed flat down her back. Her muscles developed a lean and supple definition from her continued exercise. After her ordeal she’d amped up her workouts. No, they weren’t “level K” (as she’d named their old workouts) but they were getting the job done. Inside the LX she glided with power through the streets as she transported supplies for her gardening business. Grace Potter's sultry alto voice spilled through the LX's speakers crooning “Never Go Back”.
Francine had built a business and a reputation as she supplied many of the florists in the local region with fresh flowers and shrubs, her business was growing more and more every day. She didn’t like to use the LX to transport the messier stuff, but she could always get someone to connect a hitch to the back, she never wanted to ruin the neat and supple inside of the cab.
Today she’d just needed a few things, nothing that she and the LX couldn’t handle in a few regular cartons and paper bags. She really didn't even need her assistant Ralph to help her unload, then again, it w
ould be nice to have help.
Her well fitted patterned peasant shirt clings to her full breast and her jeans went half-way down her calves where they end in a fold. On her feet she’d treated herself to dark supportive leather sandals, never flip flops. She rarely wore flip flops.
Recent events have made her abhor flip flops.
Her light blue toes with their sparkles peeked up from the sandals and sparkled in the sun when she was out of the vehicle. As she gets closer and closer to her home more and more cars dropped off and the hills become more pronounced. Her heart rate also become more slow, her body less anxious. She was headed home, to her sanctuary, where she felt most safe, indomitable.
Before buying this house she couldn’t ever remember feeling so connected to her surroundings before. She flipped the car mirror down at a four way stop, her hazel eyes looked back at her. A powerful, and yes, even beautiful woman looked back from the mirror before the car in front of her moved forward and she flipped the mirror up.
She’d tried going to one of those bars, the “kinky” kind, but was scared off by the tattoos and piercings. Not to mention the men were kind of cheesy, or scary. It had also filled her with conflict. She still trembled when she thought of how close she came to disappearing forever into a nightmare. If it wasn’t for K where and with what monster would she have ended up? Did she really want to even risk anything like that again for some cheap thrill? The fear gripped her, making the idea about diving into that lifestyle overwhelming.
Her turn came up at the four way stop and she compressed the gas, the LX moving gently forward, her matching nails sparkle as she turned the wheel. She’d just have to give dating some more time. Enter into a nice, what did they call it - vanilla relationship. That was the word. Date someone nice. Like Ralph.
Ralph seemed to really like her. He had been working for her for a couple weeks now and had really brought a lot to her business. He was really good at fixing and building things.
She could admit it, he had a nice body too, built more like a viking than a roman soldier, but she could get used to that. He seemed gentle, he’d probably never dominate her the way he did. But he was gone probably forever, probably dead - and it was past time for her to move on.
The automatic iron gate smoothly opened for the LX as Francine turned the wooden accented wheel through them and down the private drive toward her property. The farmhouse rose before her with it’s meticulously maintained garden out back. The trees hung beautifully, green, flowering and even a few fruit edged the property, all of them provided shade and protection.
The mostly white frame house was quiet, the staff having gone home for the day. Only Ralph and Rita might still be around. Rita to finish her end of the day cleaning and Ralph to help her unpack a few of the supplies she’d said this morning she’d return with in the back of her truck.
Again the thought occurred to her that he might have left for the day. If he had that would be fine, the supplies weren’t going anywhere before tomorrow. A lone figure was stretched out over the wicker sofa on her porch. Wait a minute, was Ralph actually, taking a nap? That wasn’t like him at all. Ralph liked to keep moving, to keep his hands busy.
As she got closer she realized it couldn’t be Ralph, the coloring was wrong. It looked like some kind of vagabond, but here, this far out? She stopped the truck a few hundred yards from the wrap around front porch and got out, cautiously approaching the front of the house. Whoever it is is in bad shape, she could see that from here, and then - her whole world stopped.
* * *
K's long lean form was draped across her wicker outdoor sofa at a half snooze. There was something obscene about the way he looked lying there. Eyes bruised, one swollen closed, a bandage across his nose, more bandages under the shirt he was wearing, a cane was within easy reach next to him, to help him keep balance. A burlap duffel laid not too far away, a soft grating sound floated up from his battered frame;, his nose was fractured. K had not been a snorer when they were - together. Nor had he been much for sleeping during the day. Weariness must have overwhelmed him for him to lose consciousness even for a bit out here in the open.
For a moment she struggled with the ambivalence inside her, he was someone she never thought she'd see again and she felt joy blossom within her as she kneeled on one knee next to his unsuspecting form. His breath felt soft against her face as she laid her hand gently across his shirt before pulling it back like from a hot stove and rocking back on her heels.
Her blood slowed and turned icy. She should call the police. That was the sensible thing to do. This man had technically kidnapped her. Held her against her will for weeks – no, months.
Shouldn't he be punished? Incarcerated? His voice was a distant echo, I guess that means one day you might have a decision to make - decision, decision. The word echoed in her head weighty with it’s consequences. Then, it was like her mind cleared, all indecision faded.
Was there ever a decision? Her hands fell in her lap as she looked at his sleeping form. His short lashes lay innocently against his cheeks, one bruised and still healing. It looked like someone had socked him a good one. He lay there healing among the beautiful potted flowers in their ornamental cement containers on her front porch. His presence already bringing violence and excitement into her quiet new life.
Her life was quiet now, peaceful, she didn't need anything – thanks to him. He had given her everything. She never thought she'd see him again and now...
“Francine, who's that?” She heard heavy footsteps behind her. It was Ralph mounting the steps on her porch. “Wow! I wonder what the other guy looks like?”
Francine had already placed her hand protectively on the side of K's body. She knew the footsteps had shaken him awake by the way his breathing had changed. “Oh, Ralph this is an old friend-” and as much as she knew about him that's when she realized again that she knew nothing about him – not even his name.
Without missing a beat K’s eyes looked cautiously at Ralph’s approaching figure before he eased painfully into a sitting position and stuck out his hand “Karl, My name's Karl Augustus”.
Chapter 26
“Oh, you have a famous name!” Said Ralph. “Any relation to the famous Augustus family?”
Karl looked up at him and chuckled as Francine looked up at him. Wow! A name for this face. Who knew? Not Kent after all! “Please...” Continued Karl standing with one hand reaching for his cane, leaning on it to take his weight and grabbing for her for balance. “You think the Augustus’ would want anyone looking like this?”
Francine went to reach for his duffel, but Ralph was quicker, “I've got it Francine.” Together they walked Karl into the house. “Which room Francine?” Ralph asked? Which room indeed?
Francine looked to the floor, then back at him as she said. “The blue room please Ralph.” And then, “Unless, Karl, should we take you to a doctor first?”
“Just came from the doctor Francine. I'd just like to lie down for a while if it's OK with you.” They looked at each other for a long moment. The question in his eyes, the final decision in hers. Francine let out one more sigh. “Of course.”
“Will your ankle heal OK?” Francine said glancing down at Karl's wrapped foot, the other in it’s familiar heavy boot.
“yeah, it will. I just need to rest a couple days, I have pain medication.” They made it to the stairs together and started awkwardly, slowly up. “Ralph could you get us some water?” She yelled.
“Do you wanna tell me how this happened?” she asked.
“Later Angel,” he said softly. “I know you deserve answers and I'll give you some, but it was a hard ride here. I'd really like to lie down for a while, on something that won't jostle or poke me back.” he said thinking about the wicker sofa outside.
Francine’s house was beautiful, and invaded by plants. Even the room she led him too had a few pretty, green, potted specimens. Downstairs by the door in the foyer an indoor tree grew strong and tall.
“Ho
w’d you get here?” she asked.
“Took a taxi.” he looked down, “Just glad to see you.” He gave her one of her mischievous smiles. Leaving the hall they entered his room on the left where Ralph had left Karl’s duffel by the bed. The plants were cradled in a room decorated in cool blue ocean colors with splashes of green for accent. From here he could see out at the front of the house over the porch they had just left. The day was still hot outside but the central air was doing it’s job beautifully in concert with a wide wooden fan spinning lazily above them.
Francine left Karl on his feet letting him lean on the cane as she pulled the covers back before letting him lay down so that he could rest. Karl’s gaze was fixated on her like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face. She tried to ignore it and reached for his shirt. He got lost inside it mumbling through the material. “They look so pretty on you.” What was he saying now?
“What?” She asked.
“The diamonds.” He said looking at her. “I'm so glad you're wearing them.” She balled his shirt up against her, one hand went to her ear without thinking, before she could respond Ralph had returned with the glass of water. He waited until Francine had Karl settled into bed with his pain pills before speaking with her in the kitchen.
“Francine, what kind of friend is this?”
Francine bustled around the kitchen, not ready to meet his searching gaze, getting herself a cool drink from the fridge. “What do you mean?” She asked twisting the cap from her bottled water with a snick before taking a swig. “He's just a guy I knew a long time ago.”
“Well, you're all flushed Francine, and unsettled. I've never seen you like this, restless. Like you just don't know what to do with yourself. You haven't stopped moving since he got here.”
Natural Submission: Book 1 of the Submission Series Page 17
