Nobody’s Perfect
Fourth in the Rescue Me Series
by
Kallypso Masters
Nobody’s Perfect
Copyright 2012, Kallypso Masters
First Electronic Edition, September 16, 2012
Kindle Edition
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Edited by Jeri Smith and Ekatarina Sayanova
Line edited by Jacy Mackin and Liz Borino
Cover art by Linda Lynn
Formatting by Ironhorse Formatting
This book contains content that is not suitable for readers 17 and under.
Thank you for downloading this e-book, which is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be reproduced, posted on Web sites for others to download, or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author, Kallypso Masters, at
[email protected].
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction, copying, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (See http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/ for more information about intellectual property rights.)
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons—living or dead—or places, events, or locales is purely accidental. The characters are reproductions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously. Some of the BDSM techniques portrayed in this book, including rope suspension, require a great amount of skill and should not be attempted without proper training.
To discover more about the books in this series by Kallypso Masters, go to her Web site at KallypsoMasters.com
Follow her “Ahh, Kallypso…the stories you tell” blog at www.KallypsoMasters.blogspot.com;
Or send a friend request to Kallypso Masters on Facebook (www.facebook.com/KallypsoMasters).
She also has a Facebook Kallypso Masters Author Page at www.facebook.com/KallypsoMastersAuthorPage.
You also can follow her on Twitter as @kallypsomasters.
(Kally rarely goes on Goodreads, but her blog does feed there.)
Dedication
To Dane Christopher Sattler, a brave American hero who lost his battle with PTSD in January 2011. What my nation has asked of its military service members and their families is monumental and we need to reach out to them every chance we get to make sure they know we appreciate their sacrifices and are willing to help in any way we can. God bless you all. And, Sue, thanks for sharing your son with me—and for keeping his memory alive on Facebook and elsewhere so we will never forget his sacrifice, and yours.
Also, to my Dad, who suffered most of this adult life with PTSD from the horrors of his service in Korea. He's in heaven now, his battle over, but he'll always be in my heart and is the inspiration for the character of Damián Orlando. Love and miss you, Dad.
And to all my fellow survivors of incest and child sexual abuse—it wasn't your fault. I hope by reading about Savannah's journey and courage you will see there is no one so wounded she or he can't find a happy ending, too. Believe me, if we can, so can you. Judging from the numbers of you who have shared your pain (sometimes for the first time), through private messages and e-mails, know that you are not alone. Big virtual hugs to you all!
Acknowledgements
To the awesome beta readers who were tortured for months not knowing how the book would end (and were often left needing Xanax or serious aftercare after reading a particularly challenging chapter cliffhanger and not getting more of the story for days or months). They are Khriste Close, Kris Harris, Kathy Holtsclaw, Kellie Hunter, Pix.E.Lee, Kelly Mueller, Ekatarina Sayanova, and Kathy Treadway.
To Toymaker and his sub, eirocawakening (their FetLife names) for helping me map out the BDSM scenes for the book and then helping me get inside the heads of Damián and Savannah to take them even deeper into the scene. Knowing at least one scene even brought rare tears to the eyes of a Dom? Priceless.
To Jennifer P. Ekatarina Sayanova, and Jacy Mackin for helping me understand the psychological aspects of Damián and Savi's relationship and for advice on how this lifestyle might help them gain control over their PTSD triggers.
To Kathy Holtsclaw, Kellie Hunter, Ofelia Romero, eirocawakening (FetLife), and Ekatarina Sayanova, who helped me understand Savi's triggers and the ways to help her overcome them.
To Top Griz, who always helps me get my Marine sayings I ask about correct, and even went beyond regs to help with some righteous retribution for Savi. After reading this, I'll bet you'll see Frag Orders in a whole new light. Thank you, sir.
To Kelly Timm and her mother-in-law, who helped me get the factual parts of Solana Beach and Rancho Santa Fe correct. (Please note that San Miguel's, Savi's childhood mansion, and many other aspects of these communities are completely figments of my imagination.)
To my Facebook friends and fans who chimed in on countless questions I asked on my Facebook Author Page and Facebook personal timeline, you always are there to help me out when I just don't have one more brain cell left! With more than 2,700 Facebook friends, plus the author page followers, there are way too many to name here without leaving some out, but thanks for joining me on this amazing journey and for helping me whenever I got stuck on something.
To Kathy Holtsclaw for inspiration and suggestions. It was so nice to meet you in Denver this past summer.
To Rosie Moewe for keeping track of my series timeline and researching topics for me.
To the Kallypso's Street Brats who continue to pimp my books to anyone who will listen, and even some who'd probably rather not know about your reading preferences. My career took off as a result of incredible word of mouth and you continue to bring the Rescue Me series and the members of the Masters at Arms Club to the attention of new readers every day.
To my editorial staff, both paid and volunteer (but all professional)—Liz, Borino, Jacy Mackin, Ekatarina Sayanova, and last, but not least, Jeri Smith who has cheered me on and helped bring out the best book I have in me since the very first one in this series—thanks for helping me make this what I hope will be my "cleanest" first edition ever.
Of course, it's those things I change after my editorial staff and subject experts sign off on them that usually lead to the need for later corrected versions, so, as always, all typos and errors are solely my responsibility, but just know that the all of the above-mentioned people have prevented much embarrassment for me—and much frustration for you.
And to my awesome personal assistant, Leagh Christensen, for her help in taking care of the business matters, promos, and marketing—such as getting me ready for the Romantic Times convention, starting my Web site, newsletter, Kallypso's Street Brats, and other matters like handling contests and blogs—so that I could spend more time writing!
Author's Note
This has been the most difficult book for me to write because it brought up so many of my own childhood issues, but now that it is finished, I am very pleased with how it turned out. While it takes you to some very dark places in Savannah (Savi)'s life, it is primarily a story of hope and healing.
But I worry about readers who have a history of past abuse being triggered by the story. Please, before reading this book, be aware that it is primarily about an incest survivor dealing with the sexual aftermath of years of abuse. She has dealt with non-sexual issues with years of therapy, but has tamped down anything related to sex. In this book, she struggles to find healing through a trusting, consensual BDSM relationship.
The BDSM scenes in this book (some of them beginning and advanced sadomasochism techniques) are the result of many conversations with submissives and Dominants who have w
orked through similar abuse issues using activities in the BDSM community and lifestyle. I wanted to bring a level of authentic realism to the story, rather than try to titillate readers.
If you want to learn more about healing through BDSM, please remember that Damián has been trained for years to provide the service he does in this book. This is fiction, albeit realistically portrayed fiction. Follow the standards for safe, sane, and consensual play outlined on sites like fetlife.com before you venture into real-world BDSM or activities that are beyond you and your partner(s) current expertise. You will find that Damián and Savannah don't play in this book for months. Instead, they spend that time to build on the trust. I wanted to make that a very key part in telling this story, because when trust is shattered in childhood, it is very difficult to restore it and trust anyone again.
BDSM is not a cure or panacaea, but for many of the people I've talked with in trying to understand how it might be used as such, I've learned that it has been helpful to many on any number of levels.
IMPORTANT: If you believe that reading about PTSD flashbacks of incest, whipping for catharsis, mindfucks, and related topics might be triggering for you, please make sure you only read this book in a safe environment with supportive people available to you.
Here are some web sites that can help if you need to talk with someone.
Crisis Services: http://crisisservices.org/content/index.php/information-resources/
Rape Abuse and Incest National Network: http://rainn.org/
To Write Love on Her Arms: http://www.twloha.com/
And for military-service related PTSD:
Wounded Warriors Project: http://woundedwarriorproject.org
I'll also be updating the Causes tab on my Web site (http://kallypsomasters.com/causes) and you'll find links to some non-profit organizations that have been helpful to others for PTSD, military support, and other issues.
By the Author
RESCUE ME series (not stand-alone books)
Available in e-book form at major outlets
Masters at Arms (Book #1, August 2011)
Nobody’s Angel (Book #2, September 2011)
Nobody’s Hero (Book #3, December 2011)
Nobody’s Perfect (Book #4, September 2012)
Upcoming Books in the RESCUE ME Series:
Somebody's Angel (tentative title)
Continuation of Marc & Angelina's story (with HEA!)
Nobody’s Dream
Luke and Cassie’s story
Nobody’s Home
Mistress Grant’s story
By Fall 2012, at least the first four books in the series will be available as trade paperbacks. Later books in the series will be published in paperback as early as possible.
Table Of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
About The Author
Prologue
Savi Baker circled another job listing in the Classifieds as Christmas carols played in the background. Office clerk. After all her years of college and clinicals, she had finally achieved her dream of working as a social worker with young abuse victims. Work that had ended abruptly a week ago.
She still didn't know why she'd been fired. Her supervisor seemed equally confused, so it couldn't have been because her daughter, Mari, had been sick with the flu a couple weeks before that. Everyone at the clinic was supportive of her being a single mother, and her friend, Anita, had stayed with Mari during that time, so Savi had only been off work two days.
Her supervisor had encouraged Savi to submit an appeal to the state agency responsible for the termination, which she'd done immediately. Was she fired because of the complaint the clinic had received from the mother of one of Savi's new clients? The woman accused Savi of being indifferent to her daughter, but Savi thought she and her supervisor had succeeded in explaining to the mother that this wasn't the case at all. However, with the highly charged emotions in situations like this, Savi had to remain professional, objective, and somewhat aloof. In the end, the child's mother had hugged her, sobbing. The mother had said she understood and Savi had thought that was the end of it. Maybe not.
Oh, what difference did the reason make? She'd been fired. It could take months or even years to get reinstated; unraveling bureaucracy took time. She didn't have a huge savings—or time. Her immediate concern was finding a way to support her daughter and herself until she got another job in the mental-health field—if that was even possible—or until she got her old job back.
Savi opened her mini laptop to update her résumé and write a cover letter before Mari got home from practicing for the children's pageant at church. Two weeks 'til Christmas and no job. At least Savi had learned long ago to budget her spending, so there were some special gifts tucked away on the upper shelf in her closet that would help make this Christmas special. She just wouldn't be able to do as much of the baking and gift-giving she liked to do.
Absorbed in rewriting her résumé, she jumped when the doorbell interrupted her. She looked at the clock on her desk. Too early for Mari to be dropped off—unless something had happened. Barely able to breathe, Savi nearly ran to the front door and opened it, expecting to see one of the youth leaders from the church group.
Lyle.
She gasped, nearly choking as bile rose in her throat. Stupid! Why hadn't she glanced through the peephole first? She tried to close the door in his face, but he had wedged his foot into the doorway, preventing her.
"What kind of greeting is that for an old friend, Savannah?"
Not a friend. Enemy. Savi placed her bare foot against the back of the door to keep him from opening it any further. She tried to fill her lungs with much-needed air. Dangerous. She needed to get rid of him. He could hurt Mari.
She fought to force the door closed, but gained no ground. "What do you want?"
"Let me inside and we'll talk."
"You're not coming in. Leave before I call the police!"
He narrowed his eyes into slits and fear crawled up Savi's spine for the first time in eight years. Vile man. Could she fight him off?
"Open this door, you dirty slut, or you and Marisol will regret this pathetic show of bravery."
Marisol. He knew her name. Did he know where she was? Oh, God, she prayed. Don't let Mari come home early. Where was Father? Had he gone after Mari while Lyle was here with her?
"I'm not letting you inside my…"
Without warning, Lyle leaned back then rammed his body full force into the door, sending the edge of the wood into Savi's cheek. She hurtled backward until she lay sprawled on the floor, looking up at him. His navy-blue dress pants and wingtip shoes made her shudder as a distant memory tried to smother her efforts to regain her breath, but she tamped it back down. The angry man towered over her.
"Ah, just where a slut like you belongs, Savannah—at my feet." He reached for her. "Let me hear you scream, for old-time's sake, you filthy whore."
No! Memories of the night he'd placed her father's brand on her could never be erased, no matter how many times she'd tried. Neither could any of the degrading things Lyle had subjected her to at her father's orders.
She got onto all fours and scrambled to get away, sliding on the waxed floor. Lyle's wingtip shoe gouged into her left side. The air whooshed from her lungs and she gasped, fighting for her next breath.
&n
bsp; "Your father asked me to bring you and your brat to him. But we're going to enjoy a little playtime first. What your father doesn't know…"
Another blow struck her side near the same place and panic set in as her breathing became labored. Two more kicks followed in rapid succession. The pain!
Breathe!
Maman, help me. Give me the strength to fight him off.
Savi pulled herself up using the hallway table and tried to breathe again. She turned to find Lyle smirking at her. Bastard. Picking up a brass candlestick from the table, she swung it at his head, striking a blow she hoped had left him more than just stunned. Not waiting for him to recover, she followed up by kicking him in the groin. He doubled over and fell to the floor. He lay moaning, holding his privates as blood trickled onto her floor, when she remembered how to cut off the blood flow to the brain. She'd learned the technique from a veteran female Marine who had studied with her in college.
Savi cringed as her finger touched his neck, hating to place her hands anywhere on him, but finally found the point she sought and pressed—hard. She counted. By thirty seconds, Lyle's body grew even more limp.
Escape! Now!
Running to the kitchen, she grabbed her purse and keys and stumbled out the back door. A black BMW sat parked behind her little blue Nissan. She glanced back at her bungalow. Her home, but no longer her safe place.
No sign of Lyle yet, but he wouldn't be unconscious forever. Breathing had become a struggle, but she refused to escape inside her head to that numb place where she could dull the pain. Mari needed her to stay in the moment.
Mari needed her. Period.
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