“Okay, I’m going to let Jacques know you’re here.” Odalia turned and made her way to the second floor, which comprised of her bedroom, closet and bathroom. The condo was cozy for one person; he didn’t know how the couple managed it, but then again, Jacques had his own place.
Mathieu dropped into an armchair and pulled out his phone to tap out a quick message to Lisette.
Mathieu: Ran into a cop friend. You good if we have lunch? Want me to bring you something?
He wasn’t sure why he kept Odalia and Jacques apart from Lisette. Maybe he wanted to protect her. Maybe he was subconsciously trying to keep another potential mistake from his closest friend. Whatever the reason, he’d made his move.
The phone buzzed and Lisette’s name popped up with a reply.
Lisette: Sounds good to me. I’ll get my own lunch. Need to check email. See you later.
He breathed a little easier. One less thing to worry about.
The stairs facing the back door creaked as what sounded like two pairs of feet descended. Odalia swung around the banister, now in jeans and a t-shirt, her long dark hair hanging lose. When in uniform, Odalia appeared nothing but the clean-cut cop, but out of uniform, you got the truth. Black and gray tattoos wrapped from shoulder to elbow on her left arm, part of it peeking out from her sleeve. A sacred heart was almost completely visible across her chest in a v-neck.
There were more tattoos, which were quite notable, especially since she’d graced the cover of a major tattoo magazine at the end of last year. It hadn’t included her face, or there would probably be hell to pay on the job front. Odalia’s side job as a model had never been something he approved of, too many opportunities to get tripped up by people who didn’t understand her work. But it was her life.
A large black man followed her, gaze trained on him.
Jacques Savoy was a backwater bounty hunter who’d moved to the city and separated himself from his less than law-abiding family. There were few secrets Mathieu hadn’t been able to uncover about the man, which was probably a big reason for the animosity between them. Mathieu didn’t have anything against him. Jacques just happened to be dating the woman he considered another sister, and until such a time as Odalia told Mathieu to back down, things weren’t likely to change.
The two men nodded at each other as the doggie door seemed to blow inward and two silver bullets came barreling inside.
“Creature, calm yourself,” Odalia barked.
The two dogs dropped their hindquarters and gave her their undivided attention. Mathieu shook his head. Something about Odalia screamed pack mother to them.
“Behave, Gator. You know better,” she continued as if either Creature or Gator might reply with anything except gratuitous licks and shaking of tails. “Good grief, you’d think they hadn’t seen each other in years.”
Jacques and Odalia dropped onto the couch, fishing shoes out from under the coffee table. They moved in synchronization, an act Mathieu didn’t think they were conscious of. He’d hung out with the couple a handful of times and knew what was happening here was true, honest regard for each other. Things had never been that way for Amanda and him. Why hadn’t he seen the signs?
“Let’s go to Buli’s.” Odalia rose and grabbed a leash from a peg by the door.
Creature, the completely silver of the two pit bulls, planted his hindquarters on the ground and sat stone still. Mathieu had never been able to get Gator to learn that trick, no matter how he tried.
“Gator, come here.”
Gator, with his tuxedo stripe down his chest and one white ear, was the sillier of the two dogs. He flopped on the ground, several feet from Mathieu.
“That’s not what I asked for.”
Jacques chuckled. “Need some lessons, Mouton?”
“Not from the likes of you. Gator. Here.” Mathieu slapped his calf and Gator begrudgingly got to his feet and padded over to lay his big head on Matheiu’s knee. He snapped the leash on the collar and gave the dog’s ears a scratch. “Was that so hard, knucklehead?”
“I’m hungry,” Odalia announced, shrugging into her coat.
“That’s why we’re going to go eat,” Jacques replied.
“Just reminding you two girls busy making eyes at each other.” Odalia pursed her lips and bobbed her head in an excessive display of attitude.
The trio plus two dogs left the condo and fell into a line, walking three abreast with Odalia in the middle. Creature and Gator struck out to the end of their leashes, tongues lolling out in almost identical canine grins.
“What are you up to today? Doing anything with your friend?” Odalia asked after they’d traversed the block in near silence, save for the street traffic.
“No plans,” he replied. Again he shied away from discussing Lisette’s presence.
“You should come to the dungeon tonight. There’s a potluck before. I heard there will be ribs.”
Mathieu loved a good BBQ rib, but the idea of mingling with people who would have all the good intentions in the world of catching up didn’t appeal. He wasn’t in a hurry to drag his mistakes out for the world to see.
“Nah, I don’t think so,” he drawled as they entered the patio at Buli’s.
There was a large table off to the corner of the sectioned off area where they normally sat. The spiked fence allowed for a handy place to loop the leashes and still give both dogs space to sprawl and sniff around without bothering other patrons. A heating lamp chased away the damp chill, making the overcast February day seem more pleasant.
A waitress approached them and took drink and meal orders.
“IA is taking another look at me,” Odalia said into the silence.
“What?” Mathieu sat forward in his chair. Following the incident on New Year’s, Internal Affairs had been all over Odalia’s life, but with no corroborating evidence to former Officer Douglas’ claims, they’d left her alone. That didn’t mean her life had gone back to normal.
“Yeah, I’m not sure why. They say it’s more about Chuck’s trial than me, but I don’t know. Something’s up.” She paused while their drinks plus two bowls of water for the dogs were delivered. “Anyway, it’s not just going away.”
Mathieu was pretty certain there were details of what went down that Odalia wasn’t telling him. He’d respect her decision, even as he wanted to protect her from the kind of scrutiny IA could bring to a person’s life. He’d had to sit under their magnifying glass a few times, all for officer-involved shootings where a suspect was hit, and it was nerve wracking. He couldn’t begin to imagine the hardships Odalia was going through.
“I told her if it got too messy, she could come work with me,” Jacques said, his Cajun accent flavoring each word.
Jacques worked with Bayou Hunters, a loose affiliation of bounty hunters who were highly skilled on their own or as a team. They were by far the most successful at bringing in bail jumpers. The last Mathieu knew though, it was an all male team. Odalia was tough. No doubt she could hold her own. But Mathieu didn’t want to see her leave the force. Not like this.
“Do you like that plan?” Mathieu flicked his fingers toward Jacques.
“No. I was planning on applying to SWAT in the spring. I heard they needed a new sniper and that would be perfect for me.” She leaned back in her chair and draped her hand over Creature’s shoulders as he sat next to his mistress.
“Then keep fighting it. Tell as much of the truth as you can. Be honest and sincere. They don’t want to lose good cops.”
“Yeah, it’s just frustrating. I didn’t do anything wrong.” She blew out a breath, frustration creasing her face.
Kink wasn’t wrong, but it was different enough that the misconceptions were hazardous to a career like theirs. There were too many psychopaths in the world who crossed the lines of consent into committing horrible and criminal acts. It was a fine line to walk, which made the gift of consent so precious.
It was the difference between Lisette’s
moans when he smacked her with a flogger, and the screams he could all too easily imagine coming from those same lips as she was slapped around.
A fine line indeed.
Lisette stepped through the doors of another random New Orleans café and held them for a cute older couple exiting, hand in hand, bundled up against the chilly, damp day. It was going to pour buckets later, but even that sounded wonderful. She loved the sound of rain on the windows, a hot cup of tea or coffee, maybe some soup.
Soup. That sounded good.
Her stomach growled, reminding her pancakes were a long time ago.
She waited for the hostess to find her a table near an outlet, taking the moment to peruse the menu. Or really, the soups section. Bisque stuck out to her, something with some good crawfish. She practically drooled.
The hostess led her to a back corner, near the restrooms, but the circular booth also backed up against a wall.
Completely perfect.
Lisette thanked the woman and set up her laptop. She’d glanced at her email on her phone earlier after Mathieu left, and her eyes had nearly bugged out of her skull. There was at least one message from each person on her staff and a hundred-plus Q&A emails. The staff emails she read and replied to on her phone. They understood her situation and wouldn’t mind a few typos. The rest, well, she needed her laptop for those.
The waitress took her order, and Lisette plugged in her headphones, ready to get down to business. It was a pity the site didn’t make much more than what it cost to keep it afloat or she would have turned it into her full-time job.
She clicked through the Q&A emails, copying the repeat questions into a document. Every now and then a post sparked so many of the same questions it was easier to address them on the blog instead of through fifty identical emails.
The soup interrupted her composition, so she pushed the laptop to the side and greedily leaned over the bisque, inhaling the fragrance of seafood, spices and whatever magic was in that sauce.
Lisette shifted her weight and a slightly uncomfortable sensation, not quite pain, shot down her leg. She rocked side-to-side on the spot and grinned.
Mathieu had a gentle touch, but then again he hadn’t been trying for rough. In a word, their play was perfect. The banter, the laughing, he handled the flogger with ease and kept her on her toes. She was still completely wrapped in the warm, fuzzy endorphins nearly two hours later. There hadn’t been a single moment of panic or fear. Just—bliss.
She tucked into her meal, completely ravenous. There were some foods you only ate in New Orleans. Her mother’s gumbo, for example.
A pang of loss stabbed her in the chest. Her parents had been very clear about cutting ties with her when she refused to make up with Seth. They didn’t understand. He had them wound around his finger so tight, they’d rather take in someone they didn’t even know over their own flesh and blood.
Lisette placed her spoon on the napkin and leaned back in the booth, blinking rapidly. She’d always played third fiddle to her siblings and everything else. It’s what came with being the middle child no one expected anything from. She’d grown up in their shadows, but it didn’t change the ever-present desire for parental approval.
She knew the theories, the psychological reasons behind it, but right now they didn’t matter. She was a girl who wanted to hug her mom. And mom wouldn’t hug her back.
Down this path lay nothing but disappointment. She pulled her laptop toward her and clicked through messages with one hand, while spooning more food into her mouth with the other. By the time she’d eaten every drop and crumb, she had a document full of notes and questions to reply to.
Hello Kinksters,
First, I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of support. I have so many messages right now my limited internet access will not allow me to respond to each of you individually. Please accept my apologies and know I have heard you. You make my kinky little heart all warm and fuzzy.
Second, there were a lot of repeat questions, so to save time I’m going to address all of those here.
Question 1: Have I gone to the police?
Yes. Because of the sensitive nature of investigations, I will not be discussing this on the blog now or ever. I share my journey with you guys because it is my choice. I will not bring another’s life on the pages here out of my respect for consent, despite the flagrant disrespect for my consent.
Question 2: Have I sought medical/professional help?
Yes. I have seen doctors. I am very well cared for.
*Note: this next question will stir up a lot of discussion and perhaps be triggering for some of our readership.*
Question 3: Do I believe I deserved this?
No. I don’t believe anyone ever deserves such violent acts. What happened to me was wrong. I did not ask for it. There were several criminal acts performed during the instances of assault. I am a victim. I will always stand by this no matter what some in the kink community might choose to believe. Those who do believe a person deserves to be beaten within an inch of their life are not true Dominants, Tops or Masters, in my opinion. They are abusers, and not welcome on the Kinky Girl blog.
To those who emailed me and said I deserve what I got? Go away. Really. Lose this blog URL, forget my email. There is not space in my life for your nonsense.
Question 4: To those people who have stories like mine, find help.
In every community there are trusted leaders. Ask for help.
If you have been physically assaulted, go to the authorities. Get help.
Reach out to your friends and family.
Abuse and rape are an unfortunate reality of the world we live in. Being in the BDSM lifestyle means we walk a questionable line to people who are not like us. But there is help. At the bottom of this blog I’m going to post a link to the kink-friendly list of doctors, therapists, psychologists and organizations that can and will help you, without judgment. I understand not everyone will have someone in their area, but I urge you to call some of the national organizations and talk to someone. These are professionals who can guide you in your road to recovery.
Question 5: How am I doing now?
Really good. Like, I cannot begin to explain to you guys how good today is.
I’m going to be vague on the details out of respect, but I have a really great Dominant friend in my life right now who helped me today. He is completely aware of the mess my life is in. I always say honesty is the best policy, even when it sucks. Anyway, after discussing my situation and limits, we did a flogging scene. It’s the first play I’ve had since before the vanilla boyfriend.
I was scared it would be triggering. That he’d brush the flogger across my skin and I would be a terrified, sobbing mess.
I wasn’t.
In short, we had a fantastic flogging scene and I got all the cuddles I could want. I knew going into this I was running the risk of having to shut the door on something that has become a huge part of my life. It was scary at first, but now, with a few marks on me, it was the most reaffirming thing I could have done. My kink hasn’t been stolen from me; I’m still me.
Now, I do not advocate this for everyone. I made the choice based on my mindset and physical ability, as well as my level of trust for my partner, that this was something I was willing to do. For some of us, jumping back into the saddle is the way to go. For others, that’s a bad idea. Again, seek professional help if you need it.
This post is getting really long, so here’s my signature picture of my toes. I had to sneak this in a café I was at, but don’t you like that new polish? It’s a festive shade of pink since we’re heading into the Valentine’s Day season.
Again, we here at the Kinky Girl blog have the best readers. You guys rock and keep bringing the kink!
Until next kink,
KG
Seth frowned at the coordinates on his GPS, then at the café across the street. According to the coordinates he’d lifted from the last photograph, Liset
te had been at the coffee house. The time code tags seemed to be overwritten to the time the picture was uploaded to the server where the Kinky Girl Blogs site was housed.
He pocketed the GPS device and strode across the street. Rain began to spatter the pavement in thick, heavy drops. The damn sky had been threatening to pour all day. He hated this place, with its rotting, humid air, so different from Miami.
Seth walked past the café, peering in at the handful of patrons out on this miserable evening, but none of them were his prey.
He stopped under the awning of the store next door to the café, where he could keep watch over the patrons. If he used the time the photo was uploaded and the GPS coordinates, then Lisette should have been at the coffee shop an hour ago. But even that was suspect. The truth was she could have been here a week ago and just posted the picture today.
The café would go on his list of locations to keep an eye on. Like the one before, near the college campus. If he used these locations as a perimeter, he could narrow down where his prey was hiding.
Seth clenched his hands into fists. He knew how to be patient. It was part of his job, what he’d spent his life doing. But such easy quarry should have died the first time. The little cunt just couldn’t let go of the breathing habit long enough to kick the bucket.
A woman with bleached blonde hair, wearing the café emblem on her shirt, pushed the front door open and lifted an umbrella to shield herself.
Fucking blondes. They all needed to die.
chapter six
Rope
Mathieu shambled down the sidewalk in the early morning light. Gator sniffed a small patch of grass with great interest.
He hated not having a yard for Gator to run around in. The house he’d lived in before and during his short-lived marriage had a decent spread that had worked for them. Someday, he’d be able to offer Gator better than stolen moments at parks they weren’t welcome at.
DutyBoundARe Page 6
