DutyBoundARe

by Sidney Bristol

  “Do your business, man. It’s cold out here.”

  He pulled his jacket tighter around him and rolled his neck. Sleeping on the couch was not doing his back any favors. He missed his bed, with the thick foam top and the pillows his sister had given him for Christmas. The bed was more than big enough for two people, and he bet Lisette made a fine bedfellow, but down that path lay temptation.

  To distract himself from where thoughts of bed and Lisette were going, he pulled out his phone and checked his work email. One marked important caught his eye. The subject merely read, Call Me. The time stamp was from an hour prior.

  Mathieu shoved down all the what-ifs and found the phone number he needed.

  The line rang once, twice.

  “Hello,” a woman’s too-chipper voice said over the line.

  “Ça viens?”

  “Mouton. What are you doing up this early, detective?” Amber Petit was a desk jockey of the first order, with skills that rivaled any officer on the beat. Her ability was patterns. Analyzing the crime fresh off the streets and looking for connections. It was a wonder some federal division didn’t snatch her up.

  “Walking my dog. What’s so important I needed to call you?”

  “It might not be related, but you did ask me to look for cases involving women and assault. There was a coffee shop girl found dead in a dumpster by the morning pick-up crew. First responders reported ligature marks and bludgeoning to her head and chest. No sexual assault. Cause of death is unknown, but do the math.”

  Mathieu stopped seeing the street, his dog or anything. His body went cold and he tightened his grip on the leash.

  “Mouton? You there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “You want to tell me what this is about?”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “You aren’t going to answer my question, are you?”

  “At this point, it’s better if you don’t know.”

  For the span of a few moments Amber didn’t reply. She would be within her right to report him. Which, if these assaults were connected, would mean losing this case if Lisette was connected. Another officer would take it over, and if by any chance what Lisette claimed was true, the bastard would go free, blood all over his hands.

  “Just tell me you’re doing something good with this information,” Amber said, her voice low. There was something behind the bubbly analyst, some hidden motivator Mathieu had never dug into.

  “I’m just looking at a bigger picture here. I don’t know if these are connected, but if they are, I am doing some good.”

  “Okay. That’s all I need to know.”

  “We’re the good guys.”

  “Hey, I need to run. If I see anything else or if any leads come in, I’ll pass them on.”

  Mathieu ended the call and began walking once more, Gator ready to move on.

  If Seth was responsible for all of these assaults, it would give Lisette’s claims a lot of merit. He wasn’t ready to believe her. There was absolutely nothing to link the two cases together except dental floss and chewing gum.

  He needed another set of eyes on the situation, and for that, there was only one other person who qualified.

  Lola.

  This whole mess got dumped on him by a well-meaning sister anyway.

  He brought up his sister’s number and called, ignoring the early hour.

  It rang and rang.

  “Brother mine, there has got to be a better time to chat than seven in the morning,” she growled. He doubted she used that tone in a court of law, but maybe she’d have faster results if she did.

  “Morning to you, too. I need to talk about Lisette without her around, which means there’s not a lot of time or opportunity to make that happen.”

  “What happened?” That seemed to wake her up.

  “Nothing I can prove, but I want to know what you know.”

  “Did she tell you?”

  “She told me a long story I can’t verify without potentially putting her in danger if this whole thing has even a shred of truth to it.”

  “It’s real, Mat. I did some digging I was going to bring to you, but there’s proof this Seth is a psychopath.”

  “You really believe her?”

  Lola paused. He could imagine her sitting up in bed, her hair a wild riot of curls, face creased as she figured out how to word something just right. “You know how you’ll talk to a victim and you just know they’re telling you the truth?”

  He did. He’d seen it a hundred times if he’d seen it once, but where Lisette was concerned, his barometer was haywire. So for now, he’d have to trust his flesh and blood.

  Lisette’s jaw dropped and she sucked in a breath. It was a kinky show-and-tell, and there was a hell of a lot to show.

  Mathieu pulled two large rolling suitcases out of his small, walk-in closet. She’d thought his toys were all in the bins under the bed. She’d been so very wrong.

  There was excitement mixed with more nerves inside her. Their first play session yesterday was such a warm, fuzzy memory. Was she ready for another so soon?

  Mathieu peeked inside each of the suitcases, muttering to himself. The more beaten-up and worn piece of luggage was pushed up against the wall. He placed the second on the floor between the bed and closet. He unzipped it and flipped the top open.

  She crawled to the edge of the bed and lay on her stomach to get a better view.

  Inside the case were three sections, partitioned by what appeared to be cloth dividers. The entire lower half of the suitcase was nothing but bundles and bundles of rope. In one of the top bins, it appeared he had a wide variety of cuffs. In the other were straps of nylon or leather, coiled into tight rolls.

  The possibilities were endless. What would he do with all of it? How would he do it? Would he do it to her?

  Bondage was one of the staples of kink. There were a lot of fun things to do with a restrained partner. She should know. She’d done a lot of them, but that was pre-Seth.

  She bit her lip. They hadn’t discussed this concern, but she did wonder if having her movements restricted would be triggering. She’d seen it in others, but there was no way to know how she would react.

  Mathieu glanced up from the wide array of bondage gear. “Does any of this look fun to you?”

  She licked her lips. Did it? Invisible fingers crept down her spine and her pussy clenched. Oh yes.

  Lisette nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  He sat on the floor, his back against the narrow strip of wall between the closet and bathroom doors. For a moment he studied her while pulling a few bundles of rope into his lap.

  “Talk to me about yesterday. How you doing after that?” He plucked the ends out of the coil and began to unwind it.

  “I didn’t think of Seth at all, if that’s what you mean. It was good. I felt good. I still feel pretty great about it all. Maybe a little nervous. Now I wonder what I can or cannot take.” She shrugged. There were a lot of questions that had no answer. Least not until she got her toes back in the pool.

  “Okay. That’s what I wanted to hear. I told you I used to do a lot of rope and bondage, didn’t I?” He ran his hands over the length of rope in his lap, like a lover’s caress.

  “You did.” She wanted to be touched like that.

  “You think you want to give it a try?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. Let’s negotiate this. You first?”

  “I think everything I said yesterday still stands. I haven’t done much, if any rope, but I’ve always been interested in it. So this is kind of cool.” Some people complained rope bondage took too long, that it was boring, but she didn’t think she’d fit that category. There was a mental predicament factor that appealed to her.

  Mathieu nodded. “Just so it’s said. Sex is still off the table. This is just for us both to get a feel for what we can and cannot do.”

&nb
sp; Her heart ached a bit as he spoke. She’d felt the chemistry when they’d played. Before that even, when he held her or they were just sitting on the couch. But something his ex had done to him was so horrible, so terrible he wasn’t opening himself up to anything new. She could say something, point out what to her was obvious, but he was a friend. Not a patient.

  That was a difficult barrier, one she had crossed and lived to regret. She wanted to help everyone, but she’d learned early on not everyone wanted help. The dividing line for her was someone had to come to her for help.

  Mathieu had baggage he might never give up. And that was his choice she had to respect, as much as she might not agree to it.

  The question she had to ask herself: Was she willing to put herself in an emotionally vulnerable situation with a man unable to meet those needs? Many relationships in the dungeon scene of the BDSM lifestyle involved people who would never bond beyond friendship, despite the limits and dark pleasures they danced with. Lisette had often maintained play-only relationships. But this was Mathieu. She was kidding herself if she thought for a moment there wasn’t some lingering desire on her side for him.

  Was she willing to fall for him again, and yet walk away?

  Yes.

  Mathieu might never put the pieces of his life back together. It might take years and a journey down a path she couldn’t walk. But for now, they could both reclaim this part of their lives. She’d rather nurse a broken heart over him than continue to be the walking wounded Seth had made her out to be.

  “Do you want to do this in here or in the living room?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

  “Living room. More space to spread out in there.” He got to his feet and began pulling bundles of rope out of the bag.

  “How long do you need?” She scooted off the opposite side of the bed.

  “Not very long.”

  Lisette retreated to the living room. Gator rose from his place under the window in his bed and trotted over to her. She knelt and hugged the dog, squeezing him the way she wanted to be held. The smell of shampoo clung to his fur from the morning bath she’d given him after his walk.

  This too would pass, and she would become stronger for it.

  Mathieu inhaled and exhaled, slow and steady. The scent of his apartment had changed. It was no longer a mix of coffee, dog food and soap. No. Now there were lighter overtones, sweeter, spicy touches that were all Lisette.

  She mirrored his breathing, breasts rising and falling with the motion. Her shoulders dropped, relaxing into the moment. Her eyes were closed, hair pulled back in a braid like he’d asked her. The panties she wore today were maroon lace, his favorite color. Did she remember?

  Today would be different. There would be the skin-to-skin contact he’d craved yesterday. Also, he’d be pushing them both, testing his control in the process. Lisette bound and blissed out, desiring nothing but the pleasure he gave her was a heady drug. One he couldn’t become drunk on.

  Mood music played through the stereo. A modern Native American-electronica mix that fit his mindset right now.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Lisette opened her eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. “Yeah.”

  “What did I tell you about rope?”

  “Tell you if anything tingles and keep my chin up,” she parroted back to him.

  “Why?”

  “Because you might be cutting off my circulation; losing a limb is a bad thing, after all. And keep my chin up because I don’t want to get popped in the face with the rope.”

  Mathieu flattened his hand against her chest, his thumb and index finger resting close to the base of her throat. They both inhaled. Her response to him was instant. It was as if someone had tuned her into a featherweight trigger. Her pupils dilated and her jaw went lax.

  “Remember those two rules. I might not remind you,” he said.

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Good. Arms out.”

  He tapped her elbows and she obeyed, holding them out and giving him free access to her chest and torso. It was tempting to cup her breasts or just stare at them. He was sure they’d gotten larger since college. He found his hand cupping the air instead of her and shook his head a little. He needed to get on with it, and remember that this was between friends.

  The dance of rope began by running the end he held, folded in half, around her ribs, just under her bust line. He pulled the tail he’d been holding, coiling them in one hand, while feeding the other end through his fingers, smoothing it out so it lay flat against her skin. She rocked forward on the balls of her feet.

  Arousal made the muscles in his stomach tighten. His fingers lingered longer than necessary on her body.

  “Tell me what it feels like.” He didn’t want Lisette lost in her head yet.

  “It burns a little.” She leaned back against the rope and smiled. “But I like it.”

  When he had about an even amount of length on either side of her, he made two square knots, one on top of the other, just under her breasts. This left two coils of double strand rope to play with. It was a pity he didn’t have a hard point in the apartment. Hard points were places used to suspend people off the ground with rope. They needed to have enough of a weight load limit and also be structurally strong. He’d had that in his old house, but not here. Besides, suspension was more advanced than he was ready for after so long without practice.

  “Why do you like it?” Mathieu took each coil and brought them up between her breasts and tossed one over each shoulder. He had an idea for what he wanted to do, but the best way he’d found to work with rope was to work in the moment. Allow the rope, the mood and his partner to dictate how he proceeded.

  “It’s different. I’ve never done this before.”

  “And why’s that?” He stepped around her, positioning each rope so it lay flat against her skin, and ran the ends under the band circling her ribs.

  “There weren’t a lot of people in Miami who did rope. At least not people I felt comfortable approaching to play. They were all married couples that kept to themselves.” She brought her hands in and traced the rope over her shoulders.

  Mathieu smirked and stepped back. He doled out a little rope and, using it like a whip, smacked Lisette across her ass. She jumped and let out a shrill yelp. Gator echoed it with a bark from the bedroom. He stepped in hurriedly, placing his hand over the hurt and grasping the back of the harness he was creating.

  “Did I give you permission to drop your arms?” he whispered, low and dangerous.

  “N—No, Sir.”

  He kept still, holding her in place and waiting for her to find her center.

  Lisette sucked in several deep breaths, each one a little slower, more controlled than the last.

  Had that been too much? Too rough? He stroked over the curve of her ass, praying he hadn’t screwed up out of the gate.

  “I’m okay,” she said, though to him or herself he didn’t know. She lifted her arms back out to her sides.

  Mathieu leaned in and brushed a kiss over the back of her neck.

  He circled her again, pulling the remaining tail of rope back around her ribs, wrapping it above her breasts and knotting the two ends between the V of the harness. There was still about a foot left to play with on either end, but for now he let them hang. Her breasts were bound between the rope, the little nipples tight and hard, perfect. If this was about sexual gratification, he’d suck them until they were hypersensitive, then attach little clamps to the peaks. She’d moan and love it; at least in his mind she would.

  Lisette’s gaze was trained on the ground between them, her head bowed. Very different from his fantasy of her so near release.

  “Put your arms down.” He bumped her chin with his knuckles.

  Her gaze lifted to his, a frown marring her features.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. Did she not like the rope? Was she upset he’d spanked her with it?

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry I disobeyed.” Her frown deepened.

  “It happens.”

  “I don’t like it to happen.”

  “Neither do I. Now, what did I say about looking down?”

  Lisette cringed and lifted her chin a bit more.

  “That’s a good girl.” He caressed her cheek and kissed her brow. The hard peaks of her nipples brushed his chest.

  “Mathieu?” Her voice cracked on his name.

  “What is it?” He cupped her face with both hands.

  “If I cry, just keep going, okay?”

  Sometimes, people needed the safety of a scene to express repressed or difficult emotions.

  “Maybe. You don’t get to call the shots.” He spoke gently, reminding her who was in charge, but the truth was he would keep going. Lisette had a lot to work through, and unless either thought she was putting herself in danger, he’d press on.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “That’s a good girl.” He smoothed her hair away from her face one last time.

  Mathieu grabbed another bundle of rope and unwound it by holding onto the ends and throwing the coil across the room. It snaked across the floor until it lay flat.

  The music switched to a chanting number, set against tribal drums and an electronic bed of music. It wrapped around them, thickening the spell the dance of rope cast, like one of his grandmère’s voodoo spells.

  He dropped to a knee and made a quick belt around her hips, almost in the same fashion he’d begun the chest harness with, except he passed the tail of the rope through the slit made by folding the rope in half. It wasn’t so much a knot as a joint.

  As he passed the rope over her skin, he glanced up at her face. She’d dropped her chin again, but this time it was to watch him. Her pupils were slightly dilated and she seemed fascinated with the play of the hemp fibers over her skin. They were a beautiful complement to each other, the natural hemp tones and her pale skin.

  He measured off a few inches of the rope and tied a quick knot that, alone, served no purpose.

  “Turn around and spread your legs a little for me.”

  “Usually I get dinner before I’m asked to do that,” she replied as she spun in place, a little humor back in her voice.