DutyBoundARe

by Sidney Bristol

  “Nope. Just no sex.”

  “I think that’s smart. Where do you want to do this?”

  Mathieu paused to consider the options. The apartment was tiny, which meant there weren’t a lot of places to relocate Gator. The one time he’d tried playing with a girlfriend with the dog around before Amanda had resulted in chewed-up toys, a lot of growling and snapping at the poor woman.

  “I think I’m going to put Gator in the bedroom and we can use the living room.” That would also make the bed off limits, which was a good thing. Not that he was about to let his dick control him, but during play people often lost sense of things they would or would not do with an otherwise clear head. Negotiations helped a lot, but there were always mistakes, things done in the heat of the moment.

  Lisette licked her lips, her gaze trained on him still. “I’m going to step into the bathroom for a moment then.”

  “Okay,” he replied.

  They stood at opposite ends of the kitchen, staring at each other, neither moving, until Gator padded past Lisette and sat between them, breaking the spell.

  They were doing this.

  “Come here, Gator.” He patted his leg.

  Mathieu couldn’t decide if it was a good idea or not, but he wanted to find out.

  Lisette gripped the edge of the sink and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Alternating waves of dancing nerves and cold terror coursed through her veins.

  This wasn’t reality. It couldn’t be.

  And yet, she could hear the whistle of leather through the air as Mathieu swung the flogger in the living room.

  She straightened and grasped the tab on her jeans. There was no way she was giving Seth this kind of victory over her, to dictate what she did. He was a demon in flesh and blood, nothing more. She stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt, folding both up and leaving them on the counter. With a final deep breath, she shucked her bra as well. She always played in her panties and nothing more. Some people preferred to wear more, or nothing at all. She didn’t think she could be nude in the same room without Mathieu and not cross the boundary line. No, the panties would stay.

  This is good for me, she chanted, but deep inside, a part of her soul quaked.

  What if she couldn’t?

  What if Mathieu simply frowned at her and she burst into tears?

  What if she had flashbacks?

  All reasons why Mathieu was completely aware of her headspace. If anything went wrong, he’d catch her. And maybe that was her problem. They were nothing to each other, and yet she felt as close to him as she had before their break up. Maybe closer now that they’d admitted their darkest secrets.

  Whatever the reason, she wasn’t going to get to the bottom of it hiding in the bathroom. She turned the handle and stepped into the living room.

  The curtains were drawn and most of the lights off. There was something about playing that demanded the darkness, as if their pleasures were too taboo for the sunlight.

  Mathieu swung the flogger in broad, easy swings, hitting the back of the sofa in the same spot, over and over. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched.

  He’d removed his shirt. The muscles across his shoulders rippled with the movement. A necklace bounced on the nape of his neck, which she recognized as a gris-gris, probably from his grandmother. A talisman of protection against harm. Had it worked?

  This was still the man she knew.

  His blows changed as he flowed into a figure eight pattern. It was easy to tell by the way he moved with the flogger, as if it were a dance partner, that the time away hadn’t diminished his skill. He knew what he was doing.

  Nerves twisting inside her turned warm and her observations lingered on the bulge of Mathieu’s arms, the rippling of muscle across his back and the way his jeans hung low on his hips. The man had a fantastic ass. Hard, firm, it made her want to sink her teeth into the globes.

  He gave the couch one final blow and let his arm drop to his side, the ends of the leather tails brushing the floor.

  How was he handling this?

  God, he’d been married, and she hadn’t known. Lisette hated the woman on principal. She’d hurt this wonderful man. If Lisette could claw the bitch’s eyes out, she’d do it in a second.

  Mathieu turned toward her and she was struck by the difference in his face. The lines that had creased his visage in an almost permanent state of strain had eased and there was a calmness in his eyes.

  “Still think this is a good idea?”

  His voice rolled over her like a warm, spring breeze off the delta. It soaked into her skin, her soul, her mind. This was a platonic experiment, she reminded herself before her thoughts got away from her.

  “Yes. Should I call you Sir?” Part of her wanted to, but he wouldn’t be her Sir.

  “If you like. Cold?”

  “Hm? No. Why?”

  He flicked the butt of the flogger toward her. “Just an observation.”

  Lisette glanced down and realized she was still had her arms wrapped around her chest. Nerves fluttered up inside her all over again.

  It wasn’t like it was the first time Mathieu had seen her naked. She uncurled her arms, shaking them out and trying to ignore the sudden tightness of her nipples, the slight goose flesh breaking out over her stomach and thighs.

  Lisette cleared her throat, eager to move on before she broke out in a full-on blush. “Where should I stand?”

  “Right.” Mathieu turned and she noticed the coffee table had been moved over underneath the window over Gator’s plush bed. “I think if you brace your hands against the wall, that will be good enough.”

  “Okay.” Lisette strode over to the bare expanse of wall between the bedroom door and the adjacent wall, with its tightly drawn curtains. She placed her palms against the wall and blew out a breath. “Like this?”

  “That’s good. Now, if at any time you want me to stop, what do you say?”

  “Red.”

  “And you promise to use it if you need to? None of that, “I’m tough,” bullshit.”

  There was a mentality among some people in the kink world that using your safe word or calling red, the universal word in the BDSM world for all stop, was a weak or bad thing to do. Like any other kind of shaming, it created issues where people were afraid to stop acts that pushed them past their comfort zones or were even harmful to their health for the sake of a little pride.

  “If I want you to stop, you’ll hear it,” Lisette replied over her shoulder. This was about healing, fitting those broken pieces of her back together again. Showing herself that she was as strong as she felt she was.

  “Say it for me nice and loud then.” He swung the flogger back and forth, never coming close to her, but she felt the displaced air against her skin.

  “Red.”

  “No, you need to say it louder than that. Like you mean it. I need to be able to hear you.”

  “Red,” she said louder, using her diaphragm to push the word out in a not-quite-yell.

  “Good. Good.”

  Mathieu padded across the floor toward her; she heard the floorboards groaning slightly until she felt the heat radiating from his body. He wrapped an arm around her waist, hugging her to his chest. Lisette sucked in a breath. Deep inside, she quaked, maybe in fear, maybe in anticipation. The heady cocktail of emotions swirled in her chest and she couldn’t tell if it was the dark, seductive spell only a good play session could cast, or if it was fear.

  “Remember, bebelle, I only do what you want me to. What we agreed to,” he whispered.

  She was no doll, but Lisette nodded anyway. Mathieu kissed her temple and gave her one last squeeze.

  He stepped away and music swelled with a deep, pulsing rhythm from the speakers mounted on the walls. No words, just sound. She hung her head forward and closed her eyes, allowing the music to speak to her where words and reason couldn’t.

  The sound of the leather tails swinging through t
he air sent a shiver down her spine. She flinched, but never felt their kiss. A light brush of air told her addled brain Mathieu wasn’t anywhere near her.

  “Bebelle?”

  “I’m good, just nerves.” Lisette laughed and shook her hands and arms for a second.

  “It’s okay to stop now if you’d rather do this later.”

  “No, I’m just psyching myself out here.”

  “Okay.”

  Lisette blew out a breath and planted her hands on the wall again. The sound of leather against leather sent a shiver down her spine. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. The tails fell in a spray down across her shoulders. It wasn’t hard enough to even disrupt her breathing or the air.

  “Really? That’s all you’ve got?” Lisette spat before she could stop herself. This was about actually feeling the thump of a flogger, not pussyfooting around.

  Mathieu’s laughter was sudden, a bit rusty sounding, but it startled her into partially turning. “We’re starting off slow,” he said after a moment. His smile was a brilliant slash of white against his skin.

  Lisette wanted to remind him she’d been at this kink stuff for years, but held her tongue. She’d never been a mouthy sub, but then she’d never played with Mathieu.

  “Turn around.” He flicked the flogger at her in an underhanded swing.

  She did as he bid, facing the wall and widening her stance a bit, centering herself for maybe a real man’s swing.

  The flogger whistled through the air; she felt the brush of wind, but no leather. Again the falls sang and squarely landed across her upper back, the blow hard enough to rock her forward on the balls of her feet. She grunted, holding her breath, and waited for the pain, the fear, the sickening dread.

  It never came.

  Lisette panted, sucking in shallow breaths, searching herself for some quiver, some quake of fear. Her lungs burned and it felt as if her brain were swimming in carbonated water, but no pain. Not even the physical. Floggers with a bunch of leather strips might appear more intimidating, but physics won out. As the flogger went in for impact, the falls spread out, increasing the surface area and diminishing the sting, only delivering a nice, thuddy thwack. The sensation was closer to a massage than anything else.

  “Bebelle? Do I need to stop?”

  Lisette grinned at her shadow and spread her fingers wider.

  “I never said red. I don’t know what you thought you heard, but it wasn’t stop.” A thrill of excitement, eager anticipation shot through her. She could do this. Seth hadn’t stolen her kinky groove from her.

  “Alright, if that’s how you feel, don’t say you didn’t ask for it.” Joy curled through Mathieu’s voice, something she hadn’t heard from him. How was he handling this? If she were to judge by his tone, she’d hazard a guess they were both pleasantly surprised.

  A high-pitched whoosh was the only warning she had before the falls licked her down her spine, ten times harder than the previous blow, stealing her breath. For a moment she saw stars and sting mixed with the thud.

  “Oh, thank you, Sir,” she got out although her lungs wanted to seize from such a hard blow. She had mentioned she wasn’t a pain puppy, right?

  “You say something, bebelle?”

  “Fuck you.” She couldn’t get the words out without laughing. Endorphins and adrenalin were flooding her system, creating a giddy high along with sweet, sweet temptation.

  Mathieu’s laugh mixed with the whoosh of air. He slapped the flogger across her ass, but not too hard. She pushed her hips out in time for a quick follow-up flick of the falls just under her bottom, licking the tender skin at the joint. She danced in place, shivering and thoroughly enjoying herself.

  The blows came with varying force, landing against her back, ribs, bottom and thighs. He avoided her midsection, with its unprotected organs. Each lick, every swat sent her sailing higher into the blissful expanse of subspace, where her existence was feeling the sensual beat of the music and the man playing her body.

  If Lisette could have picked an addiction, it was this. Sounds were sharper—the leather-on-leather and even Gator’s whining. The scent of leather wrapped around her. She could taste the syrup from the pancakes still on her tongue. She wanted to twine her body around Mathieu’s and taste his lips. But they weren’t going there. At least not in flesh, but in her mind, she’d ride him until his eyes rolled back in his head and she screamed.

  Something thudded on the rug and moments later Mathieu swept her off her feet.

  “Wh—What are you doing?” she managed to get out despite her tongue feeling too thick for her mouth.

  Mathieu settled on the couch and lifted a glass of water to her lips.

  “Drink.” His tone brooked no argument.

  She did as he asked, watching him over the rim, the way his cheeks sunk in, how he seemed to be focused on her mouth. Too bad they were staying on friendly terms. When she’d downed the contents he set the glass down.

  “Why’d you stop?”

  His husky laugh washed over her, and she wanted to sprawl across his chest, feel the vibrations against her nipples.

  “Bebelle, you’re so far gone right now you probably don’t realize how loudly you were. . .ah. . .moaning. Gator was starting to sing and I don’t think my neighbors would understand.”

  “Oh.” Lisette’s cheeks flamed hotter than a summer day. She dropped her head against his shoulder and laughed.

  He pulled her closer, cradling her against his chest and smoothed his hands down her back. She squirmed at the sensation of cool skin on her hot, abused flesh. It was delicious.

  “How are you?” she asked, splaying her hand over his chest.

  “I didn’t think I could do it, but after a little warm up, it’s like I never stopped.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled, understanding what he meant.

  She hadn’t felt like a victim at all. No, she’d been herself, all woman and sensual power, at least in her mind. It was the most affirming thing she’d done for herself, and it wouldn’t have happened without Mathieu. As much as she wanted him, the only way she could think of thanking him was to comply with his wishes to keep this relationship platonic.

  chapter five

  Damsels

  Mathieu’s head swam, his gut churned and his skin was clammy.

  Gator strained against the leash and a nervous pedestrian almost skittered into the road, glaring at him. Usually, Mathieu would make a comment about his vicious licking dog, but he didn’t have it in him to rebuff the person stupid enough to fear his teddy bear.

  Part of him wanted to turn back now, rush to the apartment and cradle Lisette in his arms once more, clinging to the electric charge that had bound them together. The other half wanted to keep running away. He’d been seconds from ripping her panties off and crossing the line he’d set for them.

  Mathieu didn’t want this. He had no use for another damsel in distress in his life, even if Lisette wasn’t quite stereotypical. The promise he’d made himself to never again walk that path ate at him.

  “Gator, chill.”

  Gator ignored the comment and began an odd, low volume woof he only did when excited. Which, judging by the wag of his hindquarters, was a lot.

  They’d walked almost seven city blocks while Mathieu cleared his head. He hadn’t meant to come quite this far, but now that he had he couldn’t turn around. The buildings here were a little better tended, some of them new builds.

  Ahead was a familiar block of condos. The only one that interested him was the condo on the very end with two Jeeps sitting in the drive. It was hit or miss if Odalia was home these days. Since the start of the year she’d been shacked up with the bounty hunter Mathieu occasionally butted heads with, but he liked the guy. He watched out for Odalia in a way Mathieu never could as a friend. Especially over the last month with all the rumors flying around about her.

  Gator led him through the intersection and straight up to the fro
nt door of the condo. The interior door stood open, and another steel gray pit bull stood on the other side of the glass door. The two dogs barked and licked at the glass, eager to see each other.

  Odalia stepped off the stairs at the back of the condo and strode toward the door. Judging by her sweatpants and t-shirt, it was an off day for her as well. She released the latch, grabbed her dog, Creature, and pushed the glass open.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Odalia asked with a smile.

  “Good. Ça viens?”

  Mathieu stepped over the threshold and the door swung shut behind him, pausing for a second to remove the leash not a moment too soon. The two pit bull brothers went bounding through the house, barreling one after the other through a dog door and outside into the back yard.

  “How’s he doing?” Mathieu nodded to where the dogs had disappeared.

  “Good. I’m glad you brought Gator over. Creature needs to move around more or he’s going to stiffen up. Vet said he’s pretty much healed, just keep an eye on him. Give me a hug.” Odalia wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight.

  Part of the drama swirling around his old patrol partner involved a home invasion that injured her and Creature. The dog had needed immediate surgery and, for a few days, they’d been worried about his recovery.

  “Jacques here?”

  “He’s in the shower.” Odalia watched him closely, but then she’d been doing that since Amanda stepped into his life. While most people had sided for or against her, Odalia had kept her opinions to herself, though he knew she had plenty to say on the matter. They’d just never discussed it.

  Mathieu nodded.

  “We were about to go out for lunch. Want to come?”

  He glanced at his watch. It was much later than he realized. If he went out, what would Lisette do? Was he ready to see her again so soon? When he’d left she’d been happily wrapped up on the sofa, talking about needing to go check her email.

  “Yeah, give me one second. I have an old college friend staying with me and I want to make sure they’re okay.” He avoided the feminine pronoun without realizing what he’d done until the words were out of his mouth. Was he hiding Lisette? She was lying low, but did that include his friends?