Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 (18 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Moira took a deep breath and stared at the door, trying to remember what Adrian had told her. Her first client was supposed to be easy. A simple closet masochist, a town councilman with a fetish for whips and a good beating.

No reason to be so nervous.

You’re a fucking Domme. Dominatrix, actually. So act like it.

She took another deep breath and shoved the nerves away. The door banged open as she shoved it hard, startling the man inside. He looked at her crossly.

“You’re late.”

Moira glared at him with a raised eyebrow and crossed her arms, leaning to the side. The toe of her leather thigh-high boot tapped the floor. “Excuse me?”

He looked her over. “I suppose you’ll do.”

Moira’s crop flew out, stopping short so that it only touched his chin. “Shut your mouth before I gag you. You will speak when I give you permission, and only then. Say
yes, Mistress
.”

Her client stared at her and slowly smiled. “Yes, Mistress.”

She glared at him a moment longer, then pointed at the door. “Close it.”

Without a word, he walked past her and closed the door. Moira tapped her foot until he returned to stand in front of her.

“Strip to the waist.”

“Yes, M—”

Her crop slapped across his thigh. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

He lowered his eyes in acknowledgement and finished stripping out of his shirt.

“Kneel.”

He knelt. Moira walked slowly around him to where her toys were laid out waiting.

“You prefer the cat? Answer.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Revenue.”

Moira shook her head.
Leave it to a businessman.
She picked up the cat-o’-nine-tails and walked behind him. “Open your knees.” As he moved, Moira placed her heel on his back and pushed. “Bend.”

The councilman bent at the waist until he was prostrate on his knees. Moira gave a few test flicks of the cat, her heel still pressing into her client’s spine.

“You enjoy pain, councilman?”

The cat whistled as she brought it down, easing back at the last minute. His grunt became a sigh. She pulled her foot from his back and walked to his front, pinning his wrist between the heel and sole of her boot.

“Do you like feeling pain? Or do you like causing it, as well?”

The cat came down again, striking him full on the back.

“Answer me.”

“I like to feel the pain, Mistress.”

She struck again, changing the angle, and let it fall slightly harder.

I like to feel you do that, Mistress.

Kara’s voice from the night before sounded in her memory. Moira pushed it away and struck the councilman again.

Her hands went to autopilot as the man groaned and sighed under her attention. Easy, like Adrian had said it would be.

Unlike whatever was going on with Kara.

They’d been together every night this week. Kara had called it friends with benefits, but since the club, it hadn’t felt that way.

Maybe it had never felt that way.

The councilman hissed, and Moira forced her hand lighter.

And then there was Tamara. Kara was out with her tonight, while Moira beat a man. Tamara, who wanted to take Kara away.

The idea sent a surge of anger through her.

The councilman’s groan became a roar, and Moira froze.

A thin line of dark red glistened on his back.

Fuck.

She dropped the cat and stepped back.

Fuck.

Don’t draw blood. That was the one thing Adrian said. Don’t draw blood, and don’t fuck him.

“Councilman…”

He looked up at the change in her voice. “What is it?”

“Just, wait here. Please.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Adrian was waiting when she opened the door. He jerked his head, and Moira left the room.

“Pardonne, Councilman. I’m afraid la Maîtresse was a little overzealous.”

“What, because she broke the skin? I can’t figure out why you’re so stubborn about that. I ask every time I come in. I like the skin broken.”

“Be that as it may, rules are rules.”

“Well, fuck, Lacroix. That was the best beating I’ve had in a long time, and you’re going to cut it short?”

Silence, as Moira breathed through her panic.

He’s not mad. It’s okay.

“Mais, I will make certain next session that you get extra time. Please, take your time dressing. The bleeding has already stopped.”

It wasn’t bad. It’ll be okay.

Oh God.

Adrian emerged, nodding down the hall to his office as he closed the door behind him. Moira turned and walked, knowing he’d be right behind her. He said nothing until the door of his office shut.

“That was not like you, mon ange noir.”

Moira looked away, not wanting him to see the panic she felt threatening her sanity. “I’m sorry, Adrian.”
Be calm. Be calm.

“You were not paying attention.”

Her eyes fell to the floor, relieved that he hadn’t noticed. “No.”

“Mon ange, pourquoi did you get the tattoo?”

The question startled her, caught her panic off guard, and Moira looked up to meet his green gaze. She’d worn a low-backed corset that was mostly sheer in the back today, so that he could see it. “I don’t know.”

Adrian smiled. “I am not angry, mon ange noir. It’s a beautiful thing, and fitting. I’m not mad about the councilman, either. I gave him to you as your first because he is always begging me to break skin. D’ailleurs, I am about to let him have it. Non. I’m worried because you are distracted. You’re troubled over something, and as you saw, to do this, you cannot allow yourself to be distracted.”

Moira sank into a chair. “God, I’m sorry, Adrian. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“What is it, mon ange?”

“Dammit, Adrian. I said I don’t know.”
Too much. Everything.

His eyes bore into her. “Why did you get the tattoo? You were almost angry about getting the fleur on your shoulder. You complained for days.”

“That’s because I didn’t get a heads up, or a choice. And I don’t… Because Kara said it would look good.” She blurted out the last part, before she could think better of it.

Adrian’s eyebrow twitched. “Merde. You covered half your back in ink because Kara said, very likely in an offhand remark, that it would look good?”

Moira looked away again. As much as she didn’t want this discussion, it was better than the other one, the one she knew they’d have if he saw what was really going on. There was blood. God, there was blood. “She said fuckhot, actually.”

“Mon ange, what did you think of Mistress Tamara?”

Again, Adrian’s line of questioning threw her off kilter, distracting her. “What? I mean, she’s… I thought she was an incredible Domme. I envy her confidence and the way she handled Kara…”

Adrian’s eyebrow lifted. “You don’t sound envious, mon ange noir. I think you’re not being honest with yourself.”

Moira pushed up from where she sat and began pacing. “I
am
envious. Why wouldn’t I be? She’s amazing. She’s everything I’m only pretending to be. The way she clears a room with a look, and everyone stops and worships at her feet. And the way Kara looks at her, like the world begins and ends with her alone.”

Adrian’s silence finally brought her back to him.

“Ma catin, do you hear the words you’re saying?”

Moira turned her back and leaned against the bookcase in the corner of his office. She pulled at edges of a battered and much-read copy of C.S. Lewis’s
The Screwtape Letters
, where it sat next to Dante’s
Inferno
.

“Jealousy is not a good color on you, ma demi-ailé ange noir. I much prefer you in blue.”

Moira squeezed her eyes shut on the tears that suddenly threatened and collapsed back in her chair. “What do I do, Adrian?”

“Have you told her how you feel?”

Moira barked out a laugh as a single tear escaped. “Right. Kara, I know we’ve been best friends forever, and I know you’ve always been there for me, and I know you’re the only girl I’ve been with, but please put your life on hold again, because I think I might be in love with you.” She dropped her head into her hand with a sob. “She’s wasted enough time on me, Adrian.”

Adrian stood and came out from behind his desk. He perched himself on Moira’s armrest and took her hand in his. “Have you considered, mon ange, that she doesn’t look at it that way? That there’s a reason she’s always been there? A reason she wanted so desperately to be your first?”

Moira stared at his hand, his long fingers that coaxed kindness and comfort into her own small hand. “What about Tamara?”

“What about her?”

“She asked Kara to come back with her. They have a history. Adrian, I can’t compete with her.”

Adrian released her hand and reached out to catch her chin with his finger. “Love isn’t about competition. Remember, I said that I believed Kara had not found the right Dom to collar her? I should, perhaps, have said the right Domme.” He stood, tapping his finger against her nose, and walked to his desk. “Go home, mon ange noir. Talk to your Kara. I need you focused and prepared for your clients.”

He reached across his desk and poured a finger of something dark amber and, Moira hoped, strong, into two glasses. One he handed to her.

“Salud.”

Moira knocked the drink back, practically choking on how strong it was, and handed the empty glass back to Adrian.

“Allez. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She stood, nodding, and left his office. By the time she’d collected her things, the cool air was a welcome change. The noise from Bourbon Street wasn’t, but with the end of Mardi Gras getting closer, it would only get louder.

Moira turned and walked away from the loud din, wishing for the first time in a long time that she lived anywhere else.

Don’t be an idiot, Moira. You love New Orleans.

She sighed and pulled out her phone before that conversation with herself went any further. Kara had sent her a text, which made her smile and made her sad, both.

Good luck tonight! Come over when you’re done. We’ll celebrate.

Moira didn’t much feel like celebrating.

But Kara would understand, and Adrian was right. She needed to talk to her.

Her feet carried her to Kara’s place without any direction from her head, and before she knew it, Moira found herself staring at Kara’s door. She took a deep breath and walked in.

The sound of laughter stopped her in the doorway.

“Moira! You sexy bitch, what are you doing standing there? Get over here and have some wine.”

Moira forced herself to smile, as Tamara turned away from Kara to look her over.

“Ah, the prodigal Domme returns.” She turned back to Kara and winked. “I’ll leave you two alone. Congratulations on your first client, Moira.”

“Thank you, Tamara.” Moira took a full glass from Kara and watched as the two said goodbye. She waited until Tamara had left before sinking into one of Kara’s chairs.

Kara, dressed in nothing but pastel green panties and a white tank top, grabbed the bottle of wine and came over to sit on Moira’s armrest. “Well, L’Ange Noir, how did it go?”

Moira drained her glass and didn’t answer. The panic that she’d been hiding since the moment she’d seen blood on her client’s back threatened to overwhelm her. She swallowed it again, not wanting to give it control. “I fucked up.”

Kara immediately turned serious. “What happened?”

Setting her empty glass down, Moira fidgeted. “I got distracted. Client liked to be beaten, preferred a cat. You know how tricky they can be. He was enjoying it, and I was lost in thought. I broke the skin.” She stood up and paced. “It wasn’t huge. A little drop or two. But I had to break scene, and Adrian pulled me out.”

Kara touched her shoulder. “Oh, hon. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Moira laughed, feeling the panic win. “It will. It’s whatever. Apparently he’s always mad at Adrian because he wants to be beaten bloody, and Adrian won’t allow it. I…” She stopped and swallowed, suddenly feeling sick.

“Moira, what’s wrong?”

The worry in Kara’s tone was all it took. She hiccupped a sob and turned to bury her face in Kara’s lap. “God, Kara, there was blood. Blood. I made a man bleed.” A choking sob cut her off as the tears came shuddering through her.

“Oh Moira.” Kara wrapped her arms around her, sliding down into the chair with her. “It’s not like that. It’s not the same.”

“How? How is it not the same? I beat a man until he bled!”

“Moira, listen to me. You’re not your father. You’re not Justin. It was a little cut, and something he enjoyed. You stopped immediately. It’s not the same at all. You had no intention to harm him, and you didn’t.”

Moira shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Kara.”

“Stop that.”

Moira hiccupped and looked her best friend in the eye.

“Do you remember how you felt at Fleur de Nuit? How free you felt, and excited? You had so much fun.” Moira nodded grudgingly, forcing herself not to think about the jealousy she’d also discovered. “Now how did you feel tonight, before you had to break scene?”

Moira curled into her friend as the tears kept falling. “I felt good. Powerful. And then—”

“No, Moira. You had every right to feel good and powerful. It all went away when you broke skin, right?”

Moira nodded and squeezed her eyes tight.

“That’s the difference. You didn’t enjoy making him bleed. Justin did. Your father did. They wouldn’t have stopped.”

Moira’s chest felt suddenly lighter as Kara’s words sunk in, and her calm, cool logic broke through the overwhelming emotion.

“Moira? Talk to me, hon.”

She sighed, letting the tension fall away. “You’re right.”

“I know I am. Look, you made a small mistake on your first time. It’s not the end of the world.” Kara ran one hand up her arm and trailed the backs of her fingers down Moira’s cheek. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Moira leaned her face into Kara’s hand. “Why do you stick around, Kara?”

“What kind of question is that? Because I’m your oldest friend, and you’d be lost without me.”