There's a Moon Over Bourbon Street.

Disclaimer: This is an excerpt from a new novella that I just finished. Since the story contains graphic depictions of a BDSM relationship, I’ve only included the introductory portion which is G-Rated. If you find the introduction interesting, send me an email address and I’ll send you the rest of the story.

Trigger Warning: This story contains depictions of sex acts that may be considered nonconsensual. If that may distress you, please go no further. It is not my intention to cause emotional harm to anyone. I was previously married to a professional dominatrix. Her work intrigued me and led to a relationship to the BDSM community that lasted several years. At no time did I witness any acts that were not between consenting adults and strictly adhered to the adage safe, sane and consensual. This story is FICTION and not meant to be any reflection of the BDSM community.

            He opened the door to see a man dressed in the livery of a professional chauffer. There was a large limousine parked in the street in front of his house. “Mistress requires your presence.”

            “I need time to dress and pack my bags.”

“Mistress said to tell you that you she will provide everything that you need, but she requires that we leave immediately.”

            “Okay, let me grab my keys.”

            “Please don’t delay sir. We have a plane to catch.” He ran to his bedroom and put on his socks and shoes and ran down the stairs. When he opened the door again the chauffeur was standing beside the door of the limousine. When he approached the vehicle, the door was opened for him. “Here you are Sir.”

            “Uh, thanks.” He was not used to being served. The interior of the limousine was spacious. He sat on the leather seats facing the bar.

            A voice came over the intercom. “Sir, Mistress said to help yourself to the bar, but try not to overindulge. Our trip will only be two hours and Mistress wants you lucid.” He looked over the bar and found a bottle of Macallan 25. He was impressed. Aged twenty-five years, this particular brand of single malt scotch was incredibly expensive. He was extremely nervous and had to concentrate on the scotch. It was not the kind of drink you gulped. The warmth started to spread, and he relaxed just a little.

He couldn’t believe how stupid he was to get himself into such a mess. It just ballooned out of control and before he knew it, he had markers all over town. He was in for a half a million dollars. Everything he had was leveraged to the hilt. He had nowhere to turn. The gambling addiction had blindsided him and he owed the money to a dangerous man who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him.

Sam Gianni was one of was one of the biggest loan sharks on the south side  and when he went to the bar he worked out of to beg him not to kill him, he was startled to find out someone had bought up all his markers, all five hundred

thousand dollars’ worth. “I’m not going to kill you but somebody wants your ass. Anyone that can come up with that kind of scratch isn’t someone you want to fuck with. You better find that person and do some serious ass kissing boy. They saved you from a long stint in the hospital.”

            “Who is it?”

            “I have no idea. They gave me the money you owe me. That’s all I give a fuck about but I know you’ll be back soon. Jackasses like you never learn.” He went home and wracked his brain trying to figure out who his benefactor was, but to no avail. No one he knew had that kind of money. He stayed away from Mister Gianni’s poker games and tried to concentrate on keeping his restaurant afloat. Business was slowly picking up and, in a few months, he had forgotten about his mysterious angel.

            He returned home one day to find the postman waiting for him with a registered letter. “Here Mister Carl, can you sign this for me?”

            “Sure, Gary,” he took the electronic notepad that Gary handed to him and signed on the appropriate line.

            “Have a good day Mister Carl.”

            “You too.” His mind was racing. Getting a registered letter was an unusual occurrence.  There was no return address, but the letter was postmarked in Los Angeles. As soon as Gary left his porch, he tore open the letter.

            Dear Mister Carl,

I am writing to inform you that it was I who bought your markers. My name isn’t important. You will call me Mistress. I have a proposition to make to you. If you spend three months with me at my house in New Orleans and do exactly as I tell you, without reservation, at the end of that time I will tear up your markers and you will be out from under that debt. If you refuse my offer, I will send my associates to collect the debt. Please understand it will be in your best interest to accept my offer. My associates     would make Mister Gianni’s look like choirboys and with my unlimited resources there’s really no where you can hide. If you go to the authorities, the deal is off and the debt is due in full. You have seventy-two hours from receipt of this letter to contact my lawyer and make arrangements for your stay. Enclosed you will find his business card.

                                    Sincerely,

                                    Mistress Alexa

            The letter had the contact information for Joel Allen, Attorney at Law. He thought it was some kind of prank but he couldn’t take any chances. He waffled for two days before he called the number listed. When a feminine voice answered he said, “May I speak to Mister Allen.”

            The voice hesitated for a second and then replied, “Mister Allen will be with you shortly.”

            “Allen here.”

            “This is Elliott Carl. I received a letter from a woman who addressed herself as Mistress Alexandra. The letter instructed  me to contact you.”

            “Yes, Mister Carl. I have instructions to give you.”

            “You do realize that you can lose your law license for this?”

            “For what Sir?

            “For threatening me.”

            “I can assure you Mister Carl, that I have not threatened you in any way and if anyone else has threatened you I have no knowledge of that. I was just instructed to inform you that a car would be at your address to pick you up at six pm. If you wish to avail yourself of Mistress Alexandra’s offer you are to be ready and go with the driver and do what he tells you.”

            “I can’t be ready that soon that’s only three hours away.”

            “I was also instructed to tell you that if you weren’t ready at the designated time, the offer will be immediately rescinded.”

            The warmth of good scotch relaxed him a bit but the anxiety was still there. Who was Mistress Alexa and what the hell did she want from him? The relief of having Gianni out of the way was overwhelmed by a sense of dread. He had a sense that he was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire, lost in his thoughts as he watched the city pass by. They headed west as the sun started to fade. His mind snapped to as they pulled into a private airport. There was a small jet waiting by the gate.

            “What are we doing here?”

            “Mistress provided an airplane to take you to your destination.”

            “What is going on?”

            “I can assure you that Mistress does not share her plans with me. She just told me that you would board the plane.”

            “And if I don’t?”

            “She said if you refuse to remind you that you know what the consequences would be.”

            “All of you are fucking insane.”

            “Sir, please board the airplane or I will be forced to tell Mistress that you refused.” 

            “Damn, okay, okay. I’ll get on.” He walked over to the plane and climbed the stairs. When he turned right away from the cockpit, he was looking at the most luxurious jet he had ever seen.

            “Hi, my name is Herbert. I will be your flight attendant. Dinner will be served as soon as we reach flying altitude. Would you like a drink?”

            “I think I’ll pass. I was instructed to stay sober.” The rear of the plane resembled a small hotel room with everything you could possibly need, a seating area, a computer station, a dining area, an entertainment center, and at the far end of the cabin a sleeping area with a king-size bed. He sat down in the seating area.

            “Would you like something to eat, Mister Carl? We have an extensive menu to choose from.”

            “Sure.” Herbert led him to the dining area. There was a place setting of fine China and real silverware. The menu resembled that of a high-end chop house. He ordered prime rib and baked potato. His mind was racing. What game was his beneficiary playing. What would he have to do to get his markers back? He was afraid that he might be getting himself into new trouble and if this woman was as wealthy as he thought she was she could be just as dangerous as Gianni. After he had a post dinner coffee,  he went to the rear of the cabin, took off his shoes and laid down.

            “Sir, please wake up. We have arrived at our destination.” It seemed like just minutes since he laid down but the clock over the rear bulkhead said two hours had passed.

            “Where are we?” He reached for his shoes and noticed they had a high shine.

•             “New Orleans sir. Mistress Alexa has a house here.”

            He loved New Orleans but his enthusiasm was overwhelmed by that nagging sense of dread. Another limousine drove him through the city. The new driver’s name was Peter Down Interstate Ten to Washington Avenue, passing Lafayette Cemetery into the Garden District. The house appeared to be pink in the dim light of the streetlamp with the filigreed wrought iron railings that New Orleans was famous for. There was a light on in an upstairs window but he could see no one. The wrought iron gate blocking the driveway slowly slid open as the car drove to the rear of the property. What was once the carriage house had been converted into a luxurious garage. He wasn’t very knowledgeable about antique  cars but he suspected the cars occupying this garage were very expensive.

            He exited the and the driver said, “Mistress will be with you shortly sir.”

To Be Continued…