A Girl Named Flower

By Shawna Hunter

Jane is a woman used to looking out for number one but her Flower Abeba will change all that. When danger looms Jane will pull out all the stops to keep her Flower safe but she won't give up the person she's become. With a hitman on their trail, Jane will lead Abeba to a new life in Brooke's Hollow.

In this tight-knit community

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: Nov 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949050776

Book preview

Chapter 1

The smell of crisp leather filled the still air of the windowless room. I could have started a fan but I preferred it this way. I wanted him to smell the leather of my boots and whip until the sickly scent of his own arousal replaced them. Let him wallow in his own stink as I savored the gentler aroma of perfumed chap-stick on my lips. He’ll never know of that smell. The thought of letting any man get close enough to kiss me is revolting enough but this guy in particular makes me sick; as I was all too happy to tell him. In my day job as a reporter his type was a constant headache. The tough guy asshole sort who you just know has the info you want but who’s vocabulary seems limited to no comment. Here in my night life, however, he was all too willing to talk and here I wouldn’t allow it. Kicking him face down into the puddle of drool that had formed beneath his ball gag I swapped my whip out for a nice heavy paddle and gave that hairy, too flat ass of his several harsh wallops. In my head I dared him to say no comment. I struck him again and again imagining it. I spanked him until my arm was tired in the vein hope that he’d learn true humility but he didn’t. This one never learned.

When the spanking was done he turned without permission and pressed his lips against one boot then the other before sitting back on his knees with his hands up like a begging dog. His eyes disgusted me. They stared at my dark nipples, exposed by the corset I wore above my skin tight leather pants. I hated the way he looked at them but I loved to crush his hopes of touching them. Bringing the paddle up and shielding my breasts from his sight made him whimper and his eyes crawled higher. He didn’t look me in the eye, he wouldn’t dare, but he did scan past my stern expression to the severe bun I’d forced my hair into. Just for him I’d fixed it with a clip that looked like a pair of chop-sticks. The cliche made the bile in my throat boil but he’s paid for time with Mistress Chen and she is an Asian-American domme. So if she wants to get paid the big bucks she has to look the part. Oh well. I supposed watching him writhe on the floor after I clamped his nipples and tied the clamps’ chain down around his balls would make me feel better. Take that you racist pig. Squeal for your Mistress.

By the time I allowed him to collect his clothes and scurry out of my sight he’d made a mess on the floor and reclaimed a tiny bit of his dignity by placing money on the little table by the door. That aspect always made me feel like a hooker but I couldn’t have the men pay at the desk. My girl couldn’t speak but she knew all too well what those men were here for. It was miracle enough that she tolerated what I did in this room. I wouldn’t rub her face in it further by having her interact with my special clients. So, after sanitizing the dungeon and composing myself, I brought the money to the front. Any excuse to see her was a good one but as I came out I heard the computer voice tell my most recent victim to have a nice day. Of course the idiot would use the front door instead of the client’s exit at the back.

Our tiny S&M shop was little more than a front for my side dominatrix business but our merchandise was high quality and our prices were fair. Except, of course, for the backroom services I offered. If a customer wanted those then they would have to pay; though I offered a discount for cute women. Cute like the girl sitting at the counter as I brought the money to the register. At five foot two she was just a touch taller than me but the hair added another inch and a half. She wore thick, rope like dreadlocks down her back almost to her round little ass. They were a spiral of bottle blonde and her natural black and made great handholds when we made love. Just handholds, however, we hadn’t gone much beyond that. Still I couldn’t ever seem to look at them and not imagine how much more I could do if she’d only let me. Today they weren’t held back in a bun and a few strands trailed down the front of her tank top. She did this on purpose. She knew my eyes would follow those locks down to where her top exposed her big soft breasts. Call me cliche if you want. I don’t care. I could (and have) spend hours resting my head on those perfect fleshy mounds just admiring her impossibly dark skin and expressive eyes. Even her wide nose and thick, full lips. She was a work of art and, though she didn’t agree, she knew I thought so. That’s why she invites my gaze and waits patiently as I drink in the sight of her. She’s never minded the long pauses before I speak when they’re provoked by my love for her. Her lips quirk in a little smile after a moment though. A little hint that we can’t do this all day. 

I brushed my finger across those lips the first time we met (while we danced together in a club) and I haven’t gone a day without touching them since. I loved the way they looked and the way they felt against my body even though they hid one of my girl’s very few flaws. It was too much to think about now, however, so I let my eyes drift back down to her breasts as I considered closing early and burying my face in them once more. She flipped the hair behind her, holding her chest out proud as she did so. We both knew where I was looking and that’s where her hands appeared flashing through the signs which said my eyes are up here. When I dragged my eyes back up she winked at me and I was about ready to lock the door when some looky-loos came traipsing in. My girl tapped a few keys on the computer before the robot voice said Welcome to Mistress Chen’s startling them. In the confusion I slipped into my dressing room before these vanillas got a look at my own, far humbler, offerings. The sight of me in my Mistress garb was something anyone but the girl at the counter would have to pay for.

That girl. In all my life I’d never thought I’d meet someone like her. Sharp witted yet kind. Quiet yet intelligent. The perfect ying to my yang. In those days I knew I loved her but I hadn’t yet realized how much. As I got changed into something more presentable for the general public she handled the customers. They were full of questions after their initial shock at her use of a computer to speak and she handled each one in a polite and courteous manner. I could hear her from behind the thin door as she explained various items and subtly up-sold them to more expensive options which, she claimed, were better for beginners. My heart skipped a beat when she talked them into a toy that was almost double the price of the first one that caught their eye. She knew it wasn’t the best thing to start with but they never caught on. In their minds she’d been nothing but helpful and insightful.

Leave it to me to fall for a trickster with a past. I suppose you could call it fate. Regardless things had been going so well until that day came that I hadn’t had a care in the world. I was happy, I was in love and I was killing it in both my day job and this little business venture. Of course all good things come to an end and for she and I that day came when a man from her past found himself in my shop. The day the past caught up with the love of my life.

Chapter 2

Her name was Abeba and I’m told it means flower. She certainly opened like one when we were together. The night was still outside my Greenwich apartment and the city below seemed surprisingly calm. There was nothing but the buzz of the cars and a billion billion electric lights. If I were in a better mood I’d have roused my lovely Flower to stand nude in the moonlight for me to admire while I listened to baker street. As it was there was no time for any such indulgences. I had to make arrangements. We’d be leaving before dawn and there was still so much to do. I’d figured that at least one of us should be able to rest before our world changed. That one should be Abeba. She didn’t ask for any of this. I did. I asked for it when I gave her my heart knowing who she was and where she came from and I’d happily do it all again. So for now I would let Abeba sleep, just a few more hours, so she knew I was not angry for the trouble she’d brought down on my life. I’d let Abeba dream of a life free of this fear. A life that I would give everything to provide.

It began a few days earlier though it seemed like a lifetime ago. I was humiliating a relatively new client by forcing him to act as my footstool while I sat on my throne. A favorite addition to my dungeon it made me the queen of my domain and this guy was learning his place at my feet. I sat tall and proud with the long, thin heel of my boot firmly up his ass while he told me what scum he was. Nothing special. Honestly I’d had 3 other clients that day and just wanted a chance to sit and file my nails. Still he seemed to be enjoying it well enough. That was until Abeba entered. She was wearing a tight silk dress that hugged her curves and a pair of high heels she still wasn’t comfortable in. Months of training and she still couldn’t get her hips to sway properly but I did so love watching her try.

This new client was a private man. He usually wore a hat and kept his head down, never making eye contact with anyone. I doubted he’d ever even seen Abeba as he was consistent in always using the private back entrance to the shop. At the time I simply thought that, unlike a few others, he respected the rules set down for my special clients. That day, however, he had made eye contact when Abeba (who’d grown comfortable enough with his repeat business to risk it) walked in on his session. It wasn’t a particularly common occurrence. Abeba accepted what I did here but she rarely wanted to see it. Not unless she too found the client attractive. She’d made this exception to give me some message that had been important at the time but I don’t recall what it was. I don’t recall much of anything about that moment except that her mouth fell open.

Abeba never gaped, never let people see her yawn, never did anything to expose the stump. It was all that remained of the tongue the bastards had cut from her body as punishment for her loose lips. Today, however, her jaw dropped straight to the floor. It wasn’t the sight of a naked man being humiliated (she’d seen me work before) it was the man himself. She recognized him and he, seeing her for the first time, recognized her. If not for the cuffs and humbler forcing him into place I’m sure he would have lunged for my Flower. Since he couldn’t he merely screamed street rat whore! Abeba had run. By the time I’d found her (packing her things in our apartment) she was a complete mess and it had taken me hours to calm her. The client I’d left to find the keys to his own shackles. This would buy me time to get the story and decide what I was going to do with the information. There was no doubt that he’d escape, however, so I’d had to move quickly.

Abeba had taken a cup of tea in shaking hands and couldn’t sign anything until she’d finished it. I used that moment to prepare. Years of being a reporter hadn’t gone to waste and I could intuit some of the story based on what she’d already told me. Abeba had not had an easy upbringing. The daughter of a Nigerian politician and a sex worker she’d traded any claim to her father’s name or possessions for an American green card and a plane ticket. As I understood it, the terms of the NDA she’d signed prevented her from ever contacting him or getting a DNA test to prove paternity. She’d shared this information with me in our third month after several drinks. She’d been very proud of the fact that she’d tracked down her father and managed to convince him to pay up. Unfortunately she’d been little more than a cocky teenager at the time and had no plans for what she’d do once she got to the United States. With no prospects, no family and barely passable English she’d been all too easily drawn into sex work and eventually taken in by slavers.

Drugs, beatings and abuse so horrible that she couldn’t bring herself to sign out exactly what happened would be her life for years. It was during that time that she’d been cut. The tongue for talking back to the overseer. The other place when she’d been caught in the throws of passion with another one of the girls. The bastards didn’t care about the girls’ pleasure and this cut was to remind her of that. It had left a scar on body and soul that enraged me. Abeba had intended to provide details of how she’d escaped that life and found the waitress job at the bar where we’d met but I’d folded her into my arms before she could. I swore that night that I’d never let her go.

I repeated all this to her, reminding her of how much I knew as she calmed her nerves. When she was ready she filled in the blanks. The client had been a door man for the traffickers who’d taken her. He’d been very young at the time, a new recruit, and Abeba had managed to convince him to take her for some off-the-books fun. Once they were alone she’d managed to knock him out and run. She’d been running ever since. Now they’d found her again.

She hadn’t wanted me to go with her. She knew I had an important life as a reporter, not to mention my own business (one which greatly amused her). She didn’t want me to give all that up for her. She loved me, she said over and over, and she couldn’t bare the thought of putting my life and work at risk. Leaving her, I’d replied, was totally out of the question. I didn’t care if I had to go into witness protection and give up my life. My Flower mattered more to me than any of it. Still, that wasn’t exactly plan A. I explained to Abeba that I had a friend who lived in a tiny town in upstate New York. The place was so secluded it didn’t show up on most maps and many people thought it was fiction because it’s the center piece of my friend’s erotic novels. Abeba’s eyes lit up as I explained that the town had a tight knit community of kinky people just like me and even a woman Mayor. I told her that I could set up a life for us there where these bastards would never find us. All she had to do was trust me.

She had taken a long time to respond, mulling it over again and again until finally her hands carefully rose. Time slowed as she signed the words and the kiss we’d shared after took my breath away. She loved me, of course she’d go with me. As she slept I emailed Alyssa and told her of my predicament. My friend replied before she even had all the details. There was no doubt, no pleading necessary. She had a place for us and she assured us that we’d have the full protection of the sheriff’s department. She was sleeping with him, after all. Her response was a mixture of sorrow for my predicament and excitement at seeing me again. Exactly what I’d needed to make the decision.

We’d schemed for days and with each new detail we confirmed, my confidence grew. From working a few major crime stories I knew that there was only a small window to get things done. The client would report to bosses who’d report up the chain of command and then (if it was as bad as Abeba said) a hit would be put out. A week, maybe a week and a half, would be all the time I’d get before they were coming for me. Knowing this I used every moment I could. I called my banks, my insurance company, my various employers. Nothing was left to chance. Every contingency I could think of was prepared for. I could and would keep Abeba safe without permanently surrendering my life. It would be difficult and dangerous but I could do it.

Sleep was a rarity for me but I hardly noticed. Alyssa and I, when working with instead of against each other, could work miracles and this would be our crowning achievement. Alyssa’s excitement stemmed from the potential stories these dark days might inspire and from the fact that Mistress Chen (her character based on me) was finally coming to Brooke’s Hollow. My own came from the thought of putting the fear that ruled Abeba’s life behind her forever. That town was a world away from the life we’d known and I was eager to get Abeba there. I only wished it was under better circumstances.

My alarm woke Abeba at 3am. I’d already been awake. My mind had been racing far too fast to get any real sleep and my body was numb. None of that mattered, however, not my body or mind or possessions. I didn’t care about the shop or the effects on my career. I didn’t care if my actions would lead me directly to a wooden box. All I cared about was Abeba. For once in my life it was my heart making all the decisions and it said only one thing. Protect Flower.

The plan was for us to be on the road by 5 and I knew that we’d likely never see the apartment again. Given that it had been our first place together, however, it felt wrong not to give it a proper goodbye. So before the sun had even begun to rise we shared one last breakfast together in this place that had seen the birth of our relationship. Nothing fancy; Bowls of cereal with the last of the milk. Still seeing her there, scared yet hopeful, reassured me that I was making the right choice. The details of informing my coworkers and relatives would be difficult and I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if we were caught but there was no real choice for me. Abeba was in danger and I would not rest until she was safe.

You’ll never look like this again. I whispered softly.

What do you mean? She signed curiously.

Come to the bathroom. I’ll show you.

She followed at my heel as I walked into our small apartment bathroom. First she simply watched as I combed my hair out straight. This last year I’d been wearing it in various styles but now I’d returned to my more non-descript reporter look. Abeba’s change would be far more radical. She understood exactly how drastically her appearance would have to change only when I held up the scissors and eyed that beautiful hair but I don’t think either of us were prepared for what I intended.

It didn’t take long to do what needed to be done but it also didn’t take long enough. Abeba’s hair was such a part of who she was in my eyes. The problem was that such a defining characteristic was all too easy to spot. Abeba wasn’t the type to abide minor changes. She preferred a look that stood out. With that in mind I chose an easy look that would transform her completely. I began by cutting off each dread lock as close to the root as possible. They fell heavy to the floor with the weight of what we were doing and Abeba seemed to shrink with each one. Next I took out my razor and shaving cream.

All of it? She signed nervously.

Your body too.

How will that help?

It won’t. I just want one last bit of fun in this place. Now take your clothes off.

She complied. The tank top and sweat pants she’d been sleeping in slid over her curves revealing the small yet supple body beneath. My own thin frame barely had its hills and valleys but hers? Mountains led into the soft dessert of her flat stomach with the deep sinkhole of a navel at it’s center and down into a gently forested valley. My hand with it’s noble crew of intrepid fingers sailed across this landscape enjoying every flinch and sigh as I turned her. Her long neck, strong shoulders and the little bumps of her spine led down to that round butt of hers. I let it press against me as I reached up to begin the process.

Soon her scalp was baby smooth and it was hard to stop rubbing it but the thought of how smooth the other once hairy spot on her body would be enticed me to continue my work. By the time I was finished I hardly recognized the woman I loved. She seemed smaller, more delicate and her eyes shown all the brighter now that they were framed by nothing but that soft dark skin. No words or signs were necessary with the look she gave me. She needed me naked, needed my body against hers. She didn’t care that I’d left a patch of my own dark fur in place or that I’d taken such liberties with her body. All she cared about was sharing my warmth and enjoying her freshly shaved softness.

In the aftermath I’d barely had time to throw on underwear with a t-shirt and jeans combo that was decidedly unfashionable. Abeba had opted for a plain white sundress with absolutely nothing on underneath. I happily confirmed this by flicking up her skirt as we bid farewell to our apartment. The little tease nearly had me stopping in my tracks for another farewell to our former home but we had to go.We were late enough as it was.

On the road there was no way for me to watch Abeba’s hands so she used her laptop to ask me questions about Brooke’s Hollow. She’d listened to me talk about my old friend’s books but she’d never had much interest. I doubt she’d ever believed the stories until I told her we’d be going there. I told her what I knew, about the layout and the people and how Alyssa had found us a house for next to nothing. How she’d organized that I had no idea but I guessed that she was moving in with this hunky sheriff of hers so maybe it was the house of theirs that would no longer be in use. In any case we’d have a place to stay and that was a start.

Abeba couldn’t convey if she was nervous or excited with a robot’s voice but at a red light I had a moment to turn and study her face. It was a mixture. This must have been like coming to America for her. An unknown world with no idea how we’d make our way in it stretched before us but this time she had me. That’s when a question I’d known would one day be asked played out of the laptop’s speaker.

So how will you explain me to these people? What will you say I am to you?

My lover of course. There’s no doubt about that. I had to start driving again but the gentle touch of her hand on mine conveyed the smile I didn’t dare turn to look at. Abeba didn’t have the best teeth having grown up in poverty but the sweetness of her smile was still something I could get lost in. That, of course, was a death sentence when driving.

You know I mean in terms of play, the computer fired back without the sarcasm I was all too happy to imply. There were so many terms and we’d played with a fair few. She didn’t mind me calling her my slave and it was a fun fantasy but it didn’t feel quite right. She also wasn’t officially my submissive. I’d never let her dominate me but I’d also never fully initiated her into the lifestyle. She was curious, of course, and would often experiment but something always held me back from really bringing her into it. I think I was scared of triggering memories for her that I’d rather see erased from her life. I mulled the question over for a long time as Abeba studied the blurry world outside the window. Patience was one of her most endearing qualities. I supposed it had something to do with her inability to speak but I didn’t want to be thankful for that. Deep down I’d always longed to hear her voice. Considering that I rubbed her thigh with my hand and licked my lips. This was always a sensitive subject with us.

You’ve never said much about it but being a lesbian isn’t exactly kosher where you come from is it?

It’s illegal. The robot voice perfectly emulated the way I imagined her saying it.

And you said they…because they caught you with a girl? She didn’t cry when discussing it any more but I still couldn’t bare the taste of the words. What they’d done to my sweet Flower made me want to see them nailed to a wall by their testicles.

Yes. There too it was forbidden. We were…for the men. The placid tones of the robot voice matched the face I glimpsed in the rear view mirror. She was so strong, so stoic and it made me want to pull the car over and just hold her but by then we’d already gotten on the freeway.

Then, tell me, what would be the worst thing for us to call one another in their eyes? What would spit in the face of all those who hurt you? She tilted her head and typed many things into the laptop before deleting them. Finally she clicked the button to make the robot voice say the word and it was perfect.

Girlfriend. A vanilla term but one that meant the world to us. Abeba was my girlfriend and I’d tell every man, woman and child in Brooke’s Hollow. In one sense we were going into hiding but in another we were coming out. The life we’d live from now on wouldn’t be heard of beyond the borders of that little New York town but it would be ours.

Abeba’s smile persisted until she fell asleep. Brooke’s Hollow sits almost on the Canadian border and that meant a near six hour drive from our home in the city. I’d resolved, when planning this get away, not to stop if at all possible. No food, no bathroom breaks and no gas stations if we could help it. We’d be in the wind before reports of Abeba being spotted even got back to whoever the big boss was and with any luck we’d be set up in kink-ville before anyone realized we’d left the city.

There was, I supposed, a chance that they wouldn’t come. Maybe they’d decide that Abeba wasn’t worth tracking down but I doubted it. Years of being a reporter had taught me that when it comes to organized crime reputation is everything. The idea that someone escaped their clutches, even years after the fact, would never sit well with them. They’d be coming but by the time they did I would be long gone. Let them pick through my apartment and my shop if they must. As long as they never found my Flower.

As Abeba dreamed of our new life I ran the possibilities yet again. Alyssa had continued to find work as a writer in her seclusion so why couldn’t I do the same? I always was better at it and the small town did offer far less competition than the big apple.