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Warning:Some brief language at the begining of this chapter
We do not own Criminal Minds
"What the hell was that?" Hotch shouted as he stalked across the street. Shoe was getting out of his car and closed the door behind him.
"What?"
"What? That's all you say? You send me to a fucking whore house and all you can say is what?" Hotch kept his voice raised.
"Aaron," Shoe started walking towards the front door, "can we talk about this inside?"
Hotch took the hint that he didn't want the neighbors to hear, and followed. Once they were inside, Hotch took in his surroundings. The house had a similar layout to the one he and Emily were living in.
"What's on your mind Aaron?" Shoe asked calmly, sitting down.
"You know what you did? You know how embarrassing that was for me? To go to that place where those whores marched around like they owned the whole damn world," Hotch shouted, "I thought you understood me. I thought there was finally a place where I could be me, and what do you do? You deceived me, Calvin. I thought we could've been friends."
"We still can Aaron," Shoe smiled at the fuming man, he had been hoping for this sort of reaction. But he had to test him first, make sure he was the right man. So far he was doing just fine.
"And why would that be? So you can send me around wherever you think it might be humorous just because I don't know the town?"
"I'm sorry I had to do that Aaron, but I don't think that will be necessary again. Let me go get Greta, she can make us lunch." Shoe stood up and went to the door that led to the basement.
Once he was out of sight Hotch stood up and pulled the bugs out of his jacket pocket. He put one in the lamp shade and another in the kitchen. He heard two footsteps coming upstairs, so he hurried back to his seat. The basement door opened and a woman came out with Shoe.
She was around 5'4'' and probably not even 100 pounds soaking wet. Her dirty blonde hair hung weakly at her shoulders, which were hunched over, in a defeated sense.
"Aaron, this is my wife, Greta."
"Greta," He repeated, hoping it was a good introduction.
She kept her head down until Shoe elbowed her in the ribs, "Answer the man."
She brought her head up, "Hello Aaron, it is a pleasure to meet you. Is there anything I can get for you?" Her cheeks were hollow and her pale blue eyes were lifeless.
Hotch had to push down the rage that stirred in him, and cleared his throat, "A water would do." He watched her turn around and walked into the kitchen.
Shoe shook his head, "Wives these days…"
Hotch laughed forcibly, and bit his tongue, "How long have you been married?"
"About a year."
All Hotch could think about was how a woman could look like that in just a year. When she came back and handed him a cup of water, Hotch could see the bruises that riddled her arms, ones healing, and new ones, too. Her wrists were raw from where the handcuffs must have dug into them, and she walked with a slight limp.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" She asked in monotone.
"That will be all, Greta," Shoe dismissed her.
When she was out of the room Hotch looked back to Shoe, "How did you get her so well… trained?"
"She knows that if she doesn't obey, I can do things worse to her than this."
"Worse?" Hotch made it sound as if he were intrigued, but he really wanted to vomit.
Shoe smiled, "Is that something you'd be interested in Aaron?"
"I think it is."
"Are you sure Aaron, are you sure this isn't just a game to you?"
"I'm sure," Hotch locked his eyes onto Shoes.
"We don't meet for another week, but I may be able to get you in."
Hotch raised his eyebrows, "Where is this?"
"I'll let you know when the time comes. But Aaron, I think for once you might have a group that fits your needs."
XXX
"That son of a bitch!" Hotch shouted as he slammed the front door shut behind him.
"What is it?" Emily hurried over to him and could see the rage in his eyes.
"His wife, you should see what he did to her. The bruises… the way he talked to her… I just wanted to strangle him right then and there."
"Aaron, we'll get him."
"I don't know how much longer she can stay in that house, Emily. He keeps her in the basement. She has bruises everywhere. She looked like she was almost dead," Hotch slammed his fists to his side and sat down on the couch. Emily sat next to him.
"That's how I'm going to have to look," Emily whispered.
"I don't ever want you to look like that," Hotch spat, "I don't care if it ruins our cover, but I will not do that to you."
Emily reached out and took his hand into hers. She rubbed her thumb in circles across the back of his hand. "Did you learn anything? Did dominant Aaron get us a win?" She asked gently.
Hotch nodded, "There's a meeting next week. He said he'd see if he could get us in."
"Next week…" Emily thought out loud, "Aaron, you may not want me to look like her, but I can't go to that club looking like this." She pointed to the bruise on her face, "I need more Aaron, this isn't enough."
Hotch brought their hands up to his face and held them there. Emily could feel his hot breath on her hand and leaned into his side.
"I know this isn't what either of us wanted, and we told ourselves we'd be okay with it, but we're not," Emily said, "but we're doing this to help Greta, and all the other Greta's out there. I'm okay with getting a few bruises to get us there."
Hotch sighed and took one hand out of her grip and rested it around her shoulder, "It's supposed to be just another part of the job."
"Yeah," Emily said, "but who ever called this job easy?"
Hotch let out a small smile and pulled Emily close to his side.
"I know this is hard, but we need to start somewhere. We need to figure out how the hell to work those things we have hidden in our closet. If we're going to be joining an S&M group, we should probably have a little experience," Emily said.
"Why do you always have to be right?"
"Because I'm a woman?" Emily asked as they both stood up and walked upstairs.
XXX
Emily dumped out the bag Garcia had gotten them, and Hotch pulled out the handcuffs he had gotten. Then they both grabbed their books.
"This," Emily held up a strappy leather item, "goes around my waist." She took off her shirt and maneuvered it around, "You need to tie it."
Hotch looked for a moment and then tied ten knots all the way down Emily's bare back. Emily looked down at herself and felt the leather pinch her skin.
"I think these do the same, but on my legs." Emily changed into a pair of shorts and then Hotch tied knots until Emily's entire body was encased in leather straps.
"I can't move," She tried to take a step, but it made the leather pinch into her legs even more.
"I think that's the point," Hotch said as he looked at his book again.
"Here, handcuff my hands in front of me," Emily held both arms out, "I need to get marks on my wrists.
Hotch obeyed and cuffed her with the new ones he had gotten.
"Put them tighter," Emily said.
Hotch did so with much disdain. When they were in place Emily started to pull her wrists apart and twist them around.
"What are you doing?" Hotch asked.
"I'm making marks."
Hotch turned around and after a minute regained his composure, "I think that's enough," he said, un-cuffing her.
"Fine, enough with the cuffs, but we still have to figure out what the rest of this does."
Hotch sighed and pulled out his book again.
Emily laid on the bed, her restraints kept her from doing much else, "Here I watch the studious Aaron Hotchner as he prepares for his exams," She paused for a moment, "Just imagine if Strauss knew what we were doing right now."
