Jonny Numb

In Bondage, book #4 of William D. Prystauk’s “Kink Noir” series, the closing lines place P.I. Dennison ‘Denny’ Bowie’s transitioning lover, Erin Marr, in the midst of a blood-soaked scene, made even more torturous by the fact that this news is imparted to Denny over the phone. In conveying what’s happening only through dialogue, Prystauk leaves the reader in a hungry position – what, exactly, is the context of Erin’s plea? Where is she? Who’s responsible? Whose blood has been spilled, and why?

I mention this because Erin is my favorite character in the Kink Noir Universe – the aloof Southern accent, the love of dance, and the ability to drive dangerously yet efficiently through NYC traffic. She’s the free, easygoing counterpoint to the romance between Denny and his long-term lover, Penny Dallion; and the Wiccan tattooist, Vara Black. In a way, Erin’s certitude about who she is and her desire to achieve that in the most transformative sense gives her purity a certain glow within the darkness of the series – she’s extremely likable.

Not that Prystauk doesn’t make the whole heroic ensemble emotionally and sexually affectionate toward each other, especially by lending a verisimilitude to the oft-stereotyped realm of BDSM. What remains exceptional about the Kink Noir series – especially in the case of Consent – is the author’s fascination with the inner lives and psyches of his central cast, and their interpersonal struggles and conflicts as they attempt to reconcile their fetishes against the violent mysteries that propel each narrative.

In other words, Prystauk has achieved the impossible: he made me not miss Erin once she exited the narrative, and made me connect more with Penny and Vara – two characters I’ve been less fond of throughout the series.

Consent‘s plot involves a hooded figure seeking individuals looking to take their masochistic fantasies to the extreme…but leaving them scarred, maimed, or dead in the process. While the connection between this entry’s title and the mystery itself isn’t necessarily evident at first, Prystauk does an excellent job of building an over-arcing theme of consent, which trickles down into the evolution of Denny’s relationship with Penny and Vara – not to mention his own desires to push his masochistic tendencies to their limit.

As always, the author leaves no emotional or physical avenue unexplored, and by presenting an unflinching – and, most importantly, human – vision of polyamory, pain and pleasure, and character psychology, the reader is able to fully connect with what is being imparted.

This isn’t the Eight Millimeter school of Hollywood BDSM (read: weirdoes in bondage outfits played for throwaway moments of shock humor). With Consent, Prystauk creates an intelligent conversation – interwoven seamlessly within the mystery dynamics – which, at its best, should make curious readers stop and ponder their own fetishes, from the auto-erotic to the furthest edges of kink play.

I feel like every review I’ve written for the Kink Noir series has repeated at least one sentiment: that part of the thrill of keeping up with Denny’s world is how different Prystauk makes each novel. While many writers of crime fiction adhere to storytelling formulas that more or less give readers what they expect – a sense of comfort amid bullet-riddled bodies – Consent signals yet another evolution in the author’s quest to render “kink” less a reactionary 4-letter word and more of a conversation piece in the greater realm of human sexuality.

Are there unpleasant, graphic passages in this book? Most certainly – there were moments where my jaded jaw dropped at how far the characters took their actions (consensually or otherwise). But these passages are harrowing in a manner that rebuke desperate shock value, and feel properly entwined within Prystauk’s risque yet character-rich tapestry.

5 out of 5 stars

(Consent and other books in the Kink Noir series can be found in paperback and ebook form on Amazon. For more from William D. Prystauk, check him out on on Bluesky.)