Woman In Chains

by Bridget Midway

  She tried reaching up to wipe her eyes, but in the cramped space, she couldn’t move her arms up. She couldn’t move her legs. Alone in the dark, she only had her thoughts to keep her company.

  She had no one to blame but herself. Physical punishment had no effect on her. Blade had probably figured that out.

  “Blue,” she whispered to herself.

  Blade opened the drawer so fast that This Slave jostled in the motion.

  “Did you say something?”

  Unable to speak, she shook her head.

  Blade rolled his eyes and rubbed the top of his head. “You’re going to have to learn to trust me. I don’t know when you lost that trust, but you need to find it again. I’m getting tired of disciplining you all of the time.” He crouched down to push the drawer shut, but stopped for a moment. “This is not all of what BDSM is. You know that, right?”

  “This Slave knows that she has misbehaved and needs to be corrected.” She opened her hands and pressed them flat against her legs.

  “Someday I’ll break you of this violent streak and your need for punishment.”

  “Isn’t that what BDSM is all about? Pain being pleasure?” A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, but Master Blade did not look amused.

  “The safe word is blue. Use it.” He slammed the drawer again.

  She listened for a while, remaining quiet until she heard footfalls move away from her. To calm herself, she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to touch the wood panel above her body. She imagined sketching a picturesque outdoor scene with trees, deep green grass, a lake behind the tree, and a radiant sun. With getting disciplined daily from dusk to dawn, she missed sunrises and sunsets.

  Her hands moved over the wood as though she had paint brushes in them. Just being able to do what she loved slowed her racing heart.

  She could take this. If she could endure growing up with the father she’d had, she knew she could last in this relationship. She would have to. Where else could she go?

  Chapter Two

  Dak wiped his brow using the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. Then he picked up four logs and carried them into his house. The greatest thing about his home: he could look in any direction and not see another house for miles—just how he liked it. He’d had enough of being around people. After the save from the other night, he had no interest in playing the hero.

  The sadness and desperation in Julianne’s eyes that night in the diner reminded him so much of Lil’ Mary. Since her, he hadn’t had the urge to pick up another submissive. He didn’t even know how to train someone again to do what he liked, what he wanted.

  He walked through the back door of his house and went down to the room off of the garage. Two years ago he’d used the space for his dungeon. With his elbow, he flicked the switch on the wall to illuminate the room.

  Scanning the area, he regarded the remnants of his former life. Coiled whips hung on the wall across from him, resembling snakes in slumber. Under the whips sat canes of all sizes and textures. They now looked more like kindling wood than toys of pleasure and discipline. He knew the floggers hung on the other side of the wall from habit; however, everything in his room had a thick layer of dust covering it, transforming the playthings into relics. They should remain that way.

  Dak dropped the wood onto the floor. One log rolled, banging against something else he’d forgotten: the cage. He had assembled it to replicate a miniature jail cell. As soon as Lil’ Mary left him, he’d taken it down. One day he would have to take the whole thing to the dump, along with everything else on his walls. No use keeping up the pretense that he would go back to being a Dom. A failed relationship had proved that he had nothing left within that lifestyle.

  His doorbell chimed, followed by a knock at the door. Dak glanced at his watch. Even with it being the early afternoon, no one ever came over to his house without telling him first, and he didn’t get that many door-to-door salesmen since he lived in such a remote location.

  He made a slow trek to the door. As soon as he opened it, he shook his head.

  “No,” Dak said before Gordon could open his mouth.

  “What? You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.” Without invitation, Gordon opened the storm door and walked inside.

  Dak knew he should have put a lock on his storm door as well. “You never come over just to say hi or shoot the shit about current events.” He walked to his kitchen to make himself something strong to drink.

  “As a matter of fact, I did come over to say thank you for what you did the other night with Hummingbird.”

  Dak furrowed his eyebrows.

  “The submissive you saved. You didn’t ask for her name?” Again, without invitation, Gordon took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “I didn’t ask for her sub name.” Dak poured water into a teakettle and placed it on the stove. Today was proving to be a chamomile day.

  Gordon wagged his finger at him. “That’s what I like about you, Dak. You go out of your way to care for the people you rescue. That’s why I hope you’ll reconsider leaving the group. We need you.”

  “So what happened with Julianne?” Dak asked, purposely avoiding the topic about SAFE and his future involvement.

  This time Gordon worried his brows.

  “Hummingbird.” Dak leaned against the sink.

  “Oh, we put her with a friend of Mistress Siren. You remember her, right?”

  Dak nodded. “Of course I know her. Does she still have just two subs serving her?”

  “Two females and now a male.”

  Dak chuckled. “She collects submissives like they’re cats. She needs to be careful about taking on so many. A couple will start to feel shortchanged.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m playing with two now. It’s all I can do just to keep up with them both.” Gordon wiped the back of his neck.

  With his blondish white, thinning hair and the reddish glow covering his face, he looked more like a Christmas ornament than a powerful and well-respected Dom.

  Steam started rising from the kettle, but it hadn’t started whistling yet. Dak brought down two mugs and his tea.

  “That’s why I’m here, Dak.” Gordon cleared his throat. “I was talking to Siren, and she told me about a slave she thinks is in trouble.”

  Dak kept his back to his friend. “Cream and sugar, or you want your tea straight?”

  “I’m fine. Listen, she said the slave is in really bad shape. The slave and her Dom were at Siren’s house recently, and Siren felt the Dom went way over the line with how he punished his slave, so much so that she called him on it.”

  Dak stopped moving when he heard that. As someone who had trained with Siren nearly twenty years ago, Dak respected her. He’d learned so much from her. She’d taught him compassion with the lifestyle. If Siren had to call a Dom on his bad behavior, Dak knew whatever the Dom had done had to be bad.

  Dak reached into the fridge and pulled out a container of cream and placed it on the table next to a small sugar bowl.

  “I’m not the only member in SAFE. As a matter of fact, I told you after I turned Julianne over to you that I wanted out. I haven’t changed my mind.”

  The teakettle screeched as though adding its own “amen” to Dak’s proclamation.

  “I know. I just need you to do this one last job. I swear after this, I won’t ask you for anything else.” Gordon held up his hand as though giving him his Scout’s honor.

  “Why can’t you do it? What happened to Raven and Scott? Why aren’t you using them to do these rescues?” Dak struggled to keep his voice controlled, but he thought he’d made himself clear with Gordon. As a Dom, Dak had never had to repeat himself. He’d be damned if he’d do it for another Dom, even for a friend.

  “Raven is doing another rescue out of town. And Scott—” Gordon’s voice trailed off, and he turned his gaze down.

  Dak brought his attention to his friend. “What?”

  “His health.” Gordon shook his head
. “Right now he’s being made comfortable until—” His voice trailed again, but Dak didn’t need to hear the rest.

  Dak knew Scott’s cancer had returned after many years in remission. He just hadn’t known it had taken him down like this.

  “And what about you?” Dak asked as he poured the hot water into the mugs.

  “I’ll be happy to go with you on this mission. As a matter of fact, I insist on it.” Gordon had his silver lighter in his hand, spinning it between his thumb and index finger.

  “Insist? And why is that?” Dak put spoons in each mug and carried Gordon’s to him.

  “The mission is to rescue a slave”—Gordon paused before continuing—“from Master Blade.”

  As though he’d been shot in the back, Dak dropped Gordon’s cup on the table, nearly spilling the contents and breaking the ceramic mug. To prevent himself from getting a hot bath in his lap, Gordon grabbed the mug to steady it.

  Dak slammed his own mug down, not caring if it broke or if he damaged his table. “Is it Lil’ Mary?”

  Gordon shook his head. “And honestly, if it was, I wouldn’t have told you.”

  “Are you fucking out of your mind? You cannot ask me to do this.”

  “You’re all I have. I can’t do this alone.” Gordon pushed his mug aside while he made his plea.

  “Find and train someone else to do the rescue with you. I’ll be more than happy to help you find a replacement. But with the history I have with Blade, you can’t ask me to go in that man’s house to do an intervention, especially if Lil’ Mary is there. I would break his fucking neck before I got out my plea.”

  Gordon stood. “I know. I’ve had people watching him for the last few days. Public schools are about to start, so he’ll be tied up doing the whole parent-teacher orientation thing.”

  “When?” Not that Dak wanted to do this save. Curiosity got the better of him.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Dak had to take off his flannel jacket or he would spontaneously combust right on the spot. “Nothing like last minute, huh? So I guess we’re doing a breaking-and-entering thing to get her.”

  Gordon nodded. “You know Blade. He’s not the type to be convinced of anything other than the fact that he’s an asshole, and he knows it.”

  “If I did this, I would need time to prepare.” Dak didn’t mean getting together equipment to get into the house. He would have to mentally prepare himself to see where Lil’ Mary had been. What had Master Blade given her that he couldn’t? What would Blade have in his dungeon that he didn’t? “I have no idea about the layout in his house, whether he has an alarm system, or what this submissive even looks like.”

  As Gordon approached Dak, he reached into his shirt pocket. “No alarm that we can tell. No one has ever been in Blade’s house to know. I know some people in the city office. Blade had his house built, so they may have the plans.”

  “He can afford to have a house built on a teacher’s salary?”

  “You know his mom owns that string of car washes in Virginia Beach. She footed the bill.” Gordon pulled out a small picture from his pocket. “And here’s our target.”

  Dak stared at Gordon before committing the woman’s image into his memory. As soon as he glanced at the picture, his heart thudded. The candid shot looked like it had been taken at a party, a big no-no at any BDSM scene. Since no one else looked into the camera, no one but this submissive, Dak figured that the room full of people had no idea that this person had taken the shot.

  The naked slave sat on the floor on her haunches. A thick, black leather collar squeezed around her neck and connected with chains to matching wrist cuffs. Even with her big dark brown hair that could put Diana Ross’s hair to shame, Dak couldn’t help but notice the despair in her eyes.

  She damn near made a plea with just her gaze. Her slightly parted full lips seemed like she wanted to ask for help but couldn’t...or maybe didn’t know how. Even in the grainy shot, Dak located several bruises on her caramel-colored arms and legs, not unusual for a submissive to show the signs of the relationship. The bruises, coupled with her expression, made him believe this woman needed saving.

  “What’s her name?” Dak asked.

  Gordon shrugged. “All I know is that she addresses herself as This Slave.”

  Nausea overcame Dak. He had to turn to his sink just in case he couldn’t hold his breakfast. Did that slimebucket Blade make his Lil’ Mary do the same thing? Now that Dak thought about it, why hadn’t Gordon asked for him to do a dual save? Where was Lil’ Mary in all of this?

  “Is Lil’ Mary still there, too? Will I need to save her?”

  Gordon let out an even longer sigh, then turned his back on Dak.

  “What the fuck?” Dak grabbed Gordon’s arm and spun him around. “What the hell do you know about Lil’ Mary?”

  Gordon regarded Dak for a beat before speaking. “We had to save her about a year ago.”

  Dak felt like a boulder had crushed his insides. “What?”

  “Moira called me.”

  “How did Moira know?” Dak knew the only way she could have known was if Lil’ Mary had been admitted to the hospital.

  The knowing look Gordon gave him supported his assumption.

  Dak nodded.

  His friend continued. “She knew about Blade and knew your history with Lil’ Mary.”

  “What happened to her?” No matter the grisly details, Dak wanted to know.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Dak grabbed Gordon’s arm again and pulled him closer to catch the expression in his eyes. “I need to know.”

  Gordon didn’t pull from the grip. “A black eye and a chipped tooth.” He looked down before returning his gaze to Dak. “She had ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ and ‘cunt’ written on her stomach and legs in permanent marker.”

  As much as Blade’s methods disgusted him, deep down Dak felt he caused her pain. If he could have been the Dom Lil’ Mary wanted, she wouldn’t have felt the need to seek it elsewhere. He could have protected her.

  “So where is she now? Why didn’t you bring her back here to me?” Dak let Gordon go.

  “We knew you would want to kill Blade when you found out what had happened to her, and most importantly, Lil’ Mary didn’t want to come back to you. She specifically said she wanted to go to another Dom.”

  Dak couldn’t deduce which aspect hurt him more: hearing about Lil’ Mary’s ordeal with Blade or the fact that she’d chosen the unknown after getting out of the hospital over the sanctuary of his home. Knowing that he hadn’t been the one she could come to cut him deep inside.

  “She’s with another Dom, someone who’s a part of the SAFE program in another state.”

  “Which state?”

  Gordon stared at Dak for a while.

  “What? I just want to know that she’s okay.”

  “Trust me. She is. Let her be. Focus on This Slave right now.” Gordon held up the picture again.

  Dak snatched it from his friend’s hand and stared at it as though any moment she would tell him why she stayed with Master Blade instead of asking to be released.

  Maybe saving This Slave would be good for him. He could question her about her relationship with Blade to understand Lil’ Mary’s decision. It would also be good to take something from Blade.

  “Get me that information on the house. I’m in.”

  Gordon smiled and pumped his fist in the air like he just won Wimbledon.

  “But I’m telling you, after this, that’s it. I really do want to get into police work. Having a B-and-E on my record before taking the police exam won’t help me in my future career.”

  Gordon chuckled. “Got it. Everything is going to go smoothly. I promise. And I swear, after this save, I won’t ask you for anything again.”

  Dak gazed at the slave in the picture. If he could get her from Blade, it would be the pinnacle of his work with SAFE. It would also be the best revenge on Blade. Time to exact some payback.

  ****
>
  Twenty minutes had passed since Dak watched Blade driving away from his darkened house. It had taken everything inside of him not to approach the cretin to see how he would like a couple of broken teeth like he’d given Lil’ Mary.

  Dak glanced at his watch again. With Gordon a no-show and Dak on borrowed time, Dak had to make something happen soon.

  He retrieved his phone and called his friend. “Come on. Pick up,” he said after the third ring.

  As though he had commanded it, Gordon answered. “I know. I’m late. I got tied up here at the hardware store. You’re going to have to do this without me.”

  Dak gritted his teeth. Doing this rescue job by himself didn’t anger him. Had he known that Gordon couldn’t make it, he would have done his thing a long time ago.

  “Fine.”

  Just before Dak hung up on him, Gordon said, “Just remember, Blade had mentioned something about a drawer at one of the last luncheons he attended, so if you don’t see her right away, be sure to look for this drawer. She might be in there.”

  Dak disconnected the call and shoved the phone in the front pocket of his jeans. To not raise too much suspicion, Dak parked on another street and cut through Blade’s backyard to get to the house.

  He knew the layout. Gordon had come through and provided that for Dak. At the back door, he pulled out his lock-picking kit from his back pocket. He crouched down by the knob. Although the moon and the streetlight behind the house provided him with illumination, he didn’t need it. As long as he could find the keyhole, he could pick the lock without looking.

  Before touching the lock, Dak thought about Blade’s character. Knowing him, he probably would have some door or window unlocked. The man had his slaves and submissives mentally bound to him. They would never leave or try to escape. Dak could practically smell the scent of apple pies wafting in the air. Blade probably had no worries that thieves would be wandering around his quiet suburban neighborhood. Dak just had to be careful of nosey neighbors.