Woman In Chains

by Bridget Midway

  The bindings kept her immobilized.

  “Don’t worry. No one else is out here. The fashion police won’t come and get you.” He laughed and assembled together two pieces. “It does remind me that I should get you some decent clothes to wear. You can’t keep walking around in those baggy sweatpants and T-shirts all day.”

  “I prefer to be naked. I thought you liked me that way.” Having her legs spread open allowed the crisp autumn breeze to soothe her overheated and uncovered sex.

  “Eventually you’ll have to leave the house.” He nailed a piece onto the bookcase, then brought his attention back to her. “So did you like what you found in my closet?”

  She couldn’t tell if he asked in anger or curiosity. Since he didn’t look at her, she couldn’t gauge his true feelings.

  “Whose flag do you have in your closet?” She figured she could pose the easier question before hitting him with the harder ones.

  “My grandfather’s. He was a captain in the Navy. Actually, this is his house. He willed it to me, and when he passed, I moved in.”

  The small revelation tickled Rebekah. She felt Dak starting to trust her.

  “I’m guessing most of the furniture in here was his.” She tugged on the chains wrapped around her wrists.

  “Every bit—well, except for what’s in the back room. All of that is mine. The bars, the toys, everything. I wouldn’t want you thinking that my grandpa was into BDSM.”

  “Why would you care what I think?”

  He glared at her for a second before continuing to work

  “So was that his dress uniform in the closet under the flag?” she asked, to cut the tension.

  He waited a beat before answering. “No.”

  Okay, so she had him opening up more. “Yours?”

  Dak kept working for what seemed like hours, but it could have only been a minute before he finally looked at her.

  “You asked me about the scar on my back. During a conflict in Kuwait, I got hit with some shrapnel when my ship was attacked. I could have avoided getting touched altogether, but I pushed a buddy of mine out of the way of the blast and absorbed most of it.” He splayed the fingers on one hand and balled it into a fist. “The military doctors managed to get out as much as they could, but there’s still some bits and pieces in there. Some days are better than others as far as how much it bothers me. I could have had it removed when I got home, but I don’t mind the constant reminder of what I went through for this country.”

  The more he talked, the wetter she became. Not a fan of conflict of any type, her body’s reaction surprised her. A hero stood before her in her eyes. Damn it if she now didn’t imagine him in that suit fucking her brains out.

  For this bit of information, she didn’t discount the gravity of his revelation. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “My mother passed away when I was a teenager.”

  In an effort to give her his full attention, Dak stopped working and moved closer to her.

  “It was just me and my father.” And all of her father’s abuse, she wanted to add. “The only thing I had that I could hold onto was my art. My paintings would never die or leave me. So I stayed in my room and painted. It was the safest place I found.”

  “So when did you discover your love of BDSM?” He leaned against his workbench as he listened to her.

  “When I left the house at eighteen.”

  “Please don’t tell me that was only last year or something.”

  She smiled. “No, about five years ago. I’ve only been with Master Blade for a year.”

  “And how did you find him?”

  Her smile slipped down. She tugged on the wrist restraints again.

  “Okay, fine, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just curious.” He returned to his project.

  “He approached me in a store.” Rebekah swallowed. “I guess he noticed how weak I am.”

  He slammed down his tools and marched to her. “Being a submissive does not mean you’re weak. I want you to understand that. You have to be damn strong to be a submissive, because you have to be committed to the Lifestyle.” He pointed to her chest right at her heart. “There’s a fire in you. I know it.” He scratched his head. “Hell, you clocked me the first day we were together, so I know you have physical strength. You were so determined to get back to Master Blade. So I know you have it in you to be strong. Hold your head up always. To be a good submissive or slave, you have to know what you want and what you don’t want.”

  She felt her juices dripping out of her. He returned to his project, but she had more to share.

  He picked up a thin dowel and examined it. He ran his hand down it.

  “Is it smooth enough?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.” Like he’d read her mind again, he dropped the rod and approached her. He grabbed the top of her gown and, using only his brute force, ripped it in half so that it now opened up like a second coat, exposing her nude body.

  He regarded her for a moment before picking up the slender stick. First he moved it over her chest, swiping it over her nipples, then down underneath each breast.

  “Is it smooth?” His deep voice rattled the trees.

  She nodded at first, remembered what he had said about not verbally responding, then said, “Yes, it’s very smooth. Nice.”

  He started tapping the cane over her tits. The slight stinging sensation sent a shockwave through her body. Her nipples jutted forward, aching to be teased and titillated.

  With small taps, he stimulated Rebekah’s entire body, moving over her legs and even down to her calves, avoiding her aching sex. She pulled on the chains on her arms and legs. Now she wished she had panic clips. She would have activated them to get to Dak.

  He brought the cane down to her pussy and smoothed the wood back and forth between her nether lips. “Good?”

  She rolled her head back in ecstasy. “Yes, Sir. So good.”

  To her surprise and her delight, he brought the cane up sharply, smacking her clit and setting off an explosion behind her eyes. She gasped, but her body craved more.

  With another flick of her wrist, he inflicted more and more savory punishment. To tease her even more, he squeezed her nipple, making her scream. He continued spanking her clit with the cane until she could no longer take the stimulation.

  Her body trembled. If there were any leaves left on the trees he had her chained to, they would have all fallen out by now.

  “Scream as loud as you want.”

  The last time he had encouraged her to scream, he had said it in a teasing way after he had initially saved her. Now he wanted her to scream for a different reason, a good reason.

  Rebekah shouted, scaring blackbirds from their resting places inside nearby trees.

  As she came down from her euphoric high, he tossed the dowel on his workbench and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the side of her face.

  “Good girl. Very good session.” He squeezed her.

  In his ear, she growled, “Fuck me. Please.” If she could have moved her legs, she would have wrapped them around him.

  He withdrew his arms from around her and took a couple of steps back. “No.”

  This time when she screamed, it contained no joy. He had to be teasing her. He couldn’t have given her all that pleasure, then walk away from her.

  “If I’m going to truly teach you about BDSM, I have to stop having sex with you. The lines are getting blurred. BDSM is not all about sex. It’s about commitment, sharing, trust—”

  “All sounds like sex to me.” Her voice quivered.

  “Fine. You want to fuck? You want my cock in your pussy?”

  The dirty talk got her more than the caning itself. She nodded, remembered the rule and immediately said, “Yes, Master Dak.”

  “Okay, I’ll fuck you just like that if you do one thing for me.” He held up his index finger to symbolize the singular item she could do that would allow her to have her man.

  “What is i
t, Sir?”

  “Tell me your real name?”

  Her body went cold for the first time since he’d ripped open her nightgown. “I’m Rebekah. You named me.”

  He shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” He turned his back on her. “If you can’t trust me to know the real you, then we don’t need to keep having sex.”

  Anger welled inside of her. Why did he need to know her past, the thing she tried so hard to abandon? He of all people should understand that. He had a whole closet full of discarded memories. Couldn’t he understand her need to wipe the slate clean, to start her life over without the issues of the past catching up to her?

  Balling her hands into fists, she summoned enough strength to scream again. “You bastard!”

  He pivoted and gave her his full attention.

  “You’re nothing but a tease. And you’re a liar. You talk about trust, but you don’t trust me. You keep secrets from me all of the time, don’t you?”

  “You’re on a need-to-know basis. Don’t forget. When Sire Steel finds you a new home, you’re out of here. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have crossed the line with you and had sex, no matter how needy you looked.”

  Before she could think about it, she hurled a glob of spit into his face. Without acknowledging it or even touching it, he let the clear liquid drip down the side of his face.

  Without a word, he crouched down and undid the cuffs on her feet. When he released one foot, she took that opportunity to kick him. To stop her, he wrapped one arm around her leg as he freed her other leg.

  He stood face-to-face with her. His scowl alone caused her to rethink her actions. Without a word, he released her wrists then, in a fireman’s carry, took her back to the house.

  Dak brought her back to the dungeon, where he roughly plopped her down on her small bed. “Take off the jacket. Now!”

  She did so without question and handed it to him. He snatched it away from her, then did something that truly wrenched her gut. Dak collected all of her paints and brushes.

  “No! Please.” She stood and attempted to get the items from him, but he kept his wide back to her.

  “You need to be punished. If I lock you in here with them, it would be like locking a child in a playroom full of toys.” He stood on the outside of her cell and slammed the door shut.

  She sat at the edge of the bed. “You didn’t take away all of my toys.” She spread her legs apart.

  Just like before, she held one breast in her hand. The other hand dove down between her legs. Before she could slip a finger inside, he stomped away, a surprising reaction. So now he didn’t want to watch her? She froze in her spot. She listened intently to see just where in the house he had gone.

  When she heard a door opening, she ran to the bars and tried looking out of the window in the small room across from her. Even with the sheer curtains, she couldn’t see anything. She waited to hear a vehicle door opening and closing. Had she frustrated Dak enough that he’d decided to leave her?

  Master Blade and her father wouldn’t have reacted that way. When they’d gotten frustrated with her, a severe punishment had followed. From Master Blade, the reprimand hadn’t bothered her, because she didn’t love him, and she knew he didn’t give a damn about her. With her father, his punishment came with a price. How could a person love someone and still be so cruel? She loved him with all of her heart. Seeing Dak retreat from her gave Rebekah that same feeling of hurt and disappointment.

  A door slammed shut, and she ran back to the bed to assume the same position as when he left her, one hand on her breast and the other at her vagina. She didn’t want to masturbate, but if it got his attention, she would do it. That’s what made the whole act exciting.

  Dak stood at the top of the steps holding the very chains she’d brought to him in the backyard. Locks dangled from the ends. Seeing them in his hands constricted every muscle in her body. Even if he had commanded her to play with herself, she couldn’t.

  He reentered the cell. As though she held a grenade in her hands, he wrestled her hands away from her body and then positioned her on her back with her head on her pillows. Then he piled the chains next to her head.

  “We had gone so far, Rebekah.” He straddled her body. “It’s a shame we have to go back where we started from.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Open your mouth. I know how you are. You aren’t taking a chomp out of me today.”

  She kept her mouth closed and shook her head back and forth. No way would she allow him to gag her.

  “Fine. Bite me and the punishment will be twice as bad.” He loomed over her to secure her wrists to the end of the bed.

  He wrapped the cold steel chains around her wrists and then around the steel bar that made up the headboard. When she heard the click of the lock she squeezed her eyes shut. He hopped off of her.

  Determined not to have her legs tied down, she thrashed them. Dak captured one ankle in his massive hand like a net scooping up a flailing fish. Her other leg eluded him for a while before he finally caught it.

  Using only one hand, he held her legs down at the ankles while his free hand bound her legs together with the chain, then secured her at the end of the bed. He stood up and admired his work; however, he didn’t look proud. The way lines creased his brow, Rebekah would have called his expression more remorseful than anything else.

  “Be prepared to learn a new self-defense move this afternoon. Then tonight, I’ll really show you some discipline.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t teach me a self-defense move just now.” She pulled on the restraints on her arms.

  He had them wrapped around her tight. As a matter of fact, when she tugged on them, they got tighter and tighter.

  At her flippant statement, his face hovered over hers. “You know what’s really surprising? From where I was on your body, you should have automatically executed a move that could have dropped me like a stone, and you didn’t.”

  He must have noticed her confused expression.

  “I was over your body. I had to climb on and off of your body. Why didn’t you think to kick me in between my legs to get away from me?”

  She wanted to come back with a slick answer, but nothing came to mind. To kick him in a place that she had grown to desire would hurt her more than it would have hurt him.

  “See you in a few hours.” He stomped back upstairs.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. A former military man, he probably knew all kinds of ways to subdue an attacker.

  What the hell kind of beast had Rebekah released in him? She would find out tonight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She’d spit on him. Rebekah had actually been so pissed at Dak for not having sex with her that morning that she’d spit right in his face.

  No submissive had ever done that. Hell, in his years in the military, he’d never been purposely spit on. Shot at, yes. Never spat at with such anger.

  How could he fault her? That very morning he had complimented her on her strength and how she should stand up for herself. Her anger manifested itself in a juvenile way, which concerned him. Dak could almost hear Moira in his ear warning him about her temper.

  And in all honesty, he couldn’t blame Rebekah. He had toyed with her emotions. He knew he should have never had sex with her. Then he’d made that stupid comment about her looking needy. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he blame her for how she’d responded?

  He took out a frozen container of his famous—at least in his eyes—chicken and dumplings and started them in his slow cooker. By the time he finished training Rebekah, they would be ready for lunch.

  He walked down to the back room where he found her staring right at him. He had half expected her to be asleep. Restlessness probably overwhelmed her as much as it did him.

  He opened the cell door and strolled inside. Before unlocking her, he went to the dresser and pulled out a shirt and another pair of shorts. He threw the duo on top before going to her. While keepi
ng his stare on hers, he unlocked her feet first. Seeing her legs remain so still surprised him. He couldn’t tell if her calm demeanor had been meant to trick him.

  Not waiting for an answer, he unlocked the restraints around her hands, then helped her sit up. Before she could sneak an attack on him, he went back to the dresser where he’d left the two garments.

  He threw them at her. “Put these on.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her defiance. Instead, she stood, removed the ripped up nightgown that she still had on, and dressed in the two items. Why hadn’t she fought him now? Had he broken her down this much?

  He stood in the center of the cell and pointed directly in front of him. “Come here.”

  As commanded, she did so. A twinge stabbed his gut. He wanted more of a fight from her. To learn about self-defense, she needed to be a fighter.

  “Today I’m going to teach you how to break from a hold if someone grabs you.” He took a step closer to her.

  Ordinarily she would keep in her position. This time, she hung her head low to keep from looking at him. Unacceptable. He needed for her to keep eye contact, not only because he loved looking into her eyes, but also because if she were really being attacked, she needed to stare her assailant in the face for identifying markers and to let him or her know that she could handle herself.

  “Look up.” He wouldn’t go on with the lesson without connecting with her gaze first. When she didn’t immediately respond, he reluctantly repeated himself. “I said, look at me.”

  She must have caught the anger in his voice. She peered up at him. What he saw in her eyes scared him. The strong woman who’d managed to do the impossible, which had been to grab his mental and physical attention, vanished. This shell of a woman replaced her. She looked as though her spirit had left her.

  “Now if someone grabs you around your body like this”—He simulated a move where he wrapped his arms around her, but didn’t touch her body—“then I want you to raise your arms up and bring your hands down over that person’s inner elbows. Got it?”

  She offered a single nod to respond.