Freedom in Chains

by Ann Raina

  Julian took a deep breath, looked at Kyra for help and she knew he would burst into laughter any second. "Hmm, last time I saw him, he wore a kimono, and that didn't suit him so well," Kyra replied. Julian laughed. It was too hilarious for the small joke, but better than exploding across the table at Lara's expense. Milton smiled, too, and when he glanced at his daughter, he let her know that he knew perfectly well what kind of man Oliver was. Kyra shrugged. Her mother lived in a wonderful, little ivory tower, which she only left to go shopping or to meet with her neighbors or at the church to play bingo once a week. Her life was dedicated to serving her family, and now that her children were out of the house, she took care of Milton with undivided devotion. She did not wish to see more of the world--her husband did that for both of them. Kyra knew her parents lived a happy, fulfilled marriage. Most policemen did not have that luck and it only worked if one part of that marriage gave in. Two people thinking of career and more money never lasted.

  "A kimono." Lara frowned. "What about leather? Is it out again?"

  "Sort of. But Roman sandals are to come."

  "Sandals. But summer's over." Lara shook her head, ate and for a while the conversation turned around weather, Kyra's business--her mom's subject, not her father's--and the convict program. When Milton emptied his plate and put down the cutlery he looked very satisfied. "Do you want some more wine?"

  "No." Milton patted his stomach. "Enough of everything. I wanted to bring you some good news."

  "And that would be?"

  "Marvin finally took up the torch and will run for mayor's office next spring."

  "Really?" Kyra shook her head. "I thought he was so absorbed in being commissioner that he wouldn't take another office."

  "Yep, right what I thought. But he changed his mind. His wife appeared to have been the one arguing with him." He smiled. "But his son… You met him, Kyra, do you remember? On the reception. He's that handsome tall lawyer. Light brown hair, crew cut fashion."

  "Assistant lawyer." Kyra frowned and shook her head slightly. "And he's got some strange ideas, I can tell you. He'll be up to his ears in the business when his father takes office."

  "But you met him. Richard, by the way, supports his father's decision."

  "Of course. It can only be good for him if his father's up the ladder."

  "Nevertheless, I'm glad Marvin will be candidate. We need some straight politicians for this city. Not the crooks we had for years." He faced Julian. "He'll not give in to crime and let it happen. I know that he's got some ideas in store that will make this city safer. Much safer."

  "Good to know," Julian replied, but Kyra's father did not buy the humility.

  "Yes, you better think about what you do next time, young man. You got lucky this time, but luck won't hold."

  "I know, sir. I'm grateful I got this chance."

  "And it's the best you could get." Milton's gaze met with his daughter. "But I think that you should be reminded that you serve this time here instead of being in prison."

  Julian took a deep breath. Kyra thought that Julian got battered from both father and daughter and that it was not truly fair. "He is serving, father," she said, making the correction mild and soothing. "And what more could he do than defending my home and me?"

  "Right." Milton gave the shortest of nods, but Kyra knew that her father would have preferred Julian to be shackled and locked up. His presence seemed to irritate him, no matter Julian's bravery.

  "I still don't understand this all." Lara shook her head. "That man entered your house, honey, and…he was here?" She pointed at Julian, her face interested but cautious. "Should he not be locked up in the kennel during the night?"

  Julian put down fork and knife. He tried for a blank, non-telling expression, but failed. "I sleep in the kitchen, ma'am."

  "The whole night?"

  Julian shed a glance at Kyra. "Usually, yes."

  Lara looked at Kyra across the table and the frown lines told of nothing good to come. Kyra held her breath. "But…the kennel's the only lockable room, isn't it? You mean, you let him run free here at night?"

  "No, mom, not free."

  "But…" She lifted her arms as if to pray for enlightenment. "Kyra, what does that mean now?"

  "I'll get us some coffee." Julian stood so quickly he startled Lara. Her hand flew up to her cross.

  She bent across the table to add in a confidential whisper, "I mean, Kyra, he's a criminal!"

  "Mom, regard this program as a kind of probation. He's here to make amends." She expected help from her father, but Milton was absorbed in watching Julian at the counter. He frowned as if he expected Julian to turn into a lethal threat. One more move and he would pull out his gun. "It is a program especially for those who did not commit severe crimes."

  "But he's not a normal citizen either, so he should not be treated like one."

  It must have been the indignation that made Julian turn, but when he did his eyes were angry. He put a thumb under the collar. "That's why I have to wear this collar for another three months and two weeks so that everyone can see what I am."

  Lara raised her brows as if to add that criminals should not speak without being spoken to. "So, tell me, where do you lock him up for the night?"

  Julian brought mugs and the coffee pot. "I'm locked here in the kitchen. Like a dog, Mrs. Jennings. With a chain around my ankle. I'm not allowed to leave so I sleep on a mattress."

  "Oh, that's why the mattress is here. I was wondering." Lara turned to the makeshift bed, nodded and turned back, lips pursed. "That's understandable. I wouldn't want you to run through the house without supervision."

  Julian handed Kyra the coffee pot, pleading for help. "He's not dangerous, mom." Kyra smiled. "How can you think that he would try to harm me? Look at him. He took the beating."

  "You shot the burglar. And you would have done so without him."

  "I did shoot him, but, no, mom, I'd never had a chance without Julian stopping him first."

  Lara Jennings eyed Julian who sat down again. Kyra poured coffee. "Thanks, honey. Do you know why the burglar tried to get in here?" she asked her husband who shook his head. His eyes still rested on Julian.

  "No. There's still no ID on him. But he's one dangerous bastard, that's for sure." He turned to his daughter. "Ky, you better replace the security system. Who knows what will happen?"

  "But he's locked up and I so don't want to change a thing just because of one attempted burglary."

  Milton huffed. "If there're more of Mr. No Name out there we gonna hear from them again." He put his big hands around the coffee mug. "I just want to see you safe, Ky."

  "Don't worry. I try not to." They exchanged a glance of mutual understanding.

  Lara smiled. "So good to see you get along. Honey, did you know that your dad's gonna be up the ladder next month?"

  "No." Kyra put a hand on her father's arm. "So it's true?"

  "Well…" Milton was modesty incarnate, but finally nodded. "Hammer couldn't resist your charm, I'd say."

  "Oh, it's not my merit! It's your work and you get the praise." She stood to hug him. "Congratulations! It's so good to know."

  "Yeah…" Milton patted Kyra's arm. "I'm glad, too."

  "And I am glad," Lara announced, smiling broadly. "We'll make that big cruise we've talked about! I'm so looking forward to it!"

  "Yes, I remember." Kyra sat down again. "It's about time that you two have a decent vacation. When will you get the new insignia?"

  "I'll let you know, Ky. I don't have a date right now."

  "We'll celebrate right after that." Lara shed a glance at Julian, and when she caught her daughter's eye, she was serious. "You and us."

  "Sure."

  "Make sure he can't do any mischief in the meantime."

  "Mom…" Kyra's eyed widened, but her mother did not seem to notice that her behavior was way out of line.

  "Don't forget what he is, honey. Do never forget."

  "I think, she got it," Milton whispered, stoop
ing to her and smiling to smooth the sudden strain on Kyra's face.

  Julian sipped his coffee and avoided Lara's stare by facing the table top. Kyra resisted the urge to touch his hand, but stood to clear the table. Julian instantly helped, glad to have something to do. "A brandy, anyone?" She glanced over her shoulder.

  "No, not today." Milton rose. "I've got to work tonight so I better stay sober."

  "Oh, you're going to leave already?"

  Lara weighed her head left and right and arched her brows as if saying, she would like to stay, but Milton was making haste. "We'll stop by another time. Kyra, would you bring us to the door?"

  "Sure." Kyra helped them with their jackets.

  On the porch, Lara turned to her daughter and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be lured into false security, honey," she whispered. "I've seen that often enough. The guys are nice as long as they want something from you, but, snap, when they got it, they turn nasty."

  "Mom, really, I know what I do. And he's been friendly and polite and no threat at all."

  "You forget what he is. Why was he sitting at our table? He had no right to be there."

  "It's my table, mom, and I decide who's sitting there."

  Lara's eyes became small slits of distrust. "This hunk could push you down, rape you and run away. You don't stand a chance against him."

  "Don't worry."

  "But I am worried! I am your mother, honey! And I don't go along with that program. What has he got to do in the house? Put him in the garage! Use the ring at the collar to make him fast!"

  "Leave that to her," Milton said, saving Kyra the trouble to explain her motives again. He hugged her. "Take good care of yourself, Ky. Let me know when there's trouble. I can be here in fifteen minutes. It might be better than the local patrol."

  "I'll think of it. And congrats again to your promotion. You earned it."

  "Thanks, Ky." He squeezed her shoulders once again and gently escorted Lara to their car.

  Kyra closed the door and gasped. Julian was standing only two steps away from her. "You startled me."

  "Your mother's a cranky old lady."

  "Don't say that, Julian."

  "No? Let's say, she's truly not open-minded or even polite."

  "Well, you were." She went back to the kitchen to clean up, but Julian had done most of the job. "I'm glad you behaved yourself."

  "Yes? It wasn't easy, I give you that." He trailed in behind her. "Did she do this on purpose? Did she provoke me to see what I would take without hitting her?"

  "No."

  "No? What kind of world vision is in her head? That prisoners still have to wear a ball and chain?"

  "Maybe." Kyra closed the full dishwasher and set the program. "Wouldn't that be interesting? But, no," she smiled sweetly, "you behaved yourself and I so don't have to punish you."

  "No?" Julian's eyes swept the kitchen. He found the now empty salad bowl on the counter and had his hand on the glass.

  "No!" Kyra yelled. "That's my mother's! Don't!"

  Julian stopped his hand the last second, but swept a vase off the counter instead. It shattered on the tiles beside the table. Water splashed everywhere, debris skittered along the cabinets and the flowers lay like abandoned pieces of a surreal painting. "Do you need more hints how I feel?"

  "I know what you'll feel in a few minutes," Kyra growled. "If you don't want your clothes cut better take them off. Right now." She stood motionless amidst the remnants of the vase and watched him take off the jogging pants and shirt. He held eye contact for the longest time and still, when he stood naked, he stared at her. "Clean up the mess you made." He pursed his lips for a moment, silently arguing with himself. She did not waver, did not alter her command and he gave in. Kyra watched him sweeping the debris and drying the tiles. Her mouth was dry and her heart beat in her throat just looking at his perfectly formed ass. Before he could ask her what to do next she held the blindfold out toward him. "Put it on and don't move." He did what she said, not a second of hesitation, and Kyra brought a pair of handcuffs. She had exchanged the Darbys for a more adjustable pair. Oliver's smut grin had been hard to bear, but, hey, she had gotten what she wanted from his formidable collection. "Put your hands together."

  "Up front?"

  "Up front." She snapped the cuffs shut and he tested them. Just the movement, the up and down of his hands and the clenching of his fists stirred lower parts of her body, and she fought for control.

  "Do I have to thank Oliver for these?"

  "Yes, you have."

  "They're heavy and…"

  "Rigid," she finished for him.

  "Not much movement possible, hmm? Your mother would have liked that. You should have restricted me like that while she was here."

  "Shut up." She took him into the garage. The air was warm and sticky and smelled of metal and oiled cloth.

  "What's on your--"

  "I said, shut up." She guided him to the examination chair and motioned him to sit down. He swallowed, the memory of that chair was mixed, and she waited for his question if Oliver was around somewhere, but he just breathed shallowly, not trusting to give in to pleasant expectation. "Legs up!" She closed the straps across his ankles and pulled another, wider strap below his chest. "Arms above your head!"

  "Now that's--"

  "Do it!" She helped pull his shackled hands so far behind his head that he winced. A rope connected the short bar of the cuffs with the chair--he could not lift them anymore. "You won't go anywhere without my allowance," she whispered in his ear. He licked his lips, smiling tentatively. Her fingertips gently caressed his cheeks, leaving out the healing cuts. "And you won't leave without some pleasure and some…pain." His hands clenched to fists and he tensed. Kyra felt a wonderful calm flow through her. The calm before the storm.

  The doorbell rang.

  "Shit!" Kyra listened for a moment at the open garage door. "It's my mom. I gotta go." She was out of the garage and had locked the door too quickly for him to reply. Kyra ran both hands through her hair. Her face had blushed with the prospect of another game and she hoped her mother would not notice. She opened the door. "Now, you realized you forgot your bowl?"

  "Yes, honey, indeed!" Lara was in the hall and Kyra went to fetch the bowl. She thought of what her mom would have said if Julian had broken it. That he should be back in prison? Or whipped for such clumsiness? Put in chains and a windowless room? She fought the urge to laugh. "Here you go." She was about to hand her the bowl when Lara frowned. "Where's the convict?"

  "In the bathroom."

  "Oh! I need to use it, too. You know, it's the coffee."

  "Please, go upstairs then. You know where." Kyra waited with bated breath and really impatient for her mom to return. "Everything settled?" She handed her the bowl. "The salad was delicious as always, mom, thank you."

  "No big deal." Lara stood on the threshold. "Is he still in the bathroom?"

  "Yes."

  "My…" She shook her head. "Has he got some health problems? Maybe something infectious? You should have him checked by a doc, honey. You never know what these crooks bring in!"

  "I'll see to it. Bye, mom." She closed the door and took a deep breath. With it came the hope and the prayer that this would have been the last interruption for the day.

  "Nice you didn't go away." Kyra nipped his earlobe, and he made a small sound in his throat. She did it again, playing with the soft flesh. Her tongue went down his jawbone, but when he thought she would kiss him, she rounded the chair and licked his other earlobe. He swallowed and his fists opened and closed. Oh, she could see how much he was into this game. It was fascinating and more. Arousing. She did not mind the broken vase. He wanted punishment, but this, she knew now, was the reward for remaining polite and friendly while her mother had not been any of it.

  She adjusted the chair so that his head was lower than his legs. Again he tensed, not knowing what to expect. She stood, her legs left and right of his upper arms, to run her hands down his ribs. So much str
ength at her will. She bowed to lick his nipples, found them hard and sensitive, and gently bit. The answer was low moaning. She extended the teasing while her hands felt the muscles on his belly. "Take off your clothes," he whispered. "Let me feel you."

  Kyra stopped and straightened. "You remember what I told you about gags?"

  "Yes." He swallowed.

  "Be quiet. No demands." Kyra walked to the shelf and brought the electric razor. Yet, standing between his legs she marveled at his body. Not for the first time and truly not for the last. He was a gift. She started shaving him and his body reacted to the stimulation. The moaning got louder and he lifted his butt from the seat to get more of her hands. "Lie still or I stop," she warned. He flinched. She made shaving a thorough job, including his chest and buttocks. When she switched off the razor she heard him breathe hard and shallow. The sound alone got her aroused even more.

  He is at my mercy, isn't he? And yet, while his body was trapped, she felt bound to him in a very special way. All by themselves her hands glided along his legs to his groin. It was rewarding to have him aroused and that he waited for her next move. She massaged the softness next to his scrotum sac. So warm. So tender. Julian laid back his head and his breathing accelerated. He was erect, knowing she would not let him stay undone. Kyra used her thumbs to massage the passage between his sac and his anus while his length lay hard and ready up his belly. She groped for the ball divider and put it on him without delay. Julian made a sound of disapproval--the sudden pressure on his swelling scrotum was not to his liking.

  Kyra smiled and concentrated on his cock to make him forget what she had done. His balls were caught in finest leather, stretched, but not painfully tight. To make amends she tickled them with her tongue. A choked cry of pleasure answered. She could distract him and distract herself that she played bondage games with a convict, a man she had taken in to let him serve for his crime. Now, wasn't that the best joke of all? Her tongue licked along his shaft, slow and wet, relishing the warmth and tenderness. Julian squirmed on the chair, tried to make her go on, faster, and give him more. To make him come. Finally.