Woman In Chains

by Bridget Midway

  Dak turned the knob and had to blink when he found it unlocked as he suspected. Hoping that the man didn’t have a ravenous dog inside, Dak poked his head in the door and peered around the darkened garage.

  He noticed nothing but the normal garage items: tools, lawnmower, washer, and dryer.

  Dak ascended the three steps to get into the main part of the house. He tried that door and, surprisingly, found that one to be locked. He retrieved his tools again. Sliding the slender points of two of his tools inside of the lock, he worked it around, listening carefully to hear the telltale clicks.

  The flash of light from a passing car’s headlights shone through the garage door glass. The brief illumination caused Dak to duck down momentarily.

  The neighborhood traffic had to be the only downside to Blade living in the suburbs. He had no idea if the next car would be Blade’s or just another neighbor’s. He had to work faster.

  Dak heard the clicks, then turned the knob. Since Blade had left the kitchen light burning, Dak scanned the area. He didn’t discern anything out of the ordinary, certainly no slave hiding in it.

  He crept into the living room, finding it empty as well. Recalling the house layout, he went to the sunken room off of the living room. That had to be his dungeon area.

  He turned on the light. Blade’s fully-stocked dungeon held more toys than he had ever seen. The all-black toys matched the padded platform that sat off to the side and the cuffs that dangled from the ceiling.

  Dak walked into the dungeon and looked around. He found a couple of cabinets and drawers, but the drawers couldn’t fit a full-grown person or even a child. He checked them anyway, just in case. In his search, he found more toys and first-aid supplies, but no slave.

  He turned back into the main house and continued looking around. As he went from room to room, he came up empty. Either his slave had gone with him to this event, or Blade had her well hidden.

  Dak glanced at his watch. He didn’t have much time. He would have to find This Slave or call the mission a bust. Deciding to test Gordon’s drawer theory, Dak went to every room in the house and opened every available drawer. With each one, he came up empty.

  “Damn.” Dak opened his phone and called Gordon as he stood in Blade’s bedroom. Again, after the third ring, he answered. “I think he took her with him. I’m not finding her anywhere.”

  “He didn’t. I know she has to be somewhere in that house.” Gordon sighed heavily on the phone. “Did you check the drawers?”

  “Of course. I looked in all of them. I came up with nothing.” Dak scratched his head. “I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to have to call this mission off and try to approach Blade face-to-face.”

  “No, we can’t. I didn’t tell you this before, but when we tried doing an intervention with Blade with Lil’ Mary, the next day she ended up in the hospital.”

  Pressure crushed Dak’s shoulders. As much as he didn’t want to do this, everything in him screamed that he had to find this woman. If he didn’t, Blade could hurt her as badly as he’d hurt Lil’ Mary…or worse.

  “You can’t reason with Blade. Find This Slave and get out of the house. Don’t confront Blade, you hear me?”

  Dak disconnected the call and returned the phone to his pocket. Gordon painted Blade as a monster. Knowing that, maybe the woman would want to be saved.

  “Anyone here?” he called out in the room. “Hello?”

  He waited to hear a response. Nothing.

  Just as he started to leave, he heard a knock. It could have come from outside, but it sounded like it came from somewhere in the room.

  Dak scanned the room again. Where did he have her hidden? He rifled through the closet and pounded on the floor to find any false bottoms. He stomped all over the floor in the bedroom to hear any hollow sections. Again, nothing.

  “Damn it. Where are you?” He kicked the platform under Blade’s king-size bed.

  The vacant sound he sought echoed back. He knelt down beside the bed and tried prying the board free, but found resistance. Looking on the side, he found a padlock securing the secret compartment shut.

  How fucking irresponsible. What if the house caught on fire? The person hidden in this drawer would be killed. Plus how in the world could someone breathe in that thing?

  Dak pulled out his kit again and worked on the lock. When he got it open, it took him no time to remove the lock and pull open the drawer.

  His heart stopped at what he saw. Lying on her back in a cramped, coffin-like container hid a woman with fear in her eyes. Her lips trembled, but nothing came from her mouth. Since she had on no clothes, Dak didn’t want to stare at her body and scare her even more.

  “I’m here to help you,” he said. He held his hand out to her, but she remained still.

  No time to coddle her, Dak reached into the drawer and pulled her out like a newborn baby.

  “Can you stand?”

  She didn’t respond. She kept staring at him like she had encountered an alien.

  “Can you talk? Do you understand English?” Dak went down the list of all of the languages he knew fluently. Spanish, Russian, Japanese, and even Arabic.

  Her lips trembled like she wanted to say something, but he couldn’t wait for her to utter her first words.

  When another set of headlights flashed in the house, Dak stopped his questioning and decided to go. He took off his coat, a motion that made her stumble backward.

  “No, honey. I’m just using this to cover you up. That’s all.” He tried getting her arm in the coat, but she crossed them in front of her and made fists. A strange reaction, but he didn’t have time to figure her out.

  Another set of headlights streamed into the house…and stayed.

  “Shit! Blade’s home.”

  With that assessment, This Slave’s eyes widened, and she mustered enough strength to start screaming. Blade really had this woman terrorized.

  Dak wrapped his coat around her, then stuffed his handkerchief in her mouth to silence her after repeatedly asking her to be quiet. He threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, then ran like a quarterback.

  Dak stopped in the middle of the house and glared at the front door. He could knock the shit out of Blade right here and now. Kicking Blade’s ass wouldn’t bring back Lil’ Mary, and it wouldn’t resolve the hurt that This Slave felt, but Dak would feel a whole lot better. Now that Dak had Blade’s slave, he felt a tiny twinge of victory.

  Take that, asshole!

  Dak kicked around the idea of setting This Slave down or taking off. From her wild flailing kicks that he felt adequately displayed her fear, and Gordon’s plea for Dak not to confront Blade, he thought better of his actions.

  “I’ll save that fight for another day.” Dak burst through the back door just as he heard the front door opening.

  This Slave continued screaming with the cloth in her mouth even as he hopped the fence lining Blade’s backyard and carried her to his truck. He opened the door to the backseat and dumped her inside.

  “Stay down, got it?” He closed the door and hopped in on his side.

  Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, he didn’t speed off. He pulled off slowly and avoided going anywhere near Blade’s street.

  Dak kept glancing in his rearview mirror to check on his latest save. Considering he’d left so many obvious signs that he had been in the house, like leaving some lights on and the drawer opened, he couldn’t chalk this job up as a success. Considering he’d manage to find This Slave gave him satisfaction.

  Dak pulled out his phone and called Gordon again. He had to meet up with him to do the handoff. In her condition, she needed to be with someone patient and nurturing. Too bad Siren had her hands full. She would have been the perfect Domme to take care of her.

  “I’ve got her,” Dak announced on the phone. “Wasn’t easy, but I found her right when Blade was coming home, too.”

  “Did you confront him?” Gordon asked.

  “No, I just got h
er out of the house.” Dak glanced in his mirror again. This time he saw her sitting up and looking around. “Where can I meet you? She’s really shell-shocked. She’s going to need a lot of care and attention.”

  Just as he said that, he watched her clambering for the door and opening it as Dak traveled down the winding road to get to his secluded home.

  “Jesus Christ!” He dropped his phone and screeched to a halt on the side of the road before the woman killed herself trying to jump from a moving vehicle. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Ignoring him, she flung off his jacket and ran, wearing nothing but a grimace. Dak ran after this scared rabbit who must have been afraid that Master Blade would be following behind them.

  “Hey! Stop before you hurt yourself.” He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her back to his truck.

  With each step, she kicked and screamed. At one point her heel caught his shin, nearly crumpling him to the ground. Dak gritted his teeth and limped to his truck. This time he put her in the front passenger seat.

  Reaching around her flailing feet, he found a roll of duct tape. Although he hated the idea of binding this woman, he had to do something to keep her safe. Her actions made it apparent she didn’t believe his story.

  “Once I get you to my house, I can explain things better to you. Until then, I’m going to have to tie you.” He grabbed her hands first and wrapped the mossy green tape around her wrists, a feat in itself, considering how much she thrashed about.

  To keep her from trying to run again, when Dak bound her ankles together, he wrapped the tape around a metal bar underneath the seat. He did the same to her wrists, securing them to the bar over the window by her head. Then he snapped a seatbelt around her.

  He got back in the truck and sped off to his home. “I don’t know what Master Blade did to you. Just know I’m not like him.”

  She continued struggling against her bindings until eventually she stopped, either out of exhaustion or perhaps because she found the endeavor futile.

  Dak pulled around to the back of his house. He unlocked the back door and opened it so that he could get This Slave inside quickly. From his jeans, he retrieved a pocketknife. The sight of the blade made her kick and pull on her bindings again.

  “I’m just using it to cut you loose. That’s all. I’m not going to hurt you.” Dak cut her from the vehicle although he left her wrists and ankles bound.

  Cradling her in his arms, he carried her into his house. He didn’t expect her to try and run again as soon as he placed her down. Even with her ankles trussed together, she hopped to the front door and tried leaving.

  “What are you doing?” Dak grabbed her around her waist and pulled her back. “Why do you keep trying to run? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal with Master Blade. My organization and I will get you some help and find you another Dom or Domme. Do you understand?”

  She stared at him for a while as though trying to size up his statement. She must not have trusted him. She turned the other way and started heading to the back door.

  “I don’t believe this.” Dak grabbed her around her waist and carried her to his bedroom.

  He tossed her on his bed, then went into his closet. Grabbing two neckties, he returned to the bed and used them to tie her arms and legs to the headboard and footboard. Once he had her down, he called Gordon again.

  “Okay, you have to tell me when you can get this one. She’s wild. I don’t know what the deal with her is, but she’s bound and determined to run away from me. I had to take her to my house instead of a neutral spot.” Dak tried to regain his breath. “I’ve seen some submissives wanting to return to their masters and mistresses, but this one is strange.”

  “I can’t get there tonight. Can you do me a favor and just keep her overnight? I promise to be there tomorrow.”

  “Fuck! You know that’s not the deal. You swore to me, man.” Dak smoothed his hand over his short hair. She’d already made his life pretty miserable in the few minutes he’d had her. Keeping her overnight would be a death sentence.

  “Please, man,” Gordon began. “I really need your help here.”

  “And I need some peace and quiet. You’re killing me, Gordon.”

  “Just one day.”

  Dak glanced over at her. Every time he caught the sad expression in her eyes, he melted. She needed help. One night wouldn’t kill him…he hoped.

  “Tomorrow. Don’t screw me again.” Dak disconnected the call and tossed the cell phone on the dresser.

  He stared into her eyes. Her nudity struck him immediately. He pulled a blanket from his closet and covered her body, a body he couldn’t help but notice. Wonderful, round breasts, long legs, and a juicy ass.

  Although he’d never owned an African-American submissive, Dak had certainly dated his share. This woman would be right up there with the type he would date…if he were dating right now.

  As sexy as This Slave looked, Dak could understand why Blade kept her. How Blade could treat her or any slave so horribly amazed him. He pulled his wadded handkerchief from her wide mouth.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked.

  She stared at him, panting like a wild dog.

  “That’s right. We never answered the English question, did we? Do you speak English?” Dak gazed at her, waiting for her answer. “Are you deaf?” He started to sign, and she looked away.

  “Okay, let’s try this another way. My name is Dakota. Friends call me Dak. I’m with an organization called SAFE. We rescue submissives and slaves who may not be in the healthiest of relationships.” He sat down on the bed next to her. “The next step is to take you to a sort of BDSM safe house and get you retrained. Once you’re retrained, we’ll pair you up with the right type of Dom or Domme. Do you understand?”

  Her breathing had become more controlled. She relaxed her hands as she looked at him. Finally, it looked like what he’d said sank in.

  “So what’s your name?” he asked again.

  She finally answered, “This Slave.”

  Dak shook his head. “No, I don’t want to know what Master Blade called you. I want to know your real name. What did your parents name you?”

  “This Slave.”

  This one would need a lot of help to be deprogrammed.

  Dak stood from the bed. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  With his back turned, she said something that made him stop in his tracks. “This Slave wants to go home, back home to Master Blade.”

  Chapter Three

  This Slave. In the last year, that had become her identity and that’s what she wanted to be called. She didn’t know this man or why he felt the need to intrude on her life, but he had no right to make such claims over her situation with Master Blade. Master Blade had been exactly what she needed, deserved. Dakota, or Dak or whatever he wanted to be called, needed to take her back to him now.

  “You can’t be serious.” Her captor put his fists to his hips. “You want me to take you back to Blade?”

  “This Slave is Master Blade’s property. This Slave needs to go back home.” She pulled on the tie wrapped around her wrists.

  Dak stormed over to her and hovered over her face, keeping her still. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that the way he treats you is what you want.”

  She swallowed. “This Slave has an obligation to Master Blade. When he’s happy, This Slave is happy.”

  Dak shook his head. “I don’t believe you. That man is a monster. Instead of trying to get back to him, you need to be thanking me for saving you.” He started to leave when she released the loudest scream she could muster.

  Dak turned around at the doorway to his bedroom, a calm expression gracing his face. “Scream as long and as loud as you want. I’m the only one out here, so the only things that will hear you will be the crickets and the raccoons.”

  Once Dak left the room, she continued screaming until her throat became sore. Wh
ere in the world had he taken her? She didn’t believe his story about being a part of some rescue team to help submissives and slaves.

  What made him think she needed help? She certainly hadn’t asked for any. Even when Mistress Siren had asked her at the luncheon a while back, she hadn’t responded. Her situation couldn’t be that different from any other submissive or slave.

  She pulled on the silk tie again, hoping to loosen the bindings, but found it too tight. The man knew how to tie knots and do it quickly. With her hands tied above her head, she gazed down, hoping she could try freeing her feet. With the tape around her ankles and being secured with the tie, she found it just as difficult to release her feet.

  She knew one thing: she wouldn’t accept anything from this stranger. She would have to convince him to take her back to Master Blade. She shuddered as soon as she thought about how her master would react when he found her gone. She might provoke him into disciplining her, but she would never willingly leave. He had to know that.

  Distinctive smells wafted into the sparsely decorated bedroom. She gazed around, finding nothing on the walls, not even bland pictures of seascapes or landscapes. What kind of monster could live without art?

  The dated furniture had antique knobs and handles on them. A ceiling fan with long oak blades hovered over the bed. And the large brass bed with its knobs on the tops of each corner posts reminded her so much of her grandmother’s bed. She craned her head back and noticed nicks and scratches along the posts. It made her wonder who else he had chained to this bed.

  She took in a deep breath and caught a familiar scent of chicken and seasoned broth. The soup smelled wonderful, but she wouldn’t be eating any of it.

  Her stomach growled its objection. She compressed her muscles in her midsection to quiet it. Once she figured out how to escape, she would run back home, back to what she knew.

  When a teakettle whistled, her mind flashed back to a time when she hadn’t made Master’s eggs like he wanted, hoping he would punish her. When he’d made her kneel in a corner instead of physically disciplining her, she’d taken matters into her own hands by putting the hot kettle on her thigh. Under the searing heat, she hadn’t shed a tear.