Woman In Chains

by Bridget Midway

  “Are you a doctor?”

  Doc cleared his throat as he made a U-turn in the middle of the street. “I used to be a lot of things.”

  Even in the middle of the autumn season, Doc’s skin held a deep tan. In the darkness of the truck, his skin texture matched that of a worn saddle.

  “What are you now?” This Slave kept her gaze on him, especially after he made a couple of swerves over the empty road.

  Doc smiled at her. “People in this area would call me lots of things. But enough about me, darlin’. What’s your name?”

  This Slave opened her mouth to spout a name, any name. To this stranger, she certainly couldn’t call herself This Slave. She could use one name, something that would take the place of her birth name and her BDSM name.

  “Rebekah.”

  “Pretty name. Just like Becky of Sunnybrook Farm, right?”

  When he laughed, This Slave thought she smelled the familiar scent of alcohol wafting from his mouth. Years of growing up with her father smelling of the same aroma made her an expert in recognizing the stench.

  She secured her seatbelt around her body. A tickle of suspicion attacked her midsection until she saw lights from a restaurant and gas station up the road. She could leave Doc and seek help from someone else.

  Doc glided his truck into the gas station. “Let me fill up first before we fill up.”

  He stepped out of the truck, causing it to rock back and forth. Then he slammed the door. As soon as she saw Doc disappear into the station, This Slave started to get out of the truck. The stares from the people sitting outside caused her to shrink back.

  An old African-American woman with a wooden cane, an older white man with a pipe, and a middle-aged man in overalls all looked on her with judgment. From their stares, she could tell they had her whole life pegged in a matter of seconds.

  The woman took out a small cell phone and punched in a series of numbers without breaking her glare. The two men whispered among themselves.

  Situations like this caused This Slave to want to go back to Master Blade. He’d never exposed her to the general public so she hadn’t been subjected to their judgmental stares.

  She chewed the skin on the inside of her lower lip. Without warning, raised voices captured her attention. The screams made her jump. Reverting to a childhood habit, she brought her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth.

  Like a man on fire, Doc stormed out of the gas station and barreled over to the truck.

  “Forget the gas. Too goddamn expensive, anyway.” He started the truck and threw it into gear. “I’ll just take you to my house.”

  “What? I thought we were going to the diner.” This Slave grabbed the seatbelt holding her in her spot.

  As though Doc didn’t hear her, he continued. “These people think they know who I am.” He reached into the console in between their seats and pulled out a dark bottle containing beer. “They don’t know who the fuck they’re dealing with.”

  The tone of his voice, coupled with the beer, sent This Slave back to her childhood. In an instant, she saw her father sitting in the driver’s seat instead of Doc. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t go through this again.

  “You can let me out here now.”

  Again, Doc spoke as though she hadn’t said a word. “They had better know that I’m not some idiot off the streets. I can fuck them up if I wanted to.” He glared at her. “You hear me?”

  This Slave quivered and moved back to the far corner of her seat. Now clad in some clothing and boots, she could leap from the truck and be better protected than when she had been with Dak earlier.

  In an easy move, she pressed the release button on her seatbelt, but held the belt over her body to give the semblance that she still had it intact. Then she glanced out the window to study the road’s shoulder. In some spots it looked gravelly and rough. She would have to wait for a grassy patch before she ran again.

  Doc accelerated the more he drove. Leaping from the truck wouldn’t be an option soon as it would be too dangerous for her to jump at the high speed.

  Without warning another pickup truck zoomed by them, then screeched to a halt a few feet in front of them and parked across the road, blocking their path. This Slave screamed and covered her eyes. Whoever drove the truck in front of them must have had a death wish.

  Doc came to a screaming stop. Since she didn’t hear the inevitable crunch sound of a truck-on-truck collision, she uncovered her eyes. What she saw in front of her reminded her of a horror scene from Night of the Living Dead.

  Dak, with a large white bandage around his head, stumbled to Doc’s truck. Blood dotted Dak’s shirt and the side of his head. He approached Doc’s side first.

  “You damned drunk!” Dak reached inside and turned off the truck. Then he took the key out of the ignition and tossed the set into the darkened woods.

  “You son of a bitch! My house keys are on there! And how the hell am I supposed to get home now?”

  Dak marched to This Slave’s side of the car. If she hadn’t been so stunned, she would have run as soon as she saw Dak approaching them. But seeing the crazed look in his eyes, she held her spot until he retrieved her. Seeing all of the blood on his head and clothes, she knew he wouldn’t spare her from a severe punishment.

  Dak ripped the door open and grabbed her arm. When he had her out of the truck, he brought his attention back to Doc.

  “The police are on their way. With your connections, I’m sure nothing will happen to you, as usual. Stay away from the booze, stay away from driving when you’re drunk, and stay away from me.”

  “I wasn’t near you, Dak! I was just helping a damsel in distress!” Doc laughed so hard he coughed uncontrollably. “No hard feelings, man. Not everyone is suited to be a cop. Rebekah, I wish you luck.”

  Dak stood by the passenger side of his truck when Doc made that proclamation. He remained motionless for a beat before charging back to Doc’s truck.

  Wisely, Doc closed his door, then reached over and closed the passenger side door before Dak could get to him. The sounds of the approaching sirens made Dak retreat.

  “Put on your seatbelt.” He closed the door behind her before hopping inside.

  Dak managed to drive off, passing the police as he went home.

  ****

  “You really know how to pick them, don’t you?” Dak rubbed his head. “First Blade and now Doc. Do you understand that I’m only trying to help you?” His head throbbed so hard that just talking at a normal level hurt. “Why the hell do you keep running?”

  “Why do you care?” Rebekah’s voice sounded so light.

  Dak glanced at her to catch her expression. She didn’t appear indignant like he thought she would be. She seemed curious in a serious way as though amazed that someone would care about her this much. Or maybe she doubted his sincerity. As soon as Lil’ Mary popped into his thoughts, Dak turned away.

  “Why did you tell Doc that your name is Rebekah?”

  “He wouldn’t have understood Master Blade’s name.”

  Lava coursed through Dak’s body. After coming to an abrupt halt at his house, Dak pulled Rebekah out of his truck from the driver’s side. He didn’t want to take a chance of her running again, although it surprised him that she hadn’t bolted as soon as he’d cut across Doc’s path.

  Why hadn’t she run? Did fear keep her bound to her spot, or had she started to believe him? At this point, he could care less. After tonight she would be gone.

  Rebekah trailed behind him, tripping over his large boots that he normally kept by the front door. After locking the door, he pulled her to the bathroom.

  “No more games.” As though talking to a child, he bent his knees in order to stare directly into her eyes. “You’re going to take a bath. You’re going to eat. And you’re going to go to sleep on the bed in handcuffs until tomorrow.” Dak looked to the heavens. “God willing, Steel will take you to your real safe house, and you’ll be out of my hair.”

  As
though he had requested her to do so, she glanced up at his head. She must have taken stock of the blood that had now crusted on his face. With a slow, tentative hand, she reached for the wound.

  Not fully trusting her, Dak jerked back. “Bath. Now.” Then he leaned against the sink to watch her.

  He didn’t stay out of sick perversion. With two windows in this bathroom and Rebekah’s penchant for fleeing, he had to keep a close eye on her.

  “This Slave is offered no privacy?” She wrapped her arms around her body.

  Dak noticed the handcuff dangling from her wrist. At the moment, Dak could care less about the security device. He stood and took a couple of steps away from the counter.

  “Your hands on the counter.” He pointed to a space next to him.

  “What?” She took a couple of steps back.

  “I told you before that if you called yourself This Slave again that I would punish you. I’m serious about that. Put your hands on the counter.”

  Rebekah stared at him, then at the counter. He heard her breathing increase to a hyper panting.

  “Now!” He knew he would have to do the punishment swiftly before she could process the idea.

  The more she thought about it, the more panic-stricken she would become.

  “I don’t have all night. At this point, you don’t want to make me repeat myself.” Dak stepped back to give her room.

  After long consideration, Rebekah approached him.

  “On the counter.” Dak moved behind her and waited.

  In the full-length horizontal mirror over the sink, he watched her chew her lower lip before assuming the position.

  “Your feet back.” He tapped her still-booted foot with his and waited for her to take a couple of steps backward, causing her ass to stick out.

  Although the baggy sweatpants did nothing for her figure, having her bend over did. Even through the unflattering garment, he saw the shape of her rounded ass. Dak’s heart pounded as though awakened after several years of nonuse.

  She flinched when he placed his hand on the small of her back. Dak didn’t want to scare her. He hadn’t intended to beat her into submission. He’d given her one rule to follow. She couldn’t call herself “This Slave” while in his presence.

  “Five spanks.” Dak kept his gaze connected to hers in the mirror’s reflection.

  She glared at him as though he had no right to touch her. That look made him want to punish her even more.

  Rebekah acted like a wild horse that needed to be broken. With proper training, she could be amazing…for someone else.

  Dak landed the first smack. The soft fabric did nothing to hide the fact that underneath hid a well-toned body.

  “Count it down.” He pressed his hand harder on her back.

  Rebekah grunted, mumbled something under her breath, then said, “One.”

  “One what?”

  She shook her head. “You are not my master.”

  “Then ‘Sir’ will suffice.”

  She huffed in frustration. “One, Sir.”

  He reared his hand back and slapped the other cheek.

  “Two, Sir.”

  With the second hit, a gentle stirring churned inside of him. The dust that covered his latent BDSM needs had been blown off, showing off a shiny, new appreciation.

  Dak massaged her back even as he inflicted the third strike. God, he missed doing this. The power. The control. The trust, even guarded.

  “Three, Sir.” Rebekah uttered the phrase through gritted teeth.

  When Dak disciplined her, a surge of power zipped through his body. Punishment shouldn’t feel this good.

  “Four, Sir.”

  Dak heard Rebekah’s voice breaking, which made him stop for a moment to regard her. A tear streamed down her cheek. Seeing her tears made him question his methods. Had he spanked her too hard? Should he stop now?

  No. A weaker Dom would stop the punishment. For all he knew, Rebekah could have been tricking him again like she had before when she’d asked for a towel, then cleaned his clock with the lamp.

  At the last blow, Dak left his hand resting on her ass. He’d punished her hard, but a feeling deep inside of him screamed that she’d needed this for a long, long time.

  Dak moved in behind her. With one hand on her waist now and the other on top of her hand on the counter, he crowded her space. He knew after such a strict punishment that aftercare had to be administered. He had at least remembered that.

  “I’d like for you to sit down with me so that we can talk about what just happened.” He kept his tone low and even yet commanding.

  Rebekah’s breathing slowed to a steady rate. Then she glared at Dak’s reflection. Without a word, she slipped her hand from under his and moved away from him.

  “Don’t walk away from me.” Dak reached for her.

  Rebekah started to strip out of her clothes. In a blink, she shed her top and tossed it on the floor. Next to go were his clunky boots, which she left toppled in the middle of the floor. As much as Dak should have wanted to look away when she removed the sweatpants, he couldn’t.

  When she turned her back to him, Dak saw how red her ass cheeks were from his punishment. Rebekah stepped into the claw-foot bathtub that sat in the middle of the room.

  “Rebekah, we need to—”

  “You’re a hypocrite.”

  Her assessment caused Dak to blink. “What did you just say?”

  “A hypocrite. That or a liar. You’re supposed to save people, and you give a punishment like that to a person you believe has been abused?” She shook her head and gazed down into the water.

  Dak dropped down next to the tub to address her. He wanted to make sure that she understood every word he said to her.

  “What I did just now was not abuse. Had I not warned you before that the spanking was coming, I would agree with you.” He reached for her hand that rested on the side of the tub.

  As soon as he touched her, she slipped her hand into the water. “Master Blade does the same thing, but you call it abuse.”

  Dak shook his head. “Blade is a monster. If you were honest with yourself, you would see that.”

  She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them.

  The dig of comparing Dak to Blade made him feel gutted. He couldn’t get rid of Rebekah fast enough.

  “Tell me your name.”

  When Rebekah remained quiet, Dak moved to the other side of the tub to gain eye contact with her. She turned her head the other way to avoid him.

  “Are you going to talk to me?”

  Her body stilled at his inquiry. Instead of answering him, she began bathing herself.

  “Fine. I’ll be right here waiting until you’re done.” He leaned against the counter again and watched her.

  Dak had never gone through so much for one person before. In the short time he’d been with Rebekah, she’d drawn out his dominant side and made him question his skill. She had more power than she realized. For that reason, he would happily see her on her way.

  After her bath, and after she refused to eat anything, Dak dressed Rebekah in another one of his T-shirts, then cuffed her to his bed again. He sat guard at the doorway in a chair to make sure she didn’t try to escape. It had been a long night. Thank God, it’d be ending soon.

  ****

  Dak felt something soft, like a feather, glide over his lips. He opened his eyes and found Rebekah hovering over him. Although he should have been startled, he felt calm.

  He studied her face, from her soulful brown eyes to her button nose to those kissable full lips. He licked his own in response.

  Her hands rested on the arms of the chair as she straddled him.

  “How did you get out?” he asked.

  She smiled, and her angelic face beamed. “You freed me, remember?”

  As a way to thank him, she planted kisses down the side of his face and over his neck. The feeling erected every hair on his body. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her closer to him. Even though he knew she
wore nothing underneath the T-shirt, Dak wanted to see her body.

  He yanked the garment off her as she let her hand travel down his body to his jeans.

  “What would Master Dak like?” she asked as she undid the button on his jeans, then pulled down the zipper.

  “You know what I like.”

  As though they had done it before, Rebekah lowered herself onto his hardened cock and rode him, slowly at first, but eventually increasing speed. He felt her slick inner walls surrounding his shaft, tightening on him until he wanted to come. Dak’s heart pounded so hard it scared him.

  “Oh, God! So good!” Dak raised his hips to meet her gyrations. “Just tell me your name. Trust me enough to tell me your name.”

  Rebekah leaned forward, placing her mouth right by his ear. He felt her hot breath warming the shell of his ear.

  “My name? You want to know my real name?” Her sultry voice turned his spine into pudding.

  “Yes! Yes! Tell me!”

  “It’s—”

  Another pounding sounded in Dak’s ears, muting what Rebekah had said. Then he heard it again and knew the pounding didn’t come from his own heartbeat.

  In an instant, Dak opened his eyes, finding Rebekah asleep and bound to his bed, and the constant pounding coming from the front door.

  Jesus H. He’d never had such a vivid dream like that in his life. Dak sprang from his chair, trying hard to hide his apparent erection. Rebekah had already accused him of physical abuse. He didn’t need her classifying him as some sort of sex-crazed pervert.

  Another forceful knock pounded on the door again.

  “Yeah, yeah! I’m coming.” Dak opened his door, assuming on the other side would be his savior, Gordon. “It’s about fucking ti—”

  Seeing their mutual friend Moira didn’t sit well with him. Gordon usually sent her when he couldn’t deliver bad news. Besides the fate of their dear mutual friend fighting his terminal condition, the worst news Dak could get right now involved the woman cuffed to his bed.

  His eyes widened. “No, no, no!”