Woman In Chains (13 page)

Rebekah breathed heavily as she brought her head down. When she opened her eyes, she saw Dak standing up while holding the tray of food intended for her. Without a word, he went upstairs to the kitchen.

Rebekah removed her fingers from her wet vagina and closed her legs. What had started as something to get Dak’s attention quickly became a very real act of her true feelings.

Dak returned to the room with another tray of food. He sat on the chair and placed the food down on the floor next to him.

“I’m going to sleep here to make sure you don’t try to escape.” He rested his feet on another small chair across from him. “When you’re ready to bow down to me, your food will be here waiting for you. Until then, good night.”

Rebekah stormed to the bathroom. If the room had had a door, she would have slammed it.
Bastard
. Didn’t anything turn this guy on? She had to get out of this place. No matter how sweet and kind Dak had been to her, Rebekah had no business here.

****

Rebekah waited to hear Dak’s heavy, even breathing before approaching the bars. Lying on the floor, she reached her hand through the cell bars to try to reach the tray. Even pushing her feet back on the carpet and allowing the steel rods to cut into her shoulders and neck didn’t give her enough length to reach the food. After several days of not eating, she would have thought she would be thin enough to shimmy through the bars.

Rebekah had searched her living area up and down and found nothing that could aid her in reaching through. No stick. No bar. No belt that she could use to hook onto the tray. Dak had been careful to remove the toys he’d brought into the cell during his session with Mouse.

She had thought about pulling down the chain that held the vertical bar, but that would have caused enough noise for all of Virginia to hear it. Then she’d contemplated removing one of the flimsy legs from one of the tables in her room. Fear of making too much noise and waking Dak prevented her from moving on with that plan.

Rebekah made another valiant effort, but eventually gave up when the task proved to be out of her reach. As she sat back, she noticed right away that black smudges covered her arm and shoulder. She wiped her hand over the spots. She deduced immediately the distinct smell and texture of paint that now covered her.

Her art. She hadn’t done that in a long time, either. She missed sketching, even if only in her mind. Glancing to the side, she saw Dak’s beloved Dante’s
Inferno
still sitting on the floor. She opened the book and found a completely blank page. She ripped it out and positioned herself on her stomach.

Rebekah wiped her finger across the paint on her shoulder and used it to sketch a picture, one of an ogre. She glanced at Dak. With one leg down on the floor, the other still on the chair, one arm flopped to the side and his other hand covering his eyes, he made for a pretty good still model. Rebekah chose to add a few details to make the image match the man.

When the paint started to dry on her skin, she searched the bars for more wet spots, finding some in the corners. The small picture started to take shape. She laughed at the details she added, like the hooves on his feet and the horns on his head. When she completed the rendering, Rebekah sat back and marveled at it. With a simple painting, her chest loosened up. She hadn’t smiled like this in a long, long time.

Of course, she would have to keep this picture hidden. If Dak saw it, he would forgo discipline and would seriously whip her ass.

Before she could stow the picture away, she had to dry it. Placing it on the floor, she blew on it. She didn’t expect her breath to catch the underside of the impromptu artistic expression, float it through the cell bars and nestle it underneath Dak’s booted foot.

Rebekah covered her mouth and clambered back to her bed. Dak wouldn’t miss that picture. When he saw it, he would surely give Rebekah the response she’d been goading him to give her since he’d first captured her.

Not bothering to wash up, Rebekah climbed into bed and covered her head. She needed to at least get one night of sleep in before the slaughter in the morning.

****

All through the night, one dream plagued Dak. The image of Rebekah pleasuring herself in front of him assailed him. It had taken every bit of willpower not to rip off that cell door, take her in his arms, and show her what he really wanted to do with her—replace her finger with his dick and her hand on her tit with his.

That would have been the worst thing he could have done. As a Dom, he tried showing her that BDSM didn’t involve sex, and that it could be about sensations, and he wanted nothing more than to bury his cock in her sweet pussy.

With Rebekah, he couldn’t figure her out. She’d tried rattling his cage with all of the digs about being a good Dom, and the race issue. He’d gotten her back on her choice of Dom. He hadn’t intended on hurting her like that. She’d had it coming.

Dak stirred awake and sat up on the chair. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, but he had no choice. He didn’t want Rebekah figuring out a way to get out of the cell. He had more work to do on her.

Dak planted both feet on the floor. Looking over, he saw her tray of food untouched. Deep down, Dak wished Rebekah would have awakened him, gotten down in that damned position, and asked for her food. He didn’t want her starving. If she wanted to be in the Lifestyle, then she had to be trained and trained right.

He retrieved the tray. His foot slipped on a piece of paper as he started to stand. He assumed his napkin must have fallen to the floor and had gotten caught under his boot. Dak lifted his foot and picked it up. Not a napkin like he suspected, he instead found a torn page from a book.

Dak looked through the bars of the cell and saw the book that Rebekah had thrown at him last night with its cover open and a jagged edge where it look like a page had been ripped out. A one-of-a-kind print. Dak balled his free hand into a fist.

He turned the paper over. He had to blink a few times to take in the depiction. The picture on the other side looked like a man in slumber. Had she drawn him? He had awakened in the position depicted in the picture, with his arm akimbo and one foot down. He noticed that she’d added the horns on his head and the hooves. Add a tail and it would have been Dak as the demon he saw himself to be.

Dak chuckled. Had Rebekah done this? He ran his thumb over the picture. It didn’t smear so it couldn’t have been charcoal or pencil. Her brought the paper to his face and smelled it. The chemical aroma had a paint stench.

He strolled to the gate. With his index finger, he ran it over various spots on the bars. After a few swipes he inspected his digit and found a faint stripe of black paint.

What a clever woman.

Looking through the bars, he stared at the rumpled linens on the bed. If he hadn’t seen Rebekah’s long, luscious leg dangling from under the blankets, he would have thought she had escaped. He glanced at the picture again. A fluttering feeling filled his belly. He had an idea.

Dak picked up the tray of food and threw it in the fridge without covering it or caring where it landed. He didn’t have much time before Rebekah would wake up. Not only would he have breakfast waiting for her, he would have a better lure to get her to not only eat it, but also to bow down for him.

At six o’clock in the morning, Dak marched into the closest Wal-Mart store with a clear mission…sort of. Ahead he saw Vera Hiller, a neighbor he had done some work for in the past.

“Vera—”

“Oh, hey, Dakota. I’ve been meaning to call you. There’s a loose step at my back—”

Dak held up his hand. “Art supplies. Where can I find them?”

The smile disappeared from the mature woman’s round face. “Uh, aisle twenty-five near the school supplies section.”

Dak waved his hand to her as his way to thank her for the information. Running to the aisle, he nearly ran over a couple of people along the way. He glanced at his watch, hoping that Rebekah hadn’t woken up and found him gone. He could only imagine how scared she would be if she thought he had abandoned her. He had a feeling that enough people had done that already in her life.

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four.” He darted down the correct row and found paper, scrapbooking supplies, paints, and dyes. He had no earthly idea what to get Rebekah. He grabbed a couple of large sketchpads. He figured an artist would want some of those. Then he looked at the paints. Oils or acrylic? Or did she like working in charcoal?

A young woman strolled down the aisle. Wearing ripped up black jeans about four sizes larger than she needed, a flannel shirt tied around her waist as well as a blue-and-black flannel shirt, she looked the part of a starving artist. Not one to trust strangers, Dak had no choice but to put himself out there.

“Excuse me.” He approached the young woman. “I need some help.” Reaching in his back pocket he pulled out the picture Rebekah created. “Looking at this, what kind of art supplies would you buy this person?”

The girl looked at it, then stared at him. She smiled and nodded her head. “Dude, that’s so you.”

“Okay, yes, I think it’s me, too. The supplies. Can you help?”

“I mean you don’t have horns. Maybe under the hat.” The girl looked down. “Can’t see your feet.”

“The supplies. Any help here?” In the list of virtues, patience could not be listed as one of Dak’s. If he hadn’t been wearing a baseball cap, the top of his head probably would have blown off by now.

“Chill, dude.” The woman stared at the picture for a while. “Looks like oil-based paint. Hard to tell. Definitely not thick.”

“Okay, oils.” Dak darted to that section and picked up a couple of bottles along with some brushes. Damn, he should have grabbed a cart or a basket.

“But the way the artist used her fingers to create this, I would think she would rather use pencil instead.” The girl ran her hand over the picture.

“How do you know a woman did that?” He volleyed his attention between the young woman and the shelves of paints.

She snickered. “You seem a bit uptight to let a dude do this to you. Nah, I think you pissed some chick off and this was her way to get back at you. Am I right?”

Dak wouldn’t satisfy her curiosity. He twirled around the area trying to find charcoal. “Charcoal, charcoal, charcoal. I don’t see it. Where is it?”

“Man, I do not work here, and this is not a real art store. They have just enough stuff to get by. If you want the real good supplies, you should go down to Excellence By Design down on Center Drive.”

“Where’s that?”

“Where have you been? It’s the new downtown area. It’s all happening down there. Get with the program.”

Dak snatched the picture from her hand. “Thanks for the help.” Just as Dak rounded the corner to head to the cashier, he bumped into someone’s cart. “Excuse me.” When he saw its driver, he wanted to shove the cart harder.

“I didn’t think you were allowed close to civilized people.” Master Blade laughed, and the sound grated on Dak’s nerves.

“I’m not.” Dak glared at him.

“Yep, just getting school supplies for my class. That’s what happens when you have a job, a job where people depend on you, where you might make a difference. What about you, Dak?”

The fact that Dak would be teaching his former submissive sat at the end of his tongue, waiting to be expelled. He held back, not wanting to reveal Rebekah’s whereabouts.

“What are you, my mother or my accountant?” Dak stomped by him.

“No, I’m no one to you. I could be a client of yours one day. You want to be a detective or dick someday, right?” Blade snickered again.

Dak pivoted, hating that curiosity drew him to entertain this conversation.

“I’ve seemed to have lost something recently that you might know something about. It’s a piece of property that’s valuable to me.”

Dak gritted his teeth, knowing Blade referred to Rebekah.

“It’s hard to describe.” Blade held his hands up about two feet apart from each other. “It’s something that easily fits into a drawer. A little rough around the edges, but it’s mine to do whatever I want.”

Dak moved closer to Blade. Staring into the dark-skinned man’s bloodshot eyes, he said, “Sorry, can’t help you. Have you tried calling the police and reporting it to them? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind probing around in your home and asking personal questions about your life, a life I’m sure the school board and the principal of your school is fully aware of, right?”

Blade cut his gaze to the left and right of him. “I thought being a part of that vigilante group, that you might know something. There was some damage done in my home as well.”

“Vigilante group? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dak shrugged. “Besides, why are you telling me? I’m just a handyman.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I should be talking to someone who matters, not a loser like you.”

Dak had managed to take Rebekah from Blade’s home, and Blade had called him a loser. Again, Dak wouldn’t point that out to him.

“You’re right. I’m so much of a loser that I couldn’t even hold onto Lil’ Mary.” Dak snapped his fingers in Blade’s face, making the mature man twitch. “Wait, you don’t have her, either, do you?”

A sly smile cocked up at the corner of Blade’s smug mouth.

Time to wipe that self-satisfied expression off of his face. Through gritted teeth, Dak said, “Just tell me, Blade. You couldn’t control your temper? Is that it?”

Blade furrowed his bushy eyebrows.

“I’ve been there. I get a little hot sometimes. I just don’t go around putting women in hospitals to make myself look like a big man.”

Blade darted around his cart. “Is that what you know or what you heard?”

“Are you denying it?”

Blade remained quiet, not satisfying Dak’s curiosity at all.

“Say it.” Dak took another step closer to him so that his chest almost touched Blade’s sunken one. He wanted one word, a reason to shove Blade’s nose right through his fucking skull.

For terrorizing Rebekah by putting her in that drawer, the asshole deserved to have a finger or two broken…maybe a hand.