Woman In Chains (14 page)

When a child ran up to Blade to talk about school, Dak took that moment to back away and stop the conversation. Whether by reason or by force, Dak would get Blade to admit what he’d done to Lil’ Mary. Then Dak would exact his own brand of justice.

He hated ending the exchange with Blade feeling like Blade had one-upped him, but Dak didn’t have much time. That would have to be a fight for another day.

With sweat pouring from his forehead and his heart pounding a mile a minute, he ran to the register. He dumped the supplies on the conveyor belt.

“Is that all you need?” the cashier asked.

He started to nod when he saw a display of picture frames. Good artwork should be housed in a frame. If his plan worked, he would be buying a lot more soon.

Chapter Eight

Rebekah steeled her nerves to finally emerge from her comforter shelter. She didn’t know the time, but she knew it had to be beyond the time for Dak to get up. He seemed like one of those early risers.

After releasing a ragged breath, Rebekah threw off the blanket, but kept her eyes squeezed shut. She faced the direction Dak would be, where he had been sleeping all night. After waiting a beat, she opened her eyes and found him gone.

Not a surprise. With it being morning, Dak should be in the kitchen making breakfast. She approached the bars and listened intently for the sounds of pots and pans moving around or the bubbling sound of boiling water. Again, nothing.

Although her heart started to pound out of control, she gripped the bars and refused to let her imagination get the best of her. Of course, Dak had to be in the house somewhere.

To calm herself, she imagined him in the shower cleaning up that incredible body. That theory sounded reasonable until she realized that she couldn’t hear any water running.

Rebekah ran to the bed and hopped on top of it to peer out of the window checking to see if Dak stood by the wood pile. She pulled the blinds back and found the backyard empty. Though the picturesque autumn scene with rust-colored fallen leaves on the green grass inspired Rebekah enough to want to paint, she couldn’t think frivolously.

She couldn’t locate her captor. Maybe Dak wanted her to feel alone. Maybe as a Dom he liked keeping her in the dark as far as his location. Lord knows, Master Blade had done the same and worse. He would keep her locked in the drawer for hours without telling her of his whereabouts or his intended activity while she remained encased. The not knowing had scared her almost as much as the tight, constricting feeling.

“Um, hello?” Rebekah’s soft voice didn’t carry as far as she wanted it. “Hello?” She shook the bars to see if they had any give. If he’d left her in the house without a means to escape, it would almost be as bad as the drawer.

Rebekah pounded on the bars and stomped her bare feet on the carpeted floor. “Hello! Please, is someone here? D-D-Dak?” She took as deep a breath that she could through her tightening throat and screamed, “Dak!”

Feeling alone and defeated, she slipped down the bars and slumped to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked herself back and forth.

She’d withstood the toughest discipline from Master Blade and had never shed a tear. The thought that she had been abandoned—no, the thought of Dak leaving her—shook her to her core. She had just started to view him as one of the good guys.

“If you’re going to call my name, put a Master before that.”

Rebekah wiped her face before pulling herself up. Dak stood on the other side of the cell bars wearing the same clothes from last night. New growth now covered his normally clean-shaven face. A scowl came through behind the stubble that had her knees quaking.

“Fix your bed. I’ll be down here soon so that you and I can talk.” With those ominous words, Dak disappeared upstairs to the kitchen.

Rebekah scanned the floor where she remembered the sketch she’d done had landed. She didn’t see it. Crouching down on the floor, she searched under the couch…until she heard Dak coming back down the stairs.

“If I have to ask you again to fix your bed, you will be punished. Am I understood?” His early morning voice rumbled deeper than normal.

Rebekah brought herself back up to her feet and offered a simple bow of her head as an answer. She ran to her bed and straightened out the sheets and comforter, wondering if Dak would go so far as to check it behind her, making sure she had hospital corners and the sheets drawn tight. Then again, Dak had never trained her on how to make her bed, so he shouldn’t want the condition to be that exact if he checked it…she hoped.

Wait. Had she said that Dak hadn’t trained her yet? A couple of days with the man, he had her nervous and curious. Granted, she’d had the same feeling with Master Blade the first few weeks with him. It had taken her a while to get up the nerve to provoke him into disciplining her more. Once she’d figured out his style, she sort of knew what to expect.

With Dak, she didn’t know what to expect, because honestly, she didn’t think he knew what to expect. Although he looked assured and confident overall, he sometimes appeared nervous, hell, even scared. He couldn’t be afraid of her.

With her bed made and her pillows fluffed, Rebekah brought her attention back to the cell door where she saw Dak standing there watching her. Her insides trembled under his watchful gaze.

“Looks nice. I expect for you to get up every morning at six along with me, have your bed made, and be down in your position to greet me, understand?”

Rebekah nodded. She didn’t mind the time. With Master Blade, she’d had to get up earlier because he’d not only demanded that she cook and clean for him, she’d had to lay out his clothes and start his shower. She often wondered why the man hadn’t asked her to brush his teeth. As his slave, she shouldn’t have minded any task, but she had, which made her question her place in BDSM. Did she truly want to serve?

“It’s a new day, Rebekah. We’re going to try something different today.” Dak crossed his arms behind himself and stood with his feet apart like a soldier. “Today you’re going to bow to me, you’re going to eat, and you will call me Master Dak.” He unlocked the cell and stepped inside.

Rebekah took a couple of steps back. The implication from his statement and tone gave her a lightheaded feeling. She stumbled once, but regained her composure.

“Let’s start with the bow.” Dak nodded his head. “On your knees, forehead to the floor, and hands by your side.”

Rebekah didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her locked knees kept her upright. She didn’t want to bow just so that Dak could have an open shot to kick her, something she had gotten used to with Master Blade.

“Okay, let’s try this another way.” Dak reached behind his back.

Rebekah flinched. What Dak produced compressed her stomach. He showed her the rendition of Dak as an evil, slumbering monster that she’d accidentally let slip out of her control. Seeing that had her panting and feeling woozier than before. She swallowed.

“Nice picture.” He stalked toward her.

Rebekah fell to her knees.

“Is this how you see me?”

She opened her mouth, but could produce nothing from her dry throat.

Dak glanced at the picture, then turned it to her again. “The form is good, but I question the medium.” He walked to the chair where he’d slept and picked up a white plastic bag. “So here’s the deal. You bow to me, you follow the lessons, and”—he pulled out a handful of paints—“you get art supplies.”

The world stopped as soon as Rebekah saw the bright paint colors in the tiny vials in Dak’s hand. She extended her hand for the paints before Dak dropped the bottles into the bag and snatched it away.

Rebekah peered up at him. In the intense connection, she saw a man who’d figured her out and knew what she wanted rather than judged her actions. Master Blade would have been furious to see a portrayal of himself as anything less than masculine and powerful.

Dak, on the other hand, still asserting his dominance over her, challenged her to push herself. The invitation both excited and frightened her. What did he want from her?

When Rebekah didn’t verbally respond, Dak shrugged. “Nothing?” He took a couple of steps back. “Rebekah, maybe you should be honest with yourself on whether the BDSM lifestyle is for you.” He turned. “I’ll get breakfast.”

With each step he took, Rebekah watched her captor giving up on her. Even after everything she’d put him through, he still wanted to help her.

“Sir,” she whispered.

Her voice must have been too low. Dak continued toward the kitchen.

“Master Dak!”

He stopped and brought his attention back to her.

“Good morning.” Using every bit of strength she could harness, Rebekah lowered her head to the floor and put her hands to her sides. “I want to learn from you.” She glanced up briefly to connect her gaze to his. “Teach me how to serve.”

Unable to hold her head up longer, Rebekah lowered it to the floor. She heard Dak’s footfalls coming toward her, and her heart raced. When he put his hand on her back, her hunger finally conquered her.

“Very good, Rebekah. You get a sketch pad, a brush, and one color.” Dak rocked her back and forth when Rebekah didn’t immediately stand. “Rebekah?”

She rolled onto her side, exhausted and starving. She wanted so much to smile, show him her appreciation. Reaching for him and holding his hand tapped her of all of her reserved strength. Being stubborn, she’d pushed her body way too far.

Dak picked her up in his arms and carried her like a newborn to his chair. He covered her in a blanket, then ran upstairs to the kitchen.

Had Rebekah had enough vigor, she could have used the opportunity to escape. In order to run, she had to be physically strong to do so. Eating would help.

This treatment, this new way of thinking, had her head spinning. The way Master Blade had treated her hadn’t been ideal, but she had learned to live with it and even figured a way to manipulate him. Now Dak had her acting differently and thinking differently, which scared her.

Maybe the fear had kept Rebekah with Master Blade for so long. Maybe that same fear had kept her mother with her father. Something about her relationship with Dak felt so far from the abuse her mother had endured.

Dak came back with a tray. After setting it on the table, he picked her up again and cradled her head in his lap.

“Drink something for me first.” He held a cup up to her mouth. “Here’s some juice.”

Tentative at first, Rebekah took a small drink, then peered up at Dak. The sweetness of the juice filled her senses like a new experience. She didn’t even allow it to stay in her mouth to savor the taste, but she did stare at Dak long enough to memorize every nuance of his face, from his slightly crooked nose that had one nostril smaller than the other, to the faint scar on his chin and another over his eyebrow.

Instead of the large bandage on his head where she had wounded him, he’d replaced it with a smaller white patch. Had it been Master Blade, he would have complained about the sore spot every day until it healed. Dak said nothing about it. That didn’t mean she felt good about hurting him…not now.

“Good?” He raised his eyebrows at the inquiry.

She offered him a smile as a response.

“Good.” From there, he continued taking care of her, feeding her warm oatmeal containing raisins and brown sugar, and offering her juice and hot tea.

Rebekah ate the food like the meal had been created by a five-star chef. The sweet, warm cereal brought her back to the time when her mother used to take care of Rebekah as a child whenever she didn’t feel well.

Now Dak had taken over that role. With her mother, she knew the kind gesture came from a genuine, loving place. With Dak, she didn’t understand his motivation. He wanted to retrain her, but why? Why go out of his way for a stranger? Again she wondered about the validity of this altruistic BDSM rescue group. For all she knew, he could have been some psycho who liked snatching young women from homes and caging them.

“I’m glad you’re finally eating.” He wiped her mouth with a napkin.

For now, Rebekah would just have to take him at face value while remaining guarded. “I can’t wait to learn from you, Master Dak.” She brought her hand up to stroke his face.

He blocked her touch. He picked her up again and carried her back into her cell. After that huge breakthrough, he still put her back in her cage. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

“I’ll see if I can get in touch with my friend.” Dak closed and locked the door. “Maybe we can get you to a permanent home soon.”

“So you don’t like me?” With her inquiry, she froze him in his tracks. “No one has ever encouraged me with my art.” She hoped Dak understood how meaningful his gesture meant to her, to her future.

“I had to figure out a way to rouse you. That’s all that BDSM is. It’s finding what pushes your buttons and listening to get the reaction that you want.”

“You don’t believe that.”

Dak walked away.

“You like me! I know you do!” She heard him moving around in the kitchen. “I know you do.”

“I’ll be working out in the backyard,” he called from the kitchen. “Open the window and yell at me if you need me.”

“No BDSM lesson?”

The movement in the kitchen stopped. Like a giant stomping through a small village, Dak clomped down the steps, but kept his hand on the doorframe. “You bowed and called me Master. That’s good enough for right now. Later I’ll go through some scenes with you.”

She smiled.

“That is, if you’re still here.” He disappeared back into the kitchen.

Fine. If Dak wanted to get rid of her so badly, then she would go on her own head of steam. Hidden in the palm of her hand, Rebekah held an ink pen she’d managed to retrieve from Dak’s back pocket when he’d picked her up. While Dak worked in the backyard today, Rebekah had plans on getting herself out of her jail.

****

As soon as Rebekah heard the first thwack of an ax through a log, she lost her concentration on the lock. She rushed over to her window to watch Dak chop wood in the backyard.