Woman In Chains (18 page)

“One of the women was discovered by a child going door to door selling Girl Scout cookies. She heard the woman screaming for help while their captor was at work. She is the only one willing to talk about her ordeal on camera. Here’s a statement she made from the hospital.”

The camera clicked over to an image of an African-American woman lying in a hospital bed. A black bar covered her face, and the station altered her voice. Next to the bed stood an older African-American man, probably the woman’s father.

“I didn’t understand why he did this to us,” the victim said through her tears. “I didn’t know him. He just snatched me off the streets and—” She stopped and covered her face with her hands.

The reporter took a breath before continuing. “From the medical examination and the reports from the women, it was discovered that their captor beat them repeatedly with belts, chains, and sticks. They were forced to eat and drink out of dog bowls. Derogatory words that we cannot say on air were carved on their stomachs, buttocks, and legs with a hunting knife. There were signs of sexual assault that are too horrific to mention.”

The camera flashed back to the one victim again in bed. Dak noticed the cuts and bruises around the woman’s wrists.

“All I kept saying was that I wanted to go home. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let us go home.” The young woman wiped her face.

“Christopher James Belton has been arrested on four counts of kidnapping, rape, assault, and at this time, murder due to the fact that he impregnated at least two of the women while being captive. Because of the beatings and repeated kicks to their abdomens, they’ve all miscarried. Since the women he kidnapped were African American and Hispanic, Belton, a fifty-two-year-old Caucasian male, may even be charged with a hate crime. The district attorney will decide that after interviewing the women.”

Dak turned off his TV. He hadn’t tortured Rebekah like that animal in jail had done to those poor young women, at least in his mind he hadn’t. He certainly hadn’t sexually assaulted her…or had he with the spanking?

He crept down the three steps into the back room area. At four o’clock in the morning, Rebekah remained sleeping. Her hair covered most of her face and bare back as she slept soundly in her bed.

Dak turned on the TV and had it on the all-day news channel. He knew the story would be playing when Rebekah finally woke up. He turned the volume down so as not to wake her prematurely. Then he unlocked the cell door and left it open.

With Rebekah, more than any other submissive or slave he had captured, he felt something not quite right in the whole operation. She resisted him and the process. If she wanted to go, if she wanted the life back with Master Blade, he had no right to keep her or stop her.

He retrieved the bag of art supplies and put them on the floor next to her bed. Seeing her look so peaceful, he nearly reached down to stroke her hair and give her a kiss on the back, but he refrained. The job had started off professionally. He had to keep it that way even through her release.

As he walked through the open cell door and up to the kitchen, thoughts ran through his mind. Would she just run and have him arrested? Would she go back to Master Blade? If Dak scarred this woman in any way, could he ever forgive himself? Only time would tell. For now, he had to wait and see.

****

Rebekah’s dream of Dak caressing her body with silk scarves and paintbrushes seduced her senses. After last night’s session, she didn’t have to question his motives. She’d never been with a Dom, let alone any man, who’d treated her so well. Dak took care of her. Even through the spanking, he had protected her. Master Blade had never treated her that way.

Just like he had done with Mouse, he’d taken her down from the bar and held her, talking her through the treatment.

She couldn’t decide which part she loved the most: the feather and furry paddle, the spanking, or the aftercare. As she stirred awake, she heard the faint sound of a TV playing.

Dak had to be up and probably making her breakfast. She wanted to be in her position and wait for him to see her.

She glanced at the clock next to her bed, and her heart thrummed. After such a great session, she couldn’t believe that she overslept by an hour.

After sitting up in bed, she smoothed her hand over her hair. When she swung her feet down to the floor, she snagged her toe on a bag. Peering down, she saw the whole bag of art supplies at her feet.

Although squealing for joy didn’t happen often, she did it right then and there. She knew last night had held some magic. Through the sensual treatment, she’d felt a connection, a bond. Dak pushed her limits with such expertise as though he’d played with her before. At certain times during the exchange, she knew her heart and his beat as one.

If he’d left her all of her art supplies, he must have felt the same way. Bouncing that thought in her head, her heart pounded even harder. She didn’t know who had been his last submissive, but if she’d given him up, the woman didn’t know what she’d left.

Recognizing the bag of paints as a sign of success, Rebekah tied the bag and tossed the bundle on her bed. The clinking of the tiny bottles sounded at the same time a hard thwack thudded through the walls.

After standing on her bed, she glanced out of the window. When she saw Dak chopping wood as the morning sun bathed him in a warm autumn glow, she admired how strong he looked. She liked how powerful his hands appeared when he handled his ax.

She wanted the scene in her space to be perfect for him. Her new attitude would probably shock him. She had been so stubborn and combative with him this whole time, he probably would be surprised to see her so compliant, agreeable, subservient.

If he wanted to keep her as his submissive, she wouldn’t mind. She let her mind trip over the idea of being his submissive, his only submissive. He wouldn’t have to play with Mouse or anyone else again. He certainly wouldn’t need that woman he had brought there before, the one Rebekah had bitten.

Since she now trusted him, she could finally reveal her real name to him, although by now she liked referring to herself as Rebekah. Way better than “This Slave” by a mile.

She turned and saw the door open on her cell. Her breath escaped her body, and she immediately felt cold.

Oh, God. Dak hadn’t left the paints out of pride or appreciation. He didn’t want her. Dak intended to set her free.

After playing her body like an instrument he had created, could he just leave her, drop her like he didn’t care, like so many before him had? She’d just responded to his touch, his wonderfully, masterful touch that had sent her senses skyrocketing into orbit.

Don’t do this. Don’t do this. He wants you. He’s not giving up on you.

He had to see that her heart remained entrenched in the Lifestyle.

She crouched down to the floor and bowed her head to get into her position. Then she waited and waited and waited. Listening intently, she didn’t hear anyone moving around in the kitchen. She didn’t hear sounds of water boiling on the stove for the oatmeal or the sounds of the refrigerator opening and closing.

As soon as she heard another ax chop slicing through a piece of wood, she rose to her feet. She ran to the window and peered into the backyard again where she saw Dak continuing to split more wood. He had left her alone in the house with her cell door open.

No, he wouldn’t release her until he had fully trained her or gotten her with another Dom or Domme. He promised to do that for her. She got back down into her position, but the sounds of him continuing to chop wood tightened her gut.

She jumped back onto her feet and approached the open door. As though the door had been closed, she stopped at the doorway, afraid to take that next step outside.

Why would he leave the door open? Maybe everything else in the house had been locked. He’d probably hidden the phones and the computers. Knowing Dak, this all had to be a test to check her commitment.

After taking a deep breath, she took a tentative step outside of the cage. Even though, for the last few days, she had been requesting her freedom, she felt more trapped outside of the cage than being in it.

With slow steps, she crept into the kitchen. Inside she found items that shocked her. An untouched bowl of oatmeal with toast next to it sat on the table. Next to the meal sat a stack of twenty-dollar bills. She didn’t pick up the money, but it looked like about three to five hundred dollars. A simple blue dress draped the back of a chair. Ladies shoes sat on the floor next to the chair.

No, he couldn’t want her to go, not after opening her mind and body to that beautiful treatment last night.

Dak chopped another piece of wood, and she snapped. Without shoes on her feet and wearing only a T-shirt and nothing more, Rebekah stormed through the house to get to the back door. She burst through it and marched toward him. From the way he continued whacking, he hadn’t noticed her.

She saw her breath in the chilly morning air, but with adrenaline pumping through her body, she couldn’t feel the cold or anything under her feet. When she got about two or three feet away from him, he finally glanced up at her. He continued chopping wood.

Unsure of what to say, she balled her hands into fists as she stared at him. Dak, as usual, said nothing. She dropped down to the ground and assumed her submissive position.

Even the crisp aroma of the earth, grass, and leaves couldn’t calm her. Fallen twigs poked her in the forehead. Despite that, she wouldn’t budge from her spot.

“I’m here to serve you, Master Dak.” She hoped he recognized and appreciated her newfound devotion to him.

“Your breakfast is on the table.” He chopped another piece of wood, evident from the sound and the feeling of splinters falling on her arms. “Be sure to eat up.”

“Yes, Sir.” Rebekah would still regard him as a Dom and hope beyond hope that he wouldn’t release her.

“After your breakfast, I want—” He stopped his statement, cleared his throat, and spoke again. “I’ve left clothes for you. I hope they fit. Wherever you would like to go, let me know. I’ll take you.”

She brought her head up.

His gaze connected with hers for a moment before he looked away. “If you want to go back to Master Blade’s, I’ll take you there. If you want to go home to your parents, I’ll drive you or put you on a bus. I’ve left you money.”

“No.”

“Yes, it’s on the table next to the oatmeal.” He sat another log on the stump to cut through. “If you have nowhere to go, I can call a friend of mine at the hospital and see if she can get you into, like, a battered women’s shelter or a treatment center.”

“No.” She rose to her feet.

“Okay, where would you like to go?” He rested his ax next to his feet and let the handle fall against his leg.

Not that she thought he would use it on her, but with his ax down, she ran up to him and, with her fists, beat him on his arms and chest. The wall of a man didn’t budge.

“No!” she screamed.

In a calm voice, he said, “You’ve been asking to leave for a while. You’ve gotten your wish. I shouldn’t have taken you from Master Blade’s house, and I certainly shouldn’t have kept you here.”

With as much force as she could muster, she pushed him back. “You’re a bad Dom! You’re worse than Master Blade! You’re not done training me. You shouldn’t let me go.” She stormed back to the house.

“Rebekah, wait!”

From the crunch of the leaves under his booted feet, she heard him close behind her. She wouldn’t stop. When she glanced behind herself and noticed his proximity, she sped up.

In the house, she ran to her cell and closed the door, but it didn’t lock. That didn’t matter. He would see her dedication to him, to her training. When he appeared at the top of the steps, she dropped to the floor.

“I’m here to serve you, Master Dak. Tell me what you want.”

“No.” He went to the cage door and opened it. “You need to go. Now!” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up onto her feet like she weighed as much as a doll.

“Is this because I woke up late? I won’t do that again. I promise.” She glanced back at the timepiece next to her bed. “I forgot to set it after you played with me. But I won’t forget it again. I promise.”

From the way his gaze darted around the room and his panting breath, she felt his anxiousness. His demeanor prickled her skin.

“Why don’t you just go? You’ve been begging for your release.” He held her shoulders tighter.

The tighter he seized her, the more comfort she felt. Maybe his passion meant he really didn’t want to let her go.

“I didn’t know what I wanted. After last night, I know.” She tried breaking free of his grip to touch him, but he pushed her back.

“You’re right. I’m a bad Dom. I’m the worst one out there. You could do way better than me. And right now, I want you out of my house.” He took her hand and pulled her close to him. Then he moved behind her and pushed her to the opening of the cell.

To keep him from forcibly removing her, she grasped the bars on either sides of the doorway and held herself there.

“I’m not going. I want to stay.” She craned her head back to catch his expression.

Unlike Dak, he kept his head down. Did he wrestle with this decision, or did he truly hate her? Why did he want her to go?

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, This Slave.”

Using her former moniker gave him the result he must have wanted. Rebekah lost strength in her hands and felt altogether powerless. Her heartbeat pounded in her head until the sound almost drowned out all other sounds. Almost.

One thing did catch her attention, the TV. With her last bit of might, she clung to the bars as she watched the TV screen over her head.

“Most of you may have heard this story that we broke earlier this morning,” the newscaster began. “Late last night, police arrested Christopher James Belton, a man who had abducted four women and kept them captive for nearly fifteen years. He beat, raped, and tortured the women for several years before police found them after a tip from a Girl Scout.”

The powerful grip Dak had on Rebekah’s shoulders loosened. She listened to one of the victims recount her agonizing years in captivity, how her captor had raped her and the other three women every day. Then they showed the mug shot of the monster involved in this terrible crime.