Woman In Chains (2 page)

Julianne cringed again and slumped down even lower. “My Master will be so upset.” She fidgeted on her bench seat, wringing her hands and alternating her gaze from the window to the front door and back down to the table. “If I go back, maybe Master will allow me to continue serving him.” She stood, and Dak bolted to his feet, jarring her so that she jumped.

“Don’t leave.” Dak held her small hands in his. “You should want better for yourself.” He paused, trying to think of the other pat statements he and Gordon had memorized to tell these troubled and abused submissives and slaves. “You deserve to be treated in the way you want to be treated. Did you really like what your Master did to you?”

Julianne struggled to look Dak in his eyes. Instead she dropped her gaze back down to the floor. Within seconds, he heard her sniffling. She pulled one hand out of his grip and wiped her face.

“I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said between gasping cries.

A good former Dom would have told her to hold her chin up and be assertive in what she wanted out of life. Being a submissive didn’t equate to being someone’s punching bag.

A good
man
would have told her she could be more than someone’s property. She could have her own life and still be a submissive. Even as a slave, it didn’t mean she’d lost her ability to say “no.”

Instead Dak gave her a pat on her shoulder. Julianne, however, surprised him by pressing her face right into his chest while she sobbed. Dak kept his arms by his side. Scanning the diner, he noticed the two waitresses watching their display. A lone customer at the bar turned to stare at Dak and Julianne.

Stares like those that made Dak appreciate his solitary sanctuary, away from intrusive people. While she cried, he thought about what he could say to comfort her.

“Someone is going to take you to a safe place.” Dak swallowed. “There will be other Doms and Dommes there to help you in this difficult period.” To show his support, he patted her back again. “You’ll be retrained. And, when they think you’re ready, they’ll help find a suitable Dom or Domme for you.”

Julianne sniffed again and peered up. Pink colored the whites of her eyes. In a move teeming with desperation, she grabbed his jacket and moved closer to him.

“Why can’t you just take me to your house? I could serve you. I could be happy serving you.” She took a couple of steps toward him, and it made him retreat.

Just few seconds too late, but arriving in the nick of time, Gordon barreled through the front door. Dak released a long, ragged breath.

“Your ride is here.” He pulled her hands off of his jacket, turned her around to the door, and guided her toward Gordon.

As usual, Dak’s out-of-shape friend huffed and puffed as he waddled toward him. Gordon adjusted his black horned-rimmed glasses, then smoothed his hand over the few sprigs of hair on his sweaty head. Good thing dominance in the BDSM world had everything to do with state of mind rather than body.

“You’re late.” Dak positioned Julianne in front of Gordon.

“I know. I was tied up.” Gordon smirked, showing off his newly-capped teeth. “Actually, I had someone else tied when–”

Dak held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” He pointed to Julianne. “Julianne, this is Sire Steel. He’ll help you get situated and find you a safe house while you recover and retrain.”

Julianne had a look in her eyes like she wanted to hug Dak. He interpreted appreciation from her wide gaze. She started to raise her hands in the air and walk toward him. The smile that curled at the corner of her mouth clued him in to the impending embrace. To deter her, he headed to the front door and swung it open for them.

When Julianne walked by him, he said, “Good luck on your journey. Today is your first step.” More trite words, but he felt relieved she would be out of his hair.

“Thank you for taking care of me, and for–” The words choked in her throat.

Dak nodded, not wanting or needing further explanation.

“If you aren’t one already, you should really think about being a cop.” She offered a sweet smile as payment for the work he’d done for SAFE.

The intended compliment instead felt like a slap in Dak’s face. He didn’t need to hear any comments about a real goal he’d had since leaving the Navy. Dak had felt cold feet about his goal. Just like with Lil’ Mary, he felt he couldn’t be great at being an officer of the law, then he knew he shouldn’t pursue the dream. Why bother going through the disappointment?

His feet would have to stay frozen for a while. Now that he’d finished his save, he could crawl back to his cave.

When Gordon walked by him, Dak grabbed his arm. “This is it. Don’t ever call me again to do a job like this. I’m done.”

****

Feeling the pat on her head, This Slave knew the next step. Master Blade’s toughness matched his predictability, which suited her since she had to serve him. She knew exactly what to do, right and wrong. Today she felt obligated to push his buttons.

“So I told the jerk-offs at work that if they wanted the report done by Friday, then they needed to get off their asses and do it.” Her Master, Master Blade, laughed the loudest in the room full of other Doms, Dommes, submissives, and slaves.

At this luncheon, submissives and slaves sat obediently by their owners’ sides. Although she and Master Blade were the only African-Americans there, she never felt out of place. The other guests made her feel like a part of the group. She’d never had that feeling of inclusion growing up. The familial feeling warmed her insides.

Master Blade picked up his glass and shook it, making the ice cubes clink. The signal came through loud and clear.

“This Slave will get you another drink.” She reached for the glass, then waited, holding it aloft while staring at him. “Master does want another drink, correct?” She watched the vein throb in the middle of his forehead. Her father’s vein used to do the same thing. This Slave fought not to smile.

“Yes,” he answered between gritted teeth.

She nodded. “And Master would like more ice?”

“Yes.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Why are you doing this?”

She blinked. Her heart raced knowing discipline would be coming. “Doing what, Master?”

She knew he wouldn’t fall for her innocent act. Lately, she’d found it harder to provoke him into disciplining her, not like in the very beginning when they’d first come together. After almost a year of being together, he’d become wise to her tricks.

Master Blade tightened his grip around a thin dowel he used as a disciplinary cane. The sound of his leather glove-clad hand squeaking around the stick sounded in the quiet room. If he used the cane, she knew where he would hit her: on her hand.

She could almost feel the sharp, stinging pain going up her arm from the expected blow. She found that if she looked pained, Master Blade inflicted more punishment. For that reason, she grunted and groaned even more.

She could withstand anyone’s physical punishment. She couldn’t be broken.

After a tense second, he let her go and ordered her to go to the kitchen. Once she kissed the tops of Master Blade’s booted feet, then the hand that held the cane, she stood and went to the kitchen.

She poured iced tea into his glass. Just before going back to the living room, she stared at the rust-colored drink. Her incessant questioning hadn’t stirred Master Blade. She needed to do something else.

Glancing around the room, she found a sugar canister. She knew Master Blade liked unsweetened iced tea. With the ease of a cat burglar, she removed the ceramic lid without clinking it against its sides, then poured a spoonful of sugar into his tea.

She peered around as though someone had seen her devilish act. She mixed the drink with her index finger, then sucked off the excess liquid.

She returned to the living room and sat the glass on the coffee table in front of him.

“This Slave has brought you your drink.” She lowered herself onto her knees next to him.

Staring forward, she caught a strange expression on the face of their host, the Mistress of the house, who had always offered to train her. When This Slave turned around, she met her Master’s boot.

Master Blade knocked her to the floor. She didn’t know if the gasps she heard had come from the people around her or from herself. When her face crashed against the hardwood floor, she saw stars flashing in her eyes.

Master Blade had reacted faster than she thought he would.

“You know better than to walk around without permission.” Master Blade put the sole of his boot right on her face, keeping her pressed down to the floor. “You were supposed to crawl to the kitchen and crawl back, right?”

She pretended to struggle for air, but under his small, size seven shoe, she had no problem breathing. “Yes, uh, Sir.”

“Stupid bitch. I don’t know why I keep your ass around. Do you?” He pressed down harder.

A fireworks display burst in her eyes from the increased pressure, still nothing she couldn’t handle. “Please give me another chance.”
Another chance to push your buttons.

“What did you say? I know I didn’t hear you correctly.”

She swallowed, knowing he’d picked up the intended error in her statement. “Please give This Slave another chance. This Slave longs to serve you and only you, Master Blade.” Aside from not following physical protocol like crawling around the floor, This Slave knew Blade hated when she used the wrong forms of address or none at all.

“Blade, please, we’re having a pleasant afternoon.” Mistress Siren’s strong voice resonated even down to the floor. “I think you’ve disciplined your slave enough.”

“You don’t understand, Siren. This one needs a firm hand.” Master Blade grunted. “If I don’t do this, she’ll be like a wild, ravenous dog, undisciplined and rough. Besides, I’ve never perceived you as the squeamish type.”

“You know better than that.” The indignation came through clearly in Siren’s voice.

“She’s much better than that last slave I had, Lil’ Mary. This one knows how to take the discipline. She practically begs for it daily.”

“Then maybe to punish her, you
don’t
discipline her.”

This Slave gasped. Siren shouldn’t be giving him that advice. This Slave could handle the little bit of punishment Blade dished out. She could manage the beatings. The verbal abuse got to her sometimes, but she had learned to tune him out…at least, she tried to ignore him. Sometimes the words hit harder home to her than expected.

Blade removed his boot from her face. “Fine. I’ll stop here.”

This Slave rose to her knees, not even daring to wipe her face. Times like these, she wished she had on her full head mask. At least his boot wouldn’t have touched her bare skin.

She watched Master Blade pick up his drink and take a sip. Although she didn’t want to stare, she ached to see his reaction when he realized she’d sweetened his tea.

As soon as she positioned herself in the correct spot, Master Blade grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her to her feet. She guessed he’d discovered her intended blunder. Even his small hand yanking on her hair didn’t hurt her as much as it looked. This Slave put on a front like his grip could rip her scalp from her skull.

“We’re going home.” Master Blade dragged her to the closet door.

Except for the black leather collar and cuffs, This Slave wore nothing else. She knew he wanted her to put on her coat first. Instead she opened the front door, not caring that neighbors could see her nudity. If it pissed Master Blade even more, then she would be nude in public.

“Blade, please, at least let her get dressed. I have neighbors watching everything that goes on here.” Mistress Siren stood and attempted to block Master Blade’s path.

“I did push her to the closet. You see. She’s doing this on purpose. She wants me to punish her.” He nudged her shoulder to spin her around so that she could look at him. “You want my attention? Fine, you got it. Looks like you’re going to get some time in the drawer.”

More than the boot to the face and the hair pull, she couldn’t do the drawer. Blame it on her claustrophobia. Maybe it had something to do with her father locking her up in a small closet to discipline her. Either way, that small, tight, cramped space could not fit sweaters, let alone a full-grown body.

The news of the drawer made her drop to her knees. “Please, Master Blade. Please don’t put This Slave in the drawer. This Slave promises to behave. This Slave will do whatever you like.”

“You’ll do what I like anyway. You’re wasting time. Get your coat and let’s go.” Master Blade walked out of the house.

She opened the closet to retrieve her coat. Her clothes, which consisted of a pair of panties, a shirt, and stretch pants, all managed to fit in her inside pockets.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. This is what you wanted, right? The rougher the better, right?

She wiped her face before slipping on her coat. Before going through the front door, she dropped down to her hands and knees and crawled to the door. Although she wanted to push Blade, she hadn’t meant to push him this far. She could withstand anything but that drawer.

With her head hung low, she heard as she got a foot away from the door, “Slave, if this is not the treatment you want, please tell us so that we can help you.”

In her life, she’d heard that before. People always offered to help, but no one ever did anything. As always, she would take care of herself.

Mistress Siren said, “Nod if you want help.”

This Slave waited by the door, torn between what she thought she deserved and what these other folks felt she needed. She’d pushed Master Blade to do this. She could take anything he dished out.

“Slave?”

A car horn blared, making her jump. She turned to Mistress Siren, then lowered her head again before crawling out of the door.

She crept over the gravel sidewalk and driveway, the small rocks and pebbles cutting and embedding in her palms and knees. At the truck, she climbed into the backseat and positioned herself on her stomach as she’d been trained.

“You know I don’t want to have to discipline you like this all of the time,” Master Blade began. “But you leave me with no alternatives. Why do you force me to be rough with you?”