Woman In Chains (23 page)

She shook her head. “No, thank you, Sir.” She blinked, almost letting a tear escape. “Red.” She glanced at him and saw a look of disappointment mask his face before she turned away.

“I wish you would just let me in.” He tried holding her hands, but she turned her back on him and faced the wall under the window behind her bed. “Don’t you trust me?”

Rebekah’s throat closed. Even if she could answer, she didn’t know what to say. Yes, as far as her body, she trusted him completely. After a few sessions with him, she knew Dak wouldn’t harm her. With her heart, she still had reservations.

“What’s your real name?” He touched her back.

She didn’t mean to, but she bristled, then curled her legs under her chin. She heard him walking out of the room, but she remained still. Good thing. Within a matter of seconds, he returned.

Next to her feet, he set down another bottle of paint and more brushes.

Seeing the art supplies forced her to cover her mouth to keep her crying inaudible.

“I’ll get dinner ready.” In a move that broke her heart, he kissed the top of her head.

When she heard him walking away, she peered over her shoulder to make sure he had left the room. By herself in her cell, she whispered, “Brea Oliphant. That’s my name.”

Chapter Fourteen

Even by the next morning, Rebekah’s behavior last night baffled Dak. He thought she would want her freedom when he’d tried letting her go, and she’d refused. He’d tried bringing her to his bed, and she’d turned him down flat.

As much as he wanted to feel her body next to his as he slept, he wouldn’t dare sleep with her in that jail cell. No, she would need to come to him. His heart beat a little slower when Rebekah hadn’t even taken advantage of the open cell door.

At six in the morning, he picked up his phone and started to call Gordon. This time, though, Dak wouldn’t be begging him to take Rebekah off of his hands. He wanted to be two steps ahead of Gordon.

The last few sessions with her, he’d come to appreciate teaching her about BDSM. The lessons all reminded him of how much he loved the Lifestyle, loved everything about it: the power, the passion, the trust.

His thumb hovered over the send button on his phone. If he called Gordon again, his friend would naturally assume Dak had had enough with Rebekah, or This Slave, as he knew her, and remove her from his home. Right now, Dak couldn’t let that happen.

Dak knew that too many people from her past had given up on her, let her down, hadn’t believed in her. He gathered that from the appreciative way she accepted every jar of paint he gave her after each lesson. He also recognized it in the way she refused to leave the tiny spot she’d called home.

Dak closed the phone and threw it on his bed. Fuck Gordon. Like Moira had told Dak from the beginning, Rebekah had become his responsibility.

He rolled up his sleeves as he strolled to the kitchen. Glancing through the door leading to the back room, Dak noticed the cell door had been closed. He walked to the door and looked down.

Inside of Rebekah’s cell, she remained naked and crouched onto the floor. Although the position didn’t startle Dak, her nudity caused him to blink.

“Up.” He waited at the top of the stairs. No way would he be able to stand anywhere near her and see her naked body without him wanting to touch her.

As a good Dom, he had to show some restraint. Besides, when their relationship ended, she would probably leave him…just like Lil’ Mary.

“Why are you naked?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You said that a good submissive would be able to anticipate her Master’s needs.” She sat up straighter, jutting out her dark brown nipples. “You don’t like to see me naked?”

“Yes, I enjoy looking at your body.” He dropped his gaze, then turned into the kitchen. “I’ll get breakfast started.”

The intense physical chemistry he felt with her surpassed the one he’d had with Lil’ Mary. The dreams he had of Rebekah didn’t help. He found that being near her made him feel out of control, except when he played with her. In that arena, he remained poised and in charge.

As usual, Dak prepared the regular oatmeal and toast with hot tea. In a work sense, it would be a long day for him. He still had to finish a bookcase for Vera. With money being so tight for him right now, he couldn’t afford to turn down any jobs.

He took careful steps downstairs and noticed right away that Rebekah had set up a card table and two chairs in her cell. Not wanting to turn away an invitation to get to know her more, he put the tray down, then took his seat. He nodded his head to signal for Rebekah to sit across from him.

After she sat down, she kept her hands in her lap and she stared directly at him. As she sat naked, he took a deep inhalation, convincing himself that he could smell her sweet intimate aroma. He licked his lips, remembering tasting it last night.

He picked up his spoon. “Eat.”

Starving, he dove into his creamy, hot breakfast. After the third heaping spoonful, he noticed she hadn’t eaten yet. Her slender fingers rested on top of her utensil, but she continued staring at him.

“Why aren’t you eating? Don’t like oatmeal now?” He took a sip of his bitter tea.

“The scars on your back. Where did they come from?” Her voice sounded so fragile now, nothing like the screaming banshee she he remembered her being when he’d first brought her to his house.

He had almost forgotten about those marks on his body. “Why do you want to know?” It had been a long time ago that he’d received the blemishes that he no longer allowed them to haunt him.

“I think it would tell me a lot about you.”

Rebekah had him dead on with that assessment. She would have known everything and then some.

“Just like your art would tell me a lot about you.” He turned to the row of sketches and paintings that Rebekah had on display.

Each picture told a story. One picture confused him. The dark rendering contained a strange figure on it. “Like that one.” He started to stand to retrieve it when she rushed by him and covered it with her hand and body.

“No! Um, it’s not finished.” She held it close to her bare chest.

He watched the fear overtake her body, causing her to tremble uncontrollably. He raised his hands in defeat. “Okay. I won’t look at it. I’d like to see it when it’s done.”

She nodded, but he had a feeling that she answered to keep him at bay. Instead of sitting back down, he picked up his bowl of oatmeal and shoveled the contents into his mouth. Since she didn’t want to share information about her artwork or her name, he didn’t want to tell her anything either.

Going through the actual experience had been hard enough. Recounting it would be even tougher.

“You didn’t tell me about the scars.” She stood behind her chair and held the back of it.

“I have work to do. I’ll be in the backyard.” He picked up his dishes. From the stairs leading to the kitchen, he said, “You’re more than welcome to join me out there.”

From the way she had freaked out when he’d tried taking her out of her cell, he knew she would give him the space he needed to do his work.

“I’m leaving the door open.” He had dropped enough hints.

She could either take advantage of them or be that sad woman in chains that he remembered from her first photo. Something kept her clinging to the room. A gnawing pain in his belly signaled that he imagined the worst.

If he couldn’t reveal the origin of the souvenir on his back, and she couldn’t tell him something as simple as her name, what did they have between them? If only he hadn’t connected to her physically. If only…

****

Rebekah’s pounding heart got her feet moving. She raced to the window to watch Dak working in the backyard, then ran to the doorway of her cell. Every time she got close to the door, she froze.

“Come on, girl. You’ve left this room before, remember? You can do this.” She shook her arms and head as though throwing off the bad mojo.

Since he’d left her room that morning, she had managed to finish her breakfast. She’d even left her living area long enough to clean the dishes and put them away. Dak would be pleased. At this point, although still guarded, she did care about him. How could she not? He took care of her like no one else had in recent years. And the sex…

She raced to the window again. Still naked, she decided to take a chance. Rebekah opened the window, letting the cool breeze invade her space. With the wood-burning stove pumping out some overwhelming heat, the cool air didn’t feel bad.

“Um, Dak?” She watched him continue sanding down boards with his back to her.

She watched him move his hands back and forth over the flat, pale planks. Her imagination took over, and soon she saw him in a different way. In her mind, he had her on a platform, and stood beside her, rubbing his hands over her legs and stomach. Then he used that vibrating device that he’d used on Mouse. Rebekah licked her lips.

“Master Dak?”

He continued working. If she wanted his attention, she had to time her responses right. She rushed to the drawers and found a white pullover dress. At least the outfit looked like a dress. It had been so long since she’d worn anything other than the sweatpants, shorts, and T-shirts he had given her, she had no idea if she had put on a dress or a nightgown.

With her hands shaking, she tightened her muscles, took a deep breath, and ventured out of her prison long enough to find a pair of rain boots and a jacket in a closet by the front door. The jacket smelled like Dak, all woodsy and musky. She pressed her face into the sleeve and took in a deep breath. Just smelling him made her wet.

Before going back to her cell, she decided to look for one last item. Knowing he didn’t keep his BDSM toys and supplies in the cell, he had to keep them somewhere else. She went to his room first.

With a fluttering feeling in her stomach, she pulled open each of his drawers to locate something specific. When his dresser drawers came up with nothing, she opened his closet door. There she found a whole world of items that gave her a better insight into the man who had captured her and her heart.

She stepped inside the cramped space. To see better, she pulled the cord for the overhead light in the closet. Illuminating the room confirmed what she thought she’d seen as soon as she opened the door.

At the back of the closet, on the top shelf, sat a folded flag encased in a triangular-shaped wood-and-glass box. From when her grandfather died, she knew that those flags were given to family members of deceased military.

Under the flag hung a naval officer’s dress white uniform. She approached the garment as though an officer still existed in the suit. Her fingers slid over the engraved nametag. Ricci. Had she discovered Dak’s last name? Only one way to find out.

She found a box on the floor and opened the lid. She removed all of the chains with cuffs on it that she could find. Then she went back to her bedroom. At the window again, she cleared her throat before speaking.

As soon as he stopped sanding to rub his hand over the bare wood, she spoke again. “Master Dak!”

This time he turned around.

“May I join you?” She chewed on her lower lip as she waited for his answer.

He waved her out. “Come.” Then resumed working again.

Rebekah couldn’t hear her feet touch the floor as she ran to the back door with the chains she carried weighing her down. Her booted feet snapped twigs and leaves with each of her steps until she reached Dak, who kept his attention on the wood.

“Master Dak?”

Before acknowledging her, he smoothed down a small section of wood with a piece of sandpaper. Then he regarded her.

She watched his eyes widen when she held up the chains to him.

“Where did you—”

She cut him off before he could yell at her for invading his privacy. “Perhaps Master Dak would like to secure me between these trees.” She walked over to two trees about four feet apart and about six inches each in diameter. To give him a better visual, she extended her arms in the air and spread her feet apart between the two trees.

Without a word, he walked away from her and went to an outside garage a few feet from them. He unlocked the door and disappeared inside. A few seconds later, he reappeared. He wrapped one chain around the top of one tree, securing it above a thick branch. Then he snapped the chain in place using locks he must have gotten from the garage.

With each appendage he chained, a new wave of butterflies kicked up in her stomach. Once he had her spread-eagle between the two trees, she tugged on each restraint to see if she could break free. She couldn’t. Without panic clips, she showed a lot of trust in him to let him string her up like this.

He stood directly in front of her. The once-hard expression he’d had when she first came up to him holding the chains now softened. He almost looked like he wanted to kiss her. To tempt him, she tilted her head upward, then licked her lips.

Not falling for the bait, he took a couple of steps back and resumed his work.

“Interesting outfit.” He stole little glances at her and looked like he almost wanted to suppress a laugh.

“You don’t like it?” She glanced down at herself.

Sure, it wouldn’t work on a red carpet, but for her choices it would do.

“Oh, no. I love the flannel jacket with the bright yellow rubber boots and the nightgown. Looks great.” He flashed an okay sign with his hand.

“A nightgown? I thought it was a dress.” Suddenly feeling underdressed, she tried bringing her hands down to cover herself.

The bindings kept her immobilized.

“Don’t worry. No one else is out here. The fashion police won’t come and get you.” He laughed and assembled together two pieces. “It does remind me that I should get you some decent clothes to wear. You can’t keep walking around in those baggy sweatpants and T-shirts all day.”

“I prefer to be naked. I thought you liked me that way.” Having her legs spread open allowed the crisp autumn breeze to soothe her overheated and uncovered sex.