Woman In Chains (25 page)

No submissive had ever done that. Hell, in his years in the military, he’d never been purposely spit on. Shot at, yes. Never spat at with such anger.

How could he fault her? That very morning he had complimented her on her strength and how she should stand up for herself. Her anger manifested itself in a juvenile way, which concerned him. Dak could almost hear Moira in his ear warning him about her temper.

And in all honesty, he couldn’t blame Rebekah. He had toyed with her emotions. He knew he should have never had sex with her. Then he’d made that stupid comment about her looking needy. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he blame her for how she’d responded?

He took out a frozen container of his famous—at least in his eyes—chicken and dumplings and started them in his slow cooker. By the time he finished training Rebekah, they would be ready for lunch.

He walked down to the back room where he found her staring right at him. He had half expected her to be asleep. Restlessness probably overwhelmed her as much as it did him.

He opened the cell door and strolled inside. Before unlocking her, he went to the dresser and pulled out a shirt and another pair of shorts. He threw the duo on top before going to her. While keeping his stare on hers, he unlocked her feet first. Seeing her legs remain so still surprised him. He couldn’t tell if her calm demeanor had been meant to trick him.

Not waiting for an answer, he unlocked the restraints around her hands, then helped her sit up. Before she could sneak an attack on him, he went back to the dresser where he’d left the two garments.

He threw them at her. “Put these on.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her defiance. Instead, she stood, removed the ripped up nightgown that she still had on, and dressed in the two items. Why hadn’t she fought him now? Had he broken her down this much?

He stood in the center of the cell and pointed directly in front of him. “Come here.”

As commanded, she did so. A twinge stabbed his gut. He wanted more of a fight from her. To learn about self-defense, she needed to be a fighter.

“Today I’m going to teach you how to break from a hold if someone grabs you.” He took a step closer to her.

Ordinarily she would keep in her position. This time, she hung her head low to keep from looking at him. Unacceptable. He needed for her to keep eye contact, not only because he loved looking into her eyes, but also because if she were really being attacked, she needed to stare her assailant in the face for identifying markers and to let him or her know that she could handle herself.

“Look up.” He wouldn’t go on with the lesson without connecting with her gaze first. When she didn’t immediately respond, he reluctantly repeated himself. “I said, look at me.”

She must have caught the anger in his voice. She peered up at him. What he saw in her eyes scared him. The strong woman who’d managed to do the impossible, which had been to grab his mental and physical attention, vanished. This shell of a woman replaced her. She looked as though her spirit had left her.

“Now if someone grabs you around your body like this”—He simulated a move where he wrapped his arms around her, but didn’t touch her body—“then I want you to raise your arms up and bring your hands down over that person’s inner elbows. Got it?”

She offered a single nod to respond.

“This move is very aggressive. You can even scream.” He centered himself in front of her. “Ready?”

She gave him two head bobs this time. He wrapped his arms around her arms. When she didn’t move, he worried.

“Okay, fight, Rebekah.” He squeezed her just a little tighter. “Come on.”

As though trying to appease him, she finally raised her arms up. He assisted her by loosening his grip so that he wouldn’t have to keep holding her soft body for very long. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and take her to the closest bed.

She chopped her hands down on his arms as instructed, but made no sounds. He backed away from her.

“You started slow, but you eventually got there.”

Rebekah stared at him. “What if I’m grabbed from behind?”

To hear her actually engaging with him jumpstarted his heart. He blinked and did his level best not to smile. “There are a number of things you can do. If someone grabs you from behind, you can stomp on their foot, kick their leg back, jab them in the gut with your elbow, or hit them in their face with the back of your head.” He swallowed. He’d given her a lot of ammunition here. “You want to try that?”

“Yes.” Her response came quick and with assurance.

He circled her body and moved in behind her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her arms. At least during the demonstration, he kept his boots on while she stood in bare feet. If she stomped his foot, she wouldn’t do that much damage.

“Okay, Rebekah, show me what you have.”

She brought her hands up as much as she could and stroked his forearms. Then he felt her pressing her back against his chest. Her body all at once became soft and pliant, not like a woman who would be fighting for her freedom, but one who wanted to be confined and enjoyed the feeling.

“Rebekah—”

He hadn’t expected to hear her sobbing.

“Why don’t you want me?” She let her body go limp.

He moved quickly and scooped her up in his arms. Instead of taking her to her bed, he walked outside of the cell and sat in the same chair he’d used to comfort Mouse when they’d played.

He held Rebekah in his arms. As he stroked her soft hair, he kissed her forehead. His rational side begged him not to show her any more affection. His heart overruled his good sense.

“I have to apologize to you,” he began. “When I told you I first had sex with you because you looked needy, that was a lie.”

She peered up at him, the whites of her eyes colored in crimson. He wiped her tears away with his thumb.

“I crossed that line because I found you incredibly attractive. I said what I said because I’m incredibly stupid. I never meant to hurt you.”

She raised her arm to hug him, but he grabbed her hand and brought it back down to her body.

“But I am not the right Dom for you, or even the right man.” He held her hand up to his heart. “Eventually, you’ll find the right Dom for you.”

“I have.”

He picked her back up and carried her into her cell. “When you can be with someone and totally let everything go, be as truthful and as honest as you can be with that person, that’s when you know he’s the right one.” He set her on the bed. “Lunch will be ready soon.”

When he reached the doorway leading up to the kitchen, she called for him.

“Hey!”

He stopped and returned to the closed and locked cell door.

“I’m afraid of spiders, but when I was a kid, I used to own a pet snake named Bubblegum.” She rubbed her hands over her lap. “I used to suck my thumb until I was about thirteen. That’s when I got braces.”

Dak smiled at that story.

She stood up and sauntered toward him. “I used to love climbing trees as a child, until I fell out of one once and broke my arm.” She got to the cell door and held onto the bars. “And I loved it when you spanked me that first night together.”

His smile melted. “I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.” He ducked into the kitchen and had to brace his hands on the sink to steady himself.

With each of her stories, he fell more and more for her. He had to get her out of his house. He couldn’t resist her, and right now he wondered why he fought the feeling at all.

****

Unlike with the other meals, that afternoon Dak didn’t eat lunch with Rebekah. He’d brought her a bowl of the best smelling and even better tasting chicken and dumplings she had ever had. Then he had locked the door and walked away from her. She hoped dinner would be significantly different.

Telling him so many stories about herself growing up, she would have thought it would have made them closer, made him want her. Instead it seemed like it did the opposite. He backed away from her and now, refused to eat with her.

She wondered what in Dak’s past kept him from wanting to be with her. She’d never had a lover like him before, altogether caring and powerful. From the few times he’d played with her, she knew he knew his way around a dungeon. Why couldn’t he marry those two items together and see that they could be so good for each other?

If that were the case, why couldn’t she still tell him her real name? She still continued to think of herself as Rebekah and not Brea Oliphant. She had left that name and that life a long time ago. Dredging up all of her past would hurt her more than going back to Master Blade.

She would just have to sit Dak down and explain to him how she’d left her past life a long time ago. She glanced over at the row of paintings. The last one, the one she kept from Dak’s view, she stared at for a while. She knew the image she tried to create, one from her past. To beat it, she had to confront it.

She had painted part of the scene, a silhouette of a man with a raised hand. The rest of the picture she found hard to finish. This demon had her beat.

As soon as she heard Dak’s footsteps, she ran to the center of her room and got down on her knees. He appeared at the top of the stairs. Inside of his home, he looked like he had on more clothes than usual. Now he wore jeans and boots as well as a long-sleeved T-shirt underneath a flannel shirt, and she would bet her life that underneath all of that, he had on his normal T-shirt. He really wanted to cut down on temptation.

He opened the cell door, but didn’t come inside. “Up.”

She stood and remained in her spot.

“Come up to the kitchen where dinner is being served.” He walked ahead of her.

A tickle in her stomach let her know that this wouldn’t be the normal dinner service. He appeared too staid for that to happen.

In the kitchen, she found him standing by a chair. Nothing had been placed on the table, however, pots and pans sat on the stovetop, and the illuminated oven light let her know that he had something inside.

“You may get with a Dom or Domme who will want you to do every little thing in a meal service. I’ve eliminated one aspect of that for you. I’ve cooked the meal.” He nodded toward the stove.

“May I make breakfast for you in the morning, Sir?” She had a feeling that her time with him would be fleeting. She would have to make the most of it and try to convince him to keep her around just a little while longer.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Now, pull out my chair for me.”

She did so and stood next to him as he assumed his seat.

“Now, the first thing you should do—”

She cut him off. “Sir, would you like me completely naked for this or should I continue to wear my shirt and shorts?”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at her for a while. “Take off your clothes.”

Without hesitation, she stripped out of her shirt and shorts and left them in a pile on the floor.

“No, take them down to your room.” He pointed to the doorway.

She gathered the items and ran down to her room. She threw them on her bed, careless if they made it or not, and returned to the kitchen.

“As I was saying, the first thing you need to do is make my place setting.” He pointed to a drawer by the stove. “There are placemats in there.”

She opened the drawer and found, folded neatly and in color coordination, several placemats. She pulled out a burgundy one that had tassels on each end and placed it in front of him. With her hand, she smoothed it out.

“Ordinarily, you would have to iron this first.” Dak pointed to the crease in the middle of the mat where it had been folded over. “However, you weren’t aware of what we were doing today, so I’ll let this slide.”

“Thank you, Master Dak.” She bowed her head.

“In that same drawer should be napkins.”

She returned to the drawer, found the matching napkin, and folded it neatly before setting it to the side.

He pointed up to the cabinets over the stove. “Next you’ll need to get plates and something for me to drink out of.”

She padded to the stove and raised herself on her tiptoes as she reached in the cabinet for a couple of plates.

“Don’t grab two,” he said.

She glanced at him.

“You’re going to eat eventually, just not on your own plate.”

She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Would he make her eat off the floor or in a dog dish like the poor women who had been tortured? He really would be putting her through her paces. The unknown aspect about that excited and frightened her.

As instructed, she picked up only one plate. Then she picked up a mug. She put the plate down in front of him and arranged a mug on the side of the plate.

“Why did you get me a mug and not a glass for soda or water?” he asked.

“Sir, from what I’ve noticed of you, you like hot tea.”

He allowed a smile to peek out from under his hard countenance. “Very good. You’re right. I do. Bags are in the large canister on the counter. The water is already hot in the kettle.”

As though she had done it before, she served him his tea, including asking him about his cream and sugar needs. When she served that, she situated his utensils by his plate and even made sure the salt and pepper remained close at hand.

After a sip of his tea and giving her a nod to let her know he found it satisfactory, he said, “The first dish will be soup. Bowls are next to the plates in the cabinet.”

She reached into the cabinet again. When she righted herself, she glanced back and saw him staring at her ass. To give him a better show, she put her back to him as she ladled out a bowlful of what looked to be hot vegetable soup. She sauntered back to him and placed the bowl on top of his plate. Not waiting for him to instruct her, she went so far as to put his spoon in the bowl.

“Shall I feed you, Sir?” Rebekah didn’t know how far to go with this.

Master Blade never wanted her to do all of this for him. He just wanted her on her knees beside him and not eating until he finished.

“No.” He reached underneath the table beside him and brought up a pillow. He tossed it on the floor next to him. “Kneel beside me.”