Authors: Bridget Midway
She swallowed. “This Slave is sorry for pushing Master’s limits. Master is supposed to push This Slave’s limits, right?”
“Did you just ask me a question?” He sighed out of exasperation.
“No, Master Blade. My master will tell This Slave whatever it is This Slave needs to know. This Slave would never question you.”
Although she’d kept her head down, she could almost guess how Master Blade looked at her when he asked his question. With his shaved head, she could never pinpoint his age. They had signed a contract almost a year ago that she would serve him. Shorter than her five-foot-ten frame, Master Blade had demanded that she either crawled around on the floor when he stood or that she kept her head down so that she never appeared taller than him.
Blade screeched his truck to a halt in front of his home and demanded she get out. As she’d done to get in the truck, she scuttled out of it and to the house.
“Take off your coat.” Blade slammed the door behind her.
She removed her coat while remaining on her knees. In a crouching position, she hung it in the closet.
“To the dungeon. Now!” Blade barked.
She jumped, but without hesitation scurried to the dungeon in the den downstairs. Once she assumed her usual position in the center of the room, she wondered what punishment she would endure today. Then she hoped beyond hope that whatever occurred in the dungeon would take the place of being put in the drawer.
Master Blade had rarely punished her in addition to locking her in the drawer until recently. He must have recognized her crippling fear and used that treatment to break her. She couldn’t be broken. That’s what she had to prove to him…and to herself.
She kept her head down, waiting, wondering. Her heart pounded so hard it sounded in her head. She swallowed and hoped that the volume of her beating heart wouldn’t drown out Master’s voice.
“Up.” He stood behind her.
Knowing what he wanted, she stood and raised her hands over her head. Her fingers brushed against the fleece-lined cuffs that hung down from the ceiling. Master Blade strolled in front of her and glared at her. The whites of his brown eyes looked red, like blood in a riverbank.
Without a word, Master Blade cuffed her wrists. He made sure to position her fingers onto the panic releases.
“If it gets too intense, you use these.” Blade stared into her eyes as though searching for an answer; not just an answer to his statement, but a reason why she would push him to do this.
“This Slave will not activate the panic releases, Master Blade. This Slave deserves to be punished.” She stared back at him hard enough and long enough for him to break the stare first.
After securing her, he stormed over to the controls on the side of the wall and raised her off the ground just enough so that she had to stand on her tiptoes to keep from swinging back and forth.
Despite her best efforts, Master Blade still pushed her body to put her in full swing. The swinging kept her off balance in every sense. The motion made it difficult to watch what Master Blade did. She twirled around and tried hard to keep her stare on Master Blade. When she saw him walking over to the wall full of whips, she chewed on her lower lip. His whip play resembled a light tickle. At the end of this day, she could use a good laugh.
Her body twirled around away from him as he walked past the whips to the canes and paddles. She tried looking over her shoulder, but in her position, she couldn’t see his actions.
As soon as she felt his hand on her shoulder to stop her from swinging, she gasped.
“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.” He slapped her naked ass, then squeezed it to signify that he owned her. “Your safe word is ‘blue,’ understand? I want you to use the safe word if I’m punishing you too hard, got it?”
She didn’t respond.
Blade moved around to the front of her. “This Slave, you answer me when I ask you a question. What’s the safe word?”
She rolled her head back, then returned his stare. “I don’t remember, Master Blade. Is it black, like what we are? We’re both black.”
“Stop it.”
“And you’re older than me, probably the same age as my daddy.”
“Slave—”
“Can I call you Daddy from now on?” She knew that would get to him.
“That’s enough.” He spun her around again.
She felt his head by her ear.
In a whisper, he said, “Why do you do this? Why do you provoke more of a punishment for yourself? You know I don’t want to do this.”
She nodded. “Yes, you do. You need to discipline This Slave. This Slave needs it.” She cleared her throat. “This Slave deserves it.”
Just like when she had been at home with her father, she would take it. Just like her mother had taken the abuse for so many years.
“Use the safe word.”
The first smack with the wide paddle cut into her thoughts. She yelped and flinched at the contact, even though he had eased up on the intensity.
“You’re going to get fifty hits,” he said. “Then I’ll decide if I’ll cane you afterward.”
“Yes, Master Blade. Thank you for disciplining This Slave.” She gripped the chain above her hands.
“Count them down. I really want to hear you.”
“Yes, Master Blade.”
The next strike came fast, but had been as soft as the first one. The sound of the smack didn’t even echo off of the dungeon walls.
“Two, Master Blade.”
The next few hits started to decrease in force. Maybe exhaustion plagued him.
“Three, Master Blade.”
At the beginning of their relationship, he had disciplined her with much more force. The longer she stayed with him and the more she pushed him, the more he backed off of her. She had to find a new way to incite him.
Her voice remained steady even toward the end of the punishment. She knew he hadn’t given her his all for whatever reason.
At the final smack, Master Blade came at her full force, swatting her so roughly that it put her body into a full swing. That hit got her attention. If the entire punishment had been like that, she would have respected him more.
She’d done it. She’d borne his weak punishment without complaint. Now she could get through the rest of the day, cooking his dinner, drawing his bath, and giving him his ritual hand job even though he could never get it up. He never pushed her to have sex so, if he could achieve an erection or not, it didn’t matter.
Master Blade returned the paddle to its place on his wall of toys. As she swung languidly on the chain, he lowered her and unhooked her wrists from the cuffs.
“You didn’t use the panic releases or the safe word.”
“This Slave didn’t need to, Master Blade. This Slave is tough.” She rubbed her wrists.
She blew out her breath. Sweat beaded her head, and she wiped her forehead, then raked her fingers through her wild mane of hair. She would have to tame it after Master Blade slept.
To her surprise, Master Blade grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her to his bedroom. The pain of him fisting her hair didn’t give her that surge of adrenaline like it had when she’d first met Master Blade. A transformation had occurred inside of her, and something had changed with Blade. Now she didn’t know what to think.
“Because you can’t behave, I’m going to have to retrain your dumb ass.” He let her go long enough to pull open a full-length drawer from under his massive king-size bed.
As soon as she saw the drawer, her heart pounded again in concert with her now throbbing backside, still stinging from its treatment just moments ago.
She’d been in the encasement under his bed several times before. She never got used to the confinement. Her hands trembled, and more sweat formed on her head the longer she stared at the cedar drawer.
As usual, Master Blade undid the cuffs around her wrists and neck. He showed her that one bit of compassion before entombing her in the drawer. She would have felt suffocated if she wore the neck cuff.
“You need help getting inside or can you manage by yourself?” Blade shoved her toward the drawer.
“This Slave thought you would be using the whip. This Slave deserves the paddling and to be whipped.” She hoped asking for the whipping would keep her from being placed in the drawer. Asking the question at least bought her some time.
“Not today. Not right now.” He pointed to the drawer.
Without a response, she climbed inside and positioned herself on her back just like Master Blade liked. With her hands balled into fists, she closed her eyes, trying desperately to transport herself into a happier time.
Hell, when was that? She’d never known any true joyous or happy times. Not in her childhood, not as a teenager, and definitely not now with Master Blade.
“Look at me!” Blade kicked the drawer, jiggling it and startling her.
She stared at him. Her toes felt like ice cubes dangled from each of them. She had to get her legs to stop shaking so that her knees didn’t hit the top of the drawer. Considering she did most of her moving around on her knees, the feeling would be torturous.
“How long you think you should be in there for your misbehavior?” Blade put his fists to his hips, bringing her attention to his protruding belly.
“An hour, Master Blade.” She’d figure an hour for her infraction would be long enough for her to personally take being inside before losing it.
Blade shook his head. “Stupid, stupid bitch. Some days you act as though this is your first time in training. The right and only answer is that the time limit is up to me. Everything is always up to me, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, Master Blade. This Slave apologizes again.”
“Enough fucking apologies. You’ll come out when I feel like getting you.” He kicked the drawer closed with his booted foot.
In the darkness, even with the miniature fan behind her head that whirred, giving her the needed air to breathe, she struggled to maintain her composure. Tears stung her eyes as she considered her situation. Did she really want to be here? Did she truly deserve this?
She tried reaching up to wipe her eyes, but in the cramped space, she couldn’t move her arms up. She couldn’t move her legs. Alone in the dark, she only had her thoughts to keep her company.
She had no one to blame but herself. Physical punishment had no effect on her. Blade had probably figured that out.
“Blue,” she whispered to herself.
Blade opened the drawer so fast that This Slave jostled in the motion.
“Did you say something?”
Unable to speak, she shook her head.
Blade rolled his eyes and rubbed the top of his head. “You’re going to have to learn to trust me. I don’t know when you lost that trust, but you need to find it again. I’m getting tired of disciplining you all of the time.” He crouched down to push the drawer shut, but stopped for a moment. “This is not all of what BDSM is. You know that, right?”
“This Slave knows that she has misbehaved and needs to be corrected.” She opened her hands and pressed them flat against her legs.
“Someday I’ll break you of this violent streak and your need for punishment.”
“Isn’t that what BDSM is all about? Pain being pleasure?” A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, but Master Blade did not look amused.
“The safe word is blue. Use it.” He slammed the drawer again.
She listened for a while, remaining quiet until she heard footfalls move away from her. To calm herself, she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to touch the wood panel above her body. She imagined sketching a picturesque outdoor scene with trees, deep green grass, a lake behind the tree, and a radiant sun. With getting disciplined daily from dusk to dawn, she missed sunrises and sunsets.
Her hands moved over the wood as though she had paint brushes in them. Just being able to do what she loved slowed her racing heart.
She could take this. If she could endure growing up with the father she’d had, she knew she could last in this relationship. She would have to. Where else could she go?
Chapter Two
Dak wiped his brow using the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket. Then he picked up four logs and carried them into his house. The greatest thing about his home: he could look in any direction and not see another house for miles—just how he liked it. He’d had enough of being around people. After the save from the other night, he had no interest in playing the hero.
The sadness and desperation in Julianne’s eyes that night in the diner reminded him so much of Lil’ Mary. Since her, he hadn’t had the urge to pick up another submissive. He didn’t even know how to train someone again to do what he liked, what he wanted.
He walked through the back door of his house and went down to the room off of the garage. Two years ago he’d used the space for his dungeon. With his elbow, he flicked the switch on the wall to illuminate the room.
Scanning the area, he regarded the remnants of his former life. Coiled whips hung on the wall across from him, resembling snakes in slumber. Under the whips sat canes of all sizes and textures. They now looked more like kindling wood than toys of pleasure and discipline. He knew the floggers hung on the other side of the wall from habit; however, everything in his room had a thick layer of dust covering it, transforming the playthings into relics. They should remain that way.
Dak dropped the wood onto the floor. One log rolled, banging against something else he’d forgotten: the cage. He had assembled it to replicate a miniature jail cell. As soon as Lil’ Mary left him, he’d taken it down. One day he would have to take the whole thing to the dump, along with everything else on his walls. No use keeping up the pretense that he would go back to being a Dom. A failed relationship had proved that he had nothing left within that lifestyle.
His doorbell chimed, followed by a knock at the door. Dak glanced at his watch. Even with it being the early afternoon, no one ever came over to his house without telling him first, and he didn’t get that many door-to-door salesmen since he lived in such a remote location.
He made a slow trek to the door. As soon as he opened it, he shook his head.