Woman In Chains (9 page)

“Spanking is not abuse.” He placed a mug full of tea in front of Moira. “
You
know that.”

“I didn’t say anything about abuse. You can’t just change this woman’s behavior with a firm hand.” She shook her head and mumbled something Dak couldn’t hear.

“What was that?”

“I said, this is typical Dak. You never listen to what people want. It’s your way or no way.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! I didn’t ask for this woman to be left on my doorstep. I told Gordon I didn’t want to do this.”

“That doesn’t matter. You did it. Now you have to take care of her. Caring for her involves both her body and her mind. And you can’t ignore one for the other. You of all people should know better than to treat this woman as though she’s a properly trained submissive who can handle both the physical and mental aspects of the BDSM lifestyle right now. It’s no wonder you stopped being a Dom.”

Taking a cue from Moira earlier, Dak said, “Wow, that didn’t hurt.”

Moira ignored his sarcastic statement and barreled through with her speech. “If this is how you acted then, I’m surprised you had any submissives.”

“Another dig. You’re on a roll, Moira.” Dak dumped his drink down the sink and stared out of the kitchen window into his backyard. “Rebekah’s in my bedroom if you want to check on her.”

“Is she awake?”

Right on cue, Rebekah screamed like a banshee. Dak turned around, but didn’t bother rushing to her. Rebekah had probably heard the two voices and assumed a savior would rescue her. Dak had hoped Moira would do him a solid and take Rebekah off his hands.

He turned around and leaned his butt against the counter. “Um, yeah, I’d say she’s awake now.”

“My God!” Moira started to run, but quickly composed herself. She removed her jacket and draped it across a chair. Then she rolled up her sleeves. “I have to be calm in front of her. The last thing she needs is any more trauma.” She headed to the bedroom.

From behind her, Dak said, “By the way, she’s handcuffed to the bed.”

Moira glared at him from the end of the hallway.

“Hey, she’s clean and in clothes. I’m not a complete monster.” He held up his hands in mock defeat.

“Where’s the key?”

“Talk to her first, then I’ll produce a key. I don’t trust her the way she is now. She’s cute, but cunning.”

Moira took a step into the room, then backed out to stare at Dak. “Cute?”

Had he called Rebekah cute just now? Dak rubbed his head and got a sharp reminder that he had a bandage around it. “Must be the head wound.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Anyway, I’m not releasing her from the cuffs until she tells me her name or starts treating me with respect.”

“Says the man who spanked her and has her handcuffed to a bed.” Moira shook her head. “Still no trust. You’re going to have to learn eventually, Dak, that the war is over. You can start trusting people again.”

He gave her a cockeyed salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

When Moira disappeared into the bedroom, he decided to make breakfast. Normally he would just have dry toast and oatmeal. He just needed enough sustenance to get him going and keep him working.

Just doing odd handyman jobs around town left him little option to take any time off. As a matter of fact, if he couldn’t get rid of Rebekah soon, he would have to dip into his savings to survive. That idea didn’t sit well with him.

Dak heated a pot of water for the old-fashioned oatmeal he would make for breakfast, then pulled out a loaf of wheat bread for the toast. Dak knew Rebekah hadn’t eaten since being with him. He had no idea the last time she did eat.

He thought about frying some eggs for her. He put a carton of them on his table.

Since he had the eggs out and had a loaf of bread, he could easily make French toast. He retrieved a gallon of milk. He did just get the deli to slice him up some ham in thick slices. He could fry that up for Rebekah.

It would be great if Moira could get Rebekah to start trusting him so that maybe they could all sit down and eat a meal together. He stared at all of the food on the table that he’d gotten out for Rebekah. Good God. Dak had turned into his mother, always trying to soothe people by feeding them.

He opened his refrigerator to put some of the food back, when a niggling feeling prompted him to keep the bounty in case Rebekah decided to make up for lost time.

As Dak started to pour the oatmeal in the rolling water, he heard a scream. At this point, since being with Rebekah for about twelve hours, he didn’t jump. Then he really listened to the sound. Like a mother knowing her child’s cry, he knew the shriek hadn’t come from Rebekah this time.

Moira.

He dropped the cylindrical container and rushed out of the kitchen, only to meet with Moira before he could hit the hallway. She held onto her forearm as a shocked look masked her face.

“She bit me!” Moira exclaimed as she stomped to the kitchen.

Dak followed her and stood behind her as she washed her wound in the sink.

“We were having a good conversation.” Moira shook her head. “I told her I didn’t care what she called herself as long as she kept talking. She asked me to adjust her pillow. I had my arm across her face, and she actually bit me”—she turned to Dak—“like a dog.”

Dak didn’t want to say, “I told you so,” although he had the words primed and ready to be uttered at any moment.

“I’m going to get some disinfectant and bandages.” He removed the pot from the burner and turned it off. As he walked down the hall, he smiled. Now Moira saw what he had been experiencing the whole time.

The closer he got to his bedroom where he’d kept Rebekah, the more the smile drifted. By the time he stood next to his bathroom door, he wondered just what in the world he would do with Rebekah if he couldn’t hand her off to someone.

Rebekah must have heard Dak’s footsteps.

“No, no, please don’t,” she uttered from the room.

Rebekah couldn’t be this defiant and yet so afraid at the same time. What in her past made her this way? Had Blade done this to her?

When Dak didn’t respond, the screaming returned.

He didn’t bother poking his head inside to see her. That would have probably scared her more. From the bathroom, he grabbed peroxide, iodine, alcohol, and large sterilized adhesive pads. Oh yeah, he would make Moira suffer a little for not believing him when he tried telling her that Rebekah couldn’t be trusted.

Dak headed back to the kitchen, where he found his friend still by the sink with her head bowed. He hoped she didn’t beat herself up for how Rebekah had reacted. Moira did her job well. At one time, Dak had been a superb Dom. Neither one could be blamed on how they reacted to Rebekah.

Dak dropped the medical supplies on the counter. He opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol and held Moira’s arm.

“Aren’t you just dying to say ‘I told you so’?” Moira watched him pouring the clear liquid over her wound. She sucked air in between her teeth and did a dance on her tiptoes as Dak continued holding her arm.

“Nope.” Seeing her in a bit of pain paid him in full for her lack of belief.

He wiped off the area with a paper towel. That’s when he noticed the distinctive crescent shape of two bite marks. Rebekah fought for her freedom; he could see that.

Dak held the paper towel on the marks to stop it from bleeding. “You know you’re going to need to take those shots in case she has hepatitis or HIV.”

Moira nodded. “Way ahead of you. I have syringes and vials in my car. I’m taking a sample with me to the hospital.”

When Dak removed the towel, he noticed that it had finally stopped bleeding. He cleaned the area with peroxide, then swabbed it with iodine.

When he covered the spot with a bandage, Moira said, “She’s not stable.”

Dak blinked. He tossed the used paper towel and empty bandage packaging into a trashcan under the sink. “Are you saying that I’m right?”

Moira shook her head as she walked by him and grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. “You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you are.”

“I’m not enjoying this at all.” As hard as Dak tried to keep a straight face, he did manage to let a small laugh escape.

“On a serious note, your girl—”

“She’s not
my
girl.”

“—has a serious problem with being touched in certain areas.”

Dak glanced at her.

“She flinched when I touched her leg, chest, and especially her face. Who was she with before?”

Dak didn’t say. Actually, he couldn’t speak. What the hell had Blade done to her?

From his silence, Moira said, “I know. Must be one of your SAFE code of ethics things, right? You can’t tell anyone anything about your save. I get you.” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “If I were you, I would do one of two things: admit her to a psychiatric facility or”—she stared at him, swallowed hard, then exhaled a long breath through her nose—“find out where she’s from and take her home, not back to her Dom or Domme.”

“I’m not keeping her. I’m going to get in contact with Gordon and find her another home to be retrained. This one is way out of my realm of expertise.”

“You could always call the police.”

“And tell them what, exactly, that I kidnapped this woman, and now she’s too much for me to handle? Oh, and I guess I shouldn’t leave out the part that she’s a submissive in this whole BDSM scene and that I spanked her. And with my luck, Rebekah will decide at that moment to sing like a bird and tell them what a horrible person I am. There goes my potential career on the force.”

“You’re a real gem, you know that?” Moira walked out to her car. She retrieved a kit from her trunk, then returned to the house. “If you’re done waving your ‘poor me’ banner, I’m going to need your help.”

Dak balled his hands into fists as he strolled into the bedroom first. Moira wouldn’t understand his state of mind. Dak couldn’t help Rebekah fight her inner demons when he hadn’t conquered his own yet.

He found Rebekah with a wild but almost scared look in her eyes. She knew she had done something wrong. Dak would have punished her for it, but then he thought about it. Maybe Moira had been right. Maybe he approached the situation with Rebekah the wrong way, and he needed to offer her patience, kindness, and understanding, all traits that he lacked.

Dak stood on the opposite side of the bed. As he held her arm straight for Moira, he realized the proximity of his shoulder to Rebekah’s face.

“Just one second.” He went to his dresser and pulled out a handkerchief.

Although Rebekah tossed her head back and forth to prevent him from silencing her, Dak managed to hold her head still with one hand on top of her head while shoving the wad into her mouth. Then he held her arm again.

After donning a pair of latex gloves and cleaning the area with an alcohol swab, Moira extracted a tube of Rebekah’s blood. “I’ll have them test it for everything. I’ll let you know if it comes up with anything.”

Dak nodded. Moira covered the injection site on Rebekah’s arm with a gauze pad and medical tape. She signaled with her head to Dak to follow her outside of the room. As much as Dak liked Rebekah all nice and quiet, he removed the handkerchief from her mouth. She didn’t scream.

He kept his gaze on her until he stepped outside of his bedroom door.

In a lowered voice, Moira said, “I was serious when I said she needed some psychiatric help. There’s something going on with her. Physically, she seems healthy. But mentally, she’s harboring some fears that go way deeper than simple separation anxiety. I can recommend some places if you want. They won’t need to know who you are or why you have her.”

“What do you mean? Another Dom’s dungeon?”

Moira shook her head. “That’s your world, Dak, not mine. I’m talking about mental help.”

“Like an institution?” Dak bristled at the idea.

Abandon her again. Dak glanced back into the room. He watched Rebekah staring at the spot where they had extracted her blood and flopping her head back. She started crying again. In between sobs, she kept saying she wanted to go home.

Her desperation arrested Dak’s heart. He couldn’t let her go, not like this. He would be damned if he would take her to some institutionalized facility where she would be a number, like he had become in the Navy.

“What’s another option?” He walked to the kitchen. He had to be away from Rebekah so that he could think with a clear head.

“Another option? I thought this was what you wanted, an easy-out plan to get rid of her. If you can’t get her to another Dom or Domme to retrain her, in my medical opinion, she needs professional help.”

“Okay, duly noted. What’s another option?” Dak wouldn’t drop the issue.

Next to his front door, Moira wrote down the name of two facilities and one doctor she trusted who specialized in torture victims, like former POWs.

“If you want me to call them to set this up, I will.” Moira handed him the paper.

Dak stared at it for a while, then nodded to her without a word.

“Dak.”

“What?”

“I’m serious.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He shrugged.

“You need to do the right thing for this young woman. You can’t keep her locked up like a prisoner. She needs to walk around, assert some of her independence, express her desires and wants, have some responsibility. She can’t do any of that while cuffed to your bed.”

Each one of her suggestions confirmed what Dak needed to do with Rebekah. “You’re right, Moira.”

“Do the right thing for her, Dak.” Moira wagged her finger at him.

He raised his hand. “I promise. I will do the right thing for Rebekah.”

Dak watched his friend leave. He made sure he could no longer see Moira’s car before going back into his home. Moira had been correct about one thing. Dak knew BDSM and she didn’t. The best thing for Rebekah would be to get her with another Dom. Time to crack out the old black book of Doms to find a suitable Master.

****

After the third knock, Dak answered his front door.

“Master Dakota, good to see you again.” Collin Grint complemented his address with a nod of his head and a firm handshake.

Dak could have done without the BDSM addresses, but Collin seemed tickled to say the name. Dak just hoped the man didn’t expect the same treatment from him. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember Collin’s BDSM moniker. Dak had Collin’s real name listed in his address book with “BDSM” written to the side as a reminder of his association.