Woman In Chains (7 page)

“What will I, um, This Sla—, uh, wear after the bath?” She tried to stall for time. Also, she would need something to wear when for when she ran.

Dak opened a drawer and pulled out a T-shirt and sweatpants. “Not sure if they’ll fit, but it’s at least something until you can get on your feet again.”

She nodded and offered a smile to show compliance. He fell for it, smiling back at her. Her heart stopped at the gesture. She didn’t know why the man didn’t smile more often. The expression lit up his whole countenance.

Starting at her feet, he untied them first. As carefully as he could, he removed the tape from her ankles. She didn’t know which hurt her more, having him rip off the tape in one quick but painful motion, or having him take his time like now and tugging on her skin ever so slowly.

“Sorry,” he said as he gazed into her eyes.

The connection proved too intense for her. Again, she averted her gaze. Dak had to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Although in the short period of time that he’d had her she already felt the desire to listen and obey him, a sign of a powerful Dom if she ever saw one. She knew she would have to run.

Dak unhooked one wrist from the cuff. The other hand, he just removed the cuff from the post, but left the handcuff dangling from her wrist. She guessed he planned on handcuffing her again before getting her in the bathtub.

When he stood, she curved her legs over the bed while keeping the blanket around her body.

“The towel, please.” She extended her hand to him.

Like a gentleman, uncharacteristic of what she had been used to with Master Blade, Dak turned his head while holding up the towel for her.

She stood, scanned the room while Dak had his back to her, and spied the only thing near her grasp, a lamp. She wrapped her fingers around the neck of it just as Dak returned his attention to her.

“Are you going to take the towel, or do you want me to wrap you in it?”

She lifted the lamp, pulling its plug from the wall socket and cloaking them both in darkness, and smashed it over Dak’s head, shattering it into small pieces.

She couldn’t see him go down, but she felt him slide down her body and land at her feet. With careful steps, she hopped over his head and felt around in the darkness for the clothes he’d placed on top of the dresser. Finding the shirt and pants, she snatched them and ran toward the front door, dressing as best she could along the way.

By the front door sat a pair of heavy and huge work boots. They would have to do for footwear. She slipped her naked feet inside of them. At the sound of a loud groan right behind her, she nearly leaped out of the oversize footwear.

Behind her Dak held himself up against the wall. Streams of blood trickled down his face.

“Get…back…here.” His once booming voice had been diminished down to almost a whisper. Now he panted and mumbled.

Not wanting to receive his punishment, she ran out of the house. Down the dark country road, she had no idea of her destination. She knew she had to get away from Dak and find her way back home, back to Master Blade.

Chapter Four

Run. Run. To where, This Slave had no idea. She flopped along the darkened roadside. As she panted, she saw her breath in the chilly nighttime air. Just seeing some form of evidence that showed signs of her life, her existence, renewed her spirit.

She took in a deep breath and caught Dak’s woody, yet musky, scent. Smelling him made her feel like he existed somewhere around her. Impossible. She’d hit him hard enough with the lamp to delay him. She hadn’t expected him to get up so quickly.

This Slave tripped in the clunky boots. When she held her hands out to keep from plummeting to the ground, the handcuff that remained wrapped around her wrist swung forward.

After righting herself, she held onto the free end of the handcuff. If she sought help, it wouldn’t do to have a handcuff bound to her wrist. People might get the impression that she’d just escaped from jail or a mental institution.

A set of headlights illuminated the barren street from behind her. Her stomach twitched when she thought Dak could be the driver. When This Slave turned and caught the silhouette of a police car strobe light on top of the vehicle, her heart pounded faster than her feet moved. She ducked behind a tree and waited for the car to pass.

Although she needed help, she had to be selective. The police would only ask questions. Then again, they probably couldn’t help her anyway. Their answer would be to take her back home, not to Master Blade’s house. She would rather die than to go back to her father’s house.

As soon as the cop car disappeared from view, This Slave resumed her trek on the road. Within moments, another set of headlights coming toward her snagged her attention. Since the vehicle came from the opposite direction from Dak’s house, she had no problem flagging down this person.

Stumbling to the middle of the street, This Slave waved her hand in the air, the hand without the handcuff. As the vehicle got closer, she noticed it looked like a pickup truck.

She must have startled the driver. The truck pulled over like the driver wanted to hit her. Then the large, dark truck jerked to the side of the road close to the shoulder. It stopped a few feet from her at an angle.

This Slave clomped over to the driver’s side. The dark tint of the glass camouflaged the driver until the window descended revealing a burly, unshaven man. When he saw her, he offered a nearly toothless grin. The man looked to be well into his sixties or seventies, but nowadays, who knew? Life might have been just as hard on him as it had been on her.

“Awfully late for an evening jog, ain’t it?” he asked, coupled with a phlegm-filled chuckle.

“I, um, need help.”

It had been such a long time since she had referred or thought of herself as anything but This Slave, it still felt foreign to her to call herself “I.” However, to this stranger, she had to appear as normal as possible. Since when did normal people engage in the lifestyle that involved spanking, being chained up, and wax play? How many people enjoyed it as much as she did?

“Help? I can help you. Get on in here.”

As the driver unlocked the passenger side door, This Slave galloped to it. She could see salvation. This Slave plopped down in the seat. She barely had the door closed before the driver sped down the road.

“You hungry? There’s a place back there that serves a mean meatloaf.” The man tilted his head back.

Again, her stomach growled its agreement. “Um, money. You see, um—”

The driver waved his hand. “Couple of bucks from my pocket ain’t going to hurt me none.”

She smiled at his generosity. If he could figure out a way to get her back home to Master Blade, she would be eternally grateful.

“People call me Doc.”

She regarded him in the darkened cab of the truck. His belly extended so far that it touched the steering wheel. Occasionally, the fat stomach steered the vehicle whenever Doc used his hands to light a cigarette.

“Are you a doctor?”

Doc cleared his throat as he made a U-turn in the middle of the street. “I used to be a lot of things.”

Even in the middle of the autumn season, Doc’s skin held a deep tan. In the darkness of the truck, his skin texture matched that of a worn saddle.

“What are you now?” This Slave kept her gaze on him, especially after he made a couple of swerves over the empty road.

Doc smiled at her. “People in this area would call me lots of things. But enough about me, darlin’. What’s your name?”

This Slave opened her mouth to spout a name, any name. To this stranger, she certainly couldn’t call herself This Slave. She could use one name, something that would take the place of her birth name and her BDSM name.

“Rebekah.”

“Pretty name. Just like Becky of Sunnybrook Farm, right?”

When he laughed, This Slave thought she smelled the familiar scent of alcohol wafting from his mouth. Years of growing up with her father smelling of the same aroma made her an expert in recognizing the stench.

She secured her seatbelt around her body. A tickle of suspicion attacked her midsection until she saw lights from a restaurant and gas station up the road. She could leave Doc and seek help from someone else.

Doc glided his truck into the gas station. “Let me fill up first before we fill up.”

He stepped out of the truck, causing it to rock back and forth. Then he slammed the door. As soon as she saw Doc disappear into the station, This Slave started to get out of the truck. The stares from the people sitting outside caused her to shrink back.

An old African-American woman with a wooden cane, an older white man with a pipe, and a middle-aged man in overalls all looked on her with judgment. From their stares, she could tell they had her whole life pegged in a matter of seconds.

The woman took out a small cell phone and punched in a series of numbers without breaking her glare. The two men whispered among themselves.

Situations like this caused This Slave to want to go back to Master Blade. He’d never exposed her to the general public so she hadn’t been subjected to their judgmental stares.

She chewed the skin on the inside of her lower lip. Without warning, raised voices captured her attention. The screams made her jump. Reverting to a childhood habit, she brought her knees up to her chest and rocked back and forth.

Like a man on fire, Doc stormed out of the gas station and barreled over to the truck.

“Forget the gas. Too goddamn expensive, anyway.” He started the truck and threw it into gear. “I’ll just take you to my house.”

“What? I thought we were going to the diner.” This Slave grabbed the seatbelt holding her in her spot.

As though Doc didn’t hear her, he continued. “These people think they know who I am.” He reached into the console in between their seats and pulled out a dark bottle containing beer. “They don’t know who the fuck they’re dealing with.”

The tone of his voice, coupled with the beer, sent This Slave back to her childhood. In an instant, she saw her father sitting in the driver’s seat instead of Doc. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t go through this again.

“You can let me out here now.”

Again, Doc spoke as though she hadn’t said a word. “They had better know that I’m not some idiot off the streets. I can fuck them up if I wanted to.” He glared at her. “You hear me?”

This Slave quivered and moved back to the far corner of her seat. Now clad in some clothing and boots, she could leap from the truck and be better protected than when she had been with Dak earlier.

In an easy move, she pressed the release button on her seatbelt, but held the belt over her body to give the semblance that she still had it intact. Then she glanced out the window to study the road’s shoulder. In some spots it looked gravelly and rough. She would have to wait for a grassy patch before she ran again.

Doc accelerated the more he drove. Leaping from the truck wouldn’t be an option soon as it would be too dangerous for her to jump at the high speed.

Without warning another pickup truck zoomed by them, then screeched to a halt a few feet in front of them and parked across the road, blocking their path. This Slave screamed and covered her eyes. Whoever drove the truck in front of them must have had a death wish.

Doc came to a screaming stop. Since she didn’t hear the inevitable crunch sound of a truck-on-truck collision, she uncovered her eyes. What she saw in front of her reminded her of a horror scene from
Night of the Living Dead
.

Dak, with a large white bandage around his head, stumbled to Doc’s truck. Blood dotted Dak’s shirt and the side of his head. He approached Doc’s side first.

“You damned drunk!” Dak reached inside and turned off the truck. Then he took the key out of the ignition and tossed the set into the darkened woods.

“You son of a bitch! My house keys are on there! And how the hell am I supposed to get home now?”

Dak marched to This Slave’s side of the car. If she hadn’t been so stunned, she would have run as soon as she saw Dak approaching them. But seeing the crazed look in his eyes, she held her spot until he retrieved her. Seeing all of the blood on his head and clothes, she knew he wouldn’t spare her from a severe punishment.

Dak ripped the door open and grabbed her arm. When he had her out of the truck, he brought his attention back to Doc.

“The police are on their way. With your connections, I’m sure nothing will happen to you, as usual. Stay away from the booze, stay away from driving when you’re drunk, and stay away from me.”

“I wasn’t near you, Dak! I was just helping a damsel in distress!” Doc laughed so hard he coughed uncontrollably. “No hard feelings, man. Not everyone is suited to be a cop. Rebekah, I wish you luck.”

Dak stood by the passenger side of his truck when Doc made that proclamation. He remained motionless for a beat before charging back to Doc’s truck.

Wisely, Doc closed his door, then reached over and closed the passenger side door before Dak could get to him. The sounds of the approaching sirens made Dak retreat.

“Put on your seatbelt.” He closed the door behind her before hopping inside.

Dak managed to drive off, passing the police as he went home.

****

“You really know how to pick them, don’t you?” Dak rubbed his head. “First Blade and now Doc. Do you understand that I’m only trying to help you?” His head throbbed so hard that just talking at a normal level hurt. “Why the hell do you keep running?”

“Why do you care?” Rebekah’s voice sounded so light.

Dak glanced at her to catch her expression. She didn’t appear indignant like he thought she would be. She seemed curious in a serious way as though amazed that someone would care about her this much. Or maybe she doubted his sincerity. As soon as Lil’ Mary popped into his thoughts, Dak turned away.

“Why did you tell Doc that your name is Rebekah?”

“He wouldn’t have understood Master Blade’s name.”