 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| Site contents Copyright © 2005-2015 Bridget Midway All Rights Reserved |
Woman in Chains
Chapter One
Dakota Ricci hesitated before patting the hand of a woman sitting across from him at Gertie’s Diner. This was
the part of the assignment he hated, the hand-off.
“What’s your name?” He kept his gaze moving, scanning the nearly empty diner while making sure his dining
partner remained calm. The habit of being aware of his surroundings would never be broken. Once a SEAL,
always a SEAL.
In a whispered tone, she started to say, “I was called--”
“No!” Dak didn’t mean to snap at her but after everything he went through in the last couple of hours, and
after what this woman had experienced, she didn’t need to hold onto any former labels. When he saw her
jump at his exclamation, Dak softened his tone. “I want to know your real name. What name did your parents
give you?”
“Julianne.” She wrapped her small, pale hands around the coffee mug sitting in front of her while hanging her
head down.
Dak sighed in relief. At least this one acknowledged her real name. He’d saved some submissives and slaves
who weren’t ready to give up their BDSM names. Thankfully the responsibility of retraining them went to
another group.
Steam rose from the cup as Julianne struggled to bring it to her mouth. Dak didn’t have to sit next to her to
notice her hands shaking. Coffee splashed outside of the cup and onto her fingers.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry, Master--"
“It’s okay.” Dak cut her off before she called him something he wasn’t. He pulled out a couple of napkin
sheets from the dispenser on the table and helped dab up the mess.
As though he’d chopped the heads off of kittens and set them in front of her, Julianne stared at him with her
mouth agape.
“I should clean up the mess, sir.” With her slender fingers, she attempted to take the soiled napkins from him.
"It’s not a big deal. You just relax and drink your coffee.” He held onto her hand.
As soon as he touched her, Dak noticed how cold she felt despite it being a fairly warm September night. In
the sweatshirt and plaid flannel jacket he’d brought for her, Julianne appeared so tiny in the oversized
clothes.
That was the thing about missions like these. Dak could bring all of the provisions in the world but something
was bound to be off. Even with clothing two sizes too big, Dak still considered the recovery effort a success.
Dak set her hands back on the tabletop. The sleeve of her jacket rolled up, exposing her wrist. Seeing the
black and green bruises, and the cuts that ringed her bony wrist made Dak’s gut twist in a knot.
Discipline and bondage he could understand. Hell, he’d doled out enough of both in his lifetime. And he’d left
some cuts, welts and bruises on the submissives and slaves he’d play with in his past. Torture was a different
animal, one he couldn’t condone or support.
When Gordon contacted him about Julianne, about the abuse she’d endured from her former Master, as
usual, Dak felt compelled to do what he did best, swoop in and rescue her.
Lucky for Julianne’s Dom that the man didn’t fight him when Dak said he was taking her away. Usually
confrontations like that didn’t go over very well. Then again, the Dom stood a good foot shorter than Dak’s six
foot-six inch height. The wisest thing the Dom did was back down.
Speaking of Gordon, where the hell was he? Dak had called him almost forty-five minutes ago to let him know
he had completed the assignment.
Dak glanced at his watch.
“Am I making you late for something?” Julianne flattened the palms of her hands onto the table and kept them
there.
“No. Just wondering where your ride is.” Dak had chosen the table where they sat in the restaurant because
it allowed him a great bird’s eye view of traffic going by the diner.
Traffic. More like two two-lane roads that met at the corner stop sign in front of the restaurant. The far out
country section of Virginia Beach tended to be almost Mayberry-like. Living at a slower pace suited Dak and
his new lifestyle.
“Are you a Dom?” Julianne chewed on her lower lip as she peered at him from under a veil of her dark brown
wispy bangs.
Hoping she asked simply to know how to address him, Dak answered, “You can call me Dak.”
Julianne stared at him, her large brown eyes drawing him in and making him feel guilty. He had seen this
woman naked when he’d rescued her from Master Iron Hand. Maybe she expected Dak to open up to her a
bit, too.
“I’m not a Dom.” Anymore, he should have added.
Not since he released Lil Mary, his last submissive. Dak cared deeply for her, and it pained him to his core to
let her go. But she desired a BDSM lifestyle that he couldn’t accommodate. He could wield a whip and handle
a cane like other trained Doms and Dommes. When it came to dishing out verbal humiliation, he couldn’t and
wouldn’t do it.
What started off with Lil Mary as names said in the heat of passion, like calling her his little slut or whore,
quickly became her need for further humiliation.
The worse the names got, the happier Lil Mary became and the more repulsed Dak had become. He blamed
his aversion to the derogatory name calling on his time in naval academy training and hearing his
commanding officer calling him worthless and stupid.
When Dak realized that he couldn’t fulfill Lil Mary’s needs, and that there was no way they could compromise,
he released her. Last Dak heard, she was serving a Dom known for being mentally and physically rough with
his submissives, Master Blade.
Blade kept a low profile around the local BDSM scene, but if Dak caught up with him in a darkened alley, or
even in a well-lit full city street, he would have to shake some sense into the man.
“I would have pegged you as Dom.” Julianne twirled her mug around on the table. “How did you know, um,
about me?”
The waitress, Laurice stopped by the table. Flashing a pleasant smile at both of them, she topped both
coffee cups and asked if either wanted the pie of the day, cherry. Dak shook his head. Once he answered,
Julianne brought her gaze up long enough to shake her head at the waitress. Then she went back to staring
at the tabletop again.
After she walked away, Dak continued. “A Dom, Sire Steel, heard from another Dom about you. I guess you
and your former Master attended a play party recently.”
The mention of the party Dak had been told about made Julianne wince as though the rough memory
haunted her. Dak had heard just one instance of this asshole’s abuse to his submissive.
Although some submissives and slaves liked their faces slapped, a hard punch to the face that rendered a
person unconscious was a textbook sign of abuse by a Master.
Dak took a sip of his hot coffee before continuing his explanation. “Someone at the play party informed Sire
Steel. The Sire contacted me.”
“Why you?” The more Julianne spoke, the stronger her voice sounded.
Dak hoped that it wouldn’t take the pale beauty long to find her voice so that as a submissive, she can tell
her next Dom or Domme exactly what she likes.
“Sire Steel and I started an organization called S.A.F.E. It stands for Security Away From Extremists. We all
understand that BDSM is a lifestyle that can be demanding on a person’s body and sometimes their mind.”
“Demanding?” Julianne smiled and snorted a laugh.
Seeing her smile finally made Dak grin like a kid finding the last colored Easter egg.
“Okay, rough, cruel, painful. Overall, though, everything should follow our credo: safe, sane and consensual.”
Julianne cringed again and slumped down even lower. “My Master will be so upset.” She fidgeted in her
bench seat, wringing her hands and alternating her gaze from the window to the front door and back down to
the table. “If I go back, maybe my Master will allow me to continue serving him.” She stood and Dak bolted to
his feet, again, jarring her so that she jumped.
“Don’t leave.” Dak held her small hands. “You should want better for yourself.” He paused, trying to think of
the other pat statements he and Gordon had memorized to tell these troubled and abused submissives and
slaves. “You deserve to be treated in the way you want to be treated. Did you really like what your Master did
to you?”
Julianne struggled to look Dak in his eyes. Instead she dropped her gaze back down to the floor. Within
seconds, he heard her sniffing. She pulled one hand out of his grip and wiped her face.
“I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said between gasping cries.
A good former Dom would have told her to hold her chin up and be assertive in what she wanted out of life.
Being a submissive didn’t automatically mean that she was someone’s punching bag.
A good man would have told her she was worth more than being someone’s property. She could have her
own life and still be a submissive. Even if she were a slave, it didn’t mean she lost her ability to say “no.”
Instead Dak gave her a pat on her shoulder. Julianne, however, surprised him by pressing her face right into
his chest while she sobbed. Dak kept his arms by his side. Scanning the diner, he noticed the two waitresses
watching their display. A lone customer at the bar, turned to stare at Dak and Julianne.
It was stares like those that made Dak appreciate his solitary sanctuary, away from intrusive people and their
stares. While she cried, he thought about what he could say to comfort her.
“Someone is going to take you to a place to be safe.” Dak swallowed. “There will be other Doms and Dommes
there to help you in this difficult period.” To show his support, he patted her back again. “You’ll be retrained.
And when they think you’re ready, they’ll help find a suitable Dom or Domme for you.”
Julianne sniffed again and peered up. Pink colored the whites of her eyes. In a move teeming with
desperation, she grabbed his jacket and moved closer to him.
"Why can’t you just take me to your house? I could serve you. I could be happy serving you.” She took a
couple of steps toward him and it made him retreat.
Just a couple of seconds too late but arriving in the nick of time, Gordon barreled through the front door. Dak
released a long, haggard breath.
“Your ride is here.” He pulled her hands off of his jacket, grabbed her shoulders from behind her and guided
her toward Gordon.
As usual, Dak’s out-of-shape friend huffed and puffed as he waddled toward him. Gordon adjusted his black
horned-rimmed glasses then smoothed his hand over the few sprigs of hair on his sweaty head. Good thing
dominance in the BDSM world was more about state of mind than body.
“You’re late.” Dak positioned Julianne in front of Gordon.
“I know. I was tied up.” Gordon smirked showing off his newly-capped teeth. “Actually, I had someone else
tied when--”
Dak held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” He pointed to Julianne. “Julianne, this is Sire Steel. He’ll be
helping you get situated and finding you a safe house while you recover and retrain.”
Julianne had a look in her eyes like she wanted to hug Dak. To deter her, he headed to the front door and
swung it open for them.
When Julianne walked by him, he said, “Good luck on your journey. Today is your first step.” More trite words
but he felt relieved she was out of his hair.
“Thank you for taking care of me, and for--” The words choked in her throat.
Dak nodded, not wanting or needing further explanation.
“If you aren’t one already, you should really think about being a cop.” She offered a sweet smile as payment
for the work he’d done for S.A.F.E.
What was intended as a compliment came instead felt like a punch in Dak’s gut. The last thing Dak wanted to
hear after a day like today was a comment about a real goal he’d had since leaving the Navy. It was the first
time in Dak’s life that he felt cold feet about anything.
His feet would have to stay frozen for a while. Now that this task was over, he could now crawl back to his
cave and be left alone.
When Gordon walked by him, Dak grabbed his arm. “This is it. Don’t ever call me again to do a job like this. I’
m done.”
# # #
Feeling the pat on her head, This Slave knew the next step. Master Blade was not only tough, he was also
predictable, which was good for her since she had to serve him. She knew exactly what to do. Whether or not
he liked what she did, that was a different story.
“So I told the jerk-offs at work that if they wanted the report done by Friday then they need to get off of their
asses and do it.” Her Master, Master Blade, laughed the loudest in the room full of other Doms, Dommes,
submissives and slaves.
Not a play party but more of a luncheon, submissives and slaves sat obediently by their owners’ sides.
Although she was the only African-American submissive in the room, she never felt out of place. The other
submissives, slaves, Doms and Dommes made her feel like a part of the group. She never had that feeling of
inclusion growing up. If this was what a family feeling felt like, she would take it.
Master Blade picked up his glass and shook it, making the ice cubes clink around in the glass. The signal
came through loud and clear.
“This Slave will get you another drink.” She reached for the glass then waited, holding the glass aloft while
staring at him. “Master does want another drink, correct?” She watched the vein throb in the middle of his
forehead. Her father’s vein used to do the same thing.
“Yes,” he answered between gritted teeth.
She nodded. “And Master would like more ice?”
“Yes.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Why are you doing this?”
She blinked. Her heart raced knowing that the discipline was coming. “Doing what, Master?”
She knew he wouldn’t fall for her innocent act. Lately, she found it harder to provoke him into disciplining her,
not like in the very beginning when they first got together. Almost a year of being together, he was getting
used to her tricks.
Master Blade tightened his grip around a thin dowel he used as a cane. The sound of his leather glove-clad
hand squeaking around the stick sounded in the quiet room. If he used the cane, she knew where he would
hit her: her hand.
She could almost feel the sharp stinging pain going up her arm from the expected hit. She found that if she
looked pained, Master Blade inflicted more punishment on her. For that reason, she grunted and groaned
even more. She was tougher than he thought. She could withstand anyone’s punishment.
After a tense second, he let her go and ordered her to go to the kitchen. After kissing the tops of Master
Blade’s booted feet then the hand that held the cane, she stood and went to the kitchen.
She poured iced tea into his glass. Just before going back to the living room where everyone was, she stared
into the glass. Her incessant questioning didn’t stir Master Blade. She needed to do something else.
Glancing around the room, she found a sugar canister. She knew Master Blade liked unsweetened iced tea.
With the ease of a cat burglar, she removed the lid then poured a spoonful of sugar into his tea.
She peered around as though someone had seen the devilish act she did. She stirred the drink with her
index finger then sucked off the excess drink when she was done.
She returned to the living room and set the glass on the coffee table in front of him.
“This Slave has brought you your drink.” She lowered herself onto her knees next to him.
Staring forward, she caught a strange expression on the face of their host, the Mistress of the house who
had always offered to train her. When she turned around, she met face-to-face with her Master’s boot.
Master Blade knocked her to the floor. She didn’t know if the gasps she heard came from the people around
her or if the reaction came from her. When her face crashed against the hardwood floor, she saw stars
flashing in her eyes.
Master Blade reacted faster than she thought he would.
“You know better than to walk around without permission.” Master Blade put the sole of his shoe right on her
face while she was on the floor. “You were supposed to crawl to the kitchen and crawl back, right?”
She pretended to struggle for air, but under his small size seven shoe, she found no problem getting air.
“Yes, uh, sir.”
“Stupid bitch. I don’t know why I keep your ass around, do you?” He pressed down harder.
A fireworks display burst in her eyes from the increased pressure, but still nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Please give me another chance.” Another chance to push your buttons, she thought.
“What did you say? I know I didn’t hear you correctly.”
She swallowed, knowing he picked up her intended error in her statement. “Please give This Slave another
chance. This Slave longs to serve you and only you, Master Blade.” Aside from not following physical
protocol like crawling around the floor, Blade hated when she used the wrong addresses or none at all.
“Blade, please, we’re having a pleasant afternoon.” Mistress Siren’s strong voice resonated even from where
This Slave was on the floor. “I think you’ve disciplined your slave enough.”
“You don’t understand, Siren. This one needs a firm hand.” Master Blade grunted. “If I don’t do this, she’ll be
like a wild, ravenous dog, undisciplined and rough. Besides, I’ve never took you to be the squeamish type.”
“You know better than that.” The indignation came through clearly in Siren’s voice.
“She’s much better than that last slave I had, Lil Mary. This one knows how to take the discipline. She
practically begs for it daily.”
“Then maybe to punish her, you don’t discipline her.”
This Slave gasped. What was Siren advising him? She was fine. The little bit of punishment Blade doled out
she could handle. She was tough. She could handle the beatings. The verbal abuse got to her sometimes,
but she had learned to tune him out…at least she tried to ignore him. Sometimes the words hit harder home
to her than expected.
Blade removed his boot from her face. “Fine. I’ll stop here.”
This Slave rose to her knees, not even daring to wipe her face. It was times like these that she wished she
was back in her full head mask. At least his boot wouldn’t be touching her face directly.
As soon as she positioned herself in he correct spot, Master Blade grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled
her to her feet. Even his small hand pulling on her hair didn’t hurt her as much as it looked. But she put on a
front like he was actually pulling her scalp from her skull.
“We’re going home.” Master Blade yanked her to the closet door.
She was completely nude except for the black leather collar and cuffs she wore. She knew he wanted her to
put on her coat first. Instead she opened the front door, not caring that neighbors could see her nudity. If it
pissed Master Blade even more, then she would be nude in public.
“Blade, please, at least let her get dressed. I have neighbors watching everything that goes on here.”
Mistress Siren stood and attempted to block Master Blade’s path.
“I did push her to the closet. You see. She’s doing this on purpose. She wants me to punish her.” He nudged
her shoulder to spin her around so that she could look at him. “You want my attention? Fine, you got it.
Looks like you’re going to get some time in the drawer.”
More than the boot to the face and the hair pull, she couldn’t do the drawer. Blame it on her claustrophobia.
Maybe it had something to do with her father locking her up in a small closet to discipline her when she was
growing up. Either way, that small, tight, cramped space was not fit to hide sweaters let alone her.
The news of the drawer made her drop to her knees. “Please, Master Blade. Please don’t put This Slave in
the drawer. This Slave promise to behave. This Slave will do whatever you like.”
“You’ll do what I like anyway. You’re wasting time. Get your coat and let’s go.” Master Blade walked out of the
house.
She opened the closet to retrieve her coat. Her clothes, which consisted of a pair of panties, a shirt and
stretch pants all managed to fit in her inside pockets.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. This is what you wanted, right? The rougher the better, right?
She wiped her face before slipping on her coat that, thankfully, covered her body. Before going through the
front door, she dropped down to her hands and knees and crawled to the door. Although she wanted to push
Blade, she hadn’t meant to push him this far. She could withstand anything but that drawer.
With her head hung low, she heard just as she got a foot away from the door, “Slave, if this is not the
treatment you want, please tell us so that we can help you.”
In her life, she’d heard that before. People were always willing to help but no one ever did anything. As
always, she would take care of herself.
Mistress Siren said, “Nod your head if you want help.”
She waited by the door, torn between what she thought was what she needed and what these other folks felt
was right for her. She pushed Master Blade to do this. And she could take anything he dished out.
“Slave?”
A car horn blared, making her jump. She turned to Mistress Siren then lowered her head again before
crawling out of the door.
She crawled over the gravel sidewalk and driveway, the small rocks and pebbles cutting and embedding in
her palms and knees. At the truck, she crawled into the backseat and positioned herself on her stomach as
she’d been trained.
“You know I don’t want to have to discipline you like this all of the time,” Master Blade began. “But you leave
me with no alternatives. Why do you force me to be rough with you?”
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. You 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 was never really sure of his age. Shorter than her five-foot-ten
frame, after they had made a contract that she would serve him almost a year ago, Master Blade demanded
that she either crawl 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 up to his home and demanded for her to get out. As she’d done to get in the truck,
she crawled 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 her coat in the closet.
“To the dungeon, now!” Blade barked.
She jumped, but without hesitation crawled to the dungeon in the den downstairs. Crawling to the center of
the room like always, 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.
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 her 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. I deserve 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. She twirled around and
tried hard to watch 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 the position she was in, she couldn’t see what he was doing.
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.”
“This Slave--”
“Can I call you Daddy from now on?” She knew that would get him. That was one of the items he told her from
the very beginning that he didn’t like.
“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. And you need to discipline me. I need it.” She cleared her throat. “I deserve it.”
But she would never tell him why. Just like when she was younger, she would take it. Just like her mother had
for so many years, taken the abuse.
“Use the safe word.”
The first hit with the wide paddle cut into her thoughts. Again, she yelped and flinched at the hit even though
it came out a lot softer than she knew he could do.
“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 down the hits. I really want to hear you.”
“Yes, Master Blade.”
The next hit came fast but was just as soft as the first hit. The sound of the smack didn’t even echo off of the
dungeon walls.
“Two, my master.”
The one after that was just as easy. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he pushing her like she knew he could?
“Three, my master.”
Master Blade slapped her ass, each hit was now getting more and more intense but still not as hard as he
could have done. When she was first with him, he used to hit her much harder. 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 provoke him.
Her voice remained steady even toward the end of the punishment. She knew he took it light on her today for
whatever reason.
At the last hit, Master Blade came at her full force, hitting her so roughly that it put her body into a full swing.
It was the one and only hit that got her attention. If the entire punishment had been like that, she would have
respected him more.
She’d done it. She bore 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 handjob even though he could never get it
up. That was fine with her. He never pushed her to have sex.
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 did when she’d first met Master Blade and he’d
disciplined her. Something was changing 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 he had under his massive king-sized bed.
So he was going to still do the drawer. She should have figured he would have pushed her even more. And
why not, now that he had her ass good and sore?
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. Each time the experience got no better
for her. Her hands trembled and more sweat formed on her head the longer she stared at the cedar drawer.
“You need help getting inside or can you manage by yourself?” Blade shoved her toward 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 time that was joyous or happy. Not in her childhood, not as a
teenager and definitely not now with Master Blade. Like everything else, this was the hand she was dealt with
in her life. She had to play it.
“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. The last time her legs shook, when Blade slammed the drawer, the top of it banged against her
knees. Considering she did most of her moving around on her knees, the feeling was like torture.
“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 was long enough for her infraction and 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, she struggled to maintain her breath. 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. All she could do was be alone
in the dark with her thoughts.
She had no one to blame but herself. Physical punishment had no affect on her. Blade could tell that.
“Blue,” she whispered to herself.
To her surprise, Blade opened the drawer. His eyes were wide as he stared at her.
“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’s misbehaved and needs to be corrected.” She balled her hands into fists.
“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 outside scene with trees, deep green grass, a lake behind the tree, and a radiant sun. That
was the one thing she missed. Since she was getting disciplined daily, she missed sunrises and sunsets.
Her hands moved over the wood as though she had chalk 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 had, she knew she could last in this
relationship. She would have to. Where else could she go?
Copyright © 2008 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.
Dakota Ricci hesitated before patting the hand of a woman sitting across from him at Gertie’s Diner. This was
the part of the assignment he hated, the hand-off.
“What’s your name?” He kept his gaze moving, scanning the nearly empty diner while making sure his dining
partner remained calm. The habit of being aware of his surroundings would never be broken. Once a SEAL,
always a SEAL.
In a whispered tone, she started to say, “I was called--”
“No!” Dak didn’t mean to snap at her but after everything he went through in the last couple of hours, and
after what this woman had experienced, she didn’t need to hold onto any former labels. When he saw her
jump at his exclamation, Dak softened his tone. “I want to know your real name. What name did your parents
give you?”
“Julianne.” She wrapped her small, pale hands around the coffee mug sitting in front of her while hanging her
head down.
Dak sighed in relief. At least this one acknowledged her real name. He’d saved some submissives and slaves
who weren’t ready to give up their BDSM names. Thankfully the responsibility of retraining them went to
another group.
Steam rose from the cup as Julianne struggled to bring it to her mouth. Dak didn’t have to sit next to her to
notice her hands shaking. Coffee splashed outside of the cup and onto her fingers.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry, Master--"
“It’s okay.” Dak cut her off before she called him something he wasn’t. He pulled out a couple of napkin
sheets from the dispenser on the table and helped dab up the mess.
As though he’d chopped the heads off of kittens and set them in front of her, Julianne stared at him with her
mouth agape.
“I should clean up the mess, sir.” With her slender fingers, she attempted to take the soiled napkins from him.
"It’s not a big deal. You just relax and drink your coffee.” He held onto her hand.
As soon as he touched her, Dak noticed how cold she felt despite it being a fairly warm September night. In
the sweatshirt and plaid flannel jacket he’d brought for her, Julianne appeared so tiny in the oversized
clothes.
That was the thing about missions like these. Dak could bring all of the provisions in the world but something
was bound to be off. Even with clothing two sizes too big, Dak still considered the recovery effort a success.
Dak set her hands back on the tabletop. The sleeve of her jacket rolled up, exposing her wrist. Seeing the
black and green bruises, and the cuts that ringed her bony wrist made Dak’s gut twist in a knot.
Discipline and bondage he could understand. Hell, he’d doled out enough of both in his lifetime. And he’d left
some cuts, welts and bruises on the submissives and slaves he’d play with in his past. Torture was a different
animal, one he couldn’t condone or support.
When Gordon contacted him about Julianne, about the abuse she’d endured from her former Master, as
usual, Dak felt compelled to do what he did best, swoop in and rescue her.
Lucky for Julianne’s Dom that the man didn’t fight him when Dak said he was taking her away. Usually
confrontations like that didn’t go over very well. Then again, the Dom stood a good foot shorter than Dak’s six
foot-six inch height. The wisest thing the Dom did was back down.
Speaking of Gordon, where the hell was he? Dak had called him almost forty-five minutes ago to let him know
he had completed the assignment.
Dak glanced at his watch.
“Am I making you late for something?” Julianne flattened the palms of her hands onto the table and kept them
there.
“No. Just wondering where your ride is.” Dak had chosen the table where they sat in the restaurant because
it allowed him a great bird’s eye view of traffic going by the diner.
Traffic. More like two two-lane roads that met at the corner stop sign in front of the restaurant. The far out
country section of Virginia Beach tended to be almost Mayberry-like. Living at a slower pace suited Dak and
his new lifestyle.
“Are you a Dom?” Julianne chewed on her lower lip as she peered at him from under a veil of her dark brown
wispy bangs.
Hoping she asked simply to know how to address him, Dak answered, “You can call me Dak.”
Julianne stared at him, her large brown eyes drawing him in and making him feel guilty. He had seen this
woman naked when he’d rescued her from Master Iron Hand. Maybe she expected Dak to open up to her a
bit, too.
“I’m not a Dom.” Anymore, he should have added.
Not since he released Lil Mary, his last submissive. Dak cared deeply for her, and it pained him to his core to
let her go. But she desired a BDSM lifestyle that he couldn’t accommodate. He could wield a whip and handle
a cane like other trained Doms and Dommes. When it came to dishing out verbal humiliation, he couldn’t and
wouldn’t do it.
What started off with Lil Mary as names said in the heat of passion, like calling her his little slut or whore,
quickly became her need for further humiliation.
The worse the names got, the happier Lil Mary became and the more repulsed Dak had become. He blamed
his aversion to the derogatory name calling on his time in naval academy training and hearing his
commanding officer calling him worthless and stupid.
When Dak realized that he couldn’t fulfill Lil Mary’s needs, and that there was no way they could compromise,
he released her. Last Dak heard, she was serving a Dom known for being mentally and physically rough with
his submissives, Master Blade.
Blade kept a low profile around the local BDSM scene, but if Dak caught up with him in a darkened alley, or
even in a well-lit full city street, he would have to shake some sense into the man.
“I would have pegged you as Dom.” Julianne twirled her mug around on the table. “How did you know, um,
about me?”
The waitress, Laurice stopped by the table. Flashing a pleasant smile at both of them, she topped both
coffee cups and asked if either wanted the pie of the day, cherry. Dak shook his head. Once he answered,
Julianne brought her gaze up long enough to shake her head at the waitress. Then she went back to staring
at the tabletop again.
After she walked away, Dak continued. “A Dom, Sire Steel, heard from another Dom about you. I guess you
and your former Master attended a play party recently.”
The mention of the party Dak had been told about made Julianne wince as though the rough memory
haunted her. Dak had heard just one instance of this asshole’s abuse to his submissive.
Although some submissives and slaves liked their faces slapped, a hard punch to the face that rendered a
person unconscious was a textbook sign of abuse by a Master.
Dak took a sip of his hot coffee before continuing his explanation. “Someone at the play party informed Sire
Steel. The Sire contacted me.”
“Why you?” The more Julianne spoke, the stronger her voice sounded.
Dak hoped that it wouldn’t take the pale beauty long to find her voice so that as a submissive, she can tell
her next Dom or Domme exactly what she likes.
“Sire Steel and I started an organization called S.A.F.E. It stands for Security Away From Extremists. We all
understand that BDSM is a lifestyle that can be demanding on a person’s body and sometimes their mind.”
“Demanding?” Julianne smiled and snorted a laugh.
Seeing her smile finally made Dak grin like a kid finding the last colored Easter egg.
“Okay, rough, cruel, painful. Overall, though, everything should follow our credo: safe, sane and consensual.”
Julianne cringed again and slumped down even lower. “My Master will be so upset.” She fidgeted in her
bench seat, wringing her hands and alternating her gaze from the window to the front door and back down to
the table. “If I go back, maybe my Master will allow me to continue serving him.” She stood and Dak bolted to
his feet, again, jarring her so that she jumped.
“Don’t leave.” Dak held her small hands. “You should want better for yourself.” He paused, trying to think of
the other pat statements he and Gordon had memorized to tell these troubled and abused submissives and
slaves. “You deserve to be treated in the way you want to be treated. Did you really like what your Master did
to you?”
Julianne struggled to look Dak in his eyes. Instead she dropped her gaze back down to the floor. Within
seconds, he heard her sniffing. She pulled one hand out of his grip and wiped her face.
“I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she said between gasping cries.
A good former Dom would have told her to hold her chin up and be assertive in what she wanted out of life.
Being a submissive didn’t automatically mean that she was someone’s punching bag.
A good man would have told her she was worth more than being someone’s property. She could have her
own life and still be a submissive. Even if she were a slave, it didn’t mean she lost her ability to say “no.”
Instead Dak gave her a pat on her shoulder. Julianne, however, surprised him by pressing her face right into
his chest while she sobbed. Dak kept his arms by his side. Scanning the diner, he noticed the two waitresses
watching their display. A lone customer at the bar, turned to stare at Dak and Julianne.
It was stares like those that made Dak appreciate his solitary sanctuary, away from intrusive people and their
stares. While she cried, he thought about what he could say to comfort her.
“Someone is going to take you to a place to be safe.” Dak swallowed. “There will be other Doms and Dommes
there to help you in this difficult period.” To show his support, he patted her back again. “You’ll be retrained.
And when they think you’re ready, they’ll help find a suitable Dom or Domme for you.”
Julianne sniffed again and peered up. Pink colored the whites of her eyes. In a move teeming with
desperation, she grabbed his jacket and moved closer to him.
"Why can’t you just take me to your house? I could serve you. I could be happy serving you.” She took a
couple of steps toward him and it made him retreat.
Just a couple of seconds too late but arriving in the nick of time, Gordon barreled through the front door. Dak
released a long, haggard breath.
“Your ride is here.” He pulled her hands off of his jacket, grabbed her shoulders from behind her and guided
her toward Gordon.
As usual, Dak’s out-of-shape friend huffed and puffed as he waddled toward him. Gordon adjusted his black
horned-rimmed glasses then smoothed his hand over the few sprigs of hair on his sweaty head. Good thing
dominance in the BDSM world was more about state of mind than body.
“You’re late.” Dak positioned Julianne in front of Gordon.
“I know. I was tied up.” Gordon smirked showing off his newly-capped teeth. “Actually, I had someone else
tied when--”
Dak held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.” He pointed to Julianne. “Julianne, this is Sire Steel. He’ll be
helping you get situated and finding you a safe house while you recover and retrain.”
Julianne had a look in her eyes like she wanted to hug Dak. To deter her, he headed to the front door and
swung it open for them.
When Julianne walked by him, he said, “Good luck on your journey. Today is your first step.” More trite words
but he felt relieved she was out of his hair.
“Thank you for taking care of me, and for--” The words choked in her throat.
Dak nodded, not wanting or needing further explanation.
“If you aren’t one already, you should really think about being a cop.” She offered a sweet smile as payment
for the work he’d done for S.A.F.E.
What was intended as a compliment came instead felt like a punch in Dak’s gut. The last thing Dak wanted to
hear after a day like today was a comment about a real goal he’d had since leaving the Navy. It was the first
time in Dak’s life that he felt cold feet about anything.
His feet would have to stay frozen for a while. Now that this task was over, he could now crawl back to his
cave and be left alone.
When Gordon walked by him, Dak grabbed his arm. “This is it. Don’t ever call me again to do a job like this. I’
m done.”
# # #
Feeling the pat on her head, This Slave knew the next step. Master Blade was not only tough, he was also
predictable, which was good for her since she had to serve him. She knew exactly what to do. Whether or not
he liked what she did, that was a different story.
“So I told the jerk-offs at work that if they wanted the report done by Friday then they need to get off of their
asses and do it.” Her Master, Master Blade, laughed the loudest in the room full of other Doms, Dommes,
submissives and slaves.
Not a play party but more of a luncheon, submissives and slaves sat obediently by their owners’ sides.
Although she was the only African-American submissive in the room, she never felt out of place. The other
submissives, slaves, Doms and Dommes made her feel like a part of the group. She never had that feeling of
inclusion growing up. If this was what a family feeling felt like, she would take it.
Master Blade picked up his glass and shook it, making the ice cubes clink around in the glass. The signal
came through loud and clear.
“This Slave will get you another drink.” She reached for the glass then waited, holding the glass aloft while
staring at him. “Master does want another drink, correct?” She watched the vein throb in the middle of his
forehead. Her father’s vein used to do the same thing.
“Yes,” he answered between gritted teeth.
She nodded. “And Master would like more ice?”
“Yes.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. “Why are you doing this?”
She blinked. Her heart raced knowing that the discipline was coming. “Doing what, Master?”
She knew he wouldn’t fall for her innocent act. Lately, she found it harder to provoke him into disciplining her,
not like in the very beginning when they first got together. Almost a year of being together, he was getting
used to her tricks.
Master Blade tightened his grip around a thin dowel he used as a cane. The sound of his leather glove-clad
hand squeaking around the stick sounded in the quiet room. If he used the cane, she knew where he would
hit her: her hand.
She could almost feel the sharp stinging pain going up her arm from the expected hit. She found that if she
looked pained, Master Blade inflicted more punishment on her. For that reason, she grunted and groaned
even more. She was tougher than he thought. She could withstand anyone’s punishment.
After a tense second, he let her go and ordered her to go to the kitchen. After kissing the tops of Master
Blade’s booted feet then the hand that held the cane, she stood and went to the kitchen.
She poured iced tea into his glass. Just before going back to the living room where everyone was, she stared
into the glass. Her incessant questioning didn’t stir Master Blade. She needed to do something else.
Glancing around the room, she found a sugar canister. She knew Master Blade liked unsweetened iced tea.
With the ease of a cat burglar, she removed the lid then poured a spoonful of sugar into his tea.
She peered around as though someone had seen the devilish act she did. She stirred the drink with her
index finger then sucked off the excess drink when she was done.
She returned to the living room and set the glass on the coffee table in front of him.
“This Slave has brought you your drink.” She lowered herself onto her knees next to him.
Staring forward, she caught a strange expression on the face of their host, the Mistress of the house who
had always offered to train her. When she turned around, she met face-to-face with her Master’s boot.
Master Blade knocked her to the floor. She didn’t know if the gasps she heard came from the people around
her or if the reaction came from her. When her face crashed against the hardwood floor, she saw stars
flashing in her eyes.
Master Blade reacted faster than she thought he would.
“You know better than to walk around without permission.” Master Blade put the sole of his shoe right on her
face while she was on the floor. “You were supposed to crawl to the kitchen and crawl back, right?”
She pretended to struggle for air, but under his small size seven shoe, she found no problem getting air.
“Yes, uh, sir.”
“Stupid bitch. I don’t know why I keep your ass around, do you?” He pressed down harder.
A fireworks display burst in her eyes from the increased pressure, but still nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Please give me another chance.” Another chance to push your buttons, she thought.
“What did you say? I know I didn’t hear you correctly.”
She swallowed, knowing he picked up her intended error in her statement. “Please give This Slave another
chance. This Slave longs to serve you and only you, Master Blade.” Aside from not following physical
protocol like crawling around the floor, Blade hated when she used the wrong addresses or none at all.
“Blade, please, we’re having a pleasant afternoon.” Mistress Siren’s strong voice resonated even from where
This Slave was on the floor. “I think you’ve disciplined your slave enough.”
“You don’t understand, Siren. This one needs a firm hand.” Master Blade grunted. “If I don’t do this, she’ll be
like a wild, ravenous dog, undisciplined and rough. Besides, I’ve never took you to be the squeamish type.”
“You know better than that.” The indignation came through clearly in Siren’s voice.
“She’s much better than that last slave I had, Lil Mary. This one knows how to take the discipline. She
practically begs for it daily.”
“Then maybe to punish her, you don’t discipline her.”
This Slave gasped. What was Siren advising him? She was fine. The little bit of punishment Blade doled out
she could handle. She was tough. She could handle the beatings. The verbal abuse got to her sometimes,
but she had learned to tune him out…at least she tried to ignore him. Sometimes the words hit harder home
to her than expected.
Blade removed his boot from her face. “Fine. I’ll stop here.”
This Slave rose to her knees, not even daring to wipe her face. It was times like these that she wished she
was back in her full head mask. At least his boot wouldn’t be touching her face directly.
As soon as she positioned herself in he correct spot, Master Blade grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled
her to her feet. Even his small hand pulling on her hair didn’t hurt her as much as it looked. But she put on a
front like he was actually pulling her scalp from her skull.
“We’re going home.” Master Blade yanked her to the closet door.
She was completely nude except for the black leather collar and cuffs she wore. She knew he wanted her to
put on her coat first. Instead she opened the front door, not caring that neighbors could see her nudity. If it
pissed Master Blade even more, then she would be nude in public.
“Blade, please, at least let her get dressed. I have neighbors watching everything that goes on here.”
Mistress Siren stood and attempted to block Master Blade’s path.
“I did push her to the closet. You see. She’s doing this on purpose. She wants me to punish her.” He nudged
her shoulder to spin her around so that she could look at him. “You want my attention? Fine, you got it.
Looks like you’re going to get some time in the drawer.”
More than the boot to the face and the hair pull, she couldn’t do the drawer. Blame it on her claustrophobia.
Maybe it had something to do with her father locking her up in a small closet to discipline her when she was
growing up. Either way, that small, tight, cramped space was not fit to hide sweaters let alone her.
The news of the drawer made her drop to her knees. “Please, Master Blade. Please don’t put This Slave in
the drawer. This Slave promise to behave. This Slave will do whatever you like.”
“You’ll do what I like anyway. You’re wasting time. Get your coat and let’s go.” Master Blade walked out of the
house.
She opened the closet to retrieve her coat. Her clothes, which consisted of a pair of panties, a shirt and
stretch pants all managed to fit in her inside pockets.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. This is what you wanted, right? The rougher the better, right?
She wiped her face before slipping on her coat that, thankfully, covered her body. Before going through the
front door, she dropped down to her hands and knees and crawled to the door. Although she wanted to push
Blade, she hadn’t meant to push him this far. She could withstand anything but that drawer.
With her head hung low, she heard just as she got a foot away from the door, “Slave, if this is not the
treatment you want, please tell us so that we can help you.”
In her life, she’d heard that before. People were always willing to help but no one ever did anything. As
always, she would take care of herself.
Mistress Siren said, “Nod your head if you want help.”
She waited by the door, torn between what she thought was what she needed and what these other folks felt
was right for her. She pushed Master Blade to do this. And she could take anything he dished out.
“Slave?”
A car horn blared, making her jump. She turned to Mistress Siren then lowered her head again before
crawling out of the door.
She crawled over the gravel sidewalk and driveway, the small rocks and pebbles cutting and embedding in
her palms and knees. At the truck, she crawled into the backseat and positioned herself on her stomach as
she’d been trained.
“You know I don’t want to have to discipline you like this all of the time,” Master Blade began. “But you leave
me with no alternatives. Why do you force me to be rough with you?”
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. You 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 was never really sure of his age. Shorter than her five-foot-ten
frame, after they had made a contract that she would serve him almost a year ago, Master Blade demanded
that she either crawl 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 up to his home and demanded for her to get out. As she’d done to get in the truck,
she crawled 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 her coat in the closet.
“To the dungeon, now!” Blade barked.
She jumped, but without hesitation crawled to the dungeon in the den downstairs. Crawling to the center of
the room like always, 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.
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 her 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. I deserve 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. She twirled around and
tried hard to watch 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 the position she was in, she couldn’t see what he was doing.
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.”
“This Slave--”
“Can I call you Daddy from now on?” She knew that would get him. That was one of the items he told her from
the very beginning that he didn’t like.
“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. And you need to discipline me. I need it.” She cleared her throat. “I deserve it.”
But she would never tell him why. Just like when she was younger, she would take it. Just like her mother had
for so many years, taken the abuse.
“Use the safe word.”
The first hit with the wide paddle cut into her thoughts. Again, she yelped and flinched at the hit even though
it came out a lot softer than she knew he could do.
“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 down the hits. I really want to hear you.”
“Yes, Master Blade.”
The next hit came fast but was just as soft as the first hit. The sound of the smack didn’t even echo off of the
dungeon walls.
“Two, my master.”
The one after that was just as easy. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he pushing her like she knew he could?
“Three, my master.”
Master Blade slapped her ass, each hit was now getting more and more intense but still not as hard as he
could have done. When she was first with him, he used to hit her much harder. 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 provoke him.
Her voice remained steady even toward the end of the punishment. She knew he took it light on her today for
whatever reason.
At the last hit, Master Blade came at her full force, hitting her so roughly that it put her body into a full swing.
It was the one and only hit that got her attention. If the entire punishment had been like that, she would have
respected him more.
She’d done it. She bore 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 handjob even though he could never get it
up. That was fine with her. He never pushed her to have sex.
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 did when she’d first met Master Blade and he’d
disciplined her. Something was changing 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 he had under his massive king-sized bed.
So he was going to still do the drawer. She should have figured he would have pushed her even more. And
why not, now that he had her ass good and sore?
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. Each time the experience got no better
for her. Her hands trembled and more sweat formed on her head the longer she stared at the cedar drawer.
“You need help getting inside or can you manage by yourself?” Blade shoved her toward 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 time that was joyous or happy. Not in her childhood, not as a
teenager and definitely not now with Master Blade. Like everything else, this was the hand she was dealt with
in her life. She had to play it.
“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. The last time her legs shook, when Blade slammed the drawer, the top of it banged against her
knees. Considering she did most of her moving around on her knees, the feeling was like torture.
“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 was long enough for her infraction and 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, she struggled to maintain her breath. 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. All she could do was be alone
in the dark with her thoughts.
She had no one to blame but herself. Physical punishment had no affect on her. Blade could tell that.
“Blue,” she whispered to herself.
To her surprise, Blade opened the drawer. His eyes were wide as he stared at her.
“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’s misbehaved and needs to be corrected.” She balled her hands into fists.
“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 outside scene with trees, deep green grass, a lake behind the tree, and a radiant sun. That
was the one thing she missed. Since she was getting disciplined daily, she missed sunrises and sunsets.
Her hands moved over the wood as though she had chalk 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 had, she knew she could last in this
relationship. She would have to. Where else could she go?
Copyright © 2008 by Bridget Midway. All rights reserved.