There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, "I have an idea but Jean might not like it," he finally said...
"What's your idea?" she asked.
"Call her ex."
"Who...Dalton; what could he do that you can't?"
"Are you kidding? Dalton has his own little band of marauders there, honey. Dave Wyland and him go way back, and that reporter buddy of his has more angles than an erector set."
"Who's Dave Wyland?" asked Bel.
"He's a sergeant with the Arlington Hills force; he was in on Jean's arrest. Honey, if those three put their heads together I wouldn't want to be the guy they were after."
"Hold on, honey," Bel said looking across the table at her friend. "He says to call Dalton."
Jean's eyes got big as saucers. "No," she said emphatically, "No, I don't want to get him involved, he could get hurt, Bel; absolutely not!"
"Honey," Bel said back into the phone, "she doesn't want to get him involved; she's afraid he'll get hurt."
"Ask her how he's going to feel if something happens to her and he finds out he might have been able to help." Bel had turned the phone on speaker so Jean could hear her husband.
"I don't care," she said. "He has a beautiful wife and new baby...no, I won't get him mixed up in my mess."
Bel could see the bruises on Jean's wrists; she didn't care what her stubborn friend said, something had to be done. "Would you call him?" she asked her hubby.
"Me, yeah I'll call him..."
"No!" he heard Jean scream into the phone.
"Honey, you need help; let Dave call him and just discuss it with him," Bel told her. "Dalton's a big boy, he can take care of himself." Jean held her head down and began to cry. "Dave, call him; tell him Jean's in trouble and just see what he says."
"Will do, honey; in the meantime she needs to find a safe place to stay," he told her.
"What about her folks, them too?"
"Yeah, them too," he sighed, "When is she going to see this guy again, does she know?"
"Yeah, he told her he wouldn't be around until next weekend again."
"Okay, at least that gives us a little time; tell her to hang in there, we won't let anything happen to her or her parents."
When Jean heard him over the speaker she cried from a mixture of fear and relief. The waitress came over to see if everything was okay. Bel explained she just got some good news and she was crying out of happiness.
Jean really didn't want Dalton involved but she sure would feel better if she knew he would agree to help her; she'd always felt so safe when she was with him.
Dalton was in the middle of shooting photos for a brochure he was producing for one of the larger down town hotels; he was just about to break for lunch when his phone rang.
"Hello, Dalton Conrad," he said not recognizing the number.
"Hi, Dalton, it's Dave Quinn, how are you?"
"Hey, Dave, long time no see; I'm doing good, how about you?"
"Good, thanks; Dalton, Jean is in trouble."
"What do you mean in trouble, what kind of trouble?"
"She's gotten herself mixed up with some guy, and...well, he beat her up, pretty badly from what Bel tells me."
Dalton felt his blood coming to a boil. In his mind there was no bigger coward than a man who hits a woman, any woman!
"Where is she; is she in the hospital?"
"No, no, he didn't hurt her that bad, she's just pretty well bruised up and sore, she missed work yesterday but she's there today," he reassured Dalton.
"Who is this asshole?"
"It's some guy she met at one of those bondage meetings, I think they call'em sloshes. Anyway, from what Bel tells me, the guy had been a real gentleman for the first month or so; Jean even took him to dinner with her folks; then he just went off the deep end; he held her captive in his apartment all last weekend. Bel says he tied her up then put a noose around her neck before beating her; Jean said she thought he was going to kill her."
"SHIT!" Dalton yelled out. He had to take a deep breath and try to calm himself before speaking again. "Are you going to pick that asshole up?"
"I'm afraid it's not that easy, my friend. He made all kinds of threats, not only toward Jean but her parents as well. He has her so terrified she won't sign a complaint. I already checked for any warrants on the guy but he's as clean as a whistle."
"So what do we do? What do you suggest? I suppose I could go over to his place and have a nice friendly talk with him."
"Well actually Jean wants you to stay out of it; she's afraid you'll get hurt, but..."
"She knows me better than that," he retorted angrily. "She knows how I feel about guys who hit women. Where the hell does this guy live?"
"Well, it might not be that easy..."
Dave explained that Kevin had threatened Jean, saying he had friends who would beat and rape both her and her parents if anything happened to him or if he went to jail.
"That's why I thought of calling you; I thought maybe you and that reporter buddy of yours could come up with some way to scare this guy off. I don't know if he really has friends like he said or not, but I don't think we can take a chance. I know Bel wants me to put them all under police protection but I can't do that."
"No, of course not," Dalton replied.
"Okay listen, he told Jean he wouldn't see her again until the weekend so you've a few days to figure something out. Now, if there's anything I can do...within the law that is, I'd be more than happy to help."
"Thanks, Dave, I appreciate that and I appreciate you telling me about this."
They ended the call. Dalton went down to the hotel's restaurant to grab a bite and thought. As long as she was in no immediate danger he would first talk to his wife before getting implicated in Jean's troubles. He didn't think she would have a problem but he was not going to keep anything from her.
That night, after putting the baby to bed, Dalton sat down to tell Tracy about his conversation with Dave Quinn.
"Oh, honey, that's terrible; you have to help her," volunteered Tracy before he even had a chance to ask.
Dalton smiled at his lovely wife. "Thanks, babe, I was hoping you'd feel like that; you won't mind then?"
"Mind? Of course I don't mind; are you kidding, you can't sit by and let that poor girl get beat up, my God that's dreadful."
Dalton leaned in and gently placed a kiss on his wife's lips. "You're something else, you know that? I love you so much," he told her before kissing her again.
Together they walked up the stairs. When they reached the bedroom Dalton took her in his arms; he stared into her loving eyes and tenderly joined their lips together for the third time, "Don't move a muscle," he whispered in a soft, but controlling voice as he broke the kiss.
Tracy knew what that meant; her heart always beat faster when he used that tone with her, it was not the voice of her loving husband, but that of her loving Master. "Yes, Sir," she breathed.
Boldly projecting his dominant persona, Dalton slowly unbuttoned the blouse of his love slave. Her body trembled with anticipation as he sensuously removed her clothing, one article at a time.
"On the bed," he demanded of his naked submissive, "You know the position."
Tracy lay on back with arms and legs spread to the corners of her soon-to-be vehicle of imprisonment. Her breathing became more erratic as her captor secured the soft, velvet ropes to her outstretched limbs.
"Lift your head for me."
As she complied he slipped on her blindfold and positioned it over her eyes. He slowly bent down and allowed their lips to touch, ever so lightly.
Unable to see, Tracy's other senses were heightened. She felt the weight of his body lift from the bed and heard the rustling of what she imagined to be her Master undressing. She could smell the fragrance of her own excitement as she listened for clues and tried to anticipate his next erotic move.
Barely audible were his steps on the thick carpet as he approached; electric shocks of ecstasy shot through her body as she felt the soft, luxurious fur of her Master's Mink glove caressing her ankle. Tracy moaned with delight as his silky smooth hand traveled a seemingly aimless course up her leg, teasing and soothing along its journey; her body writhed under his touch as he explored every erogenous, sexually charged part of her beautiful skin. Her mind screamed in rapture as the lush splendor of the mitten floated over her sensitive nipples then continued on its circuitous way to the gates of heavenly bliss.
After losing herself in several orgasms there was a short pause before her loving Master's lips replaced his hand; he nipped at her hard nipples. Wave after wave of pleasure wafted over her body. His soft lips roamed the hills and valleys of her nakedness; she cried out with carnal hedonism as his tongue found the entrance to her deliciously wet slit.
She wanted to beg him to enter her, but he was Master and she knew better than to place demands on him.
Just when she thought he would drive her totally insane she felt him moving into position; his strong arms straddled her body, she could sense him hovering overhead. Her hips pushed forward to meet the powerful cock that tapped at the entrance to that which was his and his alone. With one smooth stroke he was in; her frenzied screams of passion were all he demanded of his slave. Together they would recommit themselves to the love, respect, and honor they shared. She could feel him stiffen and knew he would join her in another mind-numbing trip to paradise.
