The Penance of Black Betty

             
The Penance

             
Of

             
Black Betty

             
By Kelli Maine

              Published by Kelli Maine

              First Edition: November, 2013

              Visit Kelli Maine’s official website at

              www.kellimaine.blogspot.com

              for the latest news, book details, and other information

              Copyright © Kelli Maine, 2013

              This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

              All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

              To the Pretty Boy fans. Thank you!

             
www.DollsAndDoms.blogspot.com

             
ONE

              He was there.

              She could feel him.

              Bethany ran from him enough times to trust her instincts about her ex, and her instincts were screaming that he was there.

              She dug her phone from the front pocket of the ostentatious Chanel Alistair bought her before setting the bag down on the console table in his massive foyer. It was dark and she hadn’t listened to Alistair when he told her to leave a light on inside. He was out of town filming Hues of Black and Blue in Seattle for the next two weeks before he got a break and came home to LA.

              Now she was regretting every second she spent talking him into taking the part opposite his ex-fiancé Heather Winston. He’d be home right now if she hadn’t opened her big mouth.

              The security display on the box on the wall was blinking. Had the police been contacted?

              She should turn and run, but knew he’d only make her regret it if he caught up to her.

              He always caught up to her.

              Her phone rang.
Master and Servant.
Her ex’s ringtone. It echoed through the big, open space.

              She tapped the green button on her screen to answer, but didn’t say anything.

              “Bethy…” Her ex’s sing-song nickname for her. “Bethy, baby, I came to take you home.”

              She jabbed the end call button and willed herself not to panic. There had to be a way out of this.

              “You’re supposed to say, yes sir!” he yelled, his voice sending slivers of panic up her spine.

              Damn high ceilings. She couldn’t tell where he was—upstairs, downstairs, hell he could be right behind her in the hallway and she wouldn’t know.

             
Run
. Her subconscious screamed, but the muscles in her legs had tensed and her feet were frozen to the floor.

             
Move.

              She couldn’t. Her mind was too busy reeling, playing back the images of abuse, conjuring phantoms of pain from lashings and beatings that left her scarred and bruised. She’d barely escaped Florida with her life ten years ago.

              Now she’d have to fight to live again, just when she found something worth living for.

              Sure and steady footsteps sounded from the stairs. He wasn’t even trying to sneak up on her. He knew she wouldn’t run. He knew…too much about her. He’d forced his way inside her head and claimed a section of her mind for his own. That real estate lay dormant for so long, she forgot it was tainted and twisted. But now she remembered. That part of her was alive and programed to respond to him.

              He came into view, standing in the archway between the great room and the hallway, standing with arms spread and a grin on his face. “There she is. It’s been a long time.” He spun in a circle, taking in the grand expanse of Alistair’s mansion. “You’ve done well for yourself. I’d say I was proud, but…” he shrugged and started toward her, slack-hipped and confident, “we both know how you got here, don’t we? On your back.”

              He stopped when he reached her and stared down at her with his hard, crazy eyes. She could tell he was still doing drugs. When she’d left him, it was heroin, but God only knew what he was into now.

              His jeans were filthy and his gray t-shirt had pit stains. He looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks.

              How could she have ever been married to this man? How could she have had such little self-respect?

              Ten years at Dolls & Doms had cured her of that—mostly. What the club hadn’t cured, Alistair had.

              If she was such a different woman now, then why was she standing there like a statue waiting for him to hurt her?

              His eyes roamed her body. “A little more meat on your bones now. I guess that’s to be expected with a woman in her thirties.” He grabbed her ass and squeezed, hard enough to leave a black and blue thumb print.

              Bethany grabbed his forearm and tried to pull his hand away. In a flash, his hands were around her neck, tightening and shaking. “You forget your place—on your knees at my feet.” With force she hadn’t been subjected too for a decade, he shoved her to the floor. Her knees hit the tile at the same time his fist hit the side of her face with a sharp crack.

              Spots flickered and spun in front of her eyes and a pitiful whimper left her throat.

              He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. “Look at me.” She wouldn’t. She kept her eyes as low as she could, focused on the wall behind him—on the flashing security screen. “Look at me!” He yanked hard. Her scalp burned blazing hot, then cold and numb.

              She darted her eyes to his, glazed and jumping around in his head. He was high. He might not even remember this.

              She should fight. Her hands were free, but she knew he’d kill her if she provoked him. When he got in one of his rages, he couldn’t stop himself. It was like a trance and he didn’t come out of it until she was unconscious.

              Bethany didn’t want to set him off. Didn’t want to chance it.

              Didn’t want to die.

              Not here in Alistair’s foyer. Not like this. Not at all.

              “Where’s your collar?” He yanked her hair again. “I didn’t tell you to take it off.”

              Her mind worked double-time. “Upstairs. I can—let me get it. I’ll put it on.”

              He pulled her to her feet by her hair. “Go.” He shoved her forward, holding on, making her scalp scream in protest. She stumbled toward the stairs. He practically pushed her up to the top.

              Bethany led him down the hallway to the double master bedroom doors at the end. Inside the bedroom, he let her go. “Get it and put it on. Now.”

              She rushed to Alistair’s chest of drawers, knowing what she was about to do would seal her fate, but also prove her independence from her past. She’d moved on and he needed to let her go.

              After finding the red leather collar with the black initials A.I. in the center that she gifted Alistair for Valentine’s Day as a sign of being completely his, she buckled it around her neck and turned to face her ex.

              His eyes narrowed, focused on the collar. “That’s not your fucking collar! Get that fucking thing off!” He grasped it, digging his fingers underneath the leather and twisting. Her airway was blocked. She grabbed his hand, trying to get free. He twisted harder, grimacing as he watched her flail for air.

              The room was dark, but getting even dimmer. Her thoughts were hazy. Suddenly, he let go.

              Bethany gasped and coughed, falling to her knees taking great breaths of air into her lungs.

              “I never released you,” he said, monotone and free of emotion. “Yet you put on another man’s collar.” He knelt in front of her, meeting her eyes. “You know what that means.”

              She winced and cringed away as he nodded and smiled. “Punishment, my dear.”

              Bethany saw his fist from the corner of her eye, but didn’t have time to react before it made contact with her temple. Her eyes closed and she fell to her side, feeling blood trickle from the cut on her head onto the plush carpet. He bashed his fists into her over and over. When she was bloody and barely conscious, he whispered in her ear. “You belong to me. Don’t ever forget it again.”

              Then his foot crashed into the back of her head and everything went black.

             
TWO

              Why the bloody hell wasn’t Bethany answering her phone? The security company had left him three messages by the time he got off set and checked his voicemail.

              “Answer!” he shouted into the phone while it was ringing.

              The security company had sent a police cruiser out to the house, but he hadn’t heard back from them yet. He hung up on Bethany’s voicemail—he’d already left her a handful of messages—and dialed the security number. It rang once when his call waiting beeped in.

              He clicked over and answered in a rush.
“This is Alistair Ingram—hello?”

              “Mr. Ingram, this is Officer Patterson with LAPD. We responded to an alarm at your residence this evening and found a Bethany Stavars--”

             
“Is she okay?”
He had to sit down. He couldn’t think clearly. Please, for the love of all that’s holy, make her okay.

              “She was found unconscious, in need of medical attention. She’s been transported to Good Samaritan Hospital.”

              He let his mouth drop open. “Unconscious? What happened to her?”

              “It appeared to be an assault that resulted from a break in.”

              “A break in,” Alistair repeated, trying to get his brain to catch up with his on-edge nerves and palpitating heart.

              “There was no vandalism and all major electronics seem to have been left behind. We’ll need you to take inventory and file a report on what was taken, but it doesn’t look like much if anything.”

              “They left everything…and hurt Bethany.” His mind whirled. “Her ex,” he blurted. “Had to be.”

              “Mr. Ingram?”

              “She has an ex-husband who tracked her down in Las Vegas last year. He broke into her condo there and destroyed it. He used to call and threaten her. He hasn’t bothered her recently, but it’s not a secret that I’m filming in Seattle.”