Authors: Allyson Young
Michael cut a freaking wide swath until deciding to have a sub move
in with him so he would always have someone available, someone to take with him
on business trips, on vacations, to parties, to host parties—even the vanilla
ones. This saved time and the hassle of shopping for a sub at the clubs, or god
forbid, dating, and was a win-win situation. He interviewed women and checked
them out to see if they met his specifications. If they did, and were
interested, they signed a contract, moved in and were in his service until they
requested release or he released them. If the life was slightly artificial and
lacking in any real emotional component then it was no more than anyone could
expect of a neglected, needy, burdened control freak sadist. So Elspeth moved
on and Michael needed to find him another pain slut, a cum bucket but never a
soul mate. Being so busy trying to fill the empty vessel that was his soul, he
never looked at the man he had become. He hadn’t known any different until McKenzie.
Trolling the clubs didn’t prove fruitful, and he became impatient
and starved for sex and the opportunity to inflict some hurt in the process of
arousing a woman and meeting his own perverted needs. Rory, his best vanilla
friend, mentioned his girlfriend’s roommate in passing, literally a tidbit in
the conversation over a late meal. Rory’s girlfriend
Alexandria
was one of those people who saw
the good in everyone and had been training as a social worker, much to the
consternation of wealthy parents. But they envisioned their child going
overseas as an aid worker or something if they interfered, and hoped social
work would at least keep her home. Alex lived on campus to immerse herself in
the experience and her assigned roommate, also in human services training, was
there on a scholarship.
Rory was looking for somebody to double date with them because
Alexandria
had it in her
head the roommate needed to have a social life. Rory and Alex accepted Michael
and didn’t pay much attention to his issues or cut him much slack because he
was rich. In retrospect, Michael supposed he was seeking, in a very small way,
to become a better person by dint of hanging with them. He and Rory attended
the same ivy league schools and moved in the same circles, though Rory didn’t
subscribe to the same sexual practices. They got along well making Michael
wonder why he didn’t spend more time with him. The answer was clear now. He
resisted frequent contact with good people, people with different values and
components of kindness. That kind of thing felt foreign and uncomfortable until
McKenzie ripped the blinders off.
Michael found it amusing to
agree to a double date, bored and at loose ends, and the gods must have been
howling and rolling around in bouts of considerable mirth, because he laid eyes
on McKenzie and wanted her instantly. And decided to have her.
Alexandria
was still upset
with him to this day over that, claiming he’d robbed the world of a burgeoning
saint in the profession. He expected Alex to cut his balls off when she heard McKenzie
left, that he’d driven her away, but instead Alex rallied for him and used her
contacts in the community to support the search. Alex held his hand too when he
drank himself into a crying jag and never breathed a word to anyone. Maybe if
Alex had been his shrink he wouldn’t be as fucked up and wouldn’t have fucked McKenzie
over.
Fucking hindsight.
Fucking insight.
McKenzie had been wearing a little black dress and black knee high
boots when introduced, glorious dark hair bound in a long plait trailing down
her back, right to the waist. She’d tried to dress up for the occasion but all
Michael could think about was how to dress McKenzie in something more
her
. He also wanted her in no clothes at
all while at home with him, except maybe corsets and fishnets. Michael wanted
to ride her and use that tail of hair as a bridle. McKenzie’s incredible blue
eyes caught all available light, set widely above a straight little nose, beneath
sooty brows. Her mouth was a veritable Cupid’s bow. He didn’t know what she
thought when first laying eyes on him, but perhaps some atavistic response
awoke deep within her, prey recognizing predator, because he distinctly saw McKenzie
shiver and her pupils dilate. The pulse in the base of her neck fluttered
wildly and he’d watched her struggle to take a breath. Honestly, Michael’s
state of mind and body wasn’t so very different from hers, but he had more
experience and control, better managing to hide the reaction.
Michael never thought to take and train a submissive. He thought he
was too lazy. But McKenzie changed all of that. He used his considerable charm
and his cutthroat skills to hone in on McKenzie’s every weakness and insecurity
and seduced her.
It took a few vanilla dates and some equally vanilla sex to lay his
claim so to speak, and then Michael moved in for the kill. McKenzie was a
natural born submissive. Undiscovered and his to train, tweak, and convert to
his service. She needed someone to take charge and rule her life. That was
painfully obvious, given her history and her choice of profession. McKenzie was
a true caregiver and would have worked herself to death helping others. Michael
wanted her to help
him
, dreaming of
all the sexual ways she could do so, never thinking she’d reach him on a very
different level. He decided to unleash McKenzie’s sexuality and make it okay
for her to want what she needed, although yet unaware and innocent. But he
knew.
McKenzie struggled to manage her life even as she seemed to know
what others needed.
Iintuitive
that way, and so had
chosen social work to advocate for others and perhaps even help herself. But it
was a huge burden, and she welcomed his ability to take over. His sub was as
wonderfully twisted and perverted as him, but smarter because she recognized
what they had between them long before Michael did. And he pushed it all away.
Before he could slip into despondency again Michael trotted out some
of his happiest, hottest memories. He skipped over the first few times
together. They were sweet and would probably make great stories for their kids
or grandchildren, but he wasn’t into sweet. Nope, he wanted to remember and
relive the first time McKenzie let him put her into bondage. He was still a pervert
even if he loved her to death.
Michael taught McKenzie how to kneel and present herself, where to
cast her eyes, depending on the situation. She loved to take instruction, and
being told and controlled made her hot, just as carefully administered pain
did.
McKenzie was less than
confident about her body. Breasts too small, ass too big, the whole happy
horseshit of every modern woman. He thought she was perfect. And if he
restricted her junk food caloric intake sometimes, it was because he could and
he did so to remind his sub who was in charge. And show her he was concerned
about her health, incidentally.
McKenzie had the biggest, plum colored aureoles. They dwarfed her
little round breasts and were positively juicy. When erect, the red nipples were
long, almost finger length and perfect for clamping. He was obsessed with those
breasts.
Her ass was a work of art, high, fleshy and heart shaped, a fine
handful for such a slender woman. That ass was his canvas, a work of art in the
making, in the taking. His marks would fade and heal and he could draw a
different picture and pattern time and time again. McKenzie’s full thighs
curved around a tiny,
flavorful
cunt, initially hidden by a thatch of black, silky curls. Michael
had that cunt waxed, assisting in the procedure himself,
reveling
in her shrieks
of pain, knowing she was complying only for him. Sometimes he would wait for the
hair to grow in a little to repeat the process, clamping her clit and using a
vibe on it while the
waxer
stripped her. McKenzie
flowed like a river when he did that and he’d fuck her tender folds until she
came again and again, calling out for him, her Master.
Theirs was truly a relationship of twisted need, but it worked, and
damned if Michael would let anyone judge them. He protected McKenzie from any
hint of censure, even if he hadn’t protected her from himself. They hung with
people like them, but also with vanilla individuals, and no one was allowed to
disrespect his woman for her choices. He supposed that was yet another sign of
his infatuation but he failed to take the hint. Arrogance had a price, one McKenzie
paid.
Michael led her into his bedroom that first real time, leaving all
the lights on, rather than the romantic lighting on the occasions he’d seduced her
vanilla fashion. Giving her time to look around and take in the implications of
what she saw. The room must have looked very different. The eyelets screwed
into the four-poster bed gleamed dully and the restraints no longer reposed
under the mattress. The bed was stripped and ready for action, and a variety of
toys graced the bedside table, right alongside the lube and condoms. McKenzie
dutifully read the various materials he selected for her to gain an
understanding of BDSM and TPE, but theory is always different than the
practice. Michael suspected his woman tackled it in the same manner utilized in
her studies and hadn’t thought about the field work. She froze in place and
trembled in her shoes and he damn near came in his pants. Show time.
“Remove your clothes, sweetheart.”
When she hesitated, Michael gave her the flat of his hand on her
ass, and McKenzie cringed away as it made contact. “Now, sub. I tell you and
you do it without question.”
McKenzie stripped as fast as her shaking hands would allow and
immediately knelt before him. Michael remembered how proud he was of her and
how his heart hitched in his chest. Not that he allowed that reaction to show,
telling himself he expected the correct response and she didn’t need a reward.
Enough he willed it and McKenzie did it for him, to please her Master. That’s
where she would get her gratification. He thought to teach his woman how he
liked his blowjobs that night, just to take the edge off. Bondage really got
him going, almost as much as erotically torturing a sub, and Michael wanted to
be sure he would last when he took her later.
“Take me out.”
Unzipping his pants, McKenzie eased the sections of material apart,
pulling it down over his hips to free his hard cock. The tentative touch of her
small hands with the calloused first and second fingertips nearly undid him and
he snapped directions at her to cover his reaction. “Put me in your mouth, just
the cockhead and place your hands on your thighs. Leave them there. Eyes on
me.”
Michael thought of dentist drills and ice water. He bit the inside
of his cheek when McKenzie tucked him just inside her mouth, opening wide to
accommodate him, those sweet lips closing in a perfect circle. Her eyes widened
and he felt the tentative flicker of her tongue. Grabbing McKenzie’s long
braid, part of his fantasy, he yanked her head forward to distract him from the
innocence. His cock slid deeper and she gagged. He held her in place and
ignored her discomfort. “Relax and don’t fight me. Breathe through your nose.”
McKenzie struggled and moaned and Michael gave up the fight, pumping
twice and flooding down her throat. She choked and gasped but swallowed him
down and one hand crept up surreptitiously to wipe her eyes. Never before had he
lost control like that and the need to punish her for that loss was so strong
he shook with it. Dragging her upwards by her hair, he fairly threw her onto
the bed where she bounced and shrieked in shock. He was on his sub like a
blanket, pinning her with his weight, careless of her comfort. He fixed her with
a glare. “Good girls do what they’re told. Or they get punished.”
The scent of her arousal absolutely permeated the room, a mixture of
tart and sweet, a hint of musk, and it again stripped his control. He flipped Mckenzie
onto her belly and had her tied down, hips raised on a pillow in what felt like
a blink of an eye. But then he’d had a lot of practice. He could hardly wait
until she put herself into position when he demanded she do so. It was a
special effort for a sub to ready herself for punishment, all too easy for one
to be forced into position because then they could blame the Dom. No, Michael
insisted they take that responsibility themselves. It made submission so much
sweeter.
“Do I get a safe word?”
Michael was flummoxed. McKenzie had picked that up in her reading.
He didn’t want her to have a safe word. He wanted her to trust him to know how
far he could push and punish her. But it was too soon to ask, so instead he
breathed through the disappointment and told her to choose.
“Bongo.”
“Bongo?”
“That’s the name of my childhood stuffed toy. I won’t forget it and
it’s not something I will say without knowing why.”
Michael patted her ass and went to choose his instrument, deciding
on the paddle as an initiation. He planned to tell McKenzie a number but in the
end chose to administer as many smacks as he wanted to. And he wanted to beat
her ass raw just because he could. Warming her up with a few fairly gentle
blows on the fullness of each buttock caused her to hiss, flinching and
gasping, and then he began to deal them out in earnest. She whined a little and
then cried out, sobbing and begging him to stop, which only served to spur him
on.