The Right Thing (5 page)

“Well?”

“I did this. I drove McKenzie away. She could be anywhere. Or dead.”

“Not interested, Michael. It’s done. Figure it out like you’ve
figured everything else out in life challenging you. You can’t grieve and let
her go until you actually accept she’s gone. If she isn’t, then find her. I
know what I’m talking about.”

Michael heard something in Jenifer’s voice at that moment, something
poking through his maudlin state of mind, but still he whined. “I’ve
been
trying.”

“Then try harder. Expand the search. Hire more people. Throw money
at the problem. Ride it until it won’t carry you anymore and then decide. But
you’re a mess, in pieces and you aren’t coordinating things. It’s your job. You
fucked up. Fix it.”

Fuck it.
Trust Jenifer to lay it all out for him. Everyone else close to him
had been kind but kept their distance, probably because this was a side of him
they’d never seen and it scared the shit out of them. He didn’t need people
like that. He needed McKenzie. But he also realized if the same effort had been
made looking for McKenzie as had been made in driving her away his sub would be
home by now. Tied to the bed, plugged in every orifice, marked to his
satisfaction and pleasured to madness.
That
was where she should be. He stood, catching his balance against the weakness
brought on by eating nothing, drinking too much and allowing himself to be less
than a man. Jenifer smiled narrowly and accompanied him to the kitchen. Michael
hoped she would offer to cook him something, but clearly her job was done.
Punching him hard in the shoulder, Jenifer wished him luck and left. He picked
up the phone and ordered in then sat at the granite counter making notes and
outlining his new plan of attack.

* * *
*

Several weeks went by. Michael did some business but mostly rode the
collective asses of the people responsible for keeping the search going, coming
up with different and sometimes creative ideas for them to pursue in his
pursuit of McKenzie. He refused to believe something had happened to his woman,
although the trips to the morgue were horrific. After trip number four, Jenifer
again intervened and insisted DNA testing be done using a profile gleaned from
the hairs taken from McKenzie’s brush. The labs miraculously completed all
testing in record time when properly compensated and if the public sector got
fucked over and had to wait in line he didn’t care. He had the money and the
contacts and used them without a qualm.

The detective agency had a veritable army of people out combing the
shelters and interviewing street people. All the churches and soup kitchens
were posted and visited regularly. People tried hard, some for money, some
because they had soft hearts. Again, he didn’t care. Everything was a means to
an end. He didn’t stop to think about what he’d do when he found McKenzie. He
was just going to find his sub. If she’d left the city then things would get
tougher, but now, in Michael’s head, nothing was
insurmountable
. The search would be expanded at
the end of the week to the areas surrounding the city and he was working on a
contact at the FBI as to how to file a missing person’s report country wide.
That was taking more finesse than anything. Seemed the Feds were less impressed
with money and position.

Michael kept returning to dissect his screw up, though, wishing he
could turn the clock back, but it only served to remind him everyone had limits.
He found the contract McKenzie signed, and burned the damn thing, flushing the
ashes, appreciating that particular symbolism. Why he ever thought they needed
a contract was just a measure of how much he feared his sub’s power and figured
he could manage it with a piece of paper. And he fucking well broke it anyhow! McKenzie
had two established limits. She refused erotic asphyxiation and being handed
over to another, although consented to being shared as long as he was part of
the action. Michael then convinced her to let him erotically choke her, to
trust him with enhancing her pleasure and McKenzie gave over, terrified but
willing and while he didn’t do it often, the act served to underscore his
mastery over his sub.

The fact he chipped away at one limit had stroked his enormous ego
and now made him nauseous to consider that height of arrogance. Because it
really hadn’t been just about his sub. McKenzie completed him and he didn’t
need so many of the trappings. It was for his own sense of security she allowed
it. He knew that now, hindsight being twenty-twenty and insight a lesson hard
learned. At her expense.
God.

The sharing was limited to his stupid whims until he introduced his
sub to Andrew and Joyce. For the first time McKenzie begged a private audience
in the middle of an orgy. She knew what the twins were and sensed they wanted
her, alone; that the sharks were circling. Michael remembered how miserable it
made her to badmouth, however delicately, any of his friends or acquaintances,
to hint he might not have good judgement. His first impulse had been to soothe McKenzie,
reassure her. Instead, because he feared that softer side as it emerged and
grew because of her influence, He brushed her off casually with a flippant
reassurance, and she made herself accept the little he had given. He monitored
the twins’ involvement that night, but they wheedled and manipulated him into
letting them do some things that went past his better judgement. No wonder McKenzie
thought he would turn her over to them. He had failed her then, but she’d
forgiven him, given him another chance.

They’d moved to a place in a corner of the terrace, one actually
isolated from the rest of the group. Michael took on the role of the voyeur,
watching as Andrew staked McKenzie out, hips elevated by a hard leather pallet
beneath her little ass, legs bent and spread. Joyce used clover clamps,
compressing the little gold circlets he’d inserted when he’d had McKenzie
pierced. His sub whimpered at the pressure and pain, and despite the fact her
cunt glossed over with the juices of arousal, her eyes sought his and
telegraphed anxiety. He hadn’t given much back. He simply expected McKenzie to
gain strength from his presence, and she had done so. Andrew ate her pussy
until she screamed in protest at the incessant orgasms and Michael jerked off
to the sights and sounds. He wouldn’t let Andrew fuck her pussy or ass, but
Joyce somehow convinced him that her using a strap on while McKenzie blew her
brother wasn’t the same thing. He could now admit his prurient interests and
attempt to resist McKenzie’s allure contributed to acquiescing. If Michael
thought it would change things, he’d give McKenzie the crop he
favored and bare his backside for her now. But
he had to find her first.

“Really, Michael. I had no idea that you were so attached, my dear.”
Joyce’s upper crust British voice poked his very masculinity, pricked against
his secret awareness of McKenzie’s power over him. He knew he wasn’t attached
in that way to McKenzie; she was his sub and his possession and he got to make
the decisions as to how she was used. He just didn’t want to share two of her
orifices with anyone else. That’s what he tried to convince himself and others.
But Joyce didn’t actually have a cock, although she clearly wished she did.
More of a man than Andrew, in truth, Joyce wore the pants in that sibling
relationship, probably bossing him while still in the womb. Joyce’s hard green
eyes glittered with mirth and something else. Something that made the base of
Michael’s neck tingle in atavistic warning. But the supercilious comment had
the required effect, something he so regretted now.

“Do your worst, Joyce.” The triumph in Joyce’s eyes was quickly
masked and he didn’t know how to take the agreement back without looking weak.
Fucking idiot.

Joyce and Andrew dragged a lounge pad to two posts cemented into the
patio and McKenzie was instructed to kneel between them. Michael took scant
comfort in recalling how he had helped his sub up to make her way to those two
posts, rubbing the life back into her stretched limbs. But he didn’t remove the
clamps. Feeling a bite of misdirected anger at being outmanoeuvred by Joyce
meant taking it out on his woman. McKenzie leaned into him as he escorted her,
and Michael hoped in retrospect he again loaned her his strength because he
didn’t do anything to mitigate McKenzie’s anxiety in any other manner.

Andrew secured her wrists to those posts and Joyce yanked the pad
back until McKenzie was stretched out like a fine elastic band, legs spread
wide. Andrew stepped between the posts and leisurely tapped his latex covered
cock against her lips. The other man was short and enormously broad, nothing
like his twin, his cock a stubby projection of a club. Michael winced at the
width of the shaft then realized it was the distraction Joyce had planned.
She’d strapped a huge dildo around her waist. It glistened with oil, and the
spiky protuberances decorating its surface every inch or so looked lethal.

“Not her ass, Joyce.” Joyce pouted but shrugged, then opened her
hand. A sprig of ginger reposed on her palm. She arched one perfectly plucked
brow and he nodded. McKenzie was in for quite a ride, and the bite of pain
never failed to arouse her.

Joyce knelt between McKenzie’s spread thighs and spread her ass
cheeks to insert the ginger, twisting and twirling the spice to maximize the
effect. McKenzie moaned and her buttocks pushed back. Joyce teased McKenzie’s
folds with the toy and then drove up inside her pussy with sureness and
accuracy. His woman cried out at the invasion and Andrew shoved his cock into
her gaping mouth, right to the hilt. Michael could only imagine the stretching
and the drag against McKenzie’s tender tissues, the torment of her G-spot. The
other revellers gathered around to watch the proceedings and he heard both
murmurs of excitement and a few of concern. Joyce fucked McKenzie relentlessly,
powering in and out, driving McKenzie’s little form forward onto Andrew’s cock
and Michael could hear his sub’s strangled cries even over the slapping sounds
of Joyce’s scrawny belly against McKenzie’s ass.

Michael stepped forward to intervene when Andrew’s face twisted with
pleasure, pulling out to strip the condom and come all over McKenzie’s hair,
face and breasts, effectively marking and humiliating her in front of an
audience. Joyce motioned to Andrew who unfastened the wrist binds. McKenzie
collapsed and Joyce released the strap on, using the strength of wiry arms to
roll Mckenzie over, leaving the toy in place. It protruded from McKenzie’s tiny
pussy like a grotesque parody of manhood, dripping with lube and his woman’s
juices. Joyce knelt over McKenzie’s face and lowered herself, grabbing a dam as
she did so. Michael heard Joyce tell his sub to make it fast or she’d suffocate
her and then he did intervene, shoving Andrew away as the other man reached for
the dildo, clearly intending to work McKenzie over with it again.

Joyce was a little harder to dissuade, and screeched in outrage when
Michael tipped her forward, hauling McKenzie up into his arms, his sub’s face
blank, eyes dazed. No matter all the earlier orgasms, they hadn’t served to
carry her through the tag teaming. He squelched his guilt and concern behind
the premise of aftercare and carried McKenzie inside to remove the ginger and
the dildo, and bathe her. Fucking Joyce used ginger lubricant on the dildo as
well and the burning sensations made McKenzie writhe and whimper. He climbed
into the tub with his sub and fucked her, first pussy then ass, his cock
suffering the burn right along with her. His first taste of shared pain and a
hint of who he’d become. A man in love, regretting massive stupidity on his
part. Not a wealthy, entitled sadist, but a man in love with a woman who was in
service to him. A woman who was masochistic yes, but a woman he didn’t deserve,
who deserved the very best care and domination. That was the signal for all his
defences to start crumbling down as Michael fought a rearguard action, refusing
to surrender.

* * *
*

Michael lay in McKenzie’s bed every night and thought about how he’d
met and taken on the challenge that was McKenzie. He hadn’t even realized he
was looking for one at the time.

It was fifteen months earlier. He was bored. Elspeth, his current
sub, was making those noises and acting in those little ways that told him she
needed to move on. Elspeth hadn’t stayed very long, maybe four months, and
while gorgeous and an accomplished submissive, it was all about her in the end
and Michael wanted it to be about him. He was one selfish guy, and knew that,
but didn’t see any particular problem at the time. In one aborted session with
a shrink he heard things like
benign
neglect, the burden of self at such an early age, formative needs not met
and other such shit. He’d tuned out the way he had because was really quite self-aware.
So he hadn’t been mothered or parented or whatever, and scrambled up pretty
much on his own without guidance or love or discipline, and had everything
handed to him that he wanted. Except he didn’t get what kids really needed. Poor
little rich boy.

And thus he required total control in everything, no, craved
control, desperately needed to fill up his empty, unloved self. Because he
didn’t trust anyone to offer it to him otherwise, let alone provide it. The
kink, the need to inflict pain—erotic pain if one wanted to be PC and fancy
things up a little—totally fit the bill, and finding so many women who wanted
to fulfill and be the recipient of his needs was just the icing on the cake.
His wealth didn’t hurt either in attracting so many. He had embraced the
training and excelled at it, even as he interpreted the rules to suit himself.