“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.
Michael thought McKenzie might call time and use her safe word but she didn’t and instead slipped into subspace with a little sigh and a cease in movements and sounds, boneless. He rubbed the delightfully reddened ass and slipped his hand between her thighs to slide through the copious moisture. Finger fucking her with one and then two digits hard and fast, he sought out her G-spot. McKenzie humped his hand as much as the position would allow and wailed out her orgasm. He’d hardened again, the sight of her bound and taking punishment so beautifully aroused him to extreme heights. Pulling on a condom, he thrust in against the clenching of her channel, battering her into the mattress with his passion, her hot ass spurring him on, and collapsed with a final outpouring that emptied his balls and his brain. And that was the start of it, Submissive Training 101. Michael was never certain who passed that initial test.
Chapter Four
The days kind of ran into one another. ’Kenzie would get up before anyone else, use the tiny bathroom assigned to her room and get dressed for work. She would head downstairs and take her place at the table. Mrs. Wu would solemnly serve green tea and, incongruously, a bowl of porridge laden with brown sugar and cinnamon, a jug of milk on the side. She wasn’t certain if that’s what Mrs. Wu and her family ate for breakfast, or if it was just the older woman’s idea of what non-Chinese-Americans ate for breakfast. The language barrier precluded any real discussion, and it really didn’t matter. McKenzie found the cereal filling and didn’t need to eat as much at lunch. She had to pinch pennies and there were no benefits for people paid under the table. Eventually she would need to see a doctor or a dentist, and while there were some free clinics, medications were never free. Not that she would ever complain. She had a job, a safe place to live and enough money to get by on if she wasn’t extravagant. He had seen to it that medical and vision care was taken care of, so McKenzie figured she was okay for at least a year on that front if illness didn’t hit. That bridge would get crossed if she came to it.
McKenzie had become used to the work by now, even the continual standing, and no longer fell into bed shortly after the dinner eaten with her landlady and several chattering children. That meal was far more traditionally Chinese and while there were things served probably better left unknown, she became adept with chopsticks and enjoyed the food and the company. Several of the children spoke excellent English and she hoped they translated her comments accurately. Mrs. Wu’s demeanor never changed, always patient and stoic, unquestioning. She had no idea where Mr. Wu was, and didn’t inquire, respecting Mrs. Wu’s privacy as the other woman presumably respected hers. The landlady might discuss her in detail and at length, but McKenzie would hardly know. All in all, she couldn’t have asked for a better option, having run away and luckily found herself in a situation where she’d been absorbed and accepted without apparent question. She toyed with the idea that maybe someone watched over her despite recently leading such a depraved lifestyle or maybe because of it. The idea helped with the resolution not to think about it or crave that lifestyle. Or him.
McKenzie played games with the children in the evenings or read to them. Mrs. Wu’s eyes would rest on them and ’Kenzie thought those dark orbs warmed a fraction. If the kids were otherwise occupied, she would read in the bedroom, having found a fellow book addict in Lisa. Lisa loaned her every novel she read, and McKenzie found herself reading all manner of subjects. She could lose herself in those books and they too kept her from thinking too much and remembering. The romance was sweet, so she didn’t find herself drawing comparisons. And if the happily ever afters were predictable, well, then, all the better.
McKenzie and Donna went out after work on occasion, sometimes for coffee, sometimes for a drink, although ’Kenzie steered clear of beer since that first time. They always got together on neutral territory, never at one another’s homes. She knew she could hang out far more often with Donna, but found it too difficult to share much of herself. That felt too unnerving, and she couldn’t consider how the other woman might respond to her past life with him, even if she could bring herself to confide. Donna, however, had no such qualms about sharing burdens.
“I never see the old lady and I never knew the sperm donor.”
Donna’s earthy, frank comments never failed to take McKenzie aback, just a little. And the way Donna said things like that, as though she’d figured things out and came to accept them, made her admire the other woman a lot. McKenzie’s own childhood hadn’t been stellar. Her dad died shortly after she’d been born and her mom absolutely needed all the attention she could get, with none left over for her children. But there had been just enough money to get by and a roof over their heads each night. And aunts and uncles were there for her, as well as three older brothers when they could be, as were various neighbors and teachers. Considering some of the things Donna hinted at, well, McKenzie thought she really shouldn’t criticize her earlier life even if it manifested in a total need to be cared for and every aspect of her life controlled. Although, chances were she wouldn’t have figured that out if it hadn’t been for him. There was a bitter aftertaste to that thought. Unfair. But then, life wasn’t fair.
Donna was continuing, her tone less bitter, but still morose. “But me and my brothers are tight. We had to be growing up. They live around here and now they’re there for me. It’s probably because they weren’t when I was younger and I don’t hesitate to use their guilt to my advantage!”
Donna told her she was easy to talk to, that she listened, and the broad hint couldn’t be ignored. McKenzie took a breath. “Sounds like you needed them when you were younger.”
“I needed somebody to fend off the old lady’s boyfriends, is what I needed. Or for her to step up.” The flat statement held a wealth of darkness but no real emotion.
“I’m sorry.” She was, and angry too. Children were so vulnerable. McKenzie knew that well, although no one had messed with her even if her mother’s lack of interest still hurt. She had big brothers too, but all of them had enlisted and were stationed all over the world. They wouldn’t have allowed their sister to be with him had they been in closer proximity, or if she’d kept in regular contact. But McKenzie was determined to be independent and make something of herself, hence the scholarships and social work school. And look at what she’d become.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m sorry too. The school counsellor said it fucked my head up. Made me cut and eat myself nearly to death. I quit the hurting but I kind of like my size. No one messes with me for the most part.”
“You mean guys leave you alone because you’re overweight?”
“Mostly. And the freaks who like fat women are easy to spot.”
McKenzie heard the pain then, the very real echo, and this time didn’t hesitate. “You want more in your life. You want a good man, maybe children.”
Donna stared for a ten count and tears flooded the big, brown eyes, spilling over to track down round cheeks, glossing the fine, smooth skin. “Sometimes. But kids deserve better than me and a man would be just a means to that end.”
They sat in silence for a long time after that poignant statement before Donna raised her eyebrows. Gulping in more air, McKenzie found the courage. “I want kids too. But I can’t even look after myself. And I don’t want a man.” I just want him.
“Well, I guess the
n we’re both shit out of luck, ’Kenzie. Lucky us. S’okay. At least we have our health!”
McKenzie found herself gaping at Donna’s last comment and dissolved into laughter. Big, breathless, gasps of giggles and chortles. Donna brayed her own mirth. McKenzie felt the tears start without volition, followed by deep sobs. Pawing a handful of napkins from the holder she frantically mopped at the moisture, struggling to contain herself. Donna awkwardly patted a shoulder and she managed to settle.
“I guess that’s enough best friend shit for today, ’Kenzie. We gotta have a time where we can just have some fun. Maybe we can go see a movie or something.”
“That’s probably safe. But, Donna? I’m trying to be a friend, but I don’t know that I really know how to be one.”
“Takes practice I guess. Like everything else. I already told you more shit than I’ve told anybody. You a shrink, down on your luck?” Donna gave a snort of laughter.
“No, but I was studying social work.”
Donna reared back like she’d been struck. “Social work? Fuck me, ’Kenzie. I was just kidding with the shrink comment! You probably need to be social worked yourself considering how you arrived at the Lees. You’re like the total mystery woman. Although, you do have a way of listening and making a person comfortable. But not sharing back. Did they teach you to do that?”
“That might be part of it, Donna, but mostly it’s just because I get a bit freaked out. I have trust issues.”
It was Donna’s turn to laugh to the point of tears. “No shit, ’Kenzie. Trust issues? Honey, we all got trust issues. Whatever.”
McKenzie thought she was getting ever closer to unburdening herself a little with Donna, but what would she say? That she fell in love with a charming sadist who awakened her masochistic self? And that he fell so in love with her it made him nuts? That ’Kenzie would never equate sexual pleasure with anything else now? That she would do anything and everything for him, even if it meant total subjugation, maybe even her own destruction as a sentient being? That she had no sense of purpose or ambition without him aside from working at the dry cleaners to keep basic body and soul together? And that her heart was broken and her soul shrivelled?
What would be the reason for telling Donna any of that? Would it change anything? Would sharing make McKenzie feel better, find a better way to cope? Or would Donna shun and out her for the pervert the rest of the world would see her as? McKenzie wondered about taking the chance, if it would be good to have a friend to support her. God, she hoped so. McKenzie admitted she was lonely. Maybe it was a sign she was healing, and might have a life without him. No.
“I guess I need some time.”
Donna made one of those famous shrugs at McKenzie’s lame answer but didn’t press and life went on as she now knew it.
Chapter Five
The news came from an unexpected quarter. Leave it to Jenifer. The twit didn’t call him. No, she drove over and burst through the apartment door to deliver the news, the better to savor the response, and Michael didn’t begrudge her. Jenifer had been forced to pick up her own dry cleaning because her personal assistant had the nerve to succumb to the flu and take to a sick bed for a few days. She required a particular dress for a party and when she hadn’t found the garment in the closet called the PA, determining it was at the drycleaners. That created something tantamount to a Middle East crisis, and Jenifer had her driver stop by on the way home from the office the following day.
Michael suffered through his cousin’s saga, knowing something of utmost importance would be revealed in the punch line. Jenifer didn’t disappoint. Why she went into the store was still unknown when normally Ms. Princess would have sent a lackey in to pick it up. Was it fate? Karma? Serendipity? Didn’t matter. Jenifer probably swept in like royalty and demanded her property, expecting the serfs’ instant accommodation. The slight delay gave Jenifer time to check out the joint with a no doubt disdainful gaze, and who was working at a little table, hands doing some kind of complicated thing with some gauzy fabric? His sub. McKenzie.
Michael had no memory of crossing the room or of taking his cousin by the shoulders and shaking Jenifer until her up do came down. The impact of the stiletto on his toes brought his attention back in short order.
“Where?”
Michael didn’t recognize his voice. The word erupted from somewhere in the middle of his chest or a little lower, and was painfully quiet, if chock full of some kind of emotion he didn’t stop to analyze. Jenifer actually stepped back a pace and regarded him with what looked a little like consternation. This was clearly a big learning curve for both of them.
“I’ll take you. I have no idea of the address but Gerald will drive us. I slipped out before she noticed me so she wouldn’t run again.”
Michael didn’t want to go with Jenifer. He wanted to go by himself and make a plan. But maybe this was better. He wouldn’t get too crazy if Jenifer was with him, and McKenzie might feel reassured if she saw his cousin too. He would sweep McKenzie up in his arms like the Prince did with Cinderella and bring his woman back home. That was the real royal equation. Jenifer would pat McKenzie’s hand or something and tell her it was for the best. He was suddenly adrift on hope and, with what he hoped would be to his everlasting credit, his cock took a backseat to his heart.
Nodding, he followed his cousin out of the apartment without any regard for his appearance, clambering into the limo. Gerald pulled out into traffic and despite Michael’s raving hurry, got them there in a remarkably short period of time. McKenzie was hiding in plain sight. His heart pounded so hard he was certain the windows were vibrating in concert with the thumping and it hurt to breathe. His sub was alive and he would go in and find her there and she would run to him and apologize for worrying him and he would take her home and punish her and propose to her and it would all turn out. He walked through the door with Jenifer hard on his heels and the fantasy all went to shit.
He saw her immediately. McKenzie raised her head in response to the weight of his stare, not, he was certain, as a result of the little tinkling bell over the door. He never wanted to see that look again, although knew he’d see it in his sleep for decades to come, a poignant reminder whenever he fucked up. The blood drained from his woman’s face and even her lips looked colorless. Eyes resembling nothing less than starburst sapphires shone above the dark circles etching the fine skin beneath them, dominating her sweet face. McKenzie looked absolutely exhausted, thin, totally beautiful and horrified and his sadist didn’t respond an iota, not even when her expression turned to abject terror. Her small hands came away from the heavy iron she’d been pushing along some fabric to lift in front of her, as if to ward off evil. Sweet lips parted and even with the cacophony of sounds in the shop he swore he could hear McKenzie suck in a gulp of air with the intensity of being administered last rites. She began to back away, body trembling, even hidden from view as it was beneath some kind of white smock.
A little Chinese woman shrieked something, breaking the spell, diving for the iron beginning to smoke against the material it rested on. The grey, curling vapor added to the bizarre affect and Michael wondered if the sprinkler system would engage and cast a further pall over the whole scenario. The woman waved her hands frantically and distracted him for a moment. When he looked again at McKenzie she was clutching the circular rack from which all kinds of clothing hung, and he could see her white knuckles even from his position on the other side of the counter.
Pushing through the opening by the cash register, he slowly approached his terrified sub, never breaking eye contact, broken but gentle words falling from his mouth, trying to reassure McKenzie so she wouldn’t run, to ease the look on her face. A large woman stepped between them, followed by a man a quarter of her size, presumably the other half of the woman now brandishing the iron, and he halted.
“McKenzie. Please.” He didn’t think he had ever pleaded with her before but would crawl through broken glass, through fire if need be. “I’d like to talk to you
.”
“This the guy who fucked you up, ’Kenzie?” The female wrestler tossed the question over a broad shoulder in McKenzie’s direction, no doubt wanting to toss him out the door on his ass.
“We don’t talk that way in my shop, Donna,” admonished the Chinese man in a marked Texas drawl, which threw Michael for a moment. And then the other man turned to him, fixing a look better suited to a fellow toting a six gun. “What do you want here, sir? I am Mr. Lee. This is my shop.”
Michael could feel Jenifer behind him, all agog. His cousin wasn’t used to anyone standing in her way, and Jenifer always initiated any confrontation. He was the same, but these people were clearly championing his sub and he was smart enough to know alienating them could cost him. So he retreated back behind the counter and tried to look as normal and yet as powerful as he could, donning the mantle of authority that came so easily. The Amazon didn’t look impressed, and the little Chinese woman joined her husband, still clutching the iron. Yet another woman, this one small like ’Kenzie, but resolute, moved to stand beside his recalcitrant sub, resting a hand on McKenzie’s arm in a gesture of reassurance. Stand off.
“I’ve been looking for McKenzie for months and just want to talk to her.”
“Well, I guess that would be up to ’Kenzie, now wouldn’t it?” Donna was overtly hostile. He wondered what McKenzie had told her.
Clearly, he hadn’t made a good impression. Michael appealed to Mr. Lee with a look, mano a mano, but received a blank stare. His wife spoke to him in their language and the other man broke eye contact for a moment before resuming his intent look. Michael managed not to fidget, striving for a calm and reassuring demeanor. Mr. Lee nodded and turned to Michael’s woman who sheltered from his gaze, taking cover behind them. What the fuck did she think he was going to do to her? Well, he guessed he knew the answer to that. Feeling sick he sucked air to will the nausea back.
The Right Thing Page 5
