Page 12 of The Facilitator, Part 2

We ate a starter of seared scallops in the lightest lemon sauce.

This was followed by venison accompanied, finally, with the red wine.

Both dishes were mouth-watering and I declined a dessert.

As the meal had progressed, so my nerves had ramped up a little.

Mackenzie had mostly chatted throughout dinner, although he’d said nothing about our evening to follow, of course.

I’d mostly just listened. I didn’t trust my voice not to squeak, such was the level of my anticipation.

I just wanted for us to move on to the next stage.

“I can tell you are anxiously waiting for what comes next,” he said, lifting a coffee cup to his lips.

“I am, I’m excited for whatever you have planned.”

“I like to hear that you’re excited. It proves you trust me.”

“I do, completely. I know you’ll catch me, Mackenzie, always.”

He didn’t answer, but I saw him swallow hard.

It wasn’t difficult to know how much he loved me.

He often told me how overwhelmed he felt by the depth of feeling he had for me, and I swelled with both pride and anxiety at that.

It was a weight on my shoulders to know he loved me so much, and I was fearful of disappointing him one day.

He placed his cup down and stood. He held out his hand and I placed mine in his palm.

As we left the room, he was handed a key: a large brass key with a red silk woven tassel.

We climbed the wide and sweeping staircase, still holding hands until we reached the first landing.

At that, I had to let him lead the way. We turned left, a route I had taken before.

Although I wasn’t sure of the exact room I’d visited before, I thought it was the one after the door we stopped at. That meant…I sucked in a breath.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked, before he placed the key in the lock.

“I think so, yes.”

“Do you want to enter?”

He was asking my permission and confirming I was ready.

I paused for a moment, wetted my lips, and felt every muscle in my stomach flutter at the thought.

“I do,” I said, firmly.

“I fucking love you,” he whispered before kissing me briefly.

The lock disengaged with a firm clunk. The heavy door swung open and I stepped into a room I’d seen before.

To one side was a large wooden cross; in the middle of the room was a leather bench, wide enough to lie on.

I noticed hooks on each wooden leg. Against one wall was a long cabinet.

I knew it would hold drinks and various implements, and I knew Mackenzie would have requested the contents in advance.

Against the other wall, the one I stood and looked at, was a pair of very heavy velour red curtains.

Each had a gold braid and tassels down the edge.

I looked up. Above that was a red light.

The only thing new was a wide, stainless steel metal beam that went from ceiling to floor just a few feet away from the curtains.

“The curtains were on the other side, weren’t they?” I asked.

“They’re on both sides. They may just have been open before. Can I pour you a drink, Lauren?” he asked.

“I think I might need a very large whiskey,” I replied with a nervous chuckle.

“One small whiskey on its way. You can’t give me consent if you’re drunk,” he said.

I wanted to reply I’d meant what I’d said as a joke, but it didn’t seem to matter.

He stood in front of me with two small crystal cut glasses after pouring from a matching decanter.

I raised the glass to my lips and drank it in two gulps.

The hot liquid burned my throat, and I appreciated the diversion from the heat that had started to travel over my body.

More so when I saw the red light illuminate.

“You can’t see through the glass, okay?” he whispered, and he took the glass from my hand. I visibly shook.

He pulled the curtains and all I could see was a mirror.

My image stared back at me. I could do that.

As long as I couldn’t see them, I was fine.

Knowing there was someone, or many people, I’d have no idea, on the other side of the glass watching me right then had my clitoris pulsing, and I was desperate for Mackenzie to do something. Yet I stood and awaited his command.

Mackenzie walked around me, not touching at first. He stood behind and slid one dress strap from my shoulder. I could feel my hard nipples brush against the silk as he slid the other strap off my shoulder and the dress pooled at my feet.

“Step out of it,” he said, with such a gravelly voice I felt his words at my very core.

I did as I was asked.

“Let them see you,” he whispered, as he used his foot to tap at my ankles. I parted my legs a little.

For a moment, he looked over my shoulder at my reflection. I could feel his breath on my skin and even that ghost of air tingled.

“Can they hear us?” I asked. For some reason, I didn’t want them to. I didn’t want them to know my name, although I’d suspect they already did. They’d certainly know who Mackenzie was.

“No, no audio this time. Just enjoy knowing he wants to fuck you, Lauren,” he said, and then wrapped his hand in my bun and pulled my head back.

“But no man gets the pleasure of your body. It belongs to me. The only thing I share, Lauren, are the expressions on your face, expressions I put there.” I could have come at his words alone.

He reached around and cupped a breast, but I already needed more. I covered his hand with mine and encouraged him to squeeze hard; he bit down on my shoulder enough so I squealed out loud.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, not in here. Do you understand?” I nodded against the pull of my hair.

He let go and I immediately missed the support.

My legs quivered but I stared straight ahead.

I knew whoever was the other side was watching me.

I had no idea what they were doing, and in one way I wished I could see.

Instead, I just saw me. I saw the version of Lauren Mackenzie saw.

I watched the skin across my stomach tighten a little as my muscles contracted with the flood of desire.

I saw my eyes narrow, become more hooded, and my lips parted as the need for more oxygen increased.

I sucked in a lungful of air. I closed my eyes, not used to the sight of the wanton Lauren who faced me.

The door to the side cabinet opened. I heard a clank of metal and I closed my eyes. Footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as Mackenzie walked back to me.

“Look at me,” he said. I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me, his back to the mirror.

“I’m going to restrain you. You can tell me to stop any time you want, do you understand?” I nodded my understanding. “Give me your wrists.”

I brought both in front and he snapped on handcuffs. I blinked as they pinched my skin a little. Mackenzie held my arms and encouraged me to step back until I felt the cold steel beam against my skin. He raised my arms and I was hooked into place.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked. I didn’t necessarily trust myself to speak, but nodded.

He stepped away again, that time returning with what looked like a piece of leather looped over at one end and attached to a handle at the other. He ran it over my breasts.

“Trust me?” he whispered. It was a question and he wouldn’t start until I had answered.

“Always.”

Before the last vowel had sounded from my lips I felt the sting across my stomach.

I rested my head back on the beam and closed my eyes.

Short sharp flicks of leather on skin made for a hypnotic sound.

I moaned with pleasure. The flicks travelled up my body, coming to rest on my hardened nipples that were also desperate for some attention.

I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, on my chest. The humidity was ramped up, and I knew without looking, Mackenzie’s shirt would soon be see-through, his hair would stick to his forehead, and his musky scent was driving me wild.

“More,” I whispered. I received a hard thwack to my thigh for speaking out. It did the job though, the strap was close to where I wanted it to be.

I felt the leather trail over my inner thigh, I parted my legs farther, conscious I wouldn’t lower myself. The chain between the handcuffs rattled.

“Your body tells me everything,” he whispered, bringing the strap up and over my pussy.

I felt his fingers at the side of my panties and the material slipping down one leg as he untied the ribbon. I kicked them off my foot and moaned out loud as I felt that leather sweep over my opening.

“You are so wet,” he said. He raised the leather to my mouth. “Open.”

I opened my mouth and pushed out my tongue to lick the strap.

I tasted the tart citric acid of my pussy and I tasted the leather.

Before I could close my lips around it, Mackenzie pulled it free.

The tip of the strap ran down my body until he flicked it against my clitoris. At that point I screamed out.

Electrical impulses coursed through my body.

They fought with fire and ice, with white noise circling my head.

Pleasurable pain crept over me as he flicked again.

My legs shook, my stomach quivered as my body prepared to orgasm.

Then he stopped. I clenched my eyelids shut so tight and I shouted out.

“No!”

I heard his chuckle, and his footsteps, as he moved away from me. I let the tear leak from the corner of my eye. I needed to come, my body was desperate for his touch, and he was denying me that. I wanted to curse at him.

“Fuck you,” I whispered.

His footsteps paused and I heard a low moan from his lips. It didn't have the effect I wanted, which was for him to punish me, instead my dirty mouth, as he called it, turned him on and I’d forgotten.

I smirked. “Fuck you, Mackenzie,” I repeated firmly.