Page 13 of The Facilitator, Part 2

A hand grabbed my inner thigh, and none too gently. He forced his fingers inside and I wrapped the chain of the handcuffs in my hands to give me more support. I raised one leg and hooked it behind him.

“You’re not giving them a good show,” he growled, as he inserted yet another finger.

“Fuck them,” I said between panting breaths. My biceps strained as my arms took to the weight of my body.

I didn’t know when it had happened, but I felt like his whole fist was inside me.

He ground it, turning and pumping, and it was the most powerful sensation I’d ever felt.

I moaned so loud, constantly, I wasn’t sure if I heard my voice or an echo of it swirling around the room.

And just as I was at the point of coming, he pulled out.

“You bastard, you fucking…” He cut off my words with a kiss.

A kiss so demanding he sucked the air from my lungs. He bit at my tongue, hard, at my lips and drew blood. He licked and sucked the blood from me. When he pulled away, it was smeared over his bared teeth.

“Tell me your cunt is mine,” he said.

I stared at his face, and then let my eyes travel down to the bulge in his trousers. That could not be comfortable, but I knew he wouldn’t allow me to touch him.

As much as he was denying me my orgasm, he was doing the same to himself.

“My cunt is yours, and it’s soaking for you; it’s hot and pulsing, and I need you,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion.

The desire and pure unadulterated pleasure that crossed his face was worth every second of the orgasm denial pain in my stomach.

Mackenzie reached up and unhooked my arms; my legs shook as he walked me to the bench.

He told me to sit astride and then to lie.

As I did, he pulled my arms above my head and hooked the chain over the end of the bench.

I was restrained once again. He pulled on my hips so I was close to the edge, and then he knelt.

He placed his hands on my stomach; his fingers splayed and heat from his skin transferred to mine.

“You are so wet, so red and sore,” he whispered. I didn’t feel sore, but I certainly knew how wet I was, the top of my inner thighs were sticky.

When he lowered his face, I all but combusted.

He licked and sucked at my clitoris, labia, he blew gently in circles before he forced his tongue inside me.

His fingers curled into my skin as his need to taste increased.

I spread my legs farther, desperate for him to be closer.

I could feel his ragged breaths against my heat as he tried to take in as much oxygen through his nose as he could.

I raised my hips as my stomach tightened and I came.

I came so hard I could feel myself shudder.

I screamed out as wave after wave of rolling muscle spasmed.

Mackenzie didn’t let up; he licked and sucked that orgasm straight from my body.

It was his alone. His nails dug into my skin, breaking it, and I could feel a trickle of blood seep down my side.

The tang of my orgasm and blood sent me into sensory overload.

The tenderness of my clitoris from my orgasm and his mouth had me want to pull away.

He paused, as if sensing, and then raised his head.

His mouth, his chin, glistened. He looked at my stomach and he leaned over me, cupping the scratches with his mouth and licking away my blood.

I didn’t understand what it was about that action—what caused my heart to miss multiple beats and had my body aching for him—but the more he licked those wounds, the more aroused I became.

I didn’t think it possible to up the level I felt.

“You like that, huh?” he said against my wet skin.

“I…yes, and I shouldn’t.” I could hear the hoarseness in my voice. I kept my eyes closed because I didn’t want to see his face.

“A talk for another day,” he said. He pushed himself back on his heels and then stood.

I watched him undo the first few buttons of his soaking wet shirt; he pulled it over his head and his stomach muscles rippled with the effort.

He, too slowly, pulled his leather belt through the loops of his trousers, and undid the button. I heard the zipper lower.

I felt his hand behind one knee and he lifted my leg so my heel hooked over his shoulder. I did the same with the other. My lower half was raised off the bench with just my shoulders supporting me.

Mackenzie held his cock and he teased me. He ran the tip over my opening, circling my clitoris. He slowly moved it lower until he pressed very gently on that place he’d been threatening to claim for a while. I didn’t tense that time. I took in a deep breath and waited.

He chuckled. “You’re not ready for that yet,” he said.

Instead, he pushed his cock inside me fast and hard, so that I had to grip with my hands on the side of the bench to stop from sliding. My sweat, my juices had coated the leather, making it slick. He held my hips and he fucked me, groaning out between gritted teeth as he held back from coming.

I wished I could touch him. I wanted to taste his body, the musky sweat to the salty cum that would be seeping from his cock.

I needed to inhale the heady scent of our sex that permeated the room.

I breathed in deep so I could taste us on the humid air.

I didn’t seem to be able to get enough, and suddenly it was overwhelming.

“Stop,” I said, and he did, immediately.

“Lauren?” His voice was laced with concern.

“I need you deeper, harder,” I said between sobs. “Please, unclip me.”

He leaned over my body and released my wrists; I didn’t care to rub them, no matter how sore they were.

I was desperate. I swung my body over so I was face down on the leather bench with my legs on either side, arse in the air.

I needed him to fuck me from behind. He did.

He wrapped his hand around the bun that had loosened and he pulled my hair hard, he slapped my arse as he pumped in and out.

The noise of his balls slapping against my pussy, or his palm as it connected with skin, was enough to drive us both over the edge.

His roar bounced around the room. The hair on my neck stood on end at the rumble that had started from the depth of his stomach, travelled up through his body, and was released from his mouth.

It was feral, wild, and I absorbed the sound to my very core.

I cried as I came. I let the tears drip to the bench, and when Mackenzie pulled from me, I gently lowered myself down. My legs would never hold me up.

I heard the swish of him closing the curtains and I was thankful.

I didn’t want my audience to see me now.

I didn’t want them to witness the outpouring of emotion and love for a man who had upended me, who had dissolved all my pain and hurt, and who had made me love him so much I physically hurt.

I felt him crouch beside the bench. I turned my head to face him.

He swept some strands of hair from my flushed and damp cheeks. I smiled.

“I can’t tell you, Lauren, how much I love you,” he whispered.

I whimpered as fresh tears came. “At least I haven’t fainted,” I said.

He laughed as he helped me to sit. I winced at the sting I felt below.

“We need to get you into a bath. Will you wait here for me?”

He didn’t wait for my answer, and I wasn’t sure where he thought I would go anyway.

I heard the click of a latch from behind and I turned.

I hadn’t noticed a door in the wooden panelling of the wall behind the cross.

As it opened I could see a bathroom beyond.

I stood and kicked off my shoes. I walked into the room.

Mackenzie was filling a bath and pouring oil that not only foamed but also gave off the most wonderful scent of bergamot.

He undid his trousers, kicked off his shoes and socks, and climbed in; he held out his hand for me to join him.

He sat and I snuggled between his legs. I rested my back on his chest and sighed.

If I had closed my eyes I would have fallen asleep, and I didn’t want to do that.

I wanted to listen to his breathing and feel his heart beat against my skin.

I wanted his hands to hold me tight against him and to comfort me as I fell from the high he had given me.

“Catch me, Mackenzie,” I whispered. My body began to shake as I spiralled.

“Always, baby, always.”

I must have cried some more. I must have closed my eyes, even when I didn’t want to, because when I opened them again, I was sitting with a towel wrapped around me in a chair in the corner of the bathroom.

“Hey, you’re back with me,” I heard.

Mackenzie walked towards me with my dress in his hand. He wore a fresh shirt and I wondered where it had come from.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”

I stood and pulled the dress over my head. I don’t know what happened to the panties but I slipped on the shoes and stepped into his embrace.

“Thank you. That was…I don’t know what to say,” I said.

He chuckled as he kissed my temple. “Are you able to walk out of here? I’m happy to carry you,” he said.

“I’m fine, I think. Has… next door …you know?” I whispered. Mackenzie leaned forward.

“Who? The man next door who must have a fucking broken wrist, he would have masturbated so much, gone?”

My eyes widened and then I slapped his chest. “Yes. And how do you know it was a man?”

“You don’t think I’m going to let just anyone watch you, do you?”

“You approved who was in that room?”

He cupped my face in his hands. “Obviously.” He said it as if it was the most obvious answer and I was mad to think otherwise.

“Can we go home?” I asked.

He took my hand and led me from the room.

I kept my head low and we didn’t encounter another person until we reached the front door.

Veronica’s office door opened and Mackenzie paused.

I wished we had kept walking. I heard her heels clip-clop against the tiled floor. She bowed her head to catch my eye.

“Are you okay, Lauren?” she asked, softly.

“More than okay, although I’m processing,” I said.

She laughed gently. “I understand. Take care now, won’t you?” she said, and then she cupped my chin and raised my face. She kissed my lips and then stepped quickly away. I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I don’t think it’s the men I need to worry about,” Mackenzie said, as he led me through the front door.

“I’m not sure I liked that,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Oh fuck…just get me home, please?”

He laughed as he opened the rear door himself, not waiting for the driver to even come to a full stop. I slid in and slumped, grateful for the soft leather that seemed to mould around me.

I dozed all the way home but was glad to leave the car and step out into the cold air.

I wanted to clear my head. Mackenzie would be sure to want a debrief and assurance I was okay.

He was always so concerned about me and his need to care for me after any form of unvanilla sex was sometimes suffocating.

I didn’t need my arse slathered with aloe vera or some such shit.

I didn't need to dissect, I needed to be held and loved.

I needed to laugh at the sounds that had been so arousing in the moment but were cringe-worthy in memory. It was important to him, though.

We sat in the kitchen and he made me a cup of tea. He’d practiced his tea making over the months we’d lived together, and although still closer to gnat’s piss than normal, he was getting better. He sat and looked at me.

“Talk to me, Lauren,” he said.

“I loved this evening. I don’t necessarily love the inquisition after; it’s not needed. I honestly think you need to trust I would tell you if there was something I wasn’t happy with. However, I do want to talk about a couple of things.”

“Go on…”

“I don’t actually know where to start.” I could feel my cheeks colouring.

“You enjoyed when I licked the blood from your stomach. It seemed to set something off inside you. I felt every muscle inside you contract, I could hear the desire in your moans.”

All I could do was nod, initially. “I don’t want to explore that…where you cut people…”

Mackenzie held up his hand. “I hope the you is just the collective. I’ve never done that, and it’s not something I’d do. Blood play it’s called. It’s not for us, baby.”

“Good, but why did it affect it me so much?”

“I think it’s a combination of things. You were at the point you needed so much more from me to come, and that was maybe something new. Did you enjoy what we did?”

I nodded my head.

“Then that’s all we need to worry about. It’s important to me that you can tell me exactly how you feel, and I do trust you can, and you will. So no more inquisitions, okay?”

I smiled at him. “Thank you. Now, point number two. Why did Veronica kiss me on the lips? I know what happened before, but am I wrong to think that was a little over the mark? Anyone could have seen.”

“Veronica is bisexual, obviously. However, I don’t think there was anything sexual in it. She’ll kiss on the lips as a form of affection sometimes. And before you ask, no, she has never kissed me, nor I her.”

“I don’t care if you’d snogged the face of her, before me, of course. It took me by surprise, that’s all. I don’t want you to mention it to her, I’ll just be sure to turn my head next time.”

I squirmed on the hard leather stool.

“What do you need, baby?” he asked quietly. I guessed I was wrong to think he wouldn’t want to care for me after.

“An ice pack, if I’m honest,” I said, with a laugh. “And you to not actually say any of the words relating to what we did. I’d be too embarrassed.”

“I inserted my whole hand into you, and…” he started, raising his hand in the air.

“La la la la,” I sang, covering my ears and closing my eyes. I most certainly did not wish to hear that word, ever, and I absolutely did not need a visual.

Mackenzie picked me up and carried me upstairs.

He gently laid me on the bed and I wriggled out of my dress.

He slipped off my shoes and grabbed a pair of fleecy PJs from a drawer.

He helped me into them. I removed the choker and handed it to him.

He placed it back in the velvet-cushioned box and took it into his closet.

It would sit in the safe until another appropriate occasion arose where I could wear it.

He placed my book on the bedside cabinet and asked me to wait while he ran back downstairs.

He returned a few minutes later with a hot water bottle that he placed on my stomach, and a fresh mug of tea, one shade closer to my desired colour. He slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed beside me. While he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, I sipped my tea and read my book.

Now, that was the kind of aftercare I could get used to.