Whispers & Lies

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

Kevin McLeod left the McLeod Inc. building at nine-thirty p.m. He was the last one out of the office. After a ritual nod to the security guard in the building lobby, he was on the street, his head tucked down against the cold wind. A long black overcoat covered everything but his head, and that he gave to the elements as he walked briskly toward an underground establishment—a private club tucked between high-rises. He rapidly took the stairs down into the basement cavern. The first fumes of cigarette smoke almost made him choke before he got used to the aroma; then it moved him into the eroticism of the steamy room. A piece of him came home here. The smell of leather was second to the smoke, next the perfume of expensive liquor. His eyes adjusted to the dimness, but they never bothered to focus completely. The blur of dark color before his eyes was the atmosphere. And the atmosphere belonged to the city at night, when the only illumination is the moon in its waning phases, and the few stars that penetrate through the city smog, and the unnatural lamplight that gives the air its odd hue. The only illumination in the private club was from pale burning gaslights against the walls.

“She’s here,” Marion, the hostess at the door, informed him.

“I know,” he said, giving her just half his smile.

He didn’t remove his overcoat, but let it sway about him as he moved from the entrance into the depths of the crowded room. His eyes darted purposefully, but revealed no emotion. Emotions were rare, not worn on his sleeve, never easily surfaced, but muted and disguised as cold—a dark kind of cold that raised chills. Close-cropped, his hair was an average brown but neatly combed. His face a persuasive one with defined cheeks bones and a mouth with lips that moved so beautifully one had to catch ones-self to keep from staring at them as he spoke. His manner was on the edge, with sharpness to the point of intimidation, and with an attractiveness to make women stare and then melt away without approaching. Not many people were comfortable in his presence. Even if he didn’t fully understand his power over people, he used it to keep them at a distance. No one ever questioned that distance, except Mackenzie Durrant, his lover.

When he saw her, he was inclined to smile, but he kept the smile to himself. He was thinking of the afternoon, just a few hours before when her eyes had flared with a rash of indignation, sparked by an unmet lust he could feel from her agitated body heat. She’d changed her clothes since then, and was wearing the short black dress he’d given her at Christmas. The rhinestone studded leather belt that defined her small waist sparkled when it caught a glimmer of light from one of the gas lamps. Otherwise, she was thoroughly dark, her hose black, as were her high heels, and the obsidian earrings that dangled from the two delicate lobes at her ears and then swayed softly amidst the cascade of loose curls falling about her shoulders. He was pleased to see the leather collar at her neck, having a feeling that she was ready for “an event” the way she’d baited him earlier.

She was talking to friends as he approached. Not seeing him, she was surprised when he stepped in front of her.

They didn’t touch or kiss. He nodded to her instead, motioning her towards an anteroom. They thought themselves in a more private place behind the diaphanous curtain, but they weren’t secluded at all. The noises from the club still filled their ears: the clattering of glasses and the piped in hard rock. Though it was never too noisy to hear someone’s whispered command at a submissive ear.

Mackenzie felt a cold breeze wash through her staring into Kevin’s eyes.

“Palms against the wall,” he ordered her.

Turning away from the stare, she obeyed, her hands rising above her bowed head, her feet set a foot away from the brick wall.

Kevin’s hand was under her dress. There was little to push aside, being so short. Her ass was bare. As she parted her legs wider, she felt his fingers probe between her cheeks to find her wet. He had a finger at her cunt.

“Decker and Steig want you,” he whispered to her. She didn’t flinch so he could see, even though he was a master of reading her imperceptible changes. “I should whip your ass hard,” he added. “After this afternoon.”

She remembered shouting at him in frustration. “But you won’t?” she whispered back.

“No. I think you want it too much,” he said. Then he snickered, knowing he’d hit a hot button the way she jerked and her cunt juiced more when he mentioned whipping.

“You’re going to make me suffer,” she said.

“Of course,” he answered. “Now give them a good show, darling. I’ll see you at home.” He turned to leave, and she was shattered. But then he turned back to raise her hopes. “One thing I forgot,” he said, pulling something from his pocket. It was a pair of clamps attached to a chain. Pulling her dress up to her waist, he found her outer labia without looking and attached one small pincer on each side, high and out of the way of her v****a. He tugged the chain to make sure they wouldn’t fall off. “Hurt?” he asked.

“No. But I can feel them,” she said.

“Good. I’ll tighten them later. Now don’t move,” he said. He left her without saying another word.

Mackenzie didn’t want to move. It was as if she’d been fixed to the wall with cuffs at her wrists and ankles, she was bound by command. Kevin could have fastened her to the leather restraints embedded in the brick above her, and to a spreader bar below. But he didn’t have to. Not tonight. Not when she was made so compliant by desire. She only regretted that he didn’t lay a lash on her prickly skin. Though perhaps the clips and chain between her legs would be enough. As she waited, the feel of them became more acute.

Decker came for her first, though she could tell that the black man Steig was in the room. He would watch. Mackenzie wanted them both, because she wanted s*x badly. She wanted the fumes of orgasm in her cunt fanned to a fire. She wanted to rock on some man’s d**k, wiggle her ass against hairy thighs and feel her breasts squeezed by vigorous manly palms. She wanted the pain until it was swimming through her, radiating like the sun warming her skin until it was as hot as a hundred-degree beach in midsummer.

Decker had her once before, a year ago. When Kevin was pissed at her. Her lover watched then, as the scowling blonde lothario tied her over a banister with ropes and then spanked her ass. She never got above the pain that day, never crescendoed, never rode atop that delicious pain-curve where there was ecstasy for a submissive. She was punished fair and square in Kevin’s book. Decker really didn’t care what she had going on with Kevin. He enjoyed punishing her bottom because it made him get off fast. When he was finished flogging her rear raw, he’d taken her cunt to finish himself off. Thinking that it was poetic, he pulled out of her, shook off his d**k and left her dangling over the banister with Kevin’s harrowing stare piercing through any sense of peace she might have wanted in the aftermath. Kevin might have walked out on her too, except that someone had to untie her.

Coming to her this time, Decker had more finesse. No doubt deprived of spanking her by Kevin’s wishes, he entered her quickly. She didn’t remember his c**k being so large, though the last time was no judge. She was pretty oblivious to everything. Decker moved in her slowly. Reaching around he took her n*****s in his fingers and squeezed them hard. As he worked her cunt, the chain at her labia became heavier with every thrust. Kevin was in her mind, with the memory of his hands and eyes and his chill washing over her. She could pretend she was f*****g his prick.

When squeezing her n*****s was not enough, Decker moved a hand to her cunt and grabbed the chain.

“Ouch!” she whispered.

He didn’t let up.

Rocked by his hulking body, it was time to let go, let thoughts fly away, let oblivion take over, let her body lead, and her mind fall back. When she felt his climax, she regretted the end so soon, but didn’t regret it for long, because Steig replaced him at her back side.

“I’m taking your ass,” he said. The announcement made her angry, because she wanted him where Decker had been. She was just a few quick strokes from climaxing herself. But she would offer herself without a protest from her lips. It was what Kevin designed, and because of that she wanted it too.

Steig wasn’t in her mind to hear her thoughts. He was smearing her flowing juices on the anal opening, splashing something cold and wet down her crack and fondling her there with his fingers. He waited for her to relax and let the entry proceed without a scream. Being mindless, she wasn’t ready for the rape, but it would continue even without her consent. She wished Kevin was watching, he loved seeing her taken anally. But Kevin was on his way home by then, and with Decker vanished, it was just her and Steig. She’d had him before at a crucial time, so there was a past for them to share, a remembered intimacy; though it was doubtful that would have much effect on the immediate moment.

“I’m going to do this fast,” he purred in her ear. That was good, she thought. His c**k was already deep, Mackenzie knowing it would plummet further still. Forcing her to bend over more so she might have touched the floor, though she still leaned into the wall, the man had her hips in his hands, his groin pounding against her ass. She moaned loud enough to draw several people into the anteroom to watch. It was fierce to the end, but because she was practiced in taking c**k in her bottom, she survived. More than survived, she felt as if she was being ripped inside. The result a tumult of sound in her ears, and lights before her eyes as a thunderous symphony came to its crashing end inside her body.

Steig walked out on her when it was finished and Mackenzie was left alone to feel that final abject place of subservience. Both orifices empty, she slumped to the floor and stayed there, until the heavy weight of Kevin’s clamps on her labia reminded her that he would be home and warm and waiting for her.

She looked demure enough emerging from the anteroom. Her dress was freshly straightened, the leather belt adjusted, and her hair was combed, with her hand taming the tresses as easily as a brush. Her red lips had been left untouched. And though she was preened and calmed enough to mingle with the people and the eroticism about her, she could only focus on the door and getting out into the night, on her way home. Her mind not computing anything other than a hasty exit, she practically stumbled over Kevin who was sitting at a table between her and the door.

“You’re here,” she exclaimed softly.

“Waiting for you,” he said.

His hand went under her skirt as she stood before him and felt for the clamps and chain.

“We’re staying?” she wondered.

“No.” He rose to his feet, helped her on with her coat, and then escorted her to the door with his hand at her back to guide her. There were feathers and leather, fashioned in an intricate design on her long shrouding coat, so that she looked as animal in her departure as her eyes looked in substance. She remained in a basic erotic state, having not finished what Decker and Steig had started in her.

Pushed into the back of the McLeod limousine, the two lay down on the broad leather seat and discarded clothes from under their coats. They sought skin: Mackenzie seeking Kevin’s p***s, the feel of his hips, his hair, and tight chest, his muscles flexing and releasing with his movement. Kevin tore away her stockings to have her legs naked, then helped remove the dress. Unhooking the endless hooks and eyes of her corset, what flesh that was still confined found freedom.