Club Mephisto (12 page)

She groaned and jerked her hips away, feeling wax spray across the backs of both her thighs. She suffered not just the pain of the wax droplets, but the horrible physical frustration of the denied orgasm.

"Good girl," he said, brushing a hand down her back before pinning her still again.
"Such an obedient slave.
Your Master is pleased."

So let me up. Please take the candle out and let me up. Then please stick your cock in my pussy.
Or my ass.
Wherever. Make this ache go away.

Buzzz
...
A moment later the vibrator was back again. Three more times he brought her to the edge, forcing her to punish
herself
doubly by pulling away from the very orgasm she desperately craved. Her buttocks and thighs were spattered with wax, some even dripping down into the sensitive cleft between her ass cheeks. The last time she burst into tears of frustration. Not because she'd missed another orgasm—she was resigned to that torture, as much as it plagued her. No, it was because she'd
almost
given up that time. She had been mere seconds from just allowing
herself
to come after all these many days of denying herself for him.

To come at this point, before he allowed it, would crush her completely, not to mention disappoint him beyond bearing. Perhaps there was something in her miserable crying that moved him, or alerted him to the fact that she could not be would up further, because he switched off the evil silver vibrator. She felt the whisper of his breath across her ass as he blew out the candle. The tension of stress left her body in inching degrees, so she felt for the first time the scratchiness of the linen square underneath her, and the softer feel of his sheets beneath her cheek. They smelled of him. With the panic and tension gone, her senses came alive. And still, the arousal
remained,
a nagging weight in her pelvis.
An empty, excruciating longing not to be fulfilled.

He backed away, undoing the cuffs at her ankles. Then he was back, the bed dipping behind her. He lifted her legs, sliding his knees beneath them. He grasped her hips and she felt the press of his cock against her aching pussy. He stretched her open, touching her deep inside, filling her to the hilt. The candle still invaded her ass with its persistent sting, a sensation made more noticeable as his cock rubbed against it through the walls of her channels. It was an odd, overwhelming sensation, more provocative then pleasurable.

As he fucked her, he manipulated the candle, working it in and out, up and back, all to the soundtrack of her whimpers, moans, and guttural lust sounds. When at last he came, she was aroused but not frantic, and so she was able to enjoy the feeling of his cock pulsing inside her. She was able to hear his jerky breaths and the low moan in his throat, rather than her own internal monologue of need. She absorbed his heightened final thrusts with a different kind of satisfaction—that of a slave who has denied her own desires and wishes in service to her Master.

Afterward, he stayed in her a long while, still toying with the candle and lazily stroking her back. Now and again he peeled and flicked pieces of wax off her. She took each touch, each pang of fleeting arousal, as another gift of her
slavehood
. She could tell by the tenderness of his fingers that he was pleased. Finally he stood to discard his condom and free her of the candle's intrusion. He removed the cloth and took her to the bathroom to clean up. He peeled the remaining wax off himself with deft fingers. She fought against feelings of love and affection for him, but when he was so tender and gentle...

When he was satisfied that she was cleaned up to his specifications, he took her hands in his and kissed each one. His eyes gazed into hers with a strange intensity of feeling. "I'm very proud of you, kitten."

She swallowed, flushing, feeling suddenly close to tears. She wanted to say that it was all his doing...that he had taught her, explained it all to her, and that it finally made sense.
Even if it
was
terribly difficult.
I am so happy to please you. I'm so happy you patiently instructed me how to do so.
 

He led her back to the bedroom and detached the cuffs from the bed, putting them back on her wrists. Then he clipped them with another length of chain through the ring in her collar so she couldn't lower them even to her waist. "I trust you more now," he said. "But sometimes in sleep even the best slaves forget."

She expected to be led to the cage but he pointed to his bed. She complied, trying not to reveal her surprise or the flutter in her chest. When he climbed in beside her and pulled her back against him, she settled into his embrace of evident approval, supremely content. His warmth and power was like a bastion around her, and she knew she would do anything, give up anything to please him.
Just as she would for her other Master.

Mephisto had finally mastered her. God help her. She drifted off in his arms, not even thinking once about how many days she had left.

The Fifth Day

They slept late the next day, Mephisto awakening with mutters of all the things he needed to get accomplished for the party. After a hurried breakfast, he led her back in the bedroom and ordered her to bend over the bed. She expected the dreaded harness, but he brought a substantial butt plug instead. She groaned inwardly as he lubed it—without
tingling
lube, thankfully.
But still...

"I know many of my guests will want to use your ass tonight, kitten," he said at her sigh of resignation. He spread her legs apart with his feet on the floor and landed a couple sharp slaps on her ass cheeks. "Open for Master."

She braced herself and pressed back against the toy as he drove it forward. He worked it in and out, slapping her ass again when it didn't slide in. Finally, with a numbing, aching burn, the plug popped in and her sphincter closed around the wide base. The flange rested between her ass cheeks, a reminder of her status and a visible humiliation.

"Here," he said, pointing to the place at the foot of the bed where he often left her tethered—the place easily visible from his camera. She knelt, feeling the fullness of the plug as she sat back on her ankles, a fullness that triggered a predictable low throb between her legs. He gathered his keys and cell phone and then stopped by his bookshelf of erotica in the corner. Molly had scanned the shelves the few times she'd had a free moment in his bedroom, finding many classics and many lesser known titles as well. He picked out a small book and placed it on the bed beside her.

"Some reading for you," he said with a smile. "Don't want you to be bored."

He sauntered off, not even looking back at her. Such freedom he enjoyed, and here she sat, leashed to a bed, bisected by a massive butt plug. She smiled to herself. She wouldn't have changed places with him for the world.

A moment later, she reached to look at the book he'd left her.
Some torrid fantasy-sex-slave novel.
It was exactly the type of book she used to read before she started actually living the lifestyle, and she knew just from scanning the back cover that it would turn her on to a dangerous degree. She placed it back on the bed, determined to resist temptation. She had no confining harness on to keep her honest, and the toy in her ass was already prodding her arousal level into the caution zone. No doubt he'd left the book to create another predicament for her. Avoid boredom, but deal with mounting horniness, or be bored but not so horny. What a talented sadist he was.

She sat and thought about other things. Her mind was quieter, much more serene since he'd explained the purpose behind his treatment of her. She knew she shouldn't have to depend on explanations and reassurances to prop up her submission, a lesson she was still learning. But for the moment, at least, she felt herself in a comfortable place. She thought about Master and how near she was to seeing him again. Today was Wednesday. He would return for her sometime on Friday. She closed her eyes and daydreamed about his blue eyes, his voice and the sensation of his touch. She knew she'd grown in her experiences and in her submission this week, which is what he'd wanted of her. She would use what she'd learned—about denial, about unselfishness—and apply it to her service of him.

Time passed quickly as she thought about the various ways to do that, although her stomach was rumbling by the time she finally heard him out in the other room. She smiled, unable to disguise her pleasure to see him when he came into the bedroom. He returned her smile, but then frowned at the book lying on the bed.

"I expected to find you reading. What did you think of the book?"

All the self-satisfied pride she'd felt about her progress in Mephisto's keeping dissipated in a sick, sinking feeling of disaster. She only shook her head, unable to answer his question.

"You didn't read it?
At all?"
She bit her lip and bowed her head, hating this horrible moment and the irritated disbelief in his voice. "Why do you think I left it there beside you? As I said, it was reading for you. Reading I expected you to do."

She was mute, forbidden to speak anyway. But if she could have spoken, what would she have said?
I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was stupid. Forgive me.
Apologies.
Excuses.
None of it took away her mistake. She was so preoccupied with looking out for her own desire not to get horny, that she hadn't even considered the fact that he'd given her the book expecting her to read it. She did the only thing she could think to do, which was to slowly lean forward and press her forehead to the floor in a pathetic plea for his forgiveness. For the punishment she knew she deserved.

She heard the springs on the bed, felt herself lifted across his hard lap. She clung to his leg as he started raining stinging blows on her bottom, accompanied by a lecture meant to sting just as much.

"How forward of you, slave, to just assume a choice.
I don't give you choices. I give you instructions."
Smack. Smack. Smack.
He pressed the plug deeper in her ass, twisting it viciously so she whimpered and strained against him. "I give the instructions in this relationship. You follow them. If I take the time to pick out a fucking book and give it to you, you fucking—"
Smack.
"Read."
Smack.
"It. Don't you?"
Smack. Smack. Smack.

The pain was so awful. His hand was like a paddle, only stingy-
er
. She wanted to kick her legs, to pull away and plead for respite, but she forced herself to lie still and accept the angry blows raining on her ass. She still cried, dripping hot, copious tears against the dark denim of his jeans. How could she have screwed up so badly, just when she was starting to make progress under his dominion?

The tempo of the blows increased and she cried harder, tensing her ass cheeks as if that might somehow save her, but it only reminded her of the acute invasion of the plug in her bottom. He stood with a
tsk
and pushed her face down on the bed. She heard the whisking sound of a belt sliding free of its loops at the same time she felt his knee press down against the middle of her back. She cried out as the doubled-over belt seared across her ass. The book was beside her face, taunting her. Another shockingly painful
blow,
and another. "From now on, you don't do what
you
decide you prefer. You do what
I
tell you to do."
Whack!
"Open the book, now, and start reading."

With a stifled sob, Molly grabbed the book and opened to the title page, stammering out the words and the author's name, crying hysterically as the belt fell again. She hadn't said words in days, and the syllables sounded garbled.

"Louder, so I can hear you!"

She read it again, crying, trying to enunciate through tears. She turned to the first page and started to read the story aloud, swiping the blurry wetness from her eyes so she could see the print. As she read, the whipping continued and she had no avenue to escape it. His knee still held her firmly pressed to the bed. She wailed
,
feeling turned inside out, trying to focus on reading the words she could so easily have read in his absence. At last, by the end of the fourth excruciating page, he flung the belt down beside her.

"Keep reading," he barked when she paused. "Read the whole damn thing. Out loud. Don't move until you're done. You deserve worse, but I want my guests to have a chance to mark you at the party," he said with a final frustrated slap to her rear.

She read, barely able to remember the basics of the story in her misery, but fortunately she remembered enough to answer the handful of questions he asked her a couple hours later.