Club Mephisto (13 page)

"Put the book on the shelf, and then return to kneel here before me," he said after he quizzed her.

Her legs were sore and shaky after her long time bent over the bed, but she wobbled over and
reshelved
the book. She turned with her eyes downcast and fell to her knees before him. He was already sheathed, and she opened without resisting as he pressed his cock to her mouth. He fucked her face, holding her by the back of the neck lest she be so foolish as to pull away. But she didn't. She let him use her, a limp vessel of shame and self-loathing.

Afterward he tipped her face up, scrutinizing her. If he was looking for evidence of remorse, he surely saw it, for she felt remorse down to every nerve and pore of her body. She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her. "No. No talking. I don't want it. Just listen to me. You screwed up, and you were punished for it. You're forgiven, but don't ever assume a choice again when it's not expressly given. Nod if you understand me."

She nodded avidly, trying to infuse all her sorrow and penitence into her gaze. He drew a thumb across her cheek,
then
leaned down to kiss her lips, cradling her face in his hands. He pulled away, staring down at her. "We won't let this derail the progress you've made. The party's starting soon, and I want you at your best. You'll serve in whatever way is requested. Everyone there will be a trusted friend or client who can be depended on to follow the rules. You play your role...slave and plaything. And obviously," he added with a warning, "you are not to come. You will exist tonight for others' pleasure, not your own. Nod if you understand me."

She nodded again, and he led her out to the kitchen to eat, and then to wash up and have the plug removed. He buckled his own house collar around her neck above her Master's—a signal she was club property to be shared—and led her out to the main area just as the other help was starting to arrive.

* * * * *

Molly was kept in a "harem" with other girls and boys available to be used. She recognized one girl, Lila, from the first night, and the girl who had locked her in the cage the second day, but Jamie was not among the small group of male subs. There were ten of them all together, three males and seven females kept in a kind of corral set up in the corner. The tops were all males, and she counted twenty-six at the height of the party. They were all fit and attractive, although some were significantly older or younger than Mephisto's age, which Molly guessed was around thirty-five. One commonality the tops all shared was that they were all strikingly virile. As she looked around in the dim black light, with the house music throbbing, she thought she'd never seen such an impressive collection of hard, upstanding cock all in one place.

The subs were naked from the start, excepting collars that identified their status. The men who'd been invited to play with them stripped within the first half hour or so, after a drink or two. Molly thought she could have used a drink for courage, but the only drinks provided for the bottoms were communal dog bowls of tap water, which at least was kept cool and frequently refreshed.

Mephisto stood, nude too in all his glory, overseeing the collection of submissive bodies, using the tap of a whip to force backs straighter and breasts more suggestively outthrust. Molly's pussy was seeping from the open, speculative regard of the males in attendance. She cast furtive glances at the various faces. None of them were masked—Mephisto didn't permit it, per club rules. He said he didn't allow anything to go on in his club that a person couldn't do to another person face-to-face. Mephisto also didn't allow photographs, and kept a tight group of well-known clientele so there were no worries about infiltration or invasion of privacy. Molly knew all this from things Master had told her. She also realized most of the men in the room were probably very successful at whatever they did, if not outright filthy rich.

That, too, aroused her.
Success.
Aptitude.
And of course, the requisite virility all these man shared. When they started circling the corral of available bodies, stroking and pinching, groping and considering, Molly wanted to be selected. She couldn't deny that selfish desire.

But they were all selected eventually.
Repeatedly.
The top-to-bottom ratio was purposely calculated to force each sub to nearly constant use. The play space soon filled with the sounds of pleasure and pain, torment and impact. There were voices, orders and instructions, some ribald jokes and dirty talk, but only from the dominant side. Molly soon realized that her speech restriction training had been in preparation for this, for becoming a silent, available vessel for the pleasure of Mephisto's guests.

The first hand that reached for her belonged to a sleepy-eyed man with auburn hair flopping over his forehead.
He murmured something against her ear that she couldn't hear, but she understood the nudge of his hand well enough. She fell to her knees, taking the condom he placed in her hand and rolling it onto his thick cock. He was pale like Master, not dark like Mephisto. She fellated him there, in front of everyone, as similar scenes took place around them. She heard the moans of one of the male subs, and wicked-sounding smacks. A girl to her left was being fucked in the ass on all fours. A moment later she felt hands on her ass and felt herself rearranged. She didn't dare stop sucking the man before her to look back, but she moaned around his dick as she felt her ass cheeks parted and a cold dab of lube smeared across her tiny hole.

She sucked in breath, opening her throat as someone impaled her ass. The man before her pulled her hair to refocus her and she deep-throated him as she struggled to adjust to the pain of the invasion behind her. Her moans seemed to drive both men on, and soon the man before her pulled away and took off his condom, yanking her upright and jetting copious streams of cum over her breasts.

The man behind her grappled with her, instructing her to rub
the cum
into her breasts and moan while he fucked her. She obeyed, closing her eyes and clenching around his cock. She tried to open herself to his driving assault, to the uncomfortable, humbling sensation of having her ass used so capriciously. The acute feeling of being
dominated,
and his animalistic grunts soon had her bucking back against him in willing surrender. He came with a rough gasp and a deep thrust, pinching her nipples painfully.

He pulled away with a stinging slap to her ass. She barely had time to turn and see the man who'd fucked her when another man lifted her from her knees. She was led to one of the dungeon's many crosses and shackled, spread-eagled. She was flogged on the back and thighs by two men in a row, a stinging torment that left her warmed and trembling. They chose to fuck her afterward, one man finishing in her pussy and the other choosing to use her ass. She hung from her bonds as they took turns, powerless and conquered. Used.
Horny.
She ached to rub her clit against the slick, hard wood before her but she didn't dare.
Control yourself. Don't disappoint your Master.

She was returned to the corral for just a moment, catching only a glance of the various decadent sexual acts around her before another gentleman grabbed her wrist. Mephisto watched while accepting oral service from a girl at his feet. Molly thought he might have winked at her, but maybe she’d imagined it.

She tripped along behind the slim, dark-haired man dragging her to a spanking bench. He shackled her on her hands and knees. She felt a moment of panic when he restrained both her ankles
and
her thighs, cuffing them and linking them to unseen attachment points. She was completely immobilized, a terrifying feeling, especially as he went to the wall and returned with a rattan cane. She was grateful now for the restraints, but panicked too. The first slice of the cane was horrible, spreading fire, and she cried out. He waited as she squirmed in her bonds, no doubt enjoying the spectacle of her struggle. She wished she could reach back and rub her sizzling cheeks, but then another stroke fell, and another. She wailed and jerked at each fresh assault of the painful implement. He finally put it down, but only to fetch a pair of adjustable nipple clamps from the club's vast selection.

He returned, tipping her face up and wiping some of the tears from her cheeks. She gazed up into light green eyes and a sternly handsome face. "I want less noise, girl. Each time you scream and cry like that, I'm going to tighten these clamps more. Understand me?"

She nodded miserably, trying to restrain the hiss that rose to her lips as he closed first one, and then the other of the heavy clamps on her nipples. Her pussy constricted and her clit pulsed from the erotic pangs of pain, but the soreness of her punished ass cheeks kept her from tipping over the edge.

He once again took up his position behind her with the cane. Molly gritted her teeth but each subsequent strike ended up resulting in another turn of the tightening screws, since she couldn't suppress her voice's reaction to the pain of the caning. She sobbed and wiggled in her bonds, desperate for some escape from the torture to her ass and the squeezing clamps on her nipples. At last, the helpless squirming of her bottom seemed to distract him from punishing her. He climbed up on the table behind her and thrust his sheathed cock balls deep into her dripping pussy. He banged his hips against her aching ass, squeezing her scarlet cheeks. The pain and pleasure merged and again she felt herself climbing, climbing... She pressed her forehead against the vinyl bench.
Don't. Don't. Don't come.

When he finally released her and returned her to the corner, she sat up on her knees, not even able to rest her ass back on her ankles because it was so tender. She watched the men warily, terrified to be taken by one who wished to spank or cane her again on the too-fresh welts. But the party seemed to be mellowing. The scenes were ratcheting down, becoming more lazy and sensual from their earlier heightened pitch. She had what seemed like twenty or thirty minutes to rest. Perhaps Mephisto, in his effortless grasp of control, engineered it with nothing more than quelling looks to men who considered her.

When one finally claimed her again, it was for more sensual play. The short, compactly built man put a thick, vibrating dildo in her hand and propped her on her knees, ordering her to insert it and masturbate herself.
Tell me to come. Please order me to come.
Surely she couldn't disobey a direct order of one of Mephisto's guests.

But no such order was forthcoming. When she'd worked the dildo deep inside, writhing from the buzzing, shuddering pleasure, he took a fistful of her hair and leaned over her back, driving his cock into her asshole and taking her in jerky short strokes that had her moaning in longing. Oh, God, what it would feel like to come from such fullness and stimulation! She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to disobey. Mephisto strolled past, catching her eye.
An unmistakable warning.
He watched until the man was finished with her.

Another man took her after that, and then another. She sucked, she fucked,
she
was filled and brought
almost
to orgasm again and again. Her nipples were pinched and clamped until they throbbed and felt heavier than usual, another reminder of her captive sexuality, her denial of release. She felt like one big aching lump of flesh, crying out for surrender. Then, abruptly, the party ended. The men dressed and headed out, perhaps to a leisurely late dinner or after-orgy drinks.

Mephisto cuffed Molly to one of the crosses, clamped yet again, as he showed the guests out and bundled off the other
submissives
, thanking them all for their service. Molly stood in her restraints, her chest heaving with each breath, her legs shifting, her pussy aching to be filled, her pelvis aching to come.
To reach satisfaction.
The dispersing of the guests did nothing to disperse her horniness. He finally returned, taking in her heightened gaze with amused understanding. He tapped her clit, just once, and she almost screamed.

"You're wound so tight, my lovely little slave girl," he murmured. "Would you like me to touch you again?"

She gasped and shook her head, then nodded. But he only chuckled. "I don't think so. I'm going to release you now." He uncuffed her hands so they flopped down at her sides. Again, he tapped and stroked her clit just a moment. When he stopped, she sobbed softly. She thought she would explode if she couldn't just...if she couldn't just...

Her hand slid toward her
mons
. She only meant to rest it nearby—

He slapped it away. "No."

She tried again, just to touch her clit...not even stroke it. Just touch it once. For one second. She couldn't bear it—

He took her arms in a hard grip and slapped her face. "I said no." He raised his hand again, but she shook her head, coming to her senses. He was still frowning. "You were such a good girl at the party. But you're not being a very good girl now. Put your hands on your head."

She sobbed but obeyed him. He released her ankles and unclamped her nipples. Even the agonizing rush of blood to the tips of her breasts didn't dampen the need she felt. He marched her to use the bathroom and shower, giving her a perfunctory cleaning with her hands cuffed behind her back. He used nothing but a spray of ice cold water on her pussy and engorged clit so even that contact was denied. But at least the icy water cut through her mindless desperation and brought her boiling lust down to a bearable simmer. Then she began to feel the shame. She cried when he presented the harness, both dildos coated liberally with the sadistic oil. "You were doing so well," he said, shaking his head with a grimace before he bent her over to drive the dildos home.