Club Mephisto (3 page)

Molly looked up in protest. "Oh, Master! You are not old. Please don't say such a thing! You are terribly handsome and sexy and youthful—"

He chuckled and placed a finger over her lips. "I am twenty years older than you, which you very well know. Forty-eight is not so old, but old enough."

She held onto his leg, awash in a jumble of complex feelings.
Fear, confusion.
Nervousness.
Shame that the idea of serving Mephisto excited her, and sadness that her Master would be gone.

"It's only a week," he said again. "I think he could give you a lot of good experiences that will help you grow and deepen in your submission."

"You are my Master," she whispered against his knee. "I could never reject any treatment or training you chose for me. If you wish me to go with Mephisto—"

"I do wish it," he said lightly, with an ironic smile. "And you needn't torment yourself with guilt. I know there is attraction between you. I know that you desire Mephisto."

"Master..." She shifted in dismay. "I... I..."

"I am not angry with you. I am only stating facts. I have seen you steal looks at Mephisto at the club, and I've seen you two interacting. You are only human, as am I. You are a vibrant, sexually alluring woman. I am not so deluded as to believe I am the only man on earth who interests you. In fact, if I were, I would be quite alarmed."

She shook her head, unbalanced by the sudden turn in the conversation. Her Master was always blunt with her, but in this case, his words deeply shocked her. Had he truly known her feelings toward Mephisto?

"Master," she said with gravity. "I am yours. I love you so deeply. With Mephisto—"

She stopped and peered up at him, seeking permission to speak openly. He gave a small nod.

"With Mephisto, it is a...a curiosity only. He is a mystery. That's all it is, the interest I feel. But I could never... I would never..."

"I certainly do not fear you will leave me for Master Mephisto. If anything, I hope your girlish imaginations and daydreams are not disappointed in the reality of life under his hand."

"He could never live up to you," she said, her eyes wide and emphatic. "My life with you is perfect."

"We do get on, don't we?" he said with tenderness. "I'll miss you while I'm away."

"I'll miss you terribly, Master. Truly, I will."

"It's my hope that Mephisto will keep you too occupied to miss me," he said in a dire tone that awakened a tiny frisson of dread amid all the excitement and confusion she felt. He must have noticed her small shiver.

"Don't fear, girl. I've informed Mephisto of your—and my—limits regarding your person. You will not be harmed beyond the boundaries you're already accustomed to. But I believe Mephisto to be a more...intense type than myself.
In more ways than one."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but she knew without a doubt he would never put her in an unsafe or damaging situation. It was one of the reasons she adored him so much.

Her Master settled her back away from him with a sigh. "At any rate, it will be an adventure for you. While I will miss you, I actually enjoy expanding your horizons and indulging your fantasies, to a point. I hope to receive you back much refreshed and hopefully improved by the experience."

"I sincerely hope you will find me improved, Master."

"At the very least, you won't have gone to pieces like the last time I left you for a week's time."

She blushed. Last time he'd left her to her own devices for a week, she found herself coming apart at the seams by the fourth hour. Something about the predictability and calmness of service fulfilled her. Without her Master's limits and requirements, life became hectic for her.
Overwhelming.
By now, after five years of serving him, she was a creature bred to control. Her Master was truly merciful to give her over to Mephisto. It was safekeeping, of sorts. She felt terribly emotional, and terribly eager to show him how grateful she was for his caring ownership of her. She hoped he would allow her to show him how much she appreciated him. She hoped he would take her to bed and let her give him pleasure, but she didn't dare suggest it. She sat quietly at his knee as she'd been trained. She waited to see if he would send her to Mrs. Jernigan for a whiskey. She knew that when he didn't take a drink after dinner, it often meant he intended to bed her.

She tried to make no outward sign of hope or craving—or worse, impatience—but part of her ached to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her. She loved her Master's cock. She loved his hands on her, his mouth and his teeth and his thick shaft parting her and thrusting inside. Her service to him prevented her giving in to those impulses. She had long ago learned to hold her desires and wants silent like a secret in her heart, and wait to hear what he wanted. She lived to fulfill
his
needs. His collar was the reminder of her status and her purpose. At times like these, when she worked hard to control herself, she focused on the rigid caress of the metal band around her neck and found that submission came easier to her.
I am his. If he wants me, he will take me. He is my Master, and I am his slave. I will wait.

At last, her patience was answered. He drew back from the table, grasped the chain between her breasts, and pulled her behind him to the bedroom.

* * * * *

He was rather tender with her, because he was leaving, she supposed. He pulled her close and caressed her as she undressed him with trembling fingers.
I want...I want...I want...
As hard as she tried, she still couldn't silence her wants and will completely. She had a feeling her Master didn't really wish her to. He took his time, having already climaxed in her mouth just before dinner. He toyed with her, stroking and fondling her in silence as she stood attentive before him in just the posture he liked. He took off her clamps, which he never left on too long for fear of injuring her sensitive tissue. She held her breath and shuddered as the intense rush of blood flooded her nipples. He smiled knowingly at her. She understood that her suffering gave him pleasure, and that this involved no malice or menace on his part. It was simply the type of play that excited him.

He wanted more such play, which Molly expected. He made her bend over the curved oak footboard and cuffed her hands at the small of her back. He got the whip he favored, a short black implement that hurt terribly, like stripes of fire, and left pretty welts. He held the cuffs hard so she couldn't squirm or escape him. She still often tried to get away, to her shame. Master told her he didn't mind it, that he liked when she tried to evade him, because it showed that she didn't enjoy what he did to her. Molly still wished she could be still and stoic just to show how much she wanted to please him, and how much pain she was willing to take to make him glad. In her heart she was willing to take any pain for her Master. But in reality, the whip made her mind go blank and her
body start
to panic.

She buried her face in the bedding as the first blow fell, and another and another, hot, aching fire that made a helpless keening rise in her chest.
Another blow, even harder.
Her legs collapsed and he caught her with a whistling crack inside the thigh as a warning. She straightened her legs again, sobbing and snuffling, offering her ass for more punishment. Again and again the whip fell across her hindquarters. She cried at each fresh blooming of pain, her hands struggling against him where he held the cuffs tight.
No....no...
please
Master!

She thought the words over and over in her head, although she didn't say them out loud. To have done so would have been pointless. She jerked and sobbed as two more strokes fell. Her ass cheeks clenched and she tried in vain to twist away. And then...reprieve. She lay still, shuddering and tense, her ass cheeks aflame. Master put the whip back in its place on the nightstand and delivered a series of stinging slaps to her welted and punished bottom. She was so relieved he was done with the whip that the blows barely registered. She pressed her hips against the edge of the hard footboard, squeezing her legs together to try to assuage the growing ache in her clit.

Her Master
tsked
and spanked her again so she yelped and desisted. "Stand up, girl."

She stood and faced him, her face wet with tears. He ran his thumbs across her damp cheeks and gave her an assessing look. "Master Mephisto will not let your hungry little pussy rule him anymore than I do, you know."

She felt ashamed. She had no control over her libido sometimes, a fact that both amused and exasperated her Master.

"I'm...I'm sorry—"

Her voice cut off as he took her chin hard in his hands.

"I am afraid this is another area where I'm entirely too soft on you. You shouldn't be allowed any relief after that kind of brazen display, but I'm quite certain I won't be able to leave you without seeing you coming in that charming way you
have
. But know this—Mephisto is not so indulgent in this area. I have told him he should not be so with you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"This is one area where I would like to see you learn a little more control. Good slaves should not try to pleasure themselves against the headboard unless Master commands it. Isn't that true?"

"Yes, Master," Molly whispered. "I...I try to control it...it is only that you...I...you..."

"Oh, I understand. It's my fault," he said in a dry, dire tone.

"No, Master! I mean...yes... I mean, the cause of my...lack of control is—"

"My irresistible animal sexuality?"

"Master."
She said the only thing she could say without pouring out everything else she was thinking. But he surely heard it in that one word.
Master, take me.
Master, fuck me.
Please, Master, you must understand how uncontrollably horny you make me feel.

His lips quirked up at the edges, and she stared at the beloved face, the masterful visage that filled her dreams.
The broad cheekbones, the aristocratic nose.
The deep blue eyes beneath brows so light blond you could barely see the gray. He bent her over the bed again, still cuffed, still sore from the whip, and positioned his cock at her copiously slick entrance.

"My horny little pet," he said. "Always wet for Master. That pleases me." He grabbed her sore, welted flesh with rough fingers and pulled her back against him. She gasped in breathless anticipation as his cock parted her flesh, entering in a long slow slide that sent electric shocks of pleasure down every nerve. Before he'd even entered her completely, she was shaking in the throes of her release. He didn't stop, only gave a soft chuckle.
"So poorly trained, and yet so delicious at the same time."

He continued to fuck her and she gave herself up to the sensations and scents of lovemaking. Her nipples were still tender, dragged across the cotton coverlet of his bed as he thrust into her from behind, so the smooth linens felt like rough sandpaper. She felt the hair of his thighs scraping the sensitive welts of her bottom, and the press of his elegant fingers against her hips and waist. He pulled away, leaving her empty. He swiped some of the copious moisture from her pussy and slid it over her asshole with his thumb. She braced and arched her back, opening for him. His cock hurt as he parted her ass cheeks, but he didn't stop and she didn't even consider fighting him. The head stretched her as it pressed in and she closed her teeth on the coverlet beneath her, trying to endure the sharp ache without making any movements to elude him.

"Oh, Master," she whimpered. He made a soothing noise and leaned down with a hand on either side of her head, sliding inside her all the way to the hilt. There was still pain until he seated himself, and then her body relaxed, finally resigning itself to his invasion. He bumped against her, lifting her toes from the floor as he used her tight asshole for his pleasure. The pain mixed with pleasure at the intimacy of the act, and his mastery over her. The silence of his bedroom was broken only by his gasps and grunts, but then she heard a desperate whine and realized it was coming from her. She twisted her hips, wanting more, and he fucked her harder, grinding against her ass so her pelvis was pressed to the edge of the bed. Then he took her hips in his hands and slowed.

"
Ohhh
...
" She loved her Master so much. Every inch of his thick member sliding into her ass was like a gift. He eased in and then out, holding her tight, burying himself inside and then withdrawing. He used his thumbs to spread her cheeks and she knew he was looking at her asshole as he plunged in and out of it. She wanted to look too, to admire the intimate joining, but it wasn't her place. She was glad Ms. Bobo had come that afternoon so her body was slick and free of hair for his pleasure. She wanted to come again and she whined, feeling ashamed, but also wishing for him to understand how much he aroused her.