Club Mephisto (15 page)

"Master," she said. "It—it already feels better."

The stare went on.
The weighing, the consideration.
Finally he spoke in a soft but authoritative voice. "I need to see you in the bedroom."

She followed, not sure what awaited her. It could be punishment, but she hoped not. As soon as he turned to her inside the door, she knew it wasn't. He stood close to her and ran his fingers through her hair. He lifted her injured arm and kissed her wrist, just above the loosely wrapped bandage.

"Your Master misses you," he said quietly.

"Oh. You talked to him?"

"Yes."

Yes, of course he had. Why was she asking stupid questions?
Perhaps because she’d finally been released from speech restriction.
Perhaps because of the way he was running his fingers down over her breasts, across her belly. Perhaps it was that look in his eyes just before he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. Perhaps it was the sight of him stripping off his shirt and dropping his jeans to the floor. Perhaps it was his golden-bronze body, or the magnificence of his cock steadily rising before her. She
swallowed,
her mouth beginning to water. She started to drop to her knees but he stopped her.

"No."

He nudged her towards the bed, bending her over, tracing the welts that still decorated her ass. He kissed her from the base of her spine up to her nape. She felt his cock bump against the back of her thighs. He pulled away with a curse, going for a condom. She stood still, her pussy throbbing, aching for his penetration. But when he returned, when he started to enter her, he did so only shallowly.

"Molly..." Her name was a low, resonating note in the silence. She froze, startled to even hear it on his lips. He moved deeper, and she moaned, her skin singing for his touch. He reached beneath her and slid sure fingers between her pussy lips, finding her swollen clit. He pressed it, tapping it in a teasing motion. She arched back against him, hating this pleasure and yet unable to steel herself against it. He played her like an instrument, drawing the notes from her whether she wished it or not. She had her voice now...she might plead and beg for climax if she wanted to. But she didn't want to.

She squeezed around his cock, wanting to be used, wanting to be taken.
Wanting to serve.

"Master," she whispered. "I'm yours."

His teeth closed on her neck, biting and then gentling into a nibble. He slid deep in her, pressing her forward onto the bed. Her legs failed and she fell onto her arms. She hissed softly as her burn slid across the sheets. He lifted her, turning her over, and then he came over her like an angel. Like a demon. "Hold onto me," he rasped. "Let me hold you."

He slid over her and she arched beneath him, wrapping her legs around his hips. She grasped his neck with her arms. She twisted fingers in his coarse dreadlocks and pulled, not caring if she hurt him, not caring if he hurt her. He was rough but he was gentle, a revelation of sensual opposites. For a moment she imagined he was not her Master at all, but something even more elemental.
Her soul, her spirit.
The other half of what she was. A perfect fit, like some universal puzzle piece. His cock was the key that opened her. She fell completely open to him, whispering words she couldn't remember that she wasn't even sure made sense.

He pulled her closer, one hand splayed across her back, pressing her against the twist and clench of his abs. All the built-up, denied desire swirled and built inside her. She was that little airplane, twisting, turning. He was the rubber band, wrapped tighter and tighter around her. Slowly, she came to realize that the dynamic between them was different, transformed. Her gaze flew to his and she saw expectant encouragement there. Her heart gave a throb, and her pelvis lurched forward against him. Nerves and synapses snapped to life, and she understood that she didn’t need to push down the arousal this time. Didn’t have to ignore it, hate it. He was giving her pleasure and urging her on.

"Fly for me, Molly," he growled against her ear.

She scratched his back trying to hold on, to make the magic of the long-awaited moment last. In the end she couldn't do it. The orgasm ripped though her, overwhelming her body, her mind, her heart. Her pussy contracted in endless waves of satisfaction. She gasped, the world a swirling vortex, and clung to him in the wonder of it. After all that twisting and stretching in his hands, she flew and flew and flew.

The Seventh Day

She woke the next morning exhausted and satisfied, still tangled in his arms. His head was thrown back in sleep, his scruffy dreadlocks strewn across his pillow. She was curled up against his shoulder. A small stretch awakened aching muscles, and blush-inducing memories. When she stirred he stirred too, running a hand across her stomach and beneath her hip. A moment later, after fumbling with necessities, he was pressing inside her yet another time.

Half awake, the sensations were softened, edged with the cushioning of dreams. Was she dreaming this now? Had she dreamed the numerous times he'd taken her throughout the night? Had she dreamed the endless parade of shuddering orgasms he'd coaxed from her?

He turned and pressed her down to the bed with the force of his penetration, then lifted her, limp and pliable, to mount him in his lap. She climbed him, using his shoulders for leverage. He nipped her just below the ear, yanking her hips back down each time she pushed up from his thighs.

No, not dreaming.

He grabbed her face, kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue as deep as his cock was inside her. She moaned, letting him rock her on his shaft with strong, demanding hands.
Take me. Use me.
He grabbed a fistful of her curls and pulled her head back, baring her neck for his bite. She pressed against the solid heat of him, wanting him closer, ever closer.
Wanting to disappear inside of him.

With a grunt, he pressed her back down onto the bed again, kneeling between her thighs and yanking her legs up over his shoulders. He grabbed her breasts painfully and then held her down, one palm pressed firmly just below her windpipe. If he wanted to, he could steal her air—the look he gave her told her he knew it. Instead he leaned down to kiss her again. She bit him, a wild sleepy creature who wasn't civilized just yet. He chuckled and grabbed her hands, pinning her arms over her head.

She squirmed beneath him—for his amusement only, since she knew he would release her when it pleased him, and not a moment before. But she didn't want to be released. His hands clinched tighter, his body pressing her down. His forceful thighs parted hers wider and he slid inside her in a maddening rhythm that stoked her g-spot to life with mind-melting pleasure. She stretched and arched for him. When he growled for her to come, she fought him and kicked her legs, hopelessly spread and conquered. With a sudden, shimmering cohesion of sensation, she reached a wrenching peak. As her pussy milked his cock in rhythmic spasms, he pressed against her, twisting a fist in her hair. She gasped at the pain, but her orgasm floated on before dissipating into an all-over weight of satiety. She relaxed beneath him, reveling in each sensation. The emptying of her pussy when he pulled out, the slide of his skin as he leaned away. Then he was back, gathering her up and pressing his rough cheek against her forehead.

Slowly, like a flower unfolding, her mind expanded into alert awareness.
Your Master comes today.
It would only be hours now until she saw him again. Mephisto was watching her, reading her face again with that strange facility of his.

"Today's the day."

His voice was kept carefully equivocal. Not happy, or disappointed. Not enthusiastic or angry. Just...blank. She could feel him pulling away from her
emotionally,
feel the separation as if it were a tangible thing. The loss of something he'd given her, and now chose to reclaim.

Mephisto was no one's, and no one ever belonged to him.

"Show me your arm," he said quietly.

Molly was relieved to have a mundane task to do in the moment. She still felt singed by the passion of the morning's encounter—one she somehow sensed had been their last. He carefully
unwrapped
the gauze bandage with the same fingers he'd pressed to her windpipe moments before. The burn was shiny and red, but no longer swollen. Molly thought perhaps it wouldn't even leave a scar, at least not a raised one.

"It looks better," he said.

"Yes, Master."

"It's possible I over-reacted yesterday."

She giggled softly. "I'm so clumsy sometimes. My Master knows it. He'll just shake his head when he sees this."

"Yes. He didn't sound too surprised yesterday on the phone. He was actually shocked that you hadn't managed to get yourself into more trouble."

She lowered her eyes. "Did you tell him about...everything, Master?"

"No, but I will.
The good and the bad.
He might as well know the things you were punished for, as well as the things you handled well."

She wondered if he would tell Master about last night, when he had called her Molly, and made love to her.
Repeatedly.
Instead she asked, "Are you really going to give him the harness?"

"Yes. But now you're asking too many questions. You can ask me one more thing about our time together.
Anything.
But only one more thing, so choose carefully."

Perhaps he thought it would take her a while to narrow it down to one question, but it didn't. "Why did you take me out to the park yesterday?
To that creek?"

He was silent a long while. "I just really wanted to see you there. I had my own questions."

She wanted to ask if his questions had been answered, but her stingy quota of questions was already up. Her gaze fell on the cage. She had expected to sleep there last night, but now she realized her cage-time was over for the time being. Unless Master became interested in caging her, but that didn't seem very likely.

"Will you miss the cage?" he asked.

Damn. How did he
do
that?

"I... I think I will miss it a little, Master. It was a nice place to feel safe.
To feel under your control."

"You can spend some time in there after breakfast. I don't need you for anything." He was tracing agile fingers over her breasts, bringing her nipples to a peak. She sighed, feeling the familiar throb of desire stoked to life again.
Alone in the cage...bored...nothing to think about but...

"Master… Am I still... May I...?"

"Don't even think about it," he laughed.
"Greedy girl.
Yes, our time is almost up and the rules are relaxing a little. But I think you've had plenty of orgasms for the moment. If anything, I need to get you more worked up for your reunion with your Master. It’s the least I can do for him, after he was kind enough to share you with me."

Later, after breakfast, she realized she would have done better to keep her mouth shut. He clamped her nipples and put the harness on her, with stinging oiled-up shafts in her ass and pussy. She was already hopelessly horny before she even crawled into the cage. An hour later he took off the clamps and loosened the harness just enough to slip a remote-controlled vibrator down inside it. By the time he released her just before dinner, she'd had more than enough of the cage.

* * * * *

At dinner, Mephisto added another chair to the table. Molly stared at it from her knees. He cocked his head, looking at her like she was an idiot.

"I know you know how to use a chair. Sit."

He unpacked takeout food, salads and sandwiches, as Molly sat wringing her hands in her lap. She felt she ought to either be helping, or else on her knees. He ignored her discomfort, serving her and even asking what she wanted to drink. He gave her
her
own glass and her own set of silverware—the first time in a weeks' time she'd eaten anything not from his hands. The thought depressed her a little, but she understood his intentions. This was a transition period, a decompression phase between Masters.
You'll be returned to your Master soon.

It unsettled her that she wasn't nearly as impatient as she expected to be. Certainly she was excited to see her Master, but on the second day she'd thought she would have almost expired with craving by this point. Somehow, Mephisto had captured her. Now, he was letting her go. She ate at his side as he wished, but she still kept a respectable silence. It was strange to feed
herself
.