Molly's Lips: Club Mephisto Retold (5 page)

“I’m trying not to. But as far as I know they haven’t discovered the secret to immortality yet.”

“Well, I’m going to try to distract her a little more today.”

“With chastity?”

“It can have a way of filling up a horny slave’s mind. We’ll see.”

“Is she that bad? Do I need to come back?”

“God, no. She’ll be fine. She’s a tough girl.”

“Will you keep her in chastity until I return?” asked Clayton with enthusiasm. “That would be great. I mean, you could take your orgasms, of course.”

“I don’t know. If I’m going to do all the work of keeping her in chastity, I think I might want to enjoy the final result. Nothing like an orgasm-deprived slave letting loose on one’s cock.”

“True. Selfish ass.”

Mephisto laughed. “Just like you, my friend.”

Using Clayton’s measurements, Mephisto bought a chastity harness in black leather. It was high quality, supple, soft, with notches to adjust the fit precisely and attachment points for plugs or dildos. The front was a convex metal plate, designed to prevent any contact for her clitoris when it started aching. It was wonderfully evil. His friend Lorna, the owner of the eponymously named shop, smirked in collusion with him as she wrapped it up.

“I sell a lot of chastity gear for men, but not so many for women,” she said.

“That’s because it’s so fun to make women come. But sometimes—if you’re in a patient enough mood—it’s fun to not let them come.”

Lorna gave him a look. “You’re not a man known for your patience, Master Mephisto.” She would know. She was one of the women who occasionally managed to top him, with great effort on her part.

He winked at her. “We’ll have to get together soon, Mistress. Perhaps when this slave I’m looking after has me nice and worn down.”

Lorna’s eyes flashed. “I don’t want you worn down. That makes it so much less fun.”

“When do I get to wear you down?” he asked seductively.

Lorna made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Whoever you’re looking after, she’s scrambled your brains. Get out of here. Go back to your unfortunate subbie and strap her into that thing. Return when you’re ready to kneel at my feet,
Master
.”

Mephisto left Lorna’s boutique in high spirits. He loved his kinky people. They were his family, the only family that accepted him as he was, with his quirks and perversions. They understood what made him tick, and shared their own vulnerable secrets so he could return that understanding to them. He was in the fantasy-fulfillment business, and he took his work seriously. It wasn’t just sex. It was his life.

He stopped at an Indian eatery owned by more of his kinky friends to get some takeout for him and Molly. As he waited for the food, he thought that he really didn’t know any vanilla people anymore, aside from his conservative family back east. Even before he opened Club Mephisto he’d been a party promoter, and his parties had increasingly inched to the fetish side. Like Molly, perhaps, he was born to this life. He felt genetically programmed to it, and when he was out amidst large groups of vanillas—when it really couldn’t be avoided—it didn’t feel right.

He returned to the club and unlocked the door, finding Molly hard at work polishing the bar top. Standing back there, he could remember her as she was then, slinging beer, mixing cocktails. Twenty-one, twenty-two years old maybe when he hired her. She had to be almost thirty now, but she looked younger than she had in her early twenties. The anger and cynicism had aged her prematurely, but it was all gone now. Seemingly.

But things in the kink world weren’t always what they seemed.

He saw her eying the bag and decided to make her wait and wonder what was inside. Molly surely recognized the shop name, since Clayton was one of Lorna’s biggest customers. Her imagination would probably invent much worse things than what he’d actually bought. Well, maybe not.

He took her into the kitchen, set the bag beside her on the floor, and fed her
naan
and
momos
, and Indian rice, which was tricky. Molly was lovely, taking the food so delicately from his fingertips. The rest of the time she sat and watched him, thinking about...what? What was in the bag? Thinking about him? No, when she thought about him, she looked afraid. She had that distant, dreamy-mournful look...

“What are you thinking about?”

She looked alarmed. Did she think he’d be jealous if she admitted she was daydreaming about Clayton? Maybe he would be.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a shrug, “you don’t need to tell me. I can guess just from the look on your face. He’s a lucky man to have such a devoted slave.”

She blushed. “Master...I am the lucky one, to be able to serve him.”

Her words came close to contradicting him, but Mephisto let it pass. “Clear these dishes away and then come join me in the play space. We’re going to embark on a little training I warrant you’ve never experienced before.”

He took the black bag with him, and went out to prep the padded table and gather some of the equipment he planned to use. Cuffs, straps, dildos, plugs, condoms for fucking her. He shed his shirt for her benefit, but left his jeans on so her own nakedness might feel more acute. Before long, Molly appeared, walking toward him with that lovely ambivalent gait of hers.
I want to come to you and obey you, but I’m afraid at the same time.
She had good reason to be.

He patted the table with a hint of a smile. Molly crossed to him and lay back on the cool black leather. As much as he wanted to throw her legs wide and start fucking her, he made himself pause to cuff her down first. Arms spread wide, wrists fastened, and then ankles fixed to stirrups. She wiggled her toes and arched her pelvis just a little. He put a hand on the inside of her thigh, using the other to inspect her pussy. She gasped softly as he thrust his fingers into her already-slick channel.

“Wet, are we?” he teased. “Yes, bondage turns me on too.”

He undid his fly to release his aching dick and rolled on a condom, then pressed between her thighs. She was so hot, so tight, gripping his cock with her head thrown back, her eyes closed in concentration. He fucked her with long, pounding strokes, grinding now and again on her clit just to watch her suck in her breath and tremble.

“You haven’t come since you’ve been here with me, girl. Have you?” he asked, mid-stroke.

She looked up at him. “I... No... You said—”

“I haven’t given permission, and you’ve obeyed me.” He twisted his hips, driving deep again. “So it’s been how long for you?”

She did some mental calculations while he went on fucking her. It was so cute when they were getting fucked and trying to think at the same time. “Almost...well...two days,” she finally managed. “Since the night my Master brought me here.”

“And have you wanted to come since you’ve been here?”

“Oh...God...” He practically mounted the table, trying to find her g-spot. If her expression was any indication, he’d had success. “Oh, Master,” she wailed. “I really want to come right now.”

“Don’t,” he said. He was fucking faster now, driving her toward the very thing he denied her. Her effort not to come, her tiny whines of distress thrilled him. His climax came on him like a clap of thunder. He’d wanted to torment her longer, but not this time. He pulled out, stripped off his condom, and shot his cum over her flat stomach and up onto her breasts. She let out a soft breath of relief that became a low moan of disappointment as he did up his fly.

Mephisto laughed, rubbing his ejaculate into her skin and up around her puckered nipples. She shivered a little, her hips shifting on the table. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s okay to be frustrated. Edging is frustrating. For you anyway.”

She didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt at humor. His lips twisted in a secret smile as he turned away to pick up a vibrator. He turned back, playing with the settings, plastering a serious, forbidding look on his face.

“Please,” she begged softly. He knew she meant
Please, don’t
, but he was already spreading her pussy lips, looking for that tiny, sensitive bit of flesh. He placed the tip of the vibrator right against it, on a mercifully low setting. For a while she succeeded at mind over matter. She closed her eyes and breathed evenly in and out. Her body was rigid. Fine. He wasn’t in a hurry. He simply waited, moving the humming tool over and around her button until her breath sped up. Until her hips started moving in oh-so-tiny increments. Even with his recent satisfaction, his cock stirred in response.

“Please...” she whispered, gazing up at him in entreaty. He couldn’t imagine how badly she must want to come.

“No begging,” he said. “I’m doing this for my pleasure. This is not about you. This is about teaching you just how much control I have over you—your happiness and your misery. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master. But...please—”

“Every time you say please, I’m going to make this even harder on you.”

She turned her face away, her expression a mask of suffering. He watched her lips, her eyes, her hypnotic hips for signs she was getting too close to hold on.

When he sensed she was almost there, he turned off the vibrator and pulled it away. She whimpered like a kitten, her body all loose and trembling. He watched her breathing, waiting for it to slow. The sheen of his cum still shone between her breasts.

When she seemed calm, he flicked the toy on again. The low buzz sounded loud, almost as loud as her sigh. She turned accusing eyes on him, halting him before he even touched the vibe to her clit.

“You want to scratch my face off, don’t you?”

“Master! Pleas—” She remembered too late his warning about her
pleases
. But how to make things harder on her? She was definitely a nipple-sensitive girl. He’d start there. He went and grabbed some nice cruel clover clamps connected by a chain. She watched in horror as he flicked each nipple, then closed the clamps on them. Her hips came off the table, her arms straining in their bonds. She tried desperately to wrench her legs shut as he parted her pussy again, but he was having none of that. He slapped them open and placed the vibrator right against her swollen, sex glazed clit—

Jesus Christ. Nipple sensitive all right. She came almost the second he touched her. He felt anger, frustration. Not at her, but at himself. And yes, at her. Why was she so fucking orgasmic?

“You’ll have to be punished for that.” He uncuffed her ankles and went for a thick leather strap. She was sobbing in quick halting gusts as he returned and lifted her legs, pushing them high in the air to expose her bottom. He gave her a hard solid crack against the juncture of ass and thighs. She screamed and almost kicked him in the head.

“No, no, no!” she cried as he drew his hand back again.

He continued the punishment, struggling to control her as she fought him, legs trembling. He knew it hurt her, he knew she was panicking. He held her legs against his shoulder with one hand and strapped her a few more times on her ass and the backs of her thighs. She cried and screamed “
Ow!
” and “
No!
” but to her credit, she didn’t say “
Please
” again. He finally lost his patience and grabbed the chain between the clamps on her breasts, tugging it to get her attention.

“When this punishment is over, I’ll stop,” he said. “Until then, you will accept what you have coming to you. Do you understand me?” She caught her breath, then nodded, her face awash in tears. This had to be a hard punishment. He knew her ass still hurt from yesterday. He knew the strap felt like hell falling against her tightly stretched skin while her legs flailed in the air. Tough shit. She was a slave, and she had to take it. He grasped her ankles hard in his hands and gave her a look.

She was better for the rest of the blows. She cried, she screamed, she twisted a little, but she didn’t flail, even when he delivered the last five brutal ones. Then he stopped, still holding the strap against her ass.

“Are you allowed to come without permission?” he demanded sharply.

“No, Master,” she answered in a panicked voice.

“Do you deserve to come whenever you wish?”

“No, Master!”

“Who controls your pussy? Who controls your body?”

“You do, Master! Always!” He gave her one last stinger. Her wail of misery was gorgeous. Broken down. Devastated. He released her legs and left her limp and crying on the table while he went to hang up the strap. God, she was a mess. Such tears. If he thought they were for show, he would have punished her further, but they were quite lovely and real.

“Stop that crying or I’ll gag you.”

He could tell Molly tried. She sucked in deep breaths and blew them out again. Tiny sobbing sounds still erupted from her throat now and again, but she found some place of calm. He watched her expectantly. Finally she swallowed and spoke in a tense rasp. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry I displeased you. Thank you for punishing me.”

“I hope you learned a lesson,” he said, pinching her scarlet ass.

She choked down a cry and drew in a slow, bracing breath. “I did, Master. Thank you.”

He took some tissues to her face, to the tears pooling down by her ears and the snot coming out of her nose. She babbled more apologies, more broken
thank you
’s and
oh Master
’s and
I’m sorry
’s until he finally placed his fingers over her lips.

“Enough. Just show me you’ve learned something. I know this might not seem important to you, but it is to me. I want you to
want
. I don’t want you to achieve satisfaction. Not yet. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “Yes, Master. You want me to be frustrated and unsatisfied.”

To put it bluntly, he thought, chuckling. “Yes. That’s what I want,” he answered out loud in an authoritative tone. He parted her legs and turned the vibrator up higher this time. He doubted she could feel anything at the moment besides the ache in her ass, but he could do this all day. He wanted her to see not only how much power he had over her, but how much he could take away. Not just her free will, but her ability to feel pleasure and respond to it in her own way. And when he finally allowed her to come...