He was clearly in as high of spirits as she was. It wasn't long before he leaned forward, grasping the sides of her head and taking her mouth in violent strokes that culminated in a pulsing orgasm in her throat. She stayed still, tasting his hot cum, swallowing it down and licking up the very last drops from the tip of his cock.
"Good girl," he said, tilting her chin up with a smile. "Go and tell Mrs. Jernigan that I will take dinner early tonight. We'll be going to Club Mephisto at ten."
* * * * *
Molly knelt beside him as he ate, in case he should need anything. He was looking over some papers connected to his work. She wasn't sure about the extent of his wealth or what he actually did all day as the owner of a prominent Chicago real estate firm. She just knew he was very successful at what he did. He had a real life name, Clayton, which she also loved, although she couldn't imagine ever calling him Clayton. She had called him Mr. Copeland while they were dating, and Master before they were even officially wed. His male friends called him Clayton when they came over and Molly dressed in unfamiliar clothing to act as Master's vanilla wife.
Some of his friends called him Clayton at the club too.
Club Mephisto. Master's favorite club, and the club where they'd met.
Master took Molly to the club on a fairly regular basis, perhaps once a month. Sometimes they didn't go for two or three months if Master was especially busy, and Molly would feel disappointed. It wasn't only that she didn't get out of the house much. To be honest, it was also because of Mephisto himself.
Mephisto was the owner of the private BDSM club Master preferred over all the others in Chicago. Since a couple years ago, Club Mephisto was the only place they went. Mephisto's clientele was hand-selected and thoughtfully chosen. It was Mephisto himself who had invited Molly to work at his club when he'd seen her, drunk and wild, dancing atop a table at a mainstream bar in Weed Street. She had shown up nervous and curious, and been put to work behind the bar in the dark, cavernous play space. She had been given a white collar symbolizing Mephisto's protection. What she saw...the scenes, the sex, the power exchange...changed her life.
But she had never been Mephisto's girl. Mephisto was no one's, and no one ever belonged to him. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that everyone belonged to him in the intimate, decadent world he created. It was Mephisto who had paired up Molly with her Master. He had somehow engineered magic, knowing they were a likely match. It was what he was famous for, and why people always came back. It was why people in the lifestyle all wanted to find a way into Mephisto's private enclave. Mephisto created sex magic, and mind-blowing scenes of power exchange. Molly was not immune to his spell, although she hid her fascination as well as she was able. She didn't want Master to stop going because Molly had an inappropriate curiosity about Mephisto. Anyway, everyone did, not just her, so Molly tried not to feel too guilty about it.
"Girl? Did you hear me?"
Molly snapped back to attention, flushing red. "Please forgive me, Master. I was...not attending."
He gave her an arch look. "Coffee. And the nipple clamps, if you are having trouble staying focused tonight."
"Yes, Master."
Molly stood and went to let Mrs. Jernigan know that Master was ready for after-dinner coffee, and then went to fetch the nipple clamps from the unobtrusive stash of toys in the living room. It was no less than she deserved. How could she be daydreaming about Mephisto rather than paying attention to Master? Molly knelt before him as she returned, offering her breasts to him as she handed over the clamps. He pulled each nipple hard before he closed the biting teeth down on tender flesh. Molly tensed at the excruciating pain, but kept her cries of discomfort inside. You deserve this. You deserve this. Focus. Mrs. Jernigan came in to deliver Master's cappuccino just as he was clamping the second nipple, and Molly's face flamed red with humiliation. Mrs. Jernigan soundly ignored her as always.
Master thanked Mrs. Jernigan in a cordial tone, then yanked the silver chain between Molly's breasts.
"Were you daydreaming, Molly?" he asked.
He was not truly angry, only slightly annoyed, to her relief. She nodded and answered,
"Yes, Master. I'm so sorry and I beg your forgiveness."
"What were you daydreaming about?"
She paused but a second. "Club Mephisto, Master." Well, that was true. She was contemplating the club, in addition to the club's owner. But the words felt dry in her mouth. She knew them for a lie, a dissemblance. She concentrated on the dull, throbbing pain in her nipples.
You deserve this. You deserve worse.
Master sipped his coffee in a silence a few minutes, flicking the chain every so often to draw a gasp of pain from her. She focused all her attention on him, trying to make up for her earlier gaffe. At last he pushed back in his chair, but did not stand.
"I have news for you, girl. I have been called away for next week. Business. A last minute thing. I was a bit at ends trying to think what to do with you. It's fine to leave you with Mrs. Jernigan of course, but I think you get restless."
Molly felt devastated, cold-cocked. Going away for a week? That was so long to be without him. And it was true. She hated being alone with no interaction or affection, just trapped in Master's home with cold, reserved Mrs. Jernigan. She gazed up at him, letting her sadness show in her eyes. The pain of the clamps, which had given her a place of focus just moments ago, was now overshot by a much more encompassing pain that ached in her heart.
"Now, girl. It's only a week," her Master chided. "You look as if I just killed your puppy.
I actually made some calls from the office and hit on a viable arrangement, which is why I came home early."
"An...an arrangement, Master?"
"Yes, I've arranged for someone else, another Master I trust, to watch over you and put you through your paces while I'm gone. That way I know you're occupied and behaving yourself, and you needn't sit around here doing nothing with Mrs. Jernigan. Furthermore, now she can take a short vacation, which is long overdue."
"Oh, Master. You are so smart to think of that." She wanted to ask " who, who, who? " but that would have been a terrible breach of decorum, so she waited patiently for him to tell her who he'd chosen. She knew he would only choose someone very trustworthy and capable, and so she wasn't worried at the idea of being given into someone else's hands, only curious as to whom she'd be given to. It was certainly someone they knew from the club, since they were going there later. The idea of him making the effort to actually arrange such plans for her in his absence touched her deeply.
She gazed up at him. "I love you so much, Master. I appreciate it so much." Her trembling fingers reached out to graze his calf, the wonder of a mortal touching a God. "Dear Master. I cannot explain how much your care and concern mean to me." Her voice wobbled on the last word.
"Now there, girl. You know how I feel about you getting overemotional."
"Yes, Master," she whispered, reining in her tears. He reached out to toy with her hair, a light lazy touch that quieted her.
"At any rate, you may not be so grateful later. Mephisto is an exacting Master. Much more so than I. I coddle you shamelessly."
Mephisto? He was giving her to Mephisto? The warm fuzzy feelings of the moment before disappeared as her heart began to race. Her pulse pounded loud in her ears. Mephisto? For all her fascination with him, he frightened her. She shivered a little, trying to contain herself. Her Master watched for signs of reaction, and drew her closer when he saw what must have been her obvious signs of distress. He tugged her forward with the chain until she was hunched against him, her cheek resting on his thigh.
"Are you so afraid, pet?" he murmured. "I believe this could be a good experience for you. Something outside your quiet domestic existence with your old, settled Master."
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."