Every so often she stretched and braced her legs against the bars, but even then she kept her thighs spread. That was the kind of slave she was. She would sooner maim herself than disobey. It was a virtue—but also a danger. It was the reason it would have been really hard for Mephisto to entrust her into another Master’s care, even though he’d thought many times of who he could steer her toward if she wouldn’t agree to be his. Fortunately he wouldn’t have to do that any longer. Clayton had struggled with the same fear, Mephisto knew. He’d thought about Clayton a lot today. Clay would have been happy to know how things panned out.
Mephisto looked over his digital to-do list. At the bottom he added Collar for Molly. After a moment he also typed Chastity belt? He looked over at Molly on the cam again and deleted the chastity belt note. Eventually, yes. At the moment, no. Hell no. So many other pleasures to enjoy for now. After he enjoyed conquering her little asshole, it would be time for dinner, and then Club Mephisto’s employees would start arriving. Patrons would fill his club, set about driving one another wild, but Mephisto had a feeling he would still be thinking about Molly.
He decided he would make her lie under his desk that night during club hours, perhaps even blindfold her. When he craved her, when he needed release, he’d go sit at his desk and she could service him, hidden from view. Ah, that was hot and she would love it. Maybe he’d put her in a double dildo harness and let her finger herself while she sucked his cock. If she could bring herself off before he finished, he’d give her some reward above and beyond a mouthful of his cum...
His sexual imagination was endless. His patience was not. He got so rigid imagining scenarios that any further work became impossible. He stood and stalked to the bedroom. As soon as he entered, Molly’s eyes latched onto his, then dropped to his engorged, jutting cock. Yes, little kitten, this is going in your ass shortly. Like, a minute from now. He was still every bit as naked as she was, which was fortuitous, since in its rock solid state, his cock might have busted right though the denim of his jeans.
He crossed the room and yanked the cage door open, pulled his slave out, and bent her over the bed. It occurred to him perhaps he should have prepared her with a plug first, made her wear it while she waited in the cage. But then, she would enjoy this more if it hurt a little. He let her wait while he crossed to the bureau to grab a condom. He added just a thin sheen of lube to what was already there and ogled her ass and thighs as he returned to stand behind her. Beautiful marks, and they would deepen by tomorrow.
He grabbed a cheek in each hand and squeezed hard, kneading her bruises. She groaned and ground her hips against the edge of his bed.
“Give me your hands.” His sharp request sounded suspiciously like a snarl. “Put them behind you.”
She reached back and he circled her wrists, holding them tight in one fist. With the other hand, he pressed the head of his shaft against her little, spasming hole.
“You won’t make this difficult for Master, will you?” he asked with an edge of warning. “I don’t want to force my way in, but I will if I have to.”
She whimpered, her legs tensing. He pressed her hands down firmly at the small of her back and eased partway in. Good God, she was so hot, so tight. An animal sound tore from his throat, pent up desire finally released. She stretched around him, her body quivering as she struggled to accommodate his size. She made quiet sounds of distress, but nothing dire enough to make him retreat.
“Good girl. Good girl...” he crooned softly. “Be a good girl and take Master’s fat cock in your ass. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yes...Yes, Master,” she gasped through tightly clenched lips.
“Beg for me to go deeper.”
“Master, please, fuck me deeper!”
“Beg for me to drive in all the way,” he said, squeezing her wrists when she fidgeted under him. “Beg me to fuck you hard.”
“Please, Master, drive in me all the way, balls deep. Fuck me hard, even if it hurts me.”
He slapped her ass, causing her ring to clench around the head of his cock. “I won’t hurt you too badly, kitten. But I’ll hurt you enough to show you who’s in charge.”
He slid deeper, the sadist in him thrilling to the sound of her drawn out hiss. She went up on her toes as he bottomed out in her, the lube on the condom only slightly smoothing the way. He sawed out and in again, bumping his hips against her red ass. Finally he felt her relax and accept him. When he could enter and leave her with less resistance, he increased his pace, drilling her, feeling a delicious, brutal tension swirl in his balls. Assfucking offered so many pleasures. The tightness, the resistance, and the fact that it was nearly impossible to assfuck a woman without tumbling her down into a submissive place.
Mephisto groaned and spread Molly’s legs even wider with a nudge of his knees. Her little pain-and-lust noises were driving him wild. He noticed with amusement that she was grinding unabashedly against the edge of the mattress now. The insistent swivel of her hips was the perfect complement to the friction of him driving in and out. “Don’t come yet,” he warned her. He could come any time—she turned him on that much—but he’d promised her an ass-reaming and that was what she was going to get. “I’ll tell you when you can come. Don’t come before or you’ll be sorry.”
Ah, sweet little thing wasn’t grinding anymore. Smart slave. He pushed her hands up by the back of her neck, and without instruction she laced them there at her nape. He grabbed her hips and fucked her for long moments...fast, slow, hard, harder, and then gently, sliding in and out so sensually that she gripped every inch. As his slave, she would have to take his cock in her ass whenever the mood struck him, which would be a lot. Best that she get comfortable with that reality.
He fucked her until she started to zone out, and then he let go of her hips and ran his fingers up her back. He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the bed on either side of her head, leaning over her, driving deep. Her wedding rings from Clayton still shone on her finger. It didn’t bother him at all. Clay, man, I can’t thank you enough for this. “Are you ready to come with Master’s cock deep in your ass?”
“Yes. Yes, Master!”
She arched back against him and those little hips started bucking and grinding again. He could have helped her, spread her pussy lips and fingered her clit—he knew exactly where to touch her and how hard—but it amused him more to make her work for it, arching helplessly in the space between his hips at her back and the edge of the bed pressed against her front. She started to moan, her ass twitching around his cock. It didn’t seem possible for him to get any harder but in that moment he did. The tingling became a roar, the steady drive a necessity. He slid into her with all the ungoverned desire he felt, bearing her down hard into the bed, and then she was writhing under him, crying out in ecstasy. She clamped down in a rhythmic, powerful orgasm around the base of his cock, and with a howl, he let loose inside her.
Holy fuck. He was going to crush her, but he couldn’t draw back, couldn’t control the impulse to drive in her, to empty out all the excitement and pleasure she built up in him. When his climax subsided, when the blood stopped beating in his ears, he raised himself off her enough to let her take a breath. He was still gripping her hands. He turned one and kissed the palm, then the other, and returned her hands to the bed, where they rested, limp and half open. He pulled out and took off his condom, then returned to find her still sprawled, legs wide open. He nudged against her with one knee.
“Are you alive, or should I notify your next of kin?”
“I am...” She paused. “I am barely alive, Master.” She made a sound that he wanted to remember forever. A thrilled, exhausted, delighted sound. He helped her up and swept her into his arms, just because he wanted to hold her in that moment, clasp all her sweetness and beauty right aga
inst his chest. She shrieked and grabbed at his shoulders.
“I won’t drop you, kitten, don’t worry. Although I’m sure you’d land on your feet.”
He took her to the shower and scrubbed her up, allowing her to do the same for him, and then they went to the kitchen to eat and prepare for the night ahead. Mephisto decided he wouldn’t force Molly to appear out in the club, not yet, but he gave her the choice. She decided she would come play for a little while, although she looked uneasy about it.
“Do you not want to come because you think I might play with someone else? Will it bother you if I do?” he asked.
Molly took a long time to answer. “It would bother me terribly, Master, because I’m jealous and I don’t want to share you with anyone. But the choice is yours. If that’s what you need to be happy, I’ll learn to live with it.”
Like the cane. Like the chastity belt in her future, and all the torments he’d dream up for her. She’d live with them because she’d agreed to be his slave. But lucky for her, emotional torture had never been his speed.
“I doubt I’ll take any other slaves for a while,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I have a feeling you’ll keep me satisfied enough on your own.”
*** *** ***
Over the next few weeks, Mephisto’s life sorted into a relaxing, fulfilling balance of work and playing with Molly every chance he got. It wasn’t always easy. At his insistence, she kept up her forays into the outside world, her volunteerism and adventures in self-improvement. She surprised him in her creativity—and her persistence. Her involvement in charities started to rival Clayton’s old habit of really getting in there and trying to improve the world from the ground up. Mephisto found himself attending playground openings, working on Habitat for Humanity sites, and, awkwardly, reading to children at the hospital. Well, he was awkward at it, but Molly was amazing. She spent every Wednesday morning at the pediatric hospital, and all the kids adored her and clambered to sit in her lap, to talk to her and tell her their stories.