Club Mephisto (Club Mephisto 1)

Molly's mind started to drift. She touched the welts on her bottom, just a brush of fingers as she settled. It had made her sad to wash off the last residue of Master's cum in the shower. She might have fallen asleep to the scent of it on her hands. But the welts were from his hand, and that soothed her. She cried a little, turning away from the camera so no one would see her—whoever might be watching her now. Soon she fell into a dreamless, heavy sleep. What time Mephisto came to his bed...if he came to his bed...she never did know.

The First Day

Molly turned and stretched, reaching in her sleep for Master. Her hands bumped cold metal bars and she jerked awake. She made a small sound of sadness and frustration, and then realized with a start that Mephisto was staring at her from his bed.

If she had to guess, she would say he was only just awakening too. He was leaning up against a pile of snow white pillows. The forbidding black comforter was on the floor in a heap, revealing a dissonant expanse of pristine white sheets. He lay on top of them, his bronze body another striking contrast. She took all of this in as he watched her in silence. She realized—as she continued to stare—that his cock was in his hands, and he was stroking it in slow, lazy movements. He didn't acknowledge her, although as she held his eyes, one corner of his lips turned up in a shadow of a smirk. She looked away at once, embarrassed to be caught staring so boldly. Whenever she stared at Master that way, he reprimanded her to remember her place.

But in avoiding his eyes, her gaze fell inexorably back to his cock. He was hard, his impressive length jutting out from the cradle of his palm. Now, undressed and relaxed, he looked much larger than he looked in his signature black clothes. She wondered why he never walked around naked in the club. But then, the other patrons would probably find that too daunting. It would cause a riot, she thought with her own half-smile.

"Do I amuse you?"

Her mouth fell open. "No...no, Master. I was only thinking...well." She stopped, blushing. God, she had to pee.

"Only thinking what?"

"I was wondering why you don't walk around the club naked when your physique is so...worthy of admiration, Master."

"Are you admiring me?"

Are you flirting with me? She couldn't read him as easily as she could read her Master. Was he angry? Was she about to be punished? Or was she about to be ravished? His expression held no discernable clues.

"Master," she murmured, letting her gaze fall to his fisted cock again, "if only you had awakened me, I might have served you rather than making you wait."

"I wake you when I like, and you serve me when I say so."

Now he was clearly angry. At least, his words were sharp.

"I'm sorry, Master."

"You were talking in your sleep."

"I'm sorr—"

"Stop apologizing. I'm just telling you. I didn't wake you because I was watching you talk in your sleep. It was rather fascinating, actually."

She wanted to ask what she might have said that was so fascinating, but to do so would be pure rudeness. If he wanted her to know, he would have told her. As she came to wakefulness she assumed her subordinate role with greater concentration. Which meant, rather than continuing to stare at him and blabber, she lowered her eyes and waited for instructions. Any instructions. And prayed that he had plans to let her use the restroom soon.

"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, Master."

"You cried a little when Lila put you in there."

The mystery of who watched her—solved. "I did cry a little. I was missing my Master."

"I'm your Master for now. Or were you crying for me?" That unfathomable expression again, and that unnerving almost-smile. She didn't make any remark in reply and he didn't seem to expect one. She shifted a little, pressing her legs together. The situation was growing urgent.

"Master...um...I need to use the restroom. Please."

"You will, when I tell you to."

She fell silent, lifting her chin a little. A silly rebellion, but he surely caught it. As attractive and compelling as Mephisto was, she was having trouble transferring her submission over to him so abruptly. He just wasn't kind and affectionate like her Master. He was much more...intense.

Well, she would hold it as long as she had to. If worse came to worse she'd pee in the cage, and probably be forced to clean it up. She lay back down and waited. That was a lot of her life's work since she'd become a slave. Wait, watch and listen. Be useful and attractive. Obey.

She heard him move, and watched him cross the room to her cage, his cock still at half mast or higher. "Go on, then. Quickly,” he said. “Take care of things."

She crawled out of the cage and wobbled on slightly cramped legs. He reached to right her and she mumbled thanks as she headed in the direction of the bathroom Lila had shown her last night. She wondered what time it was. She was hungry. For all she knew it was noon. Or six in the morning. There were no windows in Mephisto's bedroom, and the walls were dark concrete which gave it a dungeon-like feel. She took his order of "Take care of things" to include brushing her teeth, washing up discreetly, and combing out her hair. She hurried, not wanting to chance punishment or displeasure from him so soon. Well, no more than she'd already elicited.

When she finally returned to the bedroom he was waiting, staring at her with his powerful arms crossed over his chest. She froze, not knowing whether to kneel or stand. This was horrible. Had some part of her wanted this? She didn't know how to behave, what protocols to follow. Her distress must have shown in her face, because when he called her over his voice was mildly sympathetic.

"Come here."

She crossed to him, trying to appear as graceful and submissive as possible. When she got near, he reached out and pulled her against him. His skin was so warm against hers, and so soft, for all the hardness of his musculature. His hands roved up her back, squeezing, stroking. He leaned away and cupped her breasts, gently, just for a moment, before squeezing them and slapping them. Not too hard, but she still flinched. The look on his face frightened her. But his eyes...they were not black at all, but a deep, rich brown with flecks of gold in them. He was not the devil. Not truly the Mephisto of his name. He was just a man. She tried to relax, going loose in his embrace. He put a hand on her neck and used it to tip her face up.

"I've always found you the most enticing thing, kitten. So beautifully formed. Like a pretty vase. But vases are breakable," he added, seemingly to himself.

She bit her lip. Her heart was pounding in her chest as his fingers wound in her hair. He was going to kiss her...but no. He was only looking at her, looking deep in her eyes, as if for secrets.

"You're afraid," he said.

She blinked, and nodded slowly. "Yes, Master."

"Tell me why."

She thought a moment, phrasing her answer carefully as her Master had taught her. "You are a very strong man. I know to obey you, and I'll try, but there is nothing to protect me from you if…if you were moved to anger."

He thought a moment, tracing a circle on her hip. "Your Master's directives protect you, to a degree. I will not hurt you beyond the limits I promised him last night. And believe me, I am a man of my word. But will you move me to anger? I suppose you might. I know your Master has trained you just as he wishes you. I know you are a well-trained little slave. But remember something, kitten. I am not your usual Master. You will need to learn and abide by my rules this week."

She bowed her head. "Yes, Master."

He was scrutinizing her again, and she shifted under his gaze. His cock poked against her belly and his hands fondled and grasped her ass cheeks. She flinched a little due to the sensitive welts. He slapped her ass sharply.

"Nice marks. Punishment, or Master's pleasure?"

She thought a moment. "Both, I think."

He chuckled. "Not so perfect after all. All right, kitten. I'm going to get to know you a little better. Go kneel on the bed. All fours. Open and hungry, like a bitch

in heat."

She turned to obey, his coarse words resonating in her pussy, making it slowly pulse to life. She crawled onto the white sheets as he opened a condom and rolled it on. She opened her legs wide, arching her back. Open and hungry. Fear and curiosity mixed with the sensation of him roughly grasping her hips. She felt the head of his cock probing her entrance and then he drove in, a daunting, humbling burn. He fucked her almost mechanically, with one arm braced on the bed beside her. She felt casually used, which always excited her. She could feel her wetness growing, feel him sliding more and more easily into her slickened channel.

"You like this?" he whispered. "Being fucked like a toy? You do, don't you?"

"Yes—Yes, Master," she gasped. Her hips arched back, seeking more, more violence, more aggression, but he only continued to fuck her in that controlled, leisurely way.

"I'm just getting a feel for you. And letting you feel me. You're going to feel a lot of me this week," he added with a trace of laughter, under his breath. "You're nice and tight, aren't you, girl?"

"Yes, Master. I try to stay tight for Master's pleasure."

"Good girl. Speaking of tight..."

He pulled out and pressed the head of his cock against her asshole. She clenched in a panic, self-protectively.

"Your Master told me you are anally trained," he said, sounding impatient.

"I...I am, Master."

"You still need lubricant?"

"He uses a little. From my pussy." And he's not as big as you. And he doesn't make me feel as nervous. I trust him. I don't trust you.

To her relief he pulled away and a moment later she felt cool lube plunged up into her asshole. Not that it would save her if he was savage, but he'd promised her Master not to hurt her. She willed herself to relax and press back on his thick tool. The lube eased the way and the head popped in. She groaned, aching from the uneasy pain of his entry, but he pressed ahead, holding her hips. She felt split, conquered. Again, he fucked her with a detached and persistent rhythm.

"Mm. Very tight," was his only comment for a while. She braced her knees against the mattress, trying not to collapse, trying not to pull away. She typically enjoyed anal play, and soon, even through the fear and pain, she felt pricks of hot lust begin to spread to her breasts and her clit. She wanted to rub herself, to assuage the shuddering build of pleasure as Mephisto drilled her ass. She collapsed forward onto her shoulders, bucking back against him. Oh, if only he would let her come—