Free Molly's Lips: Club Mephisto Retold by Annabel Joseph

she’ll enjoy it. Or not enjoy it,” he added with a chuckle. “Is she still on lockdown?”
    “Yes.”
    “Any slip ups?”
    Mephisto paused. “No. But there was an interesting episode last night. Long story, but she ended up with some whip marks. Nothing that won’t be healed by tomorrow.”
    Clayton was quiet a moment. “She has delicate skin. She’s more delicate than she looks.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
    “Accidents happen,” he said tightly. “How is she otherwise?”
    Shit. Clayton was angry as hell. “She’s fine. She’s trying hard to be good. It’s difficult for her. She’s not used to me.”
    “And how are you?” Clayton asked with his usual incisive sharpness.
    Mephisto sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I’m not used to her either. I’m trying to get through to what... I’m trying to...”
    There was a lengthy silence on the line before Clayton spoke. “You know, Mephisto, I really appreciate you doing this. I think it’s important, but it’s messy too. I know that, but I trust you. You do what you think you have to do. Molly will survive, and you will, and I will too.”
    Mephisto hung up with Clayton and tried to refocus on the things he needed to do. Emails, contacts. Equipment to be procured for the club. He ordered dinner in and only then reconnected with Molly, feeding her at his feet. He would miss this when she was gone, these times feeding her. He did it with other slaves now and again, for play, but he’d become used to having Molly there at every meal, perched so prettily on her knees, taking only what he saw fit to give her. If he watched her closely enough as they ate, he could see the small signs she gave, that she was still hungry, or that she was full. Now and again she shifted in her chastity harness. Those signs were crystal clear. Still horny and frustrated.
    After dinner Mephisto went back to his desk to roll through the last of the correspondence and bills, club duties made somewhat less tedious by Molly’s hot, skilled mouth sucking his cock under the desktop. He half-focused on her, her pleasurable ministrations background music for what he had to admit was a very cushy life. Ten minutes went by. Fifteen. She started to flag and he slapped her cheek lightly to re-engage her. Her body was warm against his legs. He looked down to see her moving her hips in a sinuous dance of aroused need, the black straps of her harness standing out in stark contrast on her light skin. The sight of it, paired with the pressure of her eager throat, finally nudged him over the edge into a long pulsing orgasm.
    His body relaxed, spent. She took off his condom and a few moments later he felt her curling up under the desk at his feet. The night Clayton had brought her, she’d done the same thing, and he’d watched, charmed. It did feel nice. He ran his fingers through her hair, drifting, barely attending to his work. He let himself imagine yet again what it might be like to have a devoted slave like Molly at his service, day in and day out.
    He wasn’t accomplishing anything. He shut his laptop and made Molly crawl beside him back to the bedroom. He checked her tiny nicks from the night before and was relieved to find them all healing nicely. He released her from the harness and cleaned her up in the shower, using it as an excuse to explore every inch of her. She clung to him, her hair turning glossy and black under the warm spray. He enjoyed the way she openly ogled him as he washed her, and offered her the soap with a half-smile when he was done.
    She smiled back. Perhaps a little of her misery was lifting. She took her time, caressing and kneading his muscles, giving him the side-eye every so often. Such invitation. Reckless thing. He stopped her when she reached for his cock and took her fingers in his, kissing her once, twice. She shivered in his arms, even in the steam of the shower. He pulled her closer just to feel her small, lithe body