She truly enjoyed these moments when he shared food with her. Even though she was at his feet, she felt treasured and cared for. She sat in a very similar fashion beside her Master at his meals, but he rarely shared his food with her. She realized how very differently two Masters might handle and make use of their slaves. She supposed her duty as a slave was to adjust to whatever her Master desired at any given moment. Whoever her Master might be.
"What are you thinking about?"
Her gaze shot to his. Caught dreaming again. Would he send her for nipple clamps to refocus her attention?
"Don't worry, 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."
"Master...I am the lucky one, to be able to serve him."
Her words came close to contradicting him, but he let it pass. "Clear these dishes away and then come join me in the play space," he said. "We're going to embark on a little training I warrant you've never experienced before."
He took the black bag with him. Molly cleared away the dishes, the warm feelings from the meal dissipating into stomach-churning panic. Some new form of training? She prayed it wasn't torturous or painful. She wished she could have had more time, but the takeout containers didn't take much time to square away. She steeled herself to obedience and walked out to the club area determined to submit to whatever he subjected her to.
He was standing beside a padded table, almost like the one she laid on during her annual appointment with her Master's private physician. It had stirrups at the bottom and also attachment points extending from each side—which the other table didn't have. He patted it, with that small, hidden smile. Molly crossed to him and lay back on the cool black leather.
He began by fastening cuffs to each wrist and attaching her arms—spread wide—to the extending poles on either side. Her ankles came next, fastened to the stirrups with padded straps. He stopped then, pressing her thighs wide open, and slipped two thick fingers into her pussy.
"Wet, are we?" he asked. "Yes, bondage turns me on too."
He undid his pants and sheathed himself, then took hold of her thighs and pressed into her wet slit. She shuddered at the sliding, stretching pleasure of being impaled on his cock. He entered and left her in shallow movements, bumping against her clit and arching over her. His hands were braced on either side of the table near her hips. She was going to come. She was going to die from the bondage, the powerlessness. He slid over her g-spot, creating shivery pangs of sensation and a desperate need for release. She gazed up at him, taking in the bunching of his muscles and the hard definition of his abs. He was studying her, his eyes full of some unknown but rigid intent.
"You haven't come since you've been here with me, girl. Have you?"
She shifted slightly, trying to pull herself from the haze of arousal to attend to his question. "I... No... You said—"
"I haven't given permission, and you've obeyed me. So it's been how long for you?"
She licked her lips. "Almost...well...two days. Since the night my Master brought me here."
"And have you wanted to come since you've been here?"
"Oh...God..." Her eyes rolled back in her head as he swiveled his hips and slid the head of his cock across her g-spot again. "Oh, Master, I really want to come right now."
"Don't," he said roughly. He was fucking faster now, driving her toward her peak. Don't. Don't. She pushed down the burgeoning impulse to come, to give in and let the rhythms of her orgasm take her. She gritted her teeth, looking around to distract herself, but his cock was demanding attention inside her, warming and filling her. Don't. To her relief, he pulled away from her, stripped off his condom, and shot his cum on her belly and breasts. She tried to catch her breath as the impetus to come slowly ebbed away. She couldn't repress a little whine. She looked up at him guiltily.
He laughed, trailing a finger through his cum, drawing the warm fluid up and around one taut, aching nipple. "Don't worry. It's okay to be frustrated. Edging is frustrating. For you anyway."
She made another soft sound, of protest or complaint, but he ignored it, turning away to pick up a vibrator. She shifted in her bonds as he eyed her. He took his time fiddling with the different settings, making her wait. She knew what edging was. She already knew she didn't like it.
"Please..." she said softly, but he was already spreading her pussy lips with his fingers. He placed the tip against her clit, just a light vibration. She breathed in and out, trying to distract herself, trying not to focus on the growing heat between her legs. He was patient, moving the vibrator up and down across her button until, despite her best efforts, her hips were moving, seeking needed release. "Please..." she whispered again.