The Fourth Day
The dungeon looked different in the light, she thought. She was on Mephisto's lap, her back to his front, being fed lunch at his work table. She was plugged and harnessed again after a welcome night of respite. She couldn't have summoned the energy to masturbate last night anyway. But he was wise to have harnessed her now, because the days of teasing and denial were starting to take a toll on her.
And the teasing never stopped. He'd loosened the harness enough to slide a couple agile fingers down the front. He tormented her every so often, running fleeting touches over her slick clit. He'd use those same fingers to feed her pieces of bread and hummus, so she would taste herself on them, an added seasoning that only reminded her of her frustration. Longing sauce.
She'd slept late, having vivid dreams of Master, and Mephisto had been kind enough not to wake her until she came to wakefulness on her own. She still felt groggy and was thankful that—for the moment anyway—Mephisto was in a relaxed mood. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and he absently toyed with her breasts between swipes at her aching pussy. She felt loose and surrendered, letting his warmth seep into her from the muscles at her back. He started humming a tune she knew, murmuring the words against her ear as he fed her a piece of pineapple. Kiss, kiss Molly's lips. Kiss, kiss Molly's lips...
It was a song she knew, a song she used to listen to years ago, but it unsettled her to hear it from him. Not that his singing was bad. His voice was actually quite seductive, like everything about him. Rich and yet sensually raspy. No, it was something about him saying her name. Knowing her name. But of course he knew her name...she'd worked for him once upon a time, in another life. He sang it again, turning her head to lick pineapple juice from her lips, noting the gravity in her expression.
"What is it, girl? Forgot your name? It's Molly." He was teasing her. He kissed her again, more deeply this time. He was a passionate, talented kisser, a skill that melted her. Master kissed her often, but his kisses tended to have a paternal, doting quality. Mephisto kissed her like the boys used to kiss her behind the gym in school. As he kissed her, his fingers grazed her clit again and she moaned a feeble protest. He pulled away and she pressed her head into his neck, ashamed to be complaining. He didn't seem angry though. He threaded fingers through her hair, his other hand still pressed against her pussy.
"I know a lot about you, girl. You'd probably be surprised," he went on in a softer voice, almost as though he were confiding in her. "I know your maiden name was Molly Grace Belden, and your married name is Molly Grace Copeland. I know your birthday is April seventh, and that you were born and raised in Bloomington. I know you have an environmental science degree from IU."
Molly tried to block out his words, not wanting to remember her life before Master. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it. It was just...the past. Something she'd given up. No, not given up. That sounded so negative. She'd left all that behind for something better. Master, and Master's happiness. His warmth and the soothing structure of his daily requirements.
"I know something else about you," he said. "I know you didn't really come yesterday."
She wished he hadn’t told her. The only thing that had made the unfairness bearable was that she thought he really believed she’d done it. But all along he'd known Jamie was lying. She hated him suddenly, even his soft voice, his tenderness. She tried not to let it show, hiding her face against his neck. Willing herself to subordination. He nudged her back, gazing down at her.
"You're wondering why I punished you when I knew? I was punishing you for speaking, for protesting. For your tone. And because it pleases me to hurt you sometimes just because I can. Just because I enjoy pushing you to your limits and watching the breakdown."
His fingers moved again on her clit, splintering her attention with soft provoking taps. She tried not to move her hips, not to press against him begging for more. He chuckled softly, no doubt feeling the vibration of need she could never really hide.
"It's the same thing with the orgasm denial, kitten. I enjoy watching the build up, seeing how far I can tease and wrap you around my fingers. How much I can make you dance." She pressed harder against his neck, the quiet, pedantic tone of his voice mesmerizing her. Meanwhile, his finger kept stroking her in the same lilting rhythm of his speech. "The denial is just a tool for winding you up so I can watch you writhe and wriggle for me."
Oh...ohhh... Despite her best intentions she moved her hips and whimpered a little. He wouldn't let her get away, but held her closer instead, subjecting her to his tempting ministrations. Her pussy was clenching on the protrusion inside, wanting more stimulation. Even an assfucking...