"Lovely girl." He smiled back at her. "Did you miss me?"
"Yes, Master! Oh, I missed you so much. Welcome home."
"How was your day?"
Molly told him an abbreviated version—which books she'd read, when she'd exercised, when she'd rested, when Ms. Bobo had come by. He listened with absorption. These were her moments, the moments he unselfishly gave her each day before he demanded she give herself over to his needs. She basked in his full attention, pouring all the appreciation and excitement she felt into her words because she knew it would please him.
When she finished, he lifted her to her feet as always and gave her a deep kiss full of promise. She pressed against his broad chest, breathing in his masculine cologne and the fresh scent of his fine clothing. His fingers twisted in her hair, making her entire body tingle. Her naked skin felt alive wherever she touched him even though he was still fully dressed. Only then, after the kiss, was she able to focus again on her task of serving him. She peered up into his blue eyes silently, awaiting his next command, whether it was sending her for a whiskey, or for a whip.
"You seem in high spirits today," he said. "Come into the living room."
She trailed behind him to the adjacent space, a large, airy room with a huge window-wall that afforded spectacular views of the Seattle city skyline. Molly always found the staid lines and neutral tones of the room soothing, and sat there many hours just looking out at the view. But not now. Now she was focused completely on her Master. He sat back in one of the club chairs near the fireplace, beckoning her forward with a casual gesture she knew well. She went to him and knelt between his outstretched legs. She loosed his waistband's button with careful, patient attention, not wanting to jostle or jerk at his clothing. She drew down the zipper and released his hardening member from the fly of his silk boxer shorts. He sank back with a sigh, letting her attend him.
Her Master's cock was truly wonderful, and it was no problem for her to worship and service it for hours on end. It was the perfect length and thickness—it choked her a little when he thrust in her mouth, and it stretched her a little whenever he entered her pussy, but it was a thrilling stretch, not the painful kind. More than that, his cock represented, for her, her Master's awesome power and masculinity. She licked up and down the hard, swollen shaft, teasing the bulbous crown before bowing her head to lick around the base. She caressed his balls as she did, taking him deeper, deeper... He made soft lust sounds that thrilled her, his hands roving lazily over her hair, down to her shoulders, then down lower to squeeze and pinch her sensitive breasts. She made sounds too, hums and small moans of pleasure she simply couldn't contain.
He was clearly in as high of spirits as she was. It wasn't long before he leaned forward, grasping the sides of her head and taking her mouth in violent strokes that culminated in a pulsing orgasm in her throat. She stayed still, tasting his hot cum, swallowing it down and licking up the very last drops from the tip of his cock.
"Good girl," he said, tilting her chin up with a smile. "Go and tell Mrs. Jernigan that I will take dinner early tonight. We'll be going to Club Mephisto at ten."
* * * * *
Molly knelt beside him as he ate, in case he should need anything. He was looking over some papers connected to his work. She wasn't sure about the extent of his wealth or what he actually did all day as the owner of a prominent Seattle real estate firm. She just knew he was very successful at what he did. He had a real life name, Clayton, which she also loved, although she couldn't imagine ever calling him Clayton. She had called him Mr. Copeland while they were dating, and Master before they were even officially wed. His friends and family called him Clayton when they came over and Molly dressed in unfamiliar clothing to act as Master's vanilla wife. Some of his friends called him Clayton at the club too.
Club Mephisto. The place they'd met.
Master took Molly to the club on a fairly regular basis, perhaps once a month. Sometimes they didn't go for two or three months if Master was especially busy, and Molly would feel disappointed. It wasn't only that she didn't get out of the house much. To be honest, it was also because of Mephisto himself.
Mephisto was the owner of the eponymously-named private BDSM club Master preferred. Since a couple years ago, Club Mephisto was the only place they went. Mephisto's clientele was hand-selected and thoughtfully chosen. It was Mephisto himself who had invited Molly to work at his club when he'd met her, drunk and wild, dancing atop a table at a mainstream bar on Pike Street. She had shown up nervous and curious, and been put to work behind the bar in the dark, cavernous play space. She had been given a white collar symbolizing Mephisto's protection. What she saw...the scenes, the sex, the power exchange...changed her life.