Read Online Molly's Lips: Club Mephisto Retold by Annabel Joseph - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Annabel Joseph
Tags: Erótica
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her.
He wanted her.
He wanted that depth of devotion for himself.
“It’s hard, girl, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
He took off the clamps and tried to feed her, but she was too upset. He didn’t have much appetite either, although he made her drink a little water, sip by halting sip. So many tears. She’d be dehydrated. He bathed her, checking over the whip marks. A few had drawn blood, and he treated them with antibiotic cream.
He put her to bed in the cage without the harness and locked the padlock with feelings of euphoria and yet devastation. He watched her until she fell asleep—it was perhaps three minutes—and then he still sat and watched her chest rise and fall in sleep, his hands threaded through the bars.
Molly, I’m sorry for all the lies. The dishonesty and jealousy. Jamie’s and mine.
The Fourth Day
Mephisto let her sleep. She’d earned it. When she woke, there was a new tension between them. A loss of trust, but a capitulation too. Yes, she couldn’t trust him, but yes, she had to obey him anyway. Of course it upset her, but that was okay.
He fucked her on the floor right outside the cage, a re-orienting and another opportunity to frustrate her libido. The cruel scene of the night before hadn’t dampened her need the least bit. She’d been wet as the ocean when he’d clamped her clit.
She was still wet now, her eyes begging and hopeless all at once. After breakfast he edged her again, fucked her ass for a long time, and then locked her down tight for the day, dildos and all.
The orgasm denial was like an experiment, Molly the only subject. What was going to happen? How far could he push her? Would she eventually rebel? Mephisto realized that’s all he really was, a mad scientist of humanity. He wanted to understand people, like that might bring him some peace, some feeling of accomplishment. It was a quest for knowledge that never ended.
By lunchtime he wanted to fuck Molly again. She was a compulsion, an addiction. He wanted to be thrusting his dick in her all the time. He pushed her to her knees in the kitchen and fucked her face and Jesus goddamnit, how he ached to come in her mouth. Not in the condom, but deep in her luscious throat. He texted Clayton while she served him. Missed a few letters.
Moly is fine. blowig me now.
Clayton would get the general idea. Afterward, he held her in his lap and fed her, enjoying her tremors and the sexual frustration communicated in the tenseness of her legs. When they finished eating, she laid her head back against his shoulder and he held her, rather than pushing her down to the floor. He slipped fingers down the front of her harness to tease her pussy. He thought he could have sat like this with her for hours. He turned her head to lick and kiss her mouth. She had tiny little worry lines between her eyes.
“What is it, girl? Forgot your name? It’s Molly,” he teased, but she didn’t smile. He kissed her again, more deeply, stroking a fingertip across her clit at the same time. She moaned into his mouth, a small, half-hearted reaction. He pulled away and she hid her face against his neck. She was struggling, spiraling down.
Molly, Molly, don’t forget who you are.
“I know a lot about you, girl,” he said, rubbing his chin against her soft dark curls. “You’d probably be surprised. 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.” With every word, she seemed to draw up tighter and tighter. “I know something else about you,” he said. “I know you didn’t really come yesterday.”
He waited for a reaction, any bodily reaction, but she only turned her head a little more into the curve of his shoulder. He cupped her pussy and sighed. He didn’t like her withdrawal, her surrender. It was too weak. He nudged her back so she couldn’t
He wanted her.
He wanted that depth of devotion for himself.
“It’s hard, girl, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
He took off the clamps and tried to feed her, but she was too upset. He didn’t have much appetite either, although he made her drink a little water, sip by halting sip. So many tears. She’d be dehydrated. He bathed her, checking over the whip marks. A few had drawn blood, and he treated them with antibiotic cream.
He put her to bed in the cage without the harness and locked the padlock with feelings of euphoria and yet devastation. He watched her until she fell asleep—it was perhaps three minutes—and then he still sat and watched her chest rise and fall in sleep, his hands threaded through the bars.
Molly, I’m sorry for all the lies. The dishonesty and jealousy. Jamie’s and mine.
The Fourth Day
Mephisto let her sleep. She’d earned it. When she woke, there was a new tension between them. A loss of trust, but a capitulation too. Yes, she couldn’t trust him, but yes, she had to obey him anyway. Of course it upset her, but that was okay.
He fucked her on the floor right outside the cage, a re-orienting and another opportunity to frustrate her libido. The cruel scene of the night before hadn’t dampened her need the least bit. She’d been wet as the ocean when he’d clamped her clit.
She was still wet now, her eyes begging and hopeless all at once. After breakfast he edged her again, fucked her ass for a long time, and then locked her down tight for the day, dildos and all.
The orgasm denial was like an experiment, Molly the only subject. What was going to happen? How far could he push her? Would she eventually rebel? Mephisto realized that’s all he really was, a mad scientist of humanity. He wanted to understand people, like that might bring him some peace, some feeling of accomplishment. It was a quest for knowledge that never ended.
By lunchtime he wanted to fuck Molly again. She was a compulsion, an addiction. He wanted to be thrusting his dick in her all the time. He pushed her to her knees in the kitchen and fucked her face and Jesus goddamnit, how he ached to come in her mouth. Not in the condom, but deep in her luscious throat. He texted Clayton while she served him. Missed a few letters.
Moly is fine. blowig me now.
Clayton would get the general idea. Afterward, he held her in his lap and fed her, enjoying her tremors and the sexual frustration communicated in the tenseness of her legs. When they finished eating, she laid her head back against his shoulder and he held her, rather than pushing her down to the floor. He slipped fingers down the front of her harness to tease her pussy. He thought he could have sat like this with her for hours. He turned her head to lick and kiss her mouth. She had tiny little worry lines between her eyes.
“What is it, girl? Forgot your name? It’s Molly,” he teased, but she didn’t smile. He kissed her again, more deeply, stroking a fingertip across her clit at the same time. She moaned into his mouth, a small, half-hearted reaction. He pulled away and she hid her face against his neck. She was struggling, spiraling down.
Molly, Molly, don’t forget who you are.
“I know a lot about you, girl,” he said, rubbing his chin against her soft dark curls. “You’d probably be surprised. 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.” With every word, she seemed to draw up tighter and tighter. “I know something else about you,” he said. “I know you didn’t really come yesterday.”
He waited for a reaction, any bodily reaction, but she only turned her head a little more into the curve of his shoulder. He cupped her pussy and sighed. He didn’t like her withdrawal, her surrender. It was too weak. He nudged her back so she couldn’t
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