Molly's Lips: Club Mephisto Retold (13 page)

“Tell me something,” Clayton said abruptly. “Do you love my wife?”

Mephisto’s eyes went wide. “Well... I... You know—”

“You don’t have to admit it to me, Jay. But I suspect you do. It would please me if you did. I think you could make her love you quite easily. In fact, I would give her to you now if I wasn’t so selfish.”

“You wouldn’t,” Mephisto blurted. “You can’t. You...shouldn’t.”

“I should. But I won’t.”

“Are you thinking of…” Mephisto’s words came out strained. He had to clear his throat and try again. “Are you thinking of releasing her?” Mephisto thought many times how difficult a job it must be, micromanaging a slave 24/7. Maybe Clayton was getting fed up with it. With her. “I told Molly you wouldn’t ever release her,” Mephisto said. “If you’re thinking about letting her go—”

“Would you be there to gather up the pieces?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t let her go, man. There’s no one on earth like her, no one as loving and dedicated and fascinating and—”

Clayton chuckled softly over his words. “You do love her.”

Mephisto sucked in a breath and let it out. “She belongs with you.”
She always belonged with you. I always knew it, as much as it pained me.
“She needs you, Clay.”

Clayton waved a hand. “I have no intention of releasing Molly. Ever. But if I die tomorrow, tell her you love her. She should know she’s loved, even if she doesn’t love herself enough.” He scowled. “She doesn’t, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll have to keep working on that with her. I tell her I love her but...” He shrugged. “She doesn’t believe. She believes I love her for what she does for me, not who she is. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

Mephisto was quiet a long moment. “You should buy her more ice cream,” he finally said. “She really likes it. But you have to let Molly be Molly, you know? Appreciate what’s in her heart.”

Clayton gave a rueful nod for a point taken. If he was angry to have his words thrown back at him, he didn’t show it.

“You are a very fascinating man, too, Mephisto,” he said, “and I’ll always be in your debt. Now, after this past week, you see why.” Clay looked at him very directly. “But do you think she’s happy? I know
she
thinks she is, but what do you think, having watched her this past week?”

Mephisto regarded his friend. “I know she’s happy. I’m one hundred percent sure of it. I’m not so sure you’re happy, which is kind of worrisome.” He thought a moment. “Maybe Molly would benefit from a little more mental stimulation. You know, besides serving you. Maybe you both would. It might help you to see how strong she actually is. It might help you worry less.”

“Molly, strong?” Clayton shook his head. “It’s such a tightrope walk. She doesn’t want any power.”

“She doesn’t need power to try something new. To take a college course online. To take up a new hobby.” It was really none of Mephisto’s business. He shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea. She’s such an awesome little woman. If she was mine—” He clamped his mouth shut.

“If she was yours, then what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me. You won’t offend me.”

Mephisto sighed. “If she was mine, I would make her be Molly part of the time, whether she wanted to be or not. But that’s just my style. I’m not criticizing you. I know your dynamic with her really works. So ignore me.”

Again, Clayton chuckled. “I would never ignore you. I’m always open to new ideas. Although, you know what they say about an old dog and new tricks.”

“You’re not that old, damn it.”

Again, Mephisto saw that look, that shadow cross Clayton’s face. There was something he wasn’t telling him. As quickly as he saw it, the look was gone.

“Make her be Molly,” Clay said, repeating Mephisto’s words. “But who is Molly? I still don’t know. Maybe I never will.” He stood with a sigh, brushing off his pants. “We’ll be back at the club soon, me and my slave.” He picked up his jacket and smoothed the wrinkles out, laying it over his arm. “Next week perhaps. I’ll put her into chastity a few days before,” he added with a wink.

With that he was off, back in business mode, with a wave over his shoulder. Mephisto watched him go, thinking about Molly and Clayton and secrets, and about his own promises to protect her. He wondered if Clay would start buying her more ice cream. Probably not.

Mephisto missed her so much already.

He headed back to the club in a strangely mellow mood, turning his mind to his own important duties. She wasn’t his to miss. She wasn’t
his
. He had to get over it.

When Molly needed him, if she ever needed him, he’d be around.

To be continued…

The conclusion to the Club Mephisto stories
,
now available
.

“Master Mephisto?”

Mephisto turned at the sharp voice of his dungeon assistant, Glenn. “What is it?”

“A woman by the door. I think she’s altered.”

“If she’s altered, she can’t come in. You know the rules.”

“I think it’s Molly.”

Mephisto spun toward the door. Glenn was right. It was Molly, but she barely looked like herself. Dirty, disheveled, her face and eyes swollen, probably from substance abuse. She yanked at her collar, screaming something he couldn’t hear across the room. Then her eyes met his and she came storming his way, shrugging off the doorman trying to restrain her. She barreled right through a whip scene, evading injury by dumb luck.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, grabbing her arm. “He could have taken your eye out.”

“Get it off me,” she screamed, yanking at her neck, at the slim collar still gleaming there. “Take it off me, God damn it. I know you know how.”

The dungeon monitors were drifting closer in case they had to help, and patrons were starting to watch. Molly yanked at her collar like a full-blown maniac. She was on something, rabid, out of her mind. He dragged her back past the bar into his private rooms. He flipped on the light in the kitchen and looked down at the girl in his grasp. Her eyes were dilated, her skin pallid. She’d lost ten pounds at least since he saw her last. Six weeks ago?

“What are you on?” It came out a growl. Mephisto didn’t allow drugs in his club and he didn’t allow them in his life. “What the fuck have you been doing with yourself?”

She ignored him, pulling so hard on the collar he worried she’d injure her neck. She let out an ear rending scream. “Take it off! Get it off me!”

“Okay, I’ll take it off. When you calm down, I’ll take it off. Let go of it.”

He took her hands, restraining her with some effort. There were garish bruises around her neck. Who knew how long she’d been trying to get it off? But pulling it right through her neck wasn’t the way to do it. Her small hands struggled in his.

“Let go of me,” she moaned. “Let go!”

“I’ll let go when you stop fighting me. Don’t touch it. I need a special tool to get it off but I won’t go get it until you calm down.”

She sucked in air. Some shred of awareness flickered in her eyes. Her gaze darted around his kitchen and she licked dry lips. He’d lay odds she was on some hallucinogen. Not unknown for the old Molly. “Sit down,” he said slowly and clearly. “Sit down and I’ll take your collar off.”

He led her to a chair at the table and she sank down. She shook all over, so hard he could practically hear it. She was in her usual pre-Clayton gear. Short skirt, nearly non-existent top. It was thirty degrees outside. He got a blanket from the bedroom and draped it around her. She reached again for the metal band around her neck, arrested by his disapproving sound. Glenn peeked in the door.

“Everything okay?”

“She’ll be fine. Watch her a minute.”

Mephisto stalked to the club’s storage room, rooted through hardware and drawers of tools until he found the micro-screwdriver he needed. Molly wouldn’t be the first slave he’d sprung from a “permanent” collar, nor would she be the last. He returned to the kitchen to find Molly glaring at Glenn with a murderous look.

“She’s not quite herself, is she? You want me to call anyone?” Glenn asked.

“The loony bin?” Mephisto suggested. “Not for her. For me. No. She’ll be fine, but I might not be back out there tonight.”

“We’ll hold down the fort.”

Glenn left and Mephisto approached the sickly, shivering girl at his table. She seemed to be coming down already, her energy flagging. God knew how she’d gotten here in her condition. He could picture her wandering down the streets of downtown Seattle, clawing at her collar and screaming like a psycho. He was suddenly bone-chillingly relieved she’d found her way here.

“Let me see.” He reached for the shining eternity collar, pushing her knotted, lank hair to the side. Her hair used to be her crowning glory, glossy and beautiful, but now it was dull, unwashed. She was trying to sit still but random shudders seized her small frame. “What are you on?” Mephisto asked again, now that she seemed slightly more lucid. “Are you going to go into heart failure on me? What did you take?”

“I don’t know. I got it from someone.”

“Who?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “Where were you?”

“Somewhere. I don’t remember.”

“At home? At a restaurant? At a club?”

“A club. Somewhere.”

Somewhere on Pike Street, no doubt. Mephisto scrubbed a hand over his face. He had to get her collar off before she started yanking at it again. He traced around the smooth edges until he found the tiny depression he was looking for. “Be very still,” he said. And then, “Are you sure?”

“Take it off.” Her voice was firm. “I’m not his slave anymore.”

Fair enough. He lined up the tiny screwdriver with the delicate, almost invisible release. She wasn’t the only one shaking. His hands suddenly felt too big, too clumsy for this moment. He poked the sharp tool into the clasp until he managed to wiggle it loose. The collar opened and he eased it from her ravaged neck.

She turned to him. She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. “Give it to me.”

“No.” Not a chance. She’d calmed somewhat, but she was still out of her mind.

“Give it to me!”

“The screaming won’t work. You’re not getting it until you’re down. Here are your choices. Go to the hospital. Go to jail. Spend the night here.”

She stood and moved toward the door. “I’m leaving. I’m going home.”

He stepped in front of her with a grim look. “I’ll repeat your choices one more time. Hospital. Jail. Here.”

“You can’t keep me here! You don’t control me.”

“It appears no one controls you. Even you.”

“You can’t make me stay here against my will. That’s kidnapping.”

“Okay. Jail then. Hospital will cost too much.” Mephisto got out his phone.

“Give me that collar!” She launched herself at him but he held the collar over his head, subduing her with one tight arm around her waist. She flailed, spitting at him. “You’re an asshole!”

“Yes, and an abuser. I remember.”

“And a criminal!”

“Says the girl who’s high on some illegal substance.” He pulled her over to the sink and made her drink an entire glass of water, even though most of it ended up on his clothes, and then took her to the bathroom. “Sit down and piss,” he said. “And if you dare go anywhere but in the bowl I’ll fucking destroy your ass.”

She scowled and used the toilet, then stood and defiantly kicked off her thong panties and wisp of a skirt. “Are you going to rape me now?”

“There is nothing on earth I’d find less appealing at this moment. Put your skirt back on.”

“Fuck you.”

With a sigh, Mephisto picked up her skirt and panties and dragged them, along with the resisting woman, into his room. He flung her discarded clothes into a cage in the corner. Then he turned to Molly. “In you go.”

“Fuck you!”

“One more time, because I know you’re high and stupid right now. Hospital. Jail. Here. Pick your fucking choice.”

She kicked him hard in the shin, which fucking hurt, then drew her knee back to aim for his balls. Before she could complete such an ill-advised attack, he picked her up and tossed her into the rectangular cage, shutting the door and locking it while she pounded on the bars. “You’re going to be in so much fucking trouble when I call the police,” she screeched. “This is kidnapping!”

“This is tough love. I’ll let you out when whatever is in your system has worn off.”

“I hate you. I hate you!” Bang, bang, bang on the bars. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched to be sure she wouldn’t hurt herself. She banged for a minute, two minutes, but then she went still and lay back, and the sobbing started. Wails and sobs and threats of what would happen to him. “I have money, you asshole!” she shrieked. “I’m fucking rich, and you’re toast!”

Mephisto wondered how much of Clayton’s fortune Molly had managed to lose or burn through in the last month and a half. Not too much, he hoped. He shouldn’t have left her alone, even though she sent him away. He realized that now.

“I hate you. I hate you.
I hate you
.” Screams turned to whines and whines turned to whimpers and then she was all raged out and there was only her vicious glare. He studied the slim metal circlet between his fingers, remembering better times. She followed him with her eyes as he stood and crossed the room to lay her collar on top of his chest of drawers. Such a beautiful, delicate work of art. He remembered when Clayton had first showed it to him. He’d had it specially made for her.

“It would have killed him to see you this way,” Mephisto said. Not to her, because she was in no state to listen. He just said it because it was the dismal truth.

Burn For You
is available
now
at Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, All Romance Ebooks.com, and Smashwords.com.

Annabel Joseph is a multi-published BDSM romance author. She writes mainly contemporary romance, although she has been known to dabble in the medieval and Regency eras. She is known for writing emotionally intense BDSM storylines, and strives to create characters that seem real—even flawed—so readers are better able to relate to them.