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Mikel returned and handed Benson five hundred-dollar bills. Benson shoved them into the back pocket of his pants. He’d return them to Mikel later. From his other pocket, he pulled a condom, passing it to Mikel.
“What if she isn’t good?” Mikel unfastened his pants.
Benson looked at Mal where she knelt, head bowed.
“She’s very good.”
Mikel walked over to Mal, his hand brushing her hair. Benson looked away.
“Open your mouth.” Mikel’s voice was firm.
Benson backed up, but he wouldn’t leave, though he knew he should. He leaned against a post and watched as Mikel passed Mal the condom.
Intellectually, he knew that last weekend she’d probably sucked Mikel’s cock multiple times. Probably had him balls deep in her pussy, ass, or both.
“Put it on with your mouth.” Mikel curled a thick lock of her hair around his hand.
Mal’s pretty lips rolled the condom on the other man’s dick. Mikel drew her head down, his dick disappearing into her mouth.
Mal’s hands fluttered at her sides before tangling in the material of her dress.
Mikel slid out of her mouth, murmuring a command about how he wanted her to use her tongue.
Benson frowned as he looked at her hands, remembering the way she always grabbed his legs or ass when he fucked her mouth.
Mikel found his rhythm, both pumping his hips and pulling her hair as he fucked her mouth. Mal’s hands relaxed and Benson forced himself to stand down.
With a shout, Mikel came, both hands on the back of Mal’s head.
A moment later he withdrew, removing and tying the condom before doing up his pants. When he was done, Mikel looked up. “Are you enjoying the game?” The casual question felt obscene when juxtaposed with what had just happened.
“You, Faith, and Leo are insane sadists.”
Mikel laughed. “But of course we are.”
Mikel winked at Mal then turned and disappeared into the Den.
Mal was kneeling, head bowed submissively. The nipple rings caught the light with each breath, and he could make out the shadowed lines of her pussy through the fishnet.
Benson walked over to Mal, tipping her face up. “Where are you?”
“Green, Sir. It wasn’t…” she shrugged. “But I’m not upset or scared or hurting.”
He nodded, all the while wondering if they’d done enough to satisfy this letter. God knew he was done with it, but was Mal? This was the extreme play she’d been looking for when they were together, and which she still needed.
Something like this would fit with her service submission needs, which meant they kept going.
He helped her up, let her lean back against him. Benson toyed with her nipple rings, promised himself that if no one else showed up in the next ten minutes he could truthfully say they’d tried, and end this scene and move on.
Seven minutes later, with Mal moaning and wriggling against him as he cruelly twisted her nipples, the Den door opened.
Of fucking course.
“You have something for sale?” Master Carter looked incomplete without his submissive, whom he called Pet, crawling beside him.
He was older, and old-school. His submissive was a full-on sex slave, by her choice. Something like this—being prostituted—wouldn’t have even made Pet blink, as Carter loaned her out regularly. Carter and Pet were also a bonded pairing, meaning that the overseers hadn’t been able to assign them different partners.
“Yes,” Benson said in answer to Carter’s question.
