She’s nothing but a coward. A scared little girl.
Lying on her back in the darkness of Michael’s room, Mallory drowns in the undertow of her anxiety. Her heart hammers at a breakneck pace and it feels like there are steel bars across her chest. Michael sleeps silently beside her, unaware of her impending breakdown.
She steals a glance at his face. With pillow creases on his cheek and unruly hair he still looks like a Michelangelo painting made flesh. The creation of Adam, maybe.
She smirks at the irony but sobers at the thought of the sacrifices she’s made to keep him safe. The manipulation she’s wrought.
When she arrived in the past, Mallory took one look at Michael’s youthful face and knew that she couldn’t fulfill her mission.
She was defeated by his child-like innocence. She’d watched him marvel at the gracefulness of a spider weaving her silk in the front window of his grandmother’s house. She’d heard him mutter about bunny ears while tying his shoes on the sidewalk outside the grocery store.
Mallory returned to Robichaux’s with clean hands.
She bided her time and waited for another opening. It came when Michael was accepted to The Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men.
Mallory carries deep shame for using concilium on her own Supreme. However, the false memories she planted did their job. Cordelia exercised her authority and had Michael brought to Robichaux’s for the remainder of his education. She felt strongly about guiding the training of her successor.
For a while it seemed like everything was going right. Michael was isolated from the influence of the warlocks and his Ms. Mead. He was excelling in his lessons and seemed to be blooming under Cordelia’s loving care.
Michael’s confession that he’s been visiting the Satanic Church, for sex no less, has Mallory worried. She has no idea what he’s planning, and it terrifies her.
She’s also terrified of how much she enjoys his submission.
She remembers the confidence she’d felt when she told him, “I don’t have any dark places.” The thought of Outpost Michael’s smug, mocking gaze is unbearable.
Mallory feels as corporal as a shade as she creeps out the door and down the hall to her own room.
It’s been two weeks since Mallory guided Michael out of sub-drop and she’s managed to avoid him the entire time.
When he tries to make eye contact, she refuses to engage. She’s hypervigilant and manages to exit every room before her enters.
Snooping around the Satanic Church behind the Walgreens in the South 7th Ward has been a great distraction in her off hours. She has yet to discover what Michael’s up to.
Out of boredom, she may have cursed one or two members of his flock with genital warts.
But she doesn’t care who he’s been spending his evenings with. Not at all.
Playing the dom to his sub was a spur of the moment thing, and she knows that it has to stay that way. She can fantasize about having Michael on his knees or in restraints all she wants. It can never amount to anything.
Still, he’s the most decent wank material she’s had in ages. Until now, she’s been too depressed and angry about her resurrection to think about her sexual needs.
Mallory’s certain that Michael will grow tired of this game of cat and mouse that they’re playing. She’s just not sure when.
Mallory waits an hour out of politeness before ditching Tuesday Night Movie Night. She’s determined to practice a little self-care. She slips away from the other girls to enjoy a long bath and the last of Zoe’s wine that she’s stolen from the pantry.
She dims the lights in the bathroom before getting into her clawfoot tub. Baths are ok, the fragrant bubbles and warm temperature keep her grounded, but she can’t stand candlelight anymore.
Mallory takes a hearty gulp from her wine glass and sets it on the tile floor of the bathroom. She leans back into the cool porcelain of the tub and dozes for a while. One by one her muscles relax in the soothing heat of the water. She’s feeling so at ease that she decides to capitalize on her time alone.
Mallory raises her left hand to cup the gentle weight of her breasts. She runs a fingertip over the tight bud of her right nipple and gasps. Her other hand dips below the surface of the water. She winds a meandering path over her curves to the heated softness of her core.
She circles her clit a few times before dipping her fingers into her entrance. She holds the image of Michael’s crying face in her mind as she presses deep into herself. She can feel her wetness and the hot clench of her inner muscles. She fucks two fingers hard into the spongy patch on her upper wall and cries out at the sensation.
A muffled sound outside bathroom door has her crashing back to earth. Mallory yanks her hand away from her folds and sits up straight. She listens for the intruder.
She can’t hear anything but the whir of the ceiling fan over her bed and distant screams from The Blair Witch movie playing downstairs.
She’d borrowed Madison’s lipstick the other day. The witch probably just came to take it back.
Having lost her arousal, Mallory stands to grab a towel. She steps out of the tub and wraps a white terrycloth bath sheet around herself. She removes the clips digging into her scalp and lets her long chestnut hair fall down her back.
She bends to pull the plug from the drain and watches the swirl of the water until the last of her lavender scented bubbles disappear. Satisfied, she picks up her half empty wine glass and turns to slide the en-suite door open. The squeak of the pocket door is expected.
What she finds on the other side of the door is not.
He’s on his knees with his hands clasped behind his back. Naked except for the black cotton of his underwear.
Mallory rakes her eyes over the pull of lean muscle in his arms and chest before meeting his gaze. His blue orbs are electric in the semidarkness of her room.
“What do you think you’re doing, Michael?” Mallory manages to keep her voice steady.
“I thought it was obvious. I’m giving us both what we want.”
Mallory scoffs at the presumption. Michael quirks a brow at her stormy expression. “I see the way you look at me Mallory. How long have you been dreaming about getting me on my knees?”
She feels her face heat with embarrassment. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but you need to leave Michael.”
She moves to walk past him, hoping to hold the door open for his exit, when she feels his hand snag the bottom of her towel. She’s forced to stop in front of him or risk losing what modesty she has.
Mallory looks down the slope of her nose at the top of Michael’s curly head. His face is turned toward the floor. His posture is slumped. “Please, Mallory. I need this. Please.”
The neediness in his voice moves her. “Put your hands behind your back.”
Michael is quick to resume his stretched position. She feels the stir of her previous arousal in her core.
“What’s your safeword?”
Mallory chuckles. That certainly would kill the mood.
She grabs his chin harshly with her right hand and tilts his head back to meet her gaze. “Limits?”
“Sharing,” he drawls.
His cheek earns him the press of her bubble-gum pink nails. Michael makes a high-pitched whine. Mallory gives his head a rough shake.
She asks again. “Limits?”
“Watersports. Scat. Age play. Humiliation…..Latex.”
He’s left her a lot of leeway. “Fuck, Michael.” The red wine and arousal have deepened Mallory’s usual rasp. “The things I could do to you.”
The way Michael sways in her grasp, his eyes already losing their alertness, has a nasty little flutter starting in her gut.
“Any favourites I should know about?”
“Mmmb—bondage. Impact. Breath and bloodplay.”
Mallory is thankful for the reading she’s been doing on the long Uber rides over to the 7th ward. She actually knows what all of those are. She’s not prepared to get into some of it tonight, but she can improvise.
Mallory lets go Michael’s chin. He shifts his weight back onto his heels and waits for her instructions obediently.
She drops her towel.
Mallory’s always been petite. She knows that her slim build and small breasts don’t appeal to everyone. The way that Michael’s eyes devour her shape has her feeling lightheaded. Giddy.
The wine glass is still in her left hand. She takes a long sip, weighing her options.
Mallory walks around the side of the bed and sets the wine glass down on her nightstand. She picks up a stray hair scrunchie and carries it with her as she crawls onto the mattress. She sits in the middle with her back against the headboard. When she looks back at Michael, she’s pleased to see that he hasn’t moved. He’s still facing away from her with his hands behind his back. She watches him clench his fists.
“Come here Michael.”
He springs gracefully to his feet. His legs only wobble a little from his kneeling position.
When he turns to face her, his erection is tenting the front of his boxers. She gives it a cursory glance before moving her eyes back to his face. “Take those off.”
Michael skims his underwear down and off his legs. With a beckoning curl of her finger, he’s crawling up the end of the bed toward her. He stops when she presses a hand to his chest.
The depth of her liquid eyes pull him in. “You interrupted me earlier, Michael. You’re going to give me the orgasm you stole.”
Michael’s long eyelashes flutter. His upper lip curls in a snarl as he reaches his left hand out to touch the skin of her hip. He never makes contact. Quick as cat, Mallory uses a burst of magic to flip their positions. She wants him on his back.
A flick of her fingers has his arms shooting away from his sides into a T. His wrists are held with invisible shackles.
Michael looks dazed.
Mallory slaps him hard across the face. A blond curl falls over his forehead. Michael parts his lips around a gasp and she can see a little smudge of blood on his crooked front tooth. The skin of her palm tingles deliciously. She feels a trickle of moisture run down her inner thigh.
“You with me baby? What’s your colour?” It takes Michael a second to respond.
“Green.” His voice is quiet. Confused.
“I’m going to use that pretty cock of yours until I come. Your mouth is going to be occupied so I want you to hold the scrunchie in your hand. If you need to stop, let go of it and I’ll see. Colour?”
“Green.” She’s not taking any chances with Michael. She saw what happened the last time someone was less than cautious with him.
Mallory moves to straddle his hips. She drags her wet centre over his cock, pinning it flat to his stomach. A kittenish mewl spills from his lips.
Mallory places the scrunchie in his right hand and curls his fingers around the material. She leans over to the night stand and picks up the glass of wine. “Open up. Take a sip, but don’t swallow.”
Michael takes a mouthful of the wine when it’s offered. His lips purse, holding the liquid on his tongue. His nostrils flare with each of his breaths. “Good boy.”
She drains the rest of the glass and puts it back down.
Settling in, Mallory braces her right hand on Michael’s chest and spreads her legs a little wider. She presses against the length of his cock and gives a few experimental thrusts. She enjoys the feel of his shaft sliding against her clit. After a few passes she can feel her slick coating his length and the soft curve of his stomach.
A whimper has her focusing on Michael’s face. His eyes are wide open and fixed on the soft bounce of her breasts. She knows he’d be panting if his mouth wasn’t full.
“If you swallow that wine or spit it out, you won’t like what happens.”
His eyes fall closed at her words. Those adorable crinkles showing at the corners. His right hand is still strangling the scrunchie.
Mallory starts winding herself up. She grinds her hips in tight figure-eights. The ridge under the head of his cock works the sensitive area around her entrance.
The pinched, helpless look on Michael’s face sends a flash of possessiveness snaking up Mallory’s spine. She’s obscenely wet—her thrusts creating slick-sticky noises.
She feels the start of her orgasm at the base of spine. She grinds harder. With every flick of her hips it rises.
Mallory comes in stuttering, warm pulses.
“Fuck,” she moans happily, collapsing forward onto Michael’s chest. She listens to the fast beat of his heart through his ribcage. When her hips twitch forward with aftershocks, she hears him
She sighs heavily and watches goose-bumps rise on his flesh. “Boys who misbehave are punished Michael. Did you think I was joking?”
She pushes herself up from his chest. Michael groans. His cock is still rock hard and wedged between her plump folds.
“I’m sorry, Mallory. I didn’t—” She cuts him off.
“You didn’t, what? Didn’t think you had to follow the rules?” She runs a fingertip lightly around the perimeter of his left areola.
She meets Michael’s eyes and twists the stiff bud of his nipple ruthlessly. His eyes widen in alarm. His muscles tense so hard that he almost levitates off the bed. “Fuck! Mallory. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I don’t think your very sorry at all.” Mallory releases his nipple and scrapes the sharp edge of her fingernail over the abused flesh. The wreaked noise Michael makes is truly inspiring. She nearly comes again when she sees the glitter of tears on his cheeks.
Mallory moves to kneel at Michael’s side. She releases her telekinetic hold on his wrists.
He manages a watery response. “G—green.”
Mallory feels like a little kid on Halloween—excited and uncertain of what candy she should pull from her trick or treat bag next.
“Hands and knees, Michael.”
He’s slow to roll himself to his side and push up to a seated position. “Mallory—”
She cuts him off again. “I’m waiting, Michael. I don’t have all night.”
Michael makes it to his hands and knees with an exhausted grunt. His blond head hangs listlessly between his arms. Mallory wants to see a little more enthusiasm.
She grabs a handful of his hair and yanks. Michael’s hips jerk violently, and he lets out a loud yelp.
“You’re going to count each slap until I tell you that we’re done. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you come.”
Michael’s panting now. The muscles in his back ripple as she runs her hands teasingly over his smooth skin.
She brings her hand down swiftly on his ass.
“Auugh!” His chest heaves with a loud sob. A mixture of tears, snot and saliva drips from his face to the bed sheets.
“What was that?”
Michael clears his throat. “On—one.”
The next slap is harder than the previous one. He swears before resuming his count. “Two.”
Mallory doesn’t let up. She moves her hand up and down at a steady pace.
When she reaches number five, Michael’s ass is fire engine red and he’s glowing with sweat.
The head of his neglected cock looks purple. A bead of precum shines at the tip.
At number seven, Michael’s babbling out incoherent apologies. He looks like he’s going to pass out. Mallory pauses to shake out her small hand. “Colour?”
“Grrrree.” He’s shaking like a leaf.
“Have you had enough, baby? What do you say?”
He cries brokenly. “I’m sorry, Mallory! I’m sorry I was bad! I’ll be good. P—please let me come.”
“Shhh, its okay. You did so good, baby.” He sniffles as she runs a hand up and down the middle of his back. His desperation has her feeling generous.
“Tell me what you want, baby? How do you want to come?” Tear soaked blue eyes flicker across her face hesitantly.
“Your mouth. Mallory, please! Please, please.”
Mallory pushes Michael onto his back in response. She settles down between his trembling thighs and wraps a small hand around the base of his cock. She wastes no time sliding him between her lips.
She picks up a fast rhythm, swirling her tongue around his head and sucking deep. Michael’s stomach heaves up and down rapidly. It’s a matter of minutes before he comes. He convulses with a high-pitched scream and spills across Mallory’s tongue. She swallows around him with a hum and savours his salty tang.
Mallory licks Michael clean until he’s whimpering and trying to pull away from the overstimulation.
She leaves an open-mouthed kiss in the crease of his groin before making her way up his body.
She flops on the pillows next to him with a huff. Michael has his hands over his eyes, hiding his face from her. “Hey. Are you okay?”
His hands flop down to the bed. Michael turns his head toward her on his pillow. She can’t decipher his expression. Did she go too far?
“That,” he says, “was exactly what I wanted.”
A giggle bursts from Mallory’s chest. She slaps a hand over mouth before more can escape. She’s not sure if she’s genuinely amused or just hysterical.
Michael twines himself around her and rests his head between her breasts. She strokes his hair back from his forehead.
He roots for her right nipple and takes it in his mouth. He falls asleep mid suck.
Well, Mallory thinks. Now what?