Her Brother's Best Friend Pt. 3
Part Two Recap: After feeding Molly a delicious Italian meal, Michael served her all eight inches of his cock for dessert. Following the blow job, Michael fucked Molly on the kitchen table of her childhood home, forcing her to acknowledge him as her master. But was Molly's capitulation in earnest, or was she merely desperate for the release of an orgasm?
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Molly floated up the stairs toward the shower, naked, her toes digging into the fluffy cream carpet. She imagined that she could feel the warmth of Michael's body just behind hers, like a gentle summer breeze propelling her lazily forward. Molly felt a hazy sense of unreality settle over her. Michael had been a frequent visitor in her home over the years. His presence was familiar and foreign all at once.
"Michael?" Molly half-whispered as she opened the door to the bathroom. "Should we be- I mean, isn't it awkward that we're doing this when it can't really last beyond tonight and-"
She fell silent when his warm, lightly callused hand fell on her shoulder, turning her toward him. They stood facing with her back to the door. He skimmed his fingertips down past her shoulder, trailing across her collar bone and up her neck until he cupped her face. He stepped into her, his hard body pressing her into the door. Slowly, so slowly, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss started gently, a soft, sure joining. Molly sighed, her questions forgotten and opened her mouth in surrender. His tongue tangled briefly with hers before he drew back slightly, nipping her lower lip and dropping his hand back down to her neck with a slight pressure that made her eyes widen.
"Yes, we really should be," Michael replied, his intense, dark blue eyes searing hers. "And no, it isn't." He paused then as if deliberating. "I know you're likely a bit sore, and I don't care to make you sorer since I plan to fuck your tight little pussy all night and then again tomorrow."
Molly took a shaky breath and leaned gratefully against the support of the door, knees weakening with the promise of his words and with trepidation at his sudden sternness.
"But it seems that you didn't mean it when you said your pussy belonged to me earlier. You lied to me, Molly, and that is something that you mustn't ever do," he said, jaw clenching.
"I didn't lie," Molly argued. "We were talking dirty during sex. People say things they don't mean in the heat of things."
"I don't," Michael replied, his eyes drilling into hers. "You didn't mean it?" he demanded.
Suddenly, his knee was shoved between her legs, pushing one to the side, so he could access her pussy with the fingers of this left hand while his right hand pinned her against the door.
"Your hot little cunt, dripping juice and my cum, begs to differ, slut," he hissed, his fingers sliding along her slit and pinching her clit.
Molly gave a surprised shriek. "Michael, stop-"
He plunged two fingers into her vagina, pumping them in and out, fast and rough, his thumb working her clit in tandem. Molly's eyes rolled back, and she let out a low moan. He kept pumping his fingers in and out of her until her moans were nearly continuous, and her juice ran down her thighs.
Molly was putty in his hands, a ball of need. When he withdrew his hand, she whined shamelessly, chanting, "Please, please, please."
"That's 'please, sir' or 'please, master,'" Michael replied, his lips a centimeter from hers. "Only good girls who are honest with their master get to cum. Bad girls get punished."
Michael grabbed Molly by the hair and bent her over the bathroom vanity. Molly looked forward. The mirrored wall gave Molly a perfect view of her flushed face and her pink-tipped breasts, plump and swaying between her upper arms while her forearms supported her. Behind her, she could see Michael, scowling, his hair unkempt and his muscled chest bare.
"My naughty slut deserves a spanking. I will tell you what each one is for, and you will count it and then say, 'thank you, sir. May I have another?' If you do not count the stroke, I will spank you again."
Molly panicked. "I'm sorry, sir. Please don't spank me!"
"Every time you ask that you add another stroke," Michael growled. "Get ready."
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