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took all of this in as he watched her in silence. She realized—as she continued to stare—that his cock was in his hands, and he was stroking it in slow, lazy movements. He didn't acknowledge her, although as she held his eyes, one corner of his lips turned up in a shadow of a smirk. She looked away at once, embarrassed to be caught staring so boldly. Whenever she stared at Master that way, he reprimanded her to remember her place.
    But in avoiding his eyes, her gaze fell inexorably back to his cock. He was hard, his impressive length jutting out from the cradle of his palm. Now, undressed and relaxed, he looked much larger than he looked in his signature black clothes. She wondered why he never walked around naked in the club. But then, the other patrons would probably find that too daunting. It would cause a riot, she thought with her own half-smile.
    "Do I amuse you?"
    Her mouth fell open. "No... no , Master. I was only thinking...well." She stopped, blushing. God, she had to pee.
    "Only thinking what?"
    "I was wondering why you don't walk around the club naked when your physique is so...worthy of admiration, Master."
    "Are you admiring me?"
    Are you flirting with me? She couldn't read him as easily as she could read her Master. Was he angry? Was she about to be punished? Or was she about to be ravished? His expression held no discernable clues.
    "Master," she murmured, letting her gaze fall to his fisted cock again, "if only you had awakened me, I might have served you rather than making you wait."
    "I wake you when I like, and you serve me when I say so."
    Now he was clearly angry. At least, his words were sharp.
    "I'm sorry, Master."
    "You were talking in your sleep."
    "I'm sorr —"
    "Stop apologizing. I'm just telling you. I didn't wake you because I was watching you talk in your sleep. It was rather fascinating, actually."
    She wanted to ask what she might have said that was so fascinating, but to do so would be pure rudeness. If he wanted her to know, he would have told her. As she came to wakefulness she assumed her subordinate role with greater concentration. Which meant, rather than continuing to stare at him and blabber, she lowered her eyes and waited for instructions. Any instructions. And prayed that he had plans to let her use the restroom soon.
    "Did you sleep well last night?" he asked after a moment.
    "Yes, Master."
    "You cried a little when Lila put you in there."
    The mystery of who watched her—solved. "I did cry a little. I was missing my Master."
    "I'm your Master for now. Or were you crying for me?" That unfathomable expression again, and that unnerving almost-smile. She didn't make any remark in reply and he didn't seem to expect one. She shifted a little, pressing her legs together. The situation was growing urgent.
    "Master...um...I need to use the restroom. Please."
    "You will, when I tell you to."
    She fell silent, lifting her chin a little. A silly rebellion, but he surely caught it. As attractive and compelling as Mephisto was, she was having trouble transferring her submission over to him so abruptly. He just wasn't kind and affectionate like her Master. He was much more...intense.
    Well, she would hold it as long as she had to. If worse came to worse she'd pee in the cage, and probably be forced to clean it up. She lay back down and waited. That was a lot of her life's work since she'd become a slave. Wait, watch and listen. Be useful and attractive. Obey.
    She heard him move, and watched him cross the room to her cage, his cock still at half mast or higher. "Go on, then. Quickly,” he said. “Take care of things."
    She crawled out of the cage and wobbled on slightly cramped legs. He reached to right her and she mumbled thanks as she headed in the direction of the bathroom Lila had shown her last night. She wondered what time it was. She was hungry. For all she knew it was noon. Or six in the morning. There were no windows in Mephisto's bedroom, and the walls were dark concrete which