The crack of whip and the harsh cry from a man as the leather broke the skin, blood beginning to ooze from strike, made her lick her dry lips. All these beautiful men and their filthy minds drugged her into a blissful oblivion, calming her desperation for that one man.
Molly Hooper wasn't quite satisfied with her slaves.
She struck the man again on the back, whining in pleasure as he fell forwards onto his muscle ridden elbows. Gripping the whip in her fists tightly, she sighed in frustration. "You're not him." She called to the four men at her feet, wearing only leather briefs and collars on their necks.
"Mistress please," One of them begged, grasping at her leg and kissing her naked thigh.
"Please what?" She asked gently, stroking his hair.
"Punish me, please." He leaned into her touch like a cat, sucking on her fingers when she chuckled. She slipped her hand under his chin and lifted his head to look at her, "get me Sherlock Holmes and I will punish you all you like, pet."
The man grinned, his green eyes sparkling and he kissed her hand generously, "I will, I will."
The others joined in, kissing her thighs, shoes and hands. She smiled evilly, looking at each of her pets, her slaves with love. She cared for them when nobody else did, she didn't mind if they had wives or children or even pets of their own, she liked the company of her slaves when it suited her.
From her time at Bart's, from the first time she saw Sherlock she knew he belonged amongst her pets, the way his eyes shined so viciously, and those dark locks of curly hair made her skin tingle, just wanting to run her hands through it and pull. Yes, Molly needed him at her mercy.
It was up to her slaves to get him so she would leave them to their task, knowing they would succeed. Those precious lovelies would do anything for her, it made her smile darkly as she watched them gather their clothes and retreat from her bedroom.
So pale, so cold, Molly stared at the body lying on the table. Heart attack, thirty-two years old. She blinked when the door to the morgue opened and turned when hearing the footsteps of The Admired One.
"Ah, Molly," He smiled with those wonderfully pink lips; Molly was hypnotized as they moved. "I need to ask for a favour."
Molly answered with her usual, "of course, what is it?" and a sweet smile. She zoned out as she thought about how much she wanted to caress that face, feel his cheekbones under her fingers and graze her nails over the smooth, pale skin.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked with a small frown.
"No, I- everything's fine," Molly walked around the taller man and looked over the body on the table, "Just fine. You said you wanted a favour?"
"I hate repeating myself," Sherlock muttered and Molly felt a chill go up her spine; that voice was so demanding when low. You need to be taught a lesson, pet. "I said I wondered if you could supply me with a few tongues."
Oh, I'll give you mine. Molly beamed at Sherlock, "Collect them from my house tonight."
Sherlock paused, "can I not collect them now?"
Molly pointed up at the CCTV in the morgue, "afraid not. Sorry." She gave him a sympathetic smile and Sherlock nodded,
"I'll see you later then." Sherlock shot her a quick smile and left the room.
Molly gripped her clipboard tightly in her hands, feeling the wood embed her skin. She inhaled sharply and felt pure arousal surround her. I need him.
I just love Molly and decided to show her from another perspective.
More to come, this is a WIP! Other chapters will hopefully be longer!