This band is one of my son's favorites and I had to ask him to recommend a song (because I wasn't passing up this chance!). He was super excited to share his music with me - probably wouldn't be if he knew why he was sharing. Ah well.
Thank you all for your continued support. Remember my thanks and warnings from chapter one. Things are about to get... very naughty.
I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~
Chapter 9 - With A Wonder and A Wild Desire (Flogging Molly)
The cab ride home was quiet. Sherlock spent the time looking out the window and tapping his foot; Molly spent it wondering what he had in store for her. Even though they'd just… engaged that afternoon, there was a palpable tension between them. Something was brewing, she was sure of it.
Their sexual play may have started out as a means of stress relief for her, but she had a feeling that he was the one in greater need this particular evening. He was taut as a bowstring, understandably so. Even though things were on the mend with John, Molly knew that the evening had been difficult for the detective. Emotions tended to make him jittery, and his best friend had been a giant ball of 'feelings'.
As they entered the sitting room, Molly turned to Sherlock to ask if he wanted a glass of wine (or perhaps some of his special "calming tea" for his nerves), but never got the words out. Before she could speak, she found herself sandwiched between the man and the door, his lips at her ear.
"Tell me that those are stockings, Molly," he demanded in a low dangerous voice, squeezing her hips as he spoke.
"They are."
He bit down on her lobe, then sucked the piece of flesh between his lips. "And a thong?"
"Yes." She wasn't even trying to be sexy when she dressed (unless it was subconscious) but the dress hugged her bottom just a bit and she didn't want visible panty lines.
He moved his hand from her hip to the doorknob, locking it before stepping back and taking the bag of leftovers (completely untouched) from her hand. "Remove the dress, keep everything else on - including the heels - then come to me." Swiftly turning, he walked to the kitchen, saying casually, "You have been very naughty, wife. Prepare yourself."
Molly didn't hesitate - though her mind was working on what she could have done to earn a punishment. She quickly shucked her dress, tossing it onto the end of the couch, watching as Sherlock returned, removing his suit jacket as he crossed the room to his chair. She followed. His movements were precise and measured as he unbuttoned his cuffs before folding them back.
He smirked, his eyes taking in every inch of her. Oh, damn… Did I put the thong on over the garter belt on purpose? Okay, so maybe I was trying to be a little sexy. And, of course, he noticed. She quickly decided that she didn't care. If the placement of her underpants made him that happy… so be it.
"Bend over, hands on the seat cushion, and spread your legs," he instructed.
Feeling herself getting wet, Molly complied, trying to make sure she was at least somewhat comfortable for what she expected to be one hell of a spanking, considering how demanding Sherlock was being.
"How often do you wear my ring, Mrs. Holmes?" he asked, his hands smoothing over her bottom.
Oh, shit! "Ah, it looks really expensive, Sherlock. I'm afraid…"
The first blow was quite hard, not to mention unexpected, and caused Molly to very nearly shriek. As it was, she managed a sharp gasp instead.
"Brace yourself, pet, they will get harder." Sherlock's hand left smoothed over her back, his fingertips dancing down her vertebrae, as she prepared herself for the next slap. "Answer the question and remember the rules."
Smack.
He didn't give her time to regroup, bringing his hand down on her other buttock seconds after the first.
Smack.
"I, ah... I've worn it several times, husband."
Smack.
"I've seen that ring on your finger exactly five times, Molly."
Smack.
"Are you ashamed of our marriage?"
Smack.
The sound was almost as erotic as the feeling. "No! Of course not!"
"Then, I expect it to be on your finger everytime you leave this flat." Smack "Understand?"
Smack. Smack.
They were getting harder.
"Answer me!"
Smack. Smack.
"Yes! Yes!" Anything! "I'll wear the ring, husband!"
"Once you're warmed up I thought we'd try something new," he said, his tone changing instantly - softening enough for her to know that he was pleased with her answer. Molly felt his fingers toying with the gusset of her insubstantial knickers. "Not quite ready just yet."
Smack. Smack.
Smack. Smack.
God, her arse was already on fire, how much more…?
Smack. Smack.
After the last two, he bent over her, his fingers back on her centre. "I can smell you already, you filthy girl," he growled.
She was sure her face matched her backside.
Smack. Smack.
She braced herself for more, but they didn't come.
"Stay where you are. I'll be right back," he said and she heard him stalking through the flat.
Molly's arms and legs were shaky and starting to ache, but they were nothing compared to her sore bottom. She focused on the feeling, the heat, as she took several deep breaths. Clearly he wasn't finished with her arse if he was keeping her in that position.
She could feel herself starting to drift, dancing at the very edge of bliss. It was becoming easier to let go. With every new encounter, Molly found that giving herself over to him wasn't really all that hard. It was actually quite simple.
Hearing his approach shook her out of her semi-meditative state.
"Stand."
Straightening was harder than she had imagined and not much of a relief either. God, she was out of shape; she'd only been there for a few minutes. Sherlock's hands immediately found her hips, pulling her towards him. Her sore flesh reignited as he rubbed the expensive fabric of his trousers against her, but the discomfort was secondary compared to his hard cock grinding into her soft arse. That was far from uncomfortable.
Molly moaned and pushed back, hearing Sherlock chuckle in response.
"Ah, ah, ah… filthy little girls do not get to take liberties. Just for that…" He stepped away and Molly started to turn, suddenly desperately afraid that he was going to stop their game. "Eyes forward, wife." Her head whipped back as his hands firmly grabbed her hips. With a sharp tug, he pulled her away from the chair. "Bend over, hands on your legs as low as you can manage."
She sighed, worried about following his instructions, mostly afraid that she was about to embarrass herself. I have to start doing yoga again. I certainly have the time. Molly bent down and clasped her ankles. Okay, maybe I'm more flexible than I thought.
Feeling Sherlock's hand on the small of her back, she let herself relax and enjoy the moment.
His hand traveled up her spine then back down; the gentle pressure further eased her into the position. Her head was starting to get light from the blood rush, but otherwise, she felt fine. No, she felt amazing.
"Since I am the first man to have the pleasure of properly spanking your luscious bottom, I can only assume you've never been flogged. Correct?"
Flogged? Shit! "Correct."
"Molly…"
"You are correct, husband," she amended.
"Good girl."
Suddenly, and completely inappropriately, the words 'Flogging Molly' popped into her mind and she snorted. It was an American band she listened to from time to time. Her friends at uni used to tease her about the name.
"Something funny? I assure you I didn't intend to make you laugh," he said, his voice suddenly very serious.
"Sorry, husband. I had a… a stray thought."
"Hmmm… Can't have that, now can we? Stand!"
Molly stood once again, relieved that she no longer had to hold her ankles. The position was really starting to make her dizzy.
"It's a good thing I'm always prepared."
Suddenly, Molly's vision was gone as a piece of soft, black fabric was tied over her eyes.
"Can you see anything, wife?" he asked, his lips touching her left ear.
"No, husband."
"Not too tight is it?" He kissed her neck, then nipped at the flesh. She felt his hands on her back, moving up to her bra.
"It's fine."
"Good. No more distractions, Molly. This is serious business." Though his voice was stern, he ended his statement with a soft kiss on her shoulder. Unhooking her bra, he brushed it off of her arms; she heard it fall to the floor. "Turn around and face me."
Molly turned. It was a little disconcerting moving without seeing what she was doing but she managed.
"Feeling exposed… vulnerable?" His voice came from further away. He was obviously trying to keep her guessing.
"Yes."
Time passed, she didn't know how much. She couldn't hear a thing. The flat was silent but for her breathing. Where is he?
"How wet are you, wife?" He sounded like he was standing near the mantel now. The man moved like a damn cat!
"A little," she answered. In truth, she was extremely wet. She wasn't sure why she lied. Thankfully, he didn't take issue with it.
"I'm going to make you love this." Suddenly he was very close. She hadn't even heard him move; was he using magic? His mouth ghosted over her cheek. "Don't worry, pet, I will take care of you."
Molly whined.
"Put your arms behind your back and clasp your hands together. If you can't maintain this pose I'll be forced to bind you."
She whined again.
He laughed. "Oh, I know you'd love that, Molly, but you'll need your arms free in just a moment and I'd prefer not to take the time. You do want to please me, don't you?"
"Yes, husband," she said, her voice almost unrecognisable as she grasped her left wrist with her right hand.
Then he was gone and she felt the flogger brush against her right breast. She gasped. He hadn't struck her hard. As a matter of fact, it felt delightful. Another brush, this time harder against her left. The flogger moved to her sternum and struck her with a little more force. Then again, lower, her stomach this time. He moved back to her each of her breasts, then he paused.
Molly was heaving, panting - just about to ask for another strike, but she stopped herself and tried to slow her breathing. This was heaven; she didn't want to rush it. In her mind, she pictured the flogger. She had seen them before; she knew what it would look like. Knowing Sherlock, it would be fairly plain, unadorned. Black leather, of course, and very high quality.
Her mental picture had helped calm her, but she needed more. She heard him moving around her. The man could move without sound, as he had proven moments before. This was deliberate.
"Your skin is a delightful shade of pink, pet. Painted with lovely little stripes," he said from somewhere on her right. Her head jerked in his direction. "Would you like more?"
She nodded.
"I require verbal answers, wife. You know this."
"Yes, husband."
"Then ask for it. Beg for my flogger and I'll give you more."
Molly took a steadying breath. "Please flog me, husband."
He chuckled. "I don't quite think you understand what I'm looking for, Molly. I want you to… beg." By the time he had said the word 'beg', he was nearly touching her. His voice right in her ear, his breath on her throat.
"Please," she said, trying to infuse her desire into the word. "I need your flogger, Sherlock."
She heard a soft thump and felt his hand on her knickers, a finger wedging itself between the maternal and the crack of her arse. "I'm going to remove these and reposition you."
He moved to her front. "Steady yourself on my shoulders." He tugged her thong down over her hips. Carefully picking up one foot at a time, he helped her out of the garment. "Good girl. I need you on your hands and knees for this next part, wife," he explained, once he was standing.
"But I can't see!"
"And that's why I'm going to help you, Molly. I thought you trusted me," he chastised.
"I do."
"Do you think I'd let you fall?" His fingers caressed her cheek. "You didn't let me fall, did you?"
"No." Tears pricked at her eyes behind the blindfold. She knew he was talking about that night.
He kissed her jaw. "And I promise to always be here to catch you, darling." His voice was very nearly a whisper. "Hands and knees, Molly." Though he sounded stern, he was still stroking her gently. "I promise that I won't let you go."
You will… eventually, her mind whispered, but she followed his instructions, lowering herself slowly to the floor. He held onto her arm the entire time. She felt secure, safe. Once in place with her hands on the floor in front of her, she asked, "Like this?"
"Spread your legs further apart and arch your back."
As she did she heard Sherlock inhale sharply.
"God that's good," he growled.
She started to imagine the lewd picture she presented, but before she had the chance, the flogger struck across her bottom, forcing a startled gasp out of her. It struck again, harder, the tails falling dangerously close to her exposed pussy. Another strike and another. Though she tried to stay still, it was difficult. He struck her again and again, alternating between buttocks, six, maybe eight times. When the tails fell in the middle, very deliberately hitting her wet lips, Molly moaned. If they had fallen just a bit lower they would have hit her clitoris. He was driving her mad.
"You want to come, don't you, wife?" he asked. His voice came from somewhere lower, as if he was kneeling behind her. She hadn't heard him drop to the floor.
"Please!" she begged.
She definitely loved the flogger. He teased her with it, striking over and over, adding just enough pain to her pleasure to bring her to the edge.
"God, Sherlock, please!"
Something hit the floor; she assumed it was flogger. And suddenly he was leaning over her, his trousers abrading her hot, stinging flesh. He cupped her wet pussy and she cried out. Working two fingers into her core, Sherlock slowly, so slowly, entered her.
"Fuck, Molly! You really loved my flogger, didn't you? Mrs. Hudson will have to steam clean the rug when we're finished, you filthy girl." His fingers moved as he spoke, his shameful words adding to her excitement.
He was right, though. She could hear how wet she was. It was mortifyingly hot.
"Just listen to that," he said as if he could read her thoughts. "I wonder if she's insured for flood damage?"
The wet slurp of his fingers in her channel continued as did Molly's embarrassment. But somehow, it just revved up her lust. Her heart was pounding in her ears, almost drowning out all other sounds, except of course the vulgar sound of her cunt and Sherlock's filthy words. She didn't even realise that she was grinding back on his hand until he spoke again.
"That's it! Take what you need!" He drove in harder and harder, pressing forward, hitting her g-spot with every pass. "God, Molly, you're so gorgeous like this! Fucking yourself on my hand like a wanton little slut!" He grunted then moaned and grunted again, grinding his clothed erection into her sore bottom. Molly wondered if he was going to come in his pants.
Suddenly his body was gone, but his fingers were not. Where…? Then she couldn't think at all because his thumb brushed against her clit. She bucked into his hand, coming hard, shrieking and chanting 'husband' like a prayer.
Seconds later she felt warm, wet liquid splatter onto her back and bottom and heard Sherlock calling out her name. His fingers disappeared from her core but were suddenly gripping her hips tight enough to burse.
"Fuck!" she breathed. Her empty channel clenched, wanting to be filled at the mere thought of him tagging her with his seed.
Releasing his deathgrip on her hips, he said, "I do believe I've ruined your garters, Molly," then patted the outside of her thigh and let loose a deep and throaty chuckle.
Oh, my! So, please let me know what you think (this is one of my favorite chapters!). Next chapter: Plot! You guys are amazing and keep me inspired. Thanks so much for reading! ~Lil~
