de Lune, Clair - Initiation [Prometheus in Chains 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

INITIATION

Prometheus in Chains 1

CLAIR DE LUNE

Copyright © 2012

Chapter
One

What am I doing here?
Jane asked herself for the umpteenth time.

I am a grandmother, and not a young one.
She looked down at her carefully chosen attire and grimaced. Her body was no longer young; too many babies, too many hours standing in too many classrooms had all taken their toll. She sighed and looked at the others waiting in the reception area. All of them were young and all were dressed in very little
.
She looked out of place.

Who will want
me? That was the crux of the matter—rejection, being left on her own. She did not fit in here and wondered why ever she had thought she might. Jen was a very good friend of hers. She was a sub and after talking to Jane about BDSM she had brought her to the club Prometheus in Chains for an exploratory visit. Jen was twenty years younger than she was, and even Jen was older than most of those around them. She was thin, dressed in a very short leather miniskirt and deep red corset, which was tight laced and pushed up her small, firm, pert breasts as if offering them on a plate. It was going to take some armour-plated corset to do the same for Jane’s DD breasts, no longer firm, as they had once been. She really could not bring herself to display her body like that. Who on earth would want to look at it with all this firm, young flesh on open offer? On account of that, she had chosen to wear an ankle-length, dove-gray jersey skirt which clung to her ample hips and hid her less than perfect legs. Above it she wore a formfitting top in the same material with spaghetti straps over a balcony bra. Upon setting out she had not thought it to be too bad, but everyone around her was dressed in leather and corsets and none of the clothes left much to the imagination.

Who will want me?
Her greatest fear was to be among a crowd of younger and much more beautiful subs.
Whyever did I let Jen bring me here?
she thought.

She had read many BDSM novels and fantasized about the lifestyle, never intending to go further, and then her husband had died suddenly and she realized she was alone. Her family had rallied round and helped her through the first tough weeks but then had had to get on with their lives, jobs, and children, and she had had to move on too. What was she to do? The house held so many memories and sleep did not come often or easily. She spent her nights in the bed they had shared, his pillow in her arms, his scent still there, if she closed her eyes…but no, he was gone, no use going down that road. He had always said he wanted to go first, as he would not be able to cope without her. “How am I to cope now?” she asked herself, resentment creeping in. She always turned to her e-book reader and read her erotic BDSM novels, often finding sleep came in the early morning. She read avidly and immersed herself in the stories and ideas. One afternoon Jen came to visit and somehow they started talking about BDSM. Before she realized what had happened, Jen had offered to take her to her club to see for herself.

“Prometheus in Chains is a private club, and I can take a guest from time to time. It is safe, and background checks are run on all applicants. Membership is by recommendation.”

Now here she was and she was having second thoughts. She turned to go, but Jen held tight to her hand. A large, muscular man was approaching.

“Hello, Jenny Wren, who do we have here?” he said in a deep, compelling voice, yet with the hint of humour in it.

“Master Prometheus,” Jenny said. “This is my friend Jane I told you about. She is curious about the lifestyle.”

“So you did,” he said. “Her temporary membership is under review, but she can stay tonight.
I read your application forms, Jane. Just looking tonight?”

Jane swallowed but said nothing. She knew enough to keep her eyes lowered, and as Jen tugged on her hand she whispered, “Yes, Master Prometheus.”

He chuckled and said, “Welcome to my club, Jane. Take her to the uncollared subs area, Jenny Wren, and wait for me there.”

They left the reception area, all cool marble floors and burgundy velvet curtains, dark oak panels and subdued lighting, and approached the huge double doors that Jane assumed led into the club’s main room. On the nod from Master Prometheus, the minder opened the doors to allow them to pass through, and Jane realized how efficient the soundproofing was. Her senses were assaulted by sounds and sights and smells.

“Oh!” Her mouth and eyes grew round as she looked about her.

Over the heads of the crowd, she saw an imposing Dom with the armband of a dungeon monitor look at her, an odd expression on his face.

Jane heard the slap of paddles and whips meeting flesh, the moans and screams of subs on the receiving end. She wondered if it was in agony or ecstasy. It was impossible to tell. The air was redolent of sweat, leather, sex, and some spicy smell she finally identified as cinnamon and lavender. Were they candles or joss sticks? Showing your age there, my girl, she thought. In the crowd, she again noticed the imposing Dom gaze at her then he started to make his way towards Prometheus. She wondered who he was and why he was looking at her. The deep bass of heavy metal assaulted her ears as Jen towed her along. She had always loved Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin, and if she was not mistaken, this was Nine Inch Nails. Tasty. A small smile curved her lips as she remembered.

Jane was lost in the memory. The shock that always registered on her pupils’ faces when they struggled to reconcile the conservatively dressed and correct “Miss” with a love of Plant, Page, Daltrey, Gillan, and the rest. How she’d loved to tease them when they asked what her favourite song was. “I’ll Rip Your Spine Out” or “Vengeance” were the two she most often chose just to see their faces. Pupils who knew her would bring new ones up just to see the reaction. Well, those days were long gone and now she was here. Panic gripped her. Jen led her to a comfortable leather chair where a group of barely clad subs waited, chatting quietly. One young man handed her a bottle of cold water with a sympathetic look.

“First time?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked, and her hands shook as she struggled to open the bottle. He took it from her, unscrewed the cap, breaking the seal and handed it back. Gratefully, she took a long swallow.

“Yes,” he said with a wry smile. “I remember my first time. You are safe here. Don’t be afraid.”

Suddenly, all the subs dropped to their knees. She struggled to copy them. Not very graceful, she thought. She longed to look up and see who had caused such a reaction but knew better. If her reading had not already taught her that much, the lecture she had had from Jen about what to do in the main area would have done.

“Jane?” It was Prometheus. “Master Angus, this is Jane. She is a very new sub wanting an introduction to my club and our lifestyle. Master Angus will take care of you tonight. He knows your limits and you can trust him to respect them and keep you safe.”

“Jane?” Master Angus had an even deeper voice. It was like dark chocolate mixed with a hint of spice and something else.

“Give me your hands,” he said. She did not hesitate to hold out both her hands. She was not small, but one of his huge hands engulfed both hers. His hand was warm and firm and calloused as if he was used to hard work. “Come with me.” She struggled to get up and found support in his strong clasp. He said no more but turned and headed towards the back of the large room and a big leather chair in an alcove partially screened by plants in pots. She had no choice but to follow. His clasp was firm, and she had no doubt that if she tried to pull away, she would not succeed. He sat in the chair, having released his grip on her hands. What should she do now? She started to get to her knees, but he said, “No.” So she stood with her head bowed and her gaze on the floor. She could see his feet, long and slim, encased in black leather brogues…brogues? She looked higher and saw white wool socks that reached up to his knees, and the laces of his shoes crossed at the back of his legs and tied in front.
What the fuck?
That was strange clothing for a Dom. Where were the leather trousers she had so often read about? His feet were big, more than a size twelve, so what would the rest of him be like? She wondered.

“Look at me, Jane!” She looked into his eyes then at his face. He was a dark man with heavy brows that almost met in the middle. She’d bet they did meet when he frowned. His large eyes were blue, deep blue, and he had the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man…it was just not fair. His hair was cut short, and his eyebrows were silver-grey. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a hawklike nose. Not a conventionally handsome man, but striking. He would stand out in any crowd. His mouth was wide and full lipped, and she caught herself wondering what it would feel like to have that mouth, those lips on hers and on other parts of her body. She blushed and looked down. With a jolt she saw he wore a kilt, and for a second wondered if it was true that…He read her expression and laughed, and his laugh reached places that had not been touched for far too long. She felt damp between her legs and her nipples grew hard.

“You may well find out later, little darling,” he said

Startled her eyes flew to his. “Little?” No one but her husband had ever called her little. She needed to lose weight and was no skinny model at five foot nine.

He laughed again and said, “Sit on my lap.”

She was slow to obey. She did not want the poor man to suffer with her weight on his lap.

“Now, sub.” The steel was back, and she hurried to do as he asked, sitting rigidly on his lap and trying not to let all her weight fall on him. On his own head be it, she thought.

He curled one large hand around her waist and held her secure in his lap.

“Now, tell me, little darling, what are you doing here?” His large hand gently rubbed her back in small circles just above the cleft of her bottom. It was so comforting she almost forgot what he had asked. What was she doing there? “I—” And she could say no more. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she tried, in vain, to stand up. He held her tightly on his lap.

“I’d better go. This was a mistake.” She gulped.

“Be still!” he said, and she was suddenly still. “Look at me!” he said and she did. Who could resist the command in his voice? Certainly not her. She looked into his eyes and was lost. She saw sympathy, understanding, and, in their dark depths, she thought she caught a glimpse of pain, which intrigued her, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. Had she imagined it?

“
Mo ghràdh
, tell me!” he said and she did.

“All my life I have been taller than average and strong, and people assumed I could manage and have leaned on me and depended on me, trusted me to care for them, and I have not let them down. It was all a lie. I am
not
strong, but I have been expected to be for so many years and I am bone weary. I envy all those small women who can’t reach things by themselves, who can’t carry heavy bags, and who get help all the bloody time. When my husband died I found myself alone. My children helped, but they have their lives, and I
will not
be a burden to them. I picked up the pieces and got on with my life. I read many e-books in the nights when I could not sleep. I found myself intrigued by the lifestyle and identifying with the subs in the stories in their search for a good Dom who would care for them.”

“You know it is an exchange?”

“Yes, Master Angus, I know,” she whispered. “What I don’t know is what I could possibly offer in exchange for that care.”

She felt his cock twitch as she said that. Maybe he knew something she didn‘t. She felt his arousal as she sat in his lap.

“Hence the present…ah…fishing expedition.” He smiled as he said it.

“Yes,” she said.

“Have you any experience of BDSM?”

“No, Sir. I was married for forty years and only had sex with my husband in all that time. Indeed my husband was my first and only partner. The Swinging Sixties passed us by. Ours was a very vanilla relationship. Oh, I got him to spank me a few times, but his heart was not in it, and he was so afraid he’d hurt me so I gave up.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, we played with vibrators, blindfolds, mild bondage, and feathers. I once suggested a butt plug, but he did not know why I wanted one so I let it go.”

“So you are an anal virgin?”

“No, not really, we played with a small vibrator, but it did not feel so good. I had better get up, Sir. I am far too heavy to sit on your lap for so long.” She tried to rise but was held firmly in place as he growled.