Prometheus Triumphant [Prometheus in Chains 8] (Siren Publishing Classic) (5 page)

“Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, Master Prometheus. I need to come. Please, Master Prometheus. Please make me come!”

“Since you beg so prettily, my Jenny wren.” He bit down gently on her clit and flicked repeatedly with his tongue until he felt her orgasm as her cunt muscles clenched around his probing fingers. He longed to find out what it would feel like to have his cock clutched tight in her vagina with no barriers between him and her.

“You’re so gorgeous when you come! I could watch you all day,” he said, applying himself to giving her another tremendous orgasm. He watched the aftershocks fade, and then he gathered her in his arms, lay back on the pillows, and petted her until she came down. Her little hand stole up and caressed his stubble-covered cheek. He felt her nails rasp along his cheek to his chin. Then her fingers ran along his lips, and he kissed the tips. He reached for a condom and slipped it over his erection. He parted her legs with his and lowered himself onto his elbows, continuing to kiss her gently, but increasingly urgently, as his cock demanded entrance. She lifted her hips in invitation, and his thick cock sank fully home. He sighed. She wrapped her legs around him, and he pumped in and out of her with ever-increasing vigour as she panted and moaned and joined him in the thrusts of his hips. Her little gasps as the full length of him filled her, spurred him on, and soon his hips bucked, as he was unable to control his thrusts. He came with a grunt of pleasure. He collapsed onto his elbows, his cock still firmly seated inside her. She let her legs flop onto the bed, and he rolled to the side of her as his softening cock slid out of her.

“Jenny, Jenny. I never want to let you go!”

“Then don’t, Master Prometheus.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as she said it. He was entranced. Such a naive little thing. She certainly hadn’t meant to reveal so much so quickly, he was sure.

“Is that what you want, Jenny?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you. I don’t know why I did say it. I know you only want a fling.”

“Silly little Jenny wren, you don’t know what I want. How could you, pet? I want you, now and for the foreseeable future. How do you feel about that?”
Am I going too fast now? Foolish, I don’t want to bugger it all up now.

“I want you, too, Master Prometheus. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but I was afraid I couldn’t be alone with you and would mess things up.”

“Well now you are alone with me and you haven’t run screaming from the room. Do you want to stay the night?” He held his breath waiting for her answer.

Jenny lay, sated, in Master Prometheus’s arms. He cuddled her closer to him, and she burrowed her head into his shoulder. They’d made love. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, call it anything else. She couldn’t describe it as fucking, as the act had never so affected her before. She felt small beside his bulk, but never for one second had she felt afraid or threatened. He’d taken care she was pleasured. He’d held her firmly, but she’d not wanted to break his hold to escape from him. On the contrary she’d wanted more, harder, faster. She knew he’d been watching her and her reactions to what he’d been doing. Every good Dom did that. This was different. Master Prometheus wasn’t watching her impersonally, far from it. She felt that he cared if she experienced pleasure at his hands, if she was comfortable, if she was afraid. He’d not tried to secure her, blindfold her, spank her or any of the things he’d done to her and others in public sessions in the club. She loved him for that. Now he knew all about Watford. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care what had happened. He still wanted her. It made no difference to the way he felt about her. Her heart swelled as she heard him ask her to stay the night. She loved him for asking, for not presuming, but most of all for holding his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Yes, Master Prometheus, I’d like that.”

* * * *

Prometheus let out the breath he’d been holding with a
whoosh
. He’d waited with bated breath for her decision, and she’d trusted him. That was a giant step forward. He promised himself he’d be extra careful and she wouldn’t regret that trust.

“Would you like something to eat? I have food up here in the fridge or we can send down to the restaurant for something.”

“What do you have up here?”

“I have lamb chops, fresh pasta, bacon, eggs, minced beef, and some vegetables.”

“I’d love lamb chops.”

“Okay, I’ll go and make them.”

“Can we cook together please, Master Prometheus? I’d like that.”

He found her an old robe of his.

“Here you are, Jenny. Put this on. Oh goodness it’s a bit big. Luckily it’s a short one, so it will fit fairly well when the sleeves are rolled up.”

She was delighted to be in his kitchen, he could see. She looked about her and smiled. The fridge was a huge, double stainless-steel one. He loved it.

“Oh what a lovely fridge. I love stainless steel, it always looks so cool and elegant. It has an ice-maker and a spigot in the door for chilled water, too. I’ve always wanted one of these.”

She was like a child trying that out. Prometheus took out chops.

“You choose which vegetables you’d like. You will find a selection in the salad crisper in the bottom of the fridge.”

“Where are the pans and lids, Master Prometheus?”

“Look in those deep drawers over there and you’ll find what you need.”

He saw she was enjoying delving in the deep drawers to find pans and lids. His kitchen was never going to be the same again. From now on, every time he went into it, in his mind’s eye he was going to see his little Jenny wren exploring and smiling as she discovered pans and the other equipment she needed.

“Here you are, Jenny.”

She placed cutlery and glasses on the small kitchen table as he handed them to her.

“Beer, water, or wine? Which do you prefer?”

“Do you have rosé?”

“Yes.”

“Then rosé please, and a glass of water.”

“Do you want it chilled?” he asked, remembering her fascination with the spigot in the fridge.

“Yes please. I love very cold water.”

He gave her the water glasses and watched her play with the chilled water. The potatoes were half-cooked by this time, so he fried the chops, and she put on the broccoli. He produced mint jelly and redcurrant sauce from a large larder-cupboard.

“Do you like to cook, Master Prometheus?”

“Yes, I do. I don’t bake, but I make soups and main courses. Puddings I get from downstairs or eat fruit. What about you?”

“I love to cook and bake, too. I don’t bake often. It’s not really worth it for one person.”

“What sort of things do you bake?”

“Biscuits, scones, pies, and cakes.”

“I never get those, unless I ask downstairs. Will you bake for me some day?”

“Oh, I’d love to, Master Prometheus. This is a dream kitchen. Did you design it? Did Chris help?”

“No, Chris just did the new uncollared subs’ seating area. This kitchen is all my own work.”

By this time the food was ready and on the plates. Prometheus sat opposite Jenny at his small table and opened the wine. He poured her a generous glass and another for himself. They would just have the one. He was mindful of the club rules of one drink, and, as it was her first visit to his home, he didn’t want her to think he was trying to get her tipsy. Cutting up his chop, he offered her a forkful. She took it from his fork, looking him in the eyes, and he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. She offered him some of her meat and they fed each other, eating in companionable silence. Sometimes they ate from their own plates, and others they fed each other morsels of food. For Prometheus it was one of the sexiest meals he’d ever eaten.

“That was delicious, Master Prometheus. I was very hungry.”

He’d noticed that she ate well and didn’t pick at her food like some small people.

“Well what would you like for afters? I have fruit or ice cream.”

“What sort of fruit do you have?”

“Strawberries, grapes, and bananas.”

“I’d love some strawberries, please.”

“Strawberries it is then. Cream?”

“Oh, yes please, Master Prometheus.”

He hulled and washed the strawberries while she cleaned and rinsed the plates, placing them in the dish washer. He brought one dish of strawberries with whipped cream to the table. Taking one large fruit he dipped it into the cream and took a bite, then offered her the remainder. She opened her mouth, and he popped it in. Her little pink tongue licked the cream from her lips, and his cock twitched. He picked up another large strawberry and repeated the exercise. By the time he’d done it four times, they were both aroused. Gazing into each other’s eyes, they panted. The next fruit he placed between her lips, then bent his head and bit off half. Their lips met, their tongues, flavoured with the strawberry juice and cream, tangled, stroked, and swirled about their mouths. Never had strawberries tasted so good to him. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms, all the while kissing her deeply. His hands found her breasts under the robe. Kneading, tweaking and pulling at her nipples, he felt her arousal mount. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He tossed her gently onto the unmade bed, and then he stripped off her robe.

“Face up, legs over the end of the bed, and don’t move.”

He grabbed a couple of pillows and placed them under her hips.
I’d love to blindfold her and tie her to the bed, but not just yet
. With her history he’d have to respect the old adage “
festina lente
” and hasten very slowly indeed. For now, he was more than content, as he looked down on her, arranged for his pleasure. As he spread her legs a little wider he noticed her juices coating her pussy and running down her legs. He smiled in anticipation. He dipped his finger into the swollen and puffy folds of her cunt. She twitched but lay still. He withdrew the finger, sniffed loudly for her benefit, then licked it clean, smacking his lips so she would hear him.

“Your cream is as sweet as honey. You’re so wet and ready for me. What do you want, my Jenny wren?”

“Please fuck me, Master Prometheus.”

“Fingers or cock?”

“As you please, Master Prometheus.”

“Have you no preference?” he teased her.

“I love your fingers stroking me, and I want your cock deep inside me.”

“Then it will be my pleasure to give you both.” He knelt between her legs, and, parting her folds with his fingers, tongued her clit. She moaned and panted as he nibbled and sucked, then he plunged three fingers inside her, as far as he could, to stroke her G-spot. He scissored and twisted his fingers as he withdrew, only to plunge them back into her cunt. She arched her back and moved her hips to get him deeper still. She moaned and writhed in ecstasy as he pleasured her. He used the pad of his thumb to rub her clit as she stiffened. The muscles of her cunt spasmed around his fingers as he watched her come, and her eyes rolled up in her head. Withdrawing his fingers, he gathered her into his arms and held her until she came to her senses. She put up her hand and caressed his cheek. He laid her back against the pillows and reached for a condom. She took it from him and very carefully rolled it over his swollen and throbbing cock. Her small hands were gentle as she sheathed him and played with his balls, rolling them in one hand and pumping his erection with the other. He could stand no more. He took both her hands in one of his and held them fast then sank his cock into her. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, as urgent now as he was. He knew he wasn’t going to last long at this rate, but he couldn’t for the life of him slow down. His hips bucked of their own accord as his orgasm began to flow over him. She held him close with little moaning sighs and pants rewarding him as he stroked over her G-spot and pushed her over the edge again. He felt the clasp of her muscles around his cock as spurts of semen flowed from his cock into the condom. Sated again he collapsed to one side of her and cuddled her close to him as they rode out the aftershocks together.

When he was able, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom, where he seated her on a stool while he ran a bath. He helped her into the bath. She was boneless and giggling, so he tickled her ribs, making the situation worse. She almost fell into the bath, helpless with laughter. He sat her down in the warm water and knelt beside the bath to wash her carefully with soap and a washcloth. He gave her a pillow and left her to enjoy a soak in the warm water while he went to shower. Humming, he washed his hair and soaped himself, rinsed off and got out. He put on his robe and went over to the bath. He smiled as he looked down on her. She was fast asleep with her head on the pillow and her arms hanging over the sides. He pulled out the plug to allow the water to flow away. Then, he lifted her out of the bath, not without some difficulty as she was slippery with soap and flopped like a rag doll. He managed to juggle her into his arms in the end, wrapped her in towels, and dried her as she sat on his lap, her head resting on his chest. He loved to care for her like this and hoped it was going to last. When she was dry, he dropped the towels on the floor, carried her to the bed, and settled her on the pillows. He covered her carefully, bending over her to kiss her cheek. Returning to the bathroom, he collected the wet towels and put them and his robe over the heated towel rail to dry. He cleaned his teeth and thought about rousing her to do the same. Deciding he’d be fighting a losing battle, and one night without cleaning her teeth would do no lasting harm, he got into bed with her. She snuggled closer into his embrace as if she belonged there, as if she’d always been there. Prometheus drifted off to sleep, happier than he’d ever been in his life before, with the warm bundle of his love in his arms.