de Lune, Clair - Initiation [Prometheus in Chains 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (4 page)

“Prometheus is closing,” he said.

Jane looked about her for Jen, but there was no sign of her friend. She went to collect her belongings and found a note with them. Jen had left to go home with a Dom, so Jane was on her own. She needed to find a taxi. A large hand stole around her waist.

“I will take you home and see you safe,” he said.

Relief flooded her. She did not know this district and was not used to being out so late, and hadn’t been out on her own for years.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper.

“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” he answered, and she blushed again. The Gregorian chant had given way to Cream’s “White Room.”

“Master Prometheus always plays that track just before we close,” he told her.

Taking her by the arm, he escorted her to a large black four-by-four. He opened the passenger door and helped her inside, waited until she put on her seat belt, closed the door, and got in and drove away. She felt small and special and cared for and reminded herself not to become used to it. Nevertheless, she glowed. He drove her home through the almost-deserted streets, and once there, took her keys and opened her door, turning on the lights for her. He closed the door and said, “I need contact numbers for you, and an e-mail address. Here are my work, home, and mobile numbers and my private e-mail address.” So saying, he handed her a card with extra numbers scribbled on the back.

“I will be here to collect you at 8:00 p.m. tomorrow night.”

She gave him the scrap of card she had written the information he wanted on, and he pulled her into his arms for a thorough good-night kiss, reminding her he would wait on the step until she locked the door. She complied and heard his footsteps going down the front steps. A door closed, and the car went down the drive and into the road.

She sighed and then, on autopilot, went through her nightly routine. She was always careful to remove all traces of makeup. She could not afford to begin to neglect her skin at this late stage. One of her unbreakable rules was all makeup off before bed, and she had stuck to it all her life.

She got into bed, turned on the bedside light, and picked up her e-reader but didn’t immediately start to read. Warm and snug under the covers, she clutched it to her chest and began to relive her adventure. A soft warmth filled her, and she curled up on her side, snuggling into the pillows.

The next thing she knew it was morning and someone was demanding entrance. Her doorbell was ringing, and an insistent knock sounded on the door. Grabbing a dressing gown, she ran to the door and opened it. A delivery van was parked on the drive, and the driver held out a large, flat, wrapped box. She took it and signed where he indicated, and he was off into the van and away. She closed the door and took the box into the kitchen, trying to remember what she had ordered and could think of nothing that would come in a box that shape. She took off the brown paper, carefully folded it after removing her name and address for shredding, and put the brown paper in the recycling container. She did not recognize the logo on the box, so she took off the lid to be faced with tissue paper and on top of it an envelope with her name on it in a hand she did not recognize. She opened it and saw it said, “Wear these tonight.
Master Angus
.” Under the tissue paper was an emerald green corset and a long black jersey skirt similar to the one she had worn but it had a long slit up the back, correction, up the front as the label was at the back.

That will leave nothing to the imagination, she thought. It was going to leave all her underwear on show as she walked or sat down. She simply had to think about all that had happened, but her stomach rumbled and she realized she would think better on a full stomach. One large pot of tea and a bowl of porridge with soft dark brown sugar later, she sighed and felt better. Master Angus would not approve of her porridge.

I bet he eats his with salt, and it’s made of oatmeal if that accent is anything to go by, she thought.

She decided to do what she always did when she needed to think, and began to clean the house, dusting and polishing with a vengeance. What had she done? How did she go on from here? One hour of furious activity later, the house was a lot cleaner, but she was no nearer to understanding what she felt about the club in general, and Master Angus in particular. She went to check her e-mail and found one from an unknown contact. Had it not had “Prometheus” in the heading it would have been deleted as a matter of routine. Her eldest son’s strictures about online safety were so ingrained that they were always in the forefront of her mind.

She read the e-mail twice before its meaning sank in.

Things to do today. You have two appointments. The first is for a health check and the second for a waxing. I expect you to attend both.

The attachment that came with it was the results from his health care check, which he had had done as a matter of routine last month. She opened the attachment and read the results. Colour bloomed in her cheeks as she realized just what they would be checking for and, almost immediately, why. A glance at her watch told her she had one hour to get ready. After a shower, she decided not to drive herself as she was unsure where to find suitable parking, and time was getting short.

“Damn.” There was another insistent summons to the front door. She opened it, and a tall, slim man was standing there.

“My name is Alan, and I have been sent to take you to your appointments at the clinic and salon.”

She had drawn back, ready to refuse, but when he quoted times and places she realized he must be genuine. She locked the door and he helped her into the back seat of the car, waited until she put on her seat belt then got in the driver’s side and they left.

The clinic was impersonal and professional. She was done in twenty minutes and had no time to feel embarrassed, and they promised the results by e-mail in three days. The salon and waxing was something else again. She had never had a waxing down there, and it was bloody painful and embarrassing. Not for a long time had she lain with her legs open in front of a total stranger, and as that had been a doctor, she had not been so bothered. This was different, and the places that got waxed! Not to mention the agony as she was stripped bare. The worst was yet to come as a girl, barely out of her teens, rubbed soothing lotion over all her bared parts, trying to look as if it was routine for her but obviously wondering why a grandmother would be getting a full wax. However, she decided to be adventurous and bought emerald-green nail polish to match the corset. She refused the girl’s offer to apply the polish, as it seemed Master Angus had paid in advance for the health check and the waxing, and she positively would not run up a bigger bill.

Alan was waiting by the car, and he delivered her to her door, opening the car door for her to get out and waiting until she got into the house before driving off. Oh my, she could get used to this pampering and had to take herself to task and remind herself it was only a temporary thing.

“Whatever,” she said to herself rudely.

Chapter
Four

When she got home she decided to look up the logo on the box and found a site called Curvy Woman. The prices were astronomical. How would she ever be able to pay for the clothes he had sent her? Though the underwear and nightwear on the site were beautiful, the smallest scrap of lace and silk had a price tag so large it would keep her in food for a week. When she found the “special” page, she realized that the cost of the corset alone would blow her monthly budget and her heart sank. She could not resist browsing and daydreaming of what she would buy if money were no object.

She looked at the clock and realized she had been on that site for a couple of hours, and if she were to be on time, and she’d bet he would be, she would have to hurry. She decided on a bath to soak her tender parts then set her hair and relaxed in the hot water. When she got out of the bath, she quickly dried herself and applied the nail polish to hands and feet. When the polish was set, she brushed out her hair and applied makeup sparingly. Less is better, she thought. Her favourite perfume came next, and at last she was ready to have at the corset. Never having owned or worn one before, she turned it this way and that before she figured out how to put it on and adjust it to her figure, and it was not easy, damn the man. She chose a pair of black lace knickers and then shimmied into the skirt. She put on black, low-heeled shoes but knew they would not last as subs had to go barefoot. Never mind, that way her toe nails would be on show.

No fool like an old fool! she thought to herself.

She had time to tidy up the bathroom and bedroom before the doorbell rang, and she walked to the front door and opened it. In low heels she had to look up and up. He was gorgeous and he was wearing the same clothes as last night and a none-too-pleased look on his face.

“What?”

He just raised his eyebrow and waited as she quickly added, “Master Angus.”

“Do you always open the door without knowing who is on the other side? You could have gone to that window.” And he jabbed his finger in the direction of the window, which, to be fair, gave a perfect view of anyone standing at the door.

“Well, it’s 8:00 p.m., and I was expecting
you
,” she said.

“Nevertheless.”

“Whatever,” she said and was surprised at the speed with which he took hold of her arm bent her over an armchair and lifted her skirt.

“What…” was all she got out.

“Be silent,” he said, and she could do no other than be silent.

“What the hell do you have on? Did I put knickers in the box?”

“No, Master Angus, but I thought…”

“You think too bloody much,” he said, and he ripped them off and began to smack her bottom hard.

“In future you will check before you open the door.”

“Yes, Master.” It was all she could do to reply. The smacks hurt as they were meant to punish her, but she was wet and getting wetter the more he spanked her, and by the time he finished, moisture seeped out of her cunt and was soaking the tops of her thighs. Sitting in the car was going to be trying, and probably there would be a wet patch on her skirt and everyone would see to her shame.

“Why have I spanked you?” By this time he was readjusting her skirt after rubbing his hands over her red bottom. He stood her up and took her in his arms and cuddled her close.

“Well?”

“I did not look who was at the door, Master Angus.”

“Why is that important?”

“I suppose it could have been anyone, and I am alone?”

“Exactly so, remember it. I do not want to have to punish you for it again, nor do you want the next level of punishment.”

“I don’t, Master Angus?”

“No, you don’t, it will be with a paddle or a crop and twice as many.”

Too right, I don’t want that, she thought, and he laughed in sympathy. He must have seen the expression flit across her face. She kept forgetting how closely he watched her. She put on her coat and around her neck a triangular black chiffon scarf edged with emerald lace. The long ends tied behind her neck and hung down her back, and the V of the triangle was below her throat and hid the collar.

He took her hand in his, locked the door with her key, and settled her in the car. Soon they were at the club. As he helped her out of the car he patted her bottom and chuckled.

“Someone enjoyed her spanking.”

She scowled at him, and he chuckled again.

Once inside the club, he showed her where the female subs left their belongings in lockers, gave her the combination to her locker, and she went through the door and into a group of subs all chattering and primping in front of the mirrors. She found her locker and put her shoes and coat inside. Her hands to her scarf she heard, “Master Angus will soon have done with you.” She turned with her hands frozen behind her head. A small, very thin blonde came right up to Jane and stood with her hands on her hips. She had few clothes on and was very pretty but stick thin. Jane said nothing and stood looking down at her.

“Why would he want an ugly old tart like you? He
never
takes a sub, and he never collars one. You will not be the first. You only wear that long skirt to cover your fat, ugly, old legs.”

Jane still said nothing but untied the scarf and took it off, revealing the collar and the name on the tag.

All the subs gasped.

“I don’t believe it’s his. You faked it!” screeched the small blonde.

“Now, Jessica, back off.” A fortysomething woman and her friend came to stand by Jane