de Lune, Clair - Initiation [Prometheus in Chains 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (8 page)

“I’m sorry, I can’t, just let me fuck your mouth please.” He gasped.

He held her head as he took his pleasure. She was still, trying not to gag as he hit the back of her throat then remembering to breathe through her nose. She rolled his sac in her hands, and he came in her mouth. She swallowed all he gave her and licked him clean then tucked him back into his jeans. He helped her to her feet and said, “Thank you,
mo gràdh
” into her hair as he held her close, enfolded in his arms as if she were the most precious person in the world.

“What is that you keep calling me?” she asked.

“It’s Gaelic.”

“But you are not Irish.”

“No, but Gaelic is spoken in the Highlands. The Irish say ‘gay lick.’ We pronounce it like ‘garlic’ without the r.”

She tried it, and indeed they sounded different.

“Now we take a nap. I will tell you what it means soon.”

He collapsed on the bed, taking her with him, and she squealed as they fell and curled into his side, falling asleep pillowed on his shoulder. She awoke when he moved and saw the tenderness in his eyes as he gazed down at her. She had a twinge of guilt then as she thought he must have been uncomfortable with her head on his shoulder. She‘d bet she‘d cut off his circulation and that‘s why he had shifted uncomfortably. He had not moved much, and she was sure that was out of consideration for her and in order not awake her. He was stroking her hair and she wondered fleetingly what he thought of its discreet streaks of colour skillfully done by her hairdresser. Then she moved to rest both arms on his chest and lean over to kiss him thoroughly and leave him witless for a change.

“Time to get up and go to the club,” he said.

Chapter
Ten

Monday dawned wet and miserable.
He had woken up early, unable to sleep after the previous evening’s sex at Jane’s and knowing the results for her tests would be in that day. So he was delighted to get her e-mail with the forwarded all clear. Not for a minute did he doubt the result, and like a fucking teenager, he thought, was unable to get his mind off what he intended to do that night. He decided to do some research into a project he was intending to get moving on as soon as he could. That spare room would be ideal. He called his friend to come over and explained what he wanted, and, while the measuring and preliminary sketches were being done, he went online to source fabrics. One hundred percent cotton was something he rarely needed to find in his business. He had told Jane he was in manufacturing. As he was organising another surprise for her later, it would not do for her to know he owned “Curvy Woman” and made underwear for well-endowed ladies.

He was astounded at the number of sites and the variety of designs, colours, and patterns. He was in way over his head, so called one of his assistants and, having explained what he needed, handed it over to her. He would have bought bolts of fabric, but she saw the need for what she called “fat quarters” of lots and lots of different designs and colours and promised to get back to him the next day. The preliminary sketches were agreed on, and his friend left to source the wood and get the initial work done, after which he’d come and fit the shelves and cupboards and the large table in the room. Angus decided that a new sewing machine would be a good addition and called in another favour from Catriona, who recommended one and promised not to breathe a word to anyone at all.

A call from his personal assistant reminded him he had an appointment with that applicant for the post of designer at “Curvy Woman”. His Assistant was still not happy that they were only interviewing the one candidate, but Angus had his reasons, reasons he was not about to share with anyone at all. Most of his designers were fifteen years or more older than this latest interviewee. His customers were mostly mature women, but he wanted to expand his customer base to the younger end of the market and so he needed a younger designer. Why this particular one and why only one was his business and would be no one else’s, even if it worked out the way he wanted. He looked forward to seeing the sample design she had provided made up.

He looked at the time and realised it was three hours since Jane sent him the e-mail, and he had not answered it. He hoped the parcel had got there, and he could picture her surprise as she opened the box with “Curvy Woman” on it. It contained a light coffee-coloured bustier and a darker coffee-coloured jersey skirt with the usual slit up the front. Both were trimmed with pale aqua, an unusual combination, but he knew from what she had said that she liked it. A triangular scarf in pale aqua chiffon trimmed with coffee-coloured lace had been added, and he had put in a note on top of it all saying, “Wear only these tonight!” It was signed, “
Master Angus.”

He had better send her an e-mail so he did. It was short and to the point.

8:00 p.m. tonight.

A

* * * *

When she opened the parcel she was delighted with the clothes and the colours. Now she knew why he had been asking about her favourite colours. Later, she got an e-mail. It was so short, but said all she needed to know. She had time on her hands so
s
he spent her day sorting her sewing supplies in an endeavour to fit all she had into the shelves and cupboards but with mixed success. Still, she enjoyed reacquainting herself with her fabrics and trims and threads, and she had plenty of time to think. Last time she had tried to ask about the cost of the outfit and had encountered a blank stare.

“I neither know nor care, and it does not concern
you
. I wanted you to dress this way, so I will foot the bill. I do not want to discuss this now or ever again.” And that had been that. She
would
try and raise the matter again, in all conscience she could do no other, but she would have to be careful as she did not want a spanking for her pains. She checked her e-mail to find another short one from Master Angus.

I hope that you remembered to have lunch!

She looked at the clock. It was after 2:00 p.m., and suddenly she felt hungry. She went to the kitchen and made scrambled eggs on toast and ate it and drank a huge mug of tea. Only then did she go and answer her e-mail saying she had had lunch. Almost immediately came the reply.

As you took so long to reply I assume you had forgotten and only ate because I reminded you and did not tell me until you had eaten. That will be five. I will be there at 7:30 p.m.

She blushed and sent a “Yes, Master” back, berating herself for thinking he would be fooled. She was going to have to take all this into account and, in self-preservation, remember to have regular meals. She went back to the sorting and the thinking, had a high tea of sandwiches, cakes, and a pot of her favourite Christmas tea at five, then settled to work on the design for a lap quilt she had in her head, but it would not come out. There were too many other thoughts rolling around in her head getting in the way. All too soon, it was time to shower and dress for the evening. She was appalled when she put on the bustier. It supported her breasts, pushed them up quite nicely, a bit like offering them up on a plate she thought, but left her nipples on show. He must be joking, she thought, and knew he wasn’t, so she arranged the chiffon scarf with the triangle covering her breasts as well as the collar. Her coat and handbag waiting on the hall table, she sat on the edge of her chair and nibbled her bottom lip in apprehension... Would it be hand or paddle, and where would he do it? She forgot he had said he did not want her on public display and thought with horror of having to go to the club with everyone staring just like at Jessica. She could even find it in her heart to be sorry for Jessica.

When he arrived, he took her in his arms and kissed her witless again. He closed the door behind him and took her to the kitchen, sat on a straight backed chair and said, “Over my lap now!”

She was slow to obey until he said, “Six.” Then she became suddenly eager to be over his knee.

“You will count and this
will
hurt, but in future you will know not to try to pull the wool over my eyes.”

He pulled her skirt up, leaving her bottom bare and at his mercy. She shivered as his large hand caressed her there, and he rubbed and patted her. She did not make the mistake of thinking the pats were her punishment and began to tremble when he said, “Now, we begin!”

One large hand held her to him so she would not fall off, and the other came down hard on her left cheek with a crack. She cried out.

“Well?”

“One, Master.”

His hand came down on the other side.

“Two, Master.”

It hurt like hell, and she wanted to get up and get away but had read enough to know that would mean starting again, and she was not so foolish as to want to add even more. It was bad enough as it was. Somehow, she got through the six and did not cry until the very last one when her feelings overwhelmed her and she began to sob. He helped her up and stood her in front of him, holding her in place by her hips.

“Why did I punish you?”

“For not eating?”

“
No
, for trying to deceive me into thinking you had. If you ever do that again it will be the paddle for you, my lassie.”

“No, Master, I will
not
.” He laughed at the emphasis she placed on the last word. He sat her on his knee, and she squirmed, her bottom sore and the wool of his kilt scratchy. He cuddled her and told her how well she had done and dried her tears.

“We had better sort out your makeup and get off to the club,” he said.

In her small bathroom he took up a lot of space but looked around at her perfume and all the other stuff she kept in there as she righted what her tears had ravaged.

“Now when you are ready, let’s go. I am on monitor duty again tonight.”

She thought he needed to do less monitor duty. He seemed to be doing it so often, and surely someone else could do some and not leave the lion’s share of it to him as it kept him away from her. He was watching her as she tidied herself up and she wondered what was making that little smile flirt around his mouth. Maybe it was the outfit he had bought her. She looked at herself in the mirror and had to admit that it flattered her mature figure and fit like a glove, as if it had been designed for her. She wondered who had made it. She didn‘t ask him as she didn‘t want him to think she was trying to find out how much it had cost. She knew it was expensive. “Curvy Woman” did not make cheap clothes.

Chapter
Eleven

Jessica arrived, brought by Master Torquil. Jane spent an uneventful, if not too comfortable evening, during which she sat with Gloria or Gemma as sometimes one or the other would be taken off to do a scene with a Dom. Jessica sat in the same area, looking down and saying nothing. Master Torquil had told her as he sat her down, “Keep this baby monitor with you and turned on.” His was hanging by a cord around his neck. “If I hear one nasty or spiteful comment out of your mouth or this monitor gets ‘accidentally’ turned off, there will be painful consequences.”

Jane thought, devious bastard. And Master Torquil looked hard at her…She
had not
said it out loud, had she? Obviously not, as he said nothing and would not have let that go. She must be more careful. Jessica looked down as she said, “Yes, Master Torquil.”

Some of the Doms came to chat with the subs. Mistress Catriona came for her blonde sub and stayed to chat a while, too. Jane wondered why Master Angus did not come and claim her, for now she had her results there was no reason he shouldn’t. She tried to be positive and chatted brightly with a smile pinned to her face, trying not to think. Suddenly a large hand took her by the back of the neck.

“I swapped my duties and did a double stint, so now I have finished and we can go. Come on!” He hurried her out of the club and into his car. He had not noticed the scarf, she thought and was relieved. He put out a hand and removed the scarf.

“I did not mind so much in there,” he said, “but now I want to see what’s mine.” She should have known that it would not escape his notice. He ran his tongue over her nipples and then returned to nip with his teeth and suckled hard. Her legs gave way and he chuckled. He helped her into the car, saying in a gruff voice, “If we don’t get out of here I shall take you now in the car park.” He got in and set off. She did not recognize the route they took, but it was not the way to her house. Soon they were on the outskirts of the city, and as traffic was light it had not taken them long. He turned into a long drive, parked the car, and helped her out. As they walked to the house, he said, “This is my home. I did not want to take you for the first time in the club, or in public, or anywhere but here.” She was glad to hear that but wondered if he meant that later he would take her in public, not something she was looking forward to, but suspected she’d have little choice as that would not be one of the things he would open for discussion. He opened the door and, strangely, went in before her. Then he turned, held out his hand to her, and said, “
Céad míle fáilte.
That means ‘a hundred thousand welcomes’ in Gaelic.”