Prometheus Triumphant [Prometheus in Chains 8] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  Prometheus in Chains 8

  Prometheus Triumphant

  Prometheus loves Jenny Oliver, and she him, but the course of true love doesn’t run smoothly. She has a dark secret, which she believes will split them up, and she won’t be alone with him. Fate takes a hand in the shape of Alfred, a man from Jenny’s past who follows her to the club and confronts her, forcing her to reveal the truth. Will Prometheus want her now?

  Jenny must confront her abusers in court if she is to have a future with Prometheus, but then she is kidnapped before she even has the chance. Can Prometheus and the police manage to get to her before her kidnapper does her any harm? Will the jury believe her story? Will Jenny and Prometheus get their happily ever after?

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 21,207 words

  PROMETHEUS TRIUMPHANT

  Prometheus in Chains 8

  Clair de Lune

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  PROMETHEUS TRIUMPHANT

  Copyright © 2013 by Clair de Lune

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-415-3

  First E-book Publication: March 2013

  Cover design by Christine Kirchoff

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Prometheus Triumphant by Clair de Lune from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Clair de Lune’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. de Lune’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To my family, with love.

  PROMETHEUS

  TRIUMPHANT

  Prometheus in Chains 8

  CLAIR DE LUNE

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  “Look at me, Jenny wren!” She looked up at Prometheus, and he was lost in the deep pools of her large eyes. How he longed to get her alone and make her scream his name as she came in his embrace! He was going to have to go slowly this, their first, time because she was skittish and terrified, and he couldn’t understand why. She’d always smiled at him in the club and seemed as interested in him as he was in her. He was part owner of Prometheus in Chains, a BDSM club in Sheffield. He’d wanted Jenny from the first moment he’d seen her, but she was proving difficult to catch. When he’d soothed her and calmed her down, he took her to one of the secluded areas behind a Japanese screen. She wouldn’t go to a private room with him, no matter what he said, so that was the only option. He didn’t want to take her in public, but he was tired of waiting. The soft brown leather of the extra-large armchair felt good as he sank into it.

  “Come here, Jenny!” He pulled her onto his lap, seating her with her back to one arm of the chair, her delicious little bottom in his lap and her long, shapely legs over the other. He cuddled her close to his chest and breathed in her perfume. He knew that perfume, he recognised it, but the name eluded him at first. Suddenly it came to him. It was Obsession by Calvin Klein. It suited her, and the name aptly described what he felt about her. Her little head and her soft cheek rested against his chest. She was delightful. His left arm cuddled her closer, and with his right he took her chin and gently tipped it up.

  “Look at me!” Her head came up, and his lips met hers. His tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, and then he nipped and sucked at her plump bottom lip. She squirmed on his lap, grinding her bottom onto his cock, and he sucked in a breath. If she kept that up she was going to kill him. His fingers pressed on her chin, and she opened her mouth. His tongue entered the warm, wet, sweet-tasting cavern. He thought his cock would explode out of his leathers. She moaned as her tongue tangled with his, and they both gave themselves up to the sweetness of their first kiss. His right hand descended to her breast and stroked it through her corset.

  As he stroked over her breast, she responded with greater ardour, kissing him and wriggling her bottom in his lap. She was driving him demented. He undid the corset, taking hold of her naked breast, tweaking and flicking the nipple as she moaned into his mouth. He pinched her nipple and scraped his nails gently over it. She responded by writhing and panting into his mouth.

  He gave his attention to her other breast, driving her wild with desire. Gently he pushed her left leg off the arm, splaying her thighs and leaving her open to him. His fingers penetrated her labia and, as he’d expected, she was very wet, hot, and swollen.

  “How wet you are, Jenny wren!”

  “Yes, Master Prometheus.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want your fingers in my cunt, please, Master Prometheus.”

  “As you ask so prettily, you shall have them.”

  He pressed two fingers deep inside her, and she arched her back, pressing herself down onto his hand. He thrust his fingers inside her as far as he could and, twisting them, stroked her G-spot. He withdrew, only to push them deep inside her again. She thrashed, her toes curled up and her hot, wet cunt held onto his fingers. He continued to fuck her, at the same time he pressed the thumb of his other hand repeatedly against her clit.

  “Oh yes, Master Prometheus. Harder please,” she moaned.

  He rubbed her harder with the pad of his thumb. She tensed then began to shake. The muscl
es of her cunt clenched around his fingers as he fucked them in and out and kept up the pressure on her clit with his thumb, sending her into another orgasm, just as spectacular to watch. When he withdrew his fingers, she whined.

  “Oh, Master Prometheus, please don’t leave me!” she begged.

  “I’ve no intention of leaving you, Jenny wren.” He gave her the condom he’d extracted from the foil wrap. To his delight she put it on with her hot, little mouth, making his cock twitch.

  “Oh god, Jenny! Your mouth is so hot and tight. Yes do it, Jenny, suck my cock.” He was long and thick, and he knew she’d never take all of him in her small mouth. To her credit she tried. She sucked him into her mouth and swirled her tongue over the fat, swollen head. He’d chosen a flavoured condom, and she looked at him as she realised it was strawberry. He winked at her, but she didn’t hold his gaze for long. She worked her little hands and her mouth in tandem.

  “Oh, yes, Jenny. Suck me harder.”

  She took his balls in one hand and rolled his sac, driving him wild with her caresses. With the other she pumped his shaft as she licked and sucked as much of him as she could manage.

  “Yes, Jenny, what a little marvel you are. I’m going to come.” He felt the gathering in his belly and, unable to stop himself, his hips bucked, and he pumped himself in and out of her mouth until, with a shout of “Jenny!” he exploded into the condom. Jet after jet of hot semen in a seemingly never-ending stream spurted from his cock and shot into the reservoir. When, at last, he’d no more to give, he lay back in the chair. She removed the condom and cleaned him up, tucked his softening cock back into his leathers and, with great care, zipped him up. He held out his arms. She didn’t hesitate to climb back into his lap and cuddle close. As she snuggled into his chest, his chin resting on her head, he felt more relaxed, more content and at ease than he had for years. He realised he wanted her in his life permanently. He’d move heaven and earth to get her, too.

  “That was amazing, Jenny wren. Thank you!”

  “It was, Master Prometheus. Thank you!”

  Chapter Two

  It was the most amazing sex he’d ever had, and he couldn’t wait to have her again. Prometheus lay back in his bed, in the flat on the top floor of Prometheus in Chains and thought about her. His Jenny wren. She was small and delicate, brown haired, and, with her bright brown eyes, she looked like the little wren he called her. At only five two he topped her by a foot. He could easily pick her up and carry her off under his arm, but the look of abject fear she’d bent on him when he suggested they take a room for an hour had surprised him. He knew she was attracted to him. He hadn’t missed the hitch in her breathing when he touched her, or the warmth and longing in her eyes when she looked at him, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention to her. Well he had news for her. He was always paying attention to her, even if he managed to hide that fact from her.

  Prometheus remembered the evening a few weeks ago when they’d danced together in the club for the entertainment of the other members. He thought that dancing with her was one of the most enjoyable things he’d ever done. The Viennese waltz had been his choice, but she’d readily agreed. She’d been as light as thistledown in his arms as he twirled her around the floor. One of his thighs had parted her naked ones, and his cock had swelled and throbbed at the contact. Her skirt was short, and she wore no knickers. He’d been sure she was wet. Her breath had come in pants and gasps, much more so than was warranted by the exertion of the dance. She seemed to be enjoying the dance and their closeness as much as he was. He’d thought back over the whole episode, relived every action and every word. He could think of nothing he’d said or done that would account for her fear of being alone with him in a private room, nothing he’d said or done to upset her so. It was a mystery to him. The strains of the waltz had died away, leaving them to take their bows to the applause of the club members.

  “Shall we go upstairs for an hour, Jenny wren?”

  “No, Master Prometheus, I can’t.” Anger and frustration warred within him, but anger won.

  “Can’t or won’t? Very well.” He turned and strode away, ignoring her. Why wouldn’t she tell him what was wrong? He was certain it could be put right but not if he didn’t bloody know what “it” was. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her go to the uncollared subs’ area. She seemed upset. He was upset. He’d every right to be upset. She’d let him love her in the public room of the club, but she wouldn’t go to a room with him, where they could explore what they felt in private. The screen gave some measure of privacy, but it wasn’t nearly enough for him. Would he ever get to the bottom of all this?

  * * * *

  Jenny felt like bursting into tears, but she was in the club and didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She curled her hands into fists and pressed her nails into her palms until she gained a measure of self-control. She’d seldom enjoyed anything half so much as the waltz with him. He’d held her close and, in the turns of the dance, as one of his long, sleek thighs had parted hers, she’d been breathless and her cunt leaked moisture. She’d no knickers on, as the rules for the evening dictated, and she was worried that she’d stain his trousers, but he didn’t seem to care. He’d hummed the tune of the dance under his breath. He had a lovely deep voice. The very timbre of it vibrating in her bones caused her cunt to clench and her nipples to swell. Why couldn’t she just say yes and do as he wanted? The truth was she was afraid.

  * * * *

  Seven years ago Jenny had gone to the hotel room as Jim Laurents had requested. She’d known him for two months in the Black Rose club in Watford, on the outskirts of London. They’d done scenes together and got on well. She liked him and believed he liked her, too. She was twenty-four, and she’d been a naive little fool. She knew that now. Then she’d had stars in her eyes. They were soon to be extinguished. He’d opened the door to her, already in his bathrobe. In hindsight she could see there’d been something odd in his manner, a glitter in his eyes as they rested on her, and anticipation as he licked his lips. He’d taken her to the bed. There were no covers on it, just a sheet and heaps of pillows. He’d been urgent, more so than usual. Previously he’d seen to her arousal and release before seeking his own. That night he’d seized pillows, pushed her face down over them.

  “I want you now!” he’d said. “Facedown, legs over the edge the bed!”

  She heard the foil rip, as he tore it off the condom, then he was inside her and fucking her, hard and fast. She felt the rush of hot semen inside the condom as he came.

  “Very nice, Jim, my turn now!” said another man’s voice.

  She’d tried to get up, but Jim held her down and his friend, whose name she never learned, had fucked her, too. They’d used every orifice, until she was exhausted. Now she knew they must have taken Viagra or something like it to last so long. She suspected they were on other drugs, too. By the time they’d had enough, she was exhausted, beaten, and cowed. No amount of pleading or crying had had any effect. Hours later, cowering in a corner, bruised, battered, and shivering, she heard, “We were never here. We have four pillars of the community who will swear we spent the whole night with them, playing poker, as usual. The hotel staff have been paid to be blind. Don’t even dream of making a complaint. Who’d believe you, a little whore from a kinky club? We have the power to make you regret it if you breathe a word of what has happened here! The room is paid for until 10:00 a.m. Get out before then.”

  They were dressed and ready to leave, relaxed and elated. Both men threw money at her before they left, in a final act of humiliation. She heard them chatting and laughing as the door closed behind them. It was over! She crawled to the door and locked it, and then she sat on the floor, leaning her back against it. Too exhausted and shocked even to weep, she sat for a long time. Eventually she’d panicked. What if they came back? Galvanised into action, she scrambled into her clothes and grabbed her coat. She had her hand on the door when she remembered the money, it was dirty money. She didn’
t want it, but the children’s hospice that she raised funds for with sponsored events needed every penny. She collected it, stuffed it into her bag, and crept out of the hotel.

  She’d taken a week to pack her life up. She’d spent the week terrified. She never went out at night. She was constantly looking over her shoulder. Her first act was to buy a padlock and chain. Every time she shut the door of her flat, she attached the padlock and checked it again before she got into bed. She slept little, leaving the light on, fearful that if she did sleep, they’d be there standing over her when she awoke, looking down on her shivering, naked, and vulnerable body. She swore she’d never get herself into that position again. It had been her own fault for being so bloody stupid as to believe a man.

  She quit her job, packed all she owned into two suitcases and went to the railway station. Where to go? The next train north had a long list of stops. One name caught her eye. Sheffield. Her mother had some scissors that had been made in Sheffield. She said they made good cutlery there, too. Sheffield it was then. It was as good a place as any. She got into the train and sighed with relief as it left the station. It was time to put it all behind her and make a new life.

  * * * *

  That was then, but she knew that if she said yes to Master Prometheus, all that had happened would come back to haunt her. She wasn’t even sure that she could stop herself from running screaming from the room and then what? He’d want to know what the matter was, and she’d tell him. She knew she’d not be able to resist his compelling voice. If she did that he’d despise her. He wouldn’t want such damaged goods. He called her his Jenny wren. What would he call her if he knew the whole truth? She couldn’t bear to think of the condemnatory look in his eyes, before he lost all interest in her. Worse still, it would all come out, and they’d all know and she’d lose what she’d built here. It was bad, very bad. She couldn’t think about it without shaking. Yet she couldn’t get it out of her mind, even though it had been so long ago. She couldn’t risk all that she’d built here and start again. It had taken her five years before she’d gone back to a BDSM club. She’d heard of this new one being set up. Prometheus in Chains, was in a house, set in its own grounds on the outskirts of Sheffield. She’d gone with a friend, to the open night. She liked what she saw. There were several dungeon monitors, and the club itself was luxurious. She applied for membership. There were special introductory rates for subs, which she could just afford. She’d been accepted and, very gradually, she’d got back into the lifestyle. One rule she never broke, there were no scenes other than in public. She’d been to few private parties, and then only if she knew there would be lots of her friends there. Now she was in trouble. She had known for two years that she had strong feelings for Prometheus. He was pleasant, kindly, and a considerate lover. Fool that she was, she loved him. She always knew exactly where he was in the club. When he wasn’t looking, her eyes strayed to him. She was certain that he returned her feelings. He was getting tired of waiting and wanted to be private with her. She wanted it, too, but the thought scared her half to death. He wouldn’t wait forever, he’d let her see that tonight after that Viennese waltz. It was time to make a decision, if she didn’t do as he wanted, she’d lose him. She didn’t want to lose him, but could she risk being on her own with him? Could she be alone in a room with him? It would all come back, and she’d lose control of herself. The thought terrified her.