Catriona's Golden Angel [Prometheus in Chains 6] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 5

  She was moved by his assessment with which she secretly agreed. In any other circumstances her normal, “Fuck her!” would have covered it. Catriona would have moved on, and never thought of Mrs Webster again. But the woman was Angel’s mother and, as such, she had to be dealt with. She had to be treated with kid gloves, and they would have to meet again. Maybe it would be fine next time, but she doubted it.

  Later they watched TV together. Catriona had Ravel’s Bolero as danced by the Corps de Ballet de l’Opéra National de Paris, with Nicolas le Riche as principal dancer. It was only fifteen minutes long, but it was a mesmerising performance. There were only male dancers, all bare chested. On a red platform, Nicolas danced barefoot. The rest danced on the floor in shoes. They were all superb specimens of manhood. Every muscle and bone on their upper bodies was well defined and controlled. Nicolas’s feet were beautiful, long, slender, supple, and strong. Both of them found the movements of the dance, in time to the insistent, staccato drumbeats of the Bolero arousing. They watched in complete silence, holding hands and never taking their eyes from the screen. They enjoyed it so much they had to watch it again. Then they made love on the floor in front of the television. They couldn’t wait to go into the bedroom.

  The weekend was a great success, but it was over all too soon. Catriona had no need to get up early on the Monday, so Angel told her he’d get his own breakfast and leave for work from her flat. She had every intention of getting up early to have breakfast with him, but he had worn her out with his lovemaking, and she slept through until ten. When she awoke, there was a small, neatly wrapped parcel on her pillow. She opened it and found the signed copy of The Pawns of Null-A with a short note.

  Thank you for a wonderful weekend, Mistress. Fondly, your Angel.

  She was surprised that tears misted her eyes as she stroked her book and lay back on the pillows to think about her Angel.

  Chapter Eight

  Angel was sitting, chatting with the other subs, or rather listening to their gossip and chatter. Catriona was doing a scene. He knew that, being a pro Domme, she had to do scenes to earn her living. She’d asked if he wanted to watch and left it up to him.

  I don’t, do I? he asked himself. He trusted her implicitly, but he couldn’t bear to think of someone else touching her.

  Should I go and watch? Would it be worse than sitting here wondering? he thought. In the end he went. He couldn’t stay away.

  The sub was bound and gagged. Catriona was using the singletail on him. The only sounds he made, when the lash connected with his twitching body, were muted, because of the gag. He could see the twine around the man’s genitals. He was a portly, hairy man, nothing much to look at. Catriona had many such regular clients. Angel winced in sympathy at the twine, but the client must have requested cock-and-ball torture or Catriona wouldn’t have done it. He didn’t like the idea of her binding some client’s cock and balls, but he knew there was no sexual element, as far as she was concerned. She’d told him she did not like CBT, or golden showers, or some of the other, grosser things clients asked for, but she did them. She had to earn her living, and, what her clients wanted, she did. She’d told him that Arden Leigh, the rope Top she’d met in the USA, had been accused of being in it “just for the money,” and Arden had warned Catriona the comment would be levelled at her, too. It was a stupid comment to make as they were all making a living out of it. Those who did the accusing, too.

  He watched Catriona as she worked. She was the consummate professional. She was nothing like the ball of hot desire he’d held in his arms last night and subdued with his forceful caresses. He watched the scene as it unfolded. She brought it to an end, when she judged the client had had enough. She released him and gave him her usual aftercare. He kissed her hand, and thanked her profusely. Catriona looked up and saw Angel then. She strode over, took him by the back of the neck, and kissed him on the lips hard. He could smell her arousal, as she ground her hips against his throbbing cock.

  “I want you now! But I have two more scenes to do. Are you going to watch?”

  He had to think about that. “Do you want me to, Mistress?”

  “Yes, Angel. It makes me hotter than hell to know you’re watching.”

  “Very well. It shall be as my Mistress pleases,” he replied.

  He watched the next two scenes. He watched her skill as a rigger as she tied, tested the ropes, and saw the client was safe and comfortable. She concentrated on doing the best job of which she was capable. She never once looked at him, but he knew she sensed his presence. He wondered why it was important to her to have him there watching. He knew that getting aroused was only part of it. Maybe he could tease it out of her later. If not, well he was a patient man. He knew what he wanted and, in the end, he had always got it!

  He wanted her, not for one night, not for one month, but as a permanent part of his life. He wondered how she felt about it, how they would work out their future. They had already discussed the 24/7 D/s relationship. No one in his family knew of his kink. At least he hoped they didn’t, as his very vanilla parents wouldn’t approve. In his position, as head of human resources in the family firm, he couldn’t afford to have it made public either. Would it have made a difference if he’d been a Dom? He suspected it would. People’s perceptions of him might have differed. Most wouldn’t be able to reconcile his submissive nature with his high-powered job. Most wouldn’t understand his need for release.

  * * * *

  “As I understand it, Mrs Webster, you want me to follow two people, your son and this Catriona Guthrie. You want photographs of them together and in this BDSM club called Prometheus in Chains.”

  Don Reetie was a nondescript man, average height, average build, glasses, and sandy hair. Mrs Webster looked at him with distaste. She supposed that, in his profession, it was an asset to look so ordinary. She didn’t like the man. That didn’t matter so long as he did the job.

  “That’s exactly what I want. I also want to see my son’s latest medical report. He’s had a recent checkup at his doctor’s and I want a copy of it. Can you get it?”

  “Certainly I can. Is there any time constraint?”

  “Just do it as soon as you can. Ring me when you’re ready to report. Speak only to me and tell no one else you are a private investigator, when you call this house. Don’t come to the house for any reason, unless I arrange it with you. No one else must know about the investigation.”

  One week later he called her and told her he had what she needed. She arranged for him to call when her husband was out. He handed over the folder. She looked at it quickly then gave him the cheque and he left. When he’d gone she opened the folder and looked at the pictures. She was shocked. Her beautiful son was dressed only in a thong, he had a collar like a dog around his neck. She was dressed in some weird corset and a leather skirt and boots. She held a lead which was attached to the collar around Adrian’s neck.

  Oh no! This couldn’t be happening. What had that dreadful woman got him into? He’d be ruined if it got out. He’d be a laughingstock. She herself would never hold up her head again. Her friends would be appalled. She had to think. It had to stop, but how?

  Chapter Nine

  Angel wanted her to move in with him. Her flat was small and nothing special.

  She’d said she intended to move someday, so why not now? he thought. His flat was large enough for them both, and certainly, she liked it.

  Was she ready for such a move? he wondered. Well, he would never know if he didn’t ask. He decided to arrange a special meal and put the question to her.

  He ordered fresh flowers. He chose the carnations and chrysanthemums in autumn colours that she’d liked, when he sent her the first flowers. He decided to cook for her himself. As a starter he would serve tiger king prawns, to be arranged neatly in a wheel shape, and served with aioli. The main course would be Suffolk pork chops, with caramelised apple wedges. He’d cook asparagus and broccoli as accompaniments, and maybe duchesse potatoes. As a de
ssert they would have an ice-cream sundae. He had a good Rioja he’d been saving for a special occasion. They didn’t get more special than this.

  Even though he would see her in the club that night, he rang Mistress and asked her to a special dinner in two days’ time. That would give him time to shop. She said she’d be delighted, so he began to plan. There was another surprise he had to prepare. He picked up the phone and made the call.

  Two evenings later Catriona rang the doorbell. Angel answered in black, tight-fitting slacks and a deep blue silk shirt, with the long sleeves neatly rolled up to reveal his strong, muscular arms, lightly dusted with fine blond hairs. The shirt neck was open, and the column of his throat revealed that he wore her collar with the little cat on the disc. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed each finger, all the while gazing into her eyes.

  “Welcome, Mistress,” he said.

  He took her deep topaz velvet evening coat and hung it up. Underneath, she wore a formfitting dress of the same velvet. It was long, reaching to her ankles, but it had a slit up the side that reached midthigh, and showed an expanse of slim leg when she walked. Her shoes had four-inch heels and were of deep amber leather. Her beautiful hair was coiled at her nape, and confined in a sort of filigree net. Her necklace was of silver and amber and the long drop earrings matched. Her perfume was the usual, Issey Miyake. He preferred Dune, and he would buy her a bottle to try. He was convinced it would smell really delicious on her. He liked Issey Miyake, but he wanted her to have a choice. He turned from hanging the coat, took her in his arms, and just held her close, breathing in her unique scent, and revelling in the clean, fresh smell of her hair. All this was his, he thought.

  He escorted her to the dining area, his hand in the small of her back. He pulled out her chair, and seated her, then went to fetch the prawns, already arranged on a small china plate. She loved to feed him, so he had prepared only one plate. He had set places on two adjacent sides of the table. She smiled and, dipping one large prawn in the aioli, she offered it to him. Gazing deep into her eyes, he bit off half the prawn with his strong teeth, and left the other half to her. She dipped it in more aioli and ate it. She fed him a second, and a third, and continued until all the prawns were eaten. He stood to remove the plate and bring in the next course. The chops were done to a turn, and the sauce was delicious. The apple fritters, made with dark brown sugar, were a perfect complement to the pork. The asparagus was tender, and it and the broccoli were perfectly cooked. Both Catriona and Angel did justice to the main course. Then she said, “You’re spoiling me, Angel. Is there some ulterior motive?”

  “How well you know me, Mistress,” he replied.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I do want to ask you something, Mistress. We get on so well in the club and outside. I want to make it more permanent.”

  “What did you have in mind, Angel?”

  “I want to be with you all day, every day and all night, every night. I want you to go to sleep in my arms, and wake up beside me in the mornings! Please, Mistress, won’t you move in with me?” he asked and waited nervously for her answer. He had a lot riding on her answer, and he hoped it would be the one he longed to hear. She seemed to be considering for a long while. He looked at her, and she was smiling.

  “Yes, my Angel. I will!”

  He felt such relief and overwhelming happiness. Another step toward their future had been successfully taken.

  “I want to give myself to you, Mistress. To serve you feels safe, warm, and comforting. I want to be fully connected to you, to be dedicated to your pleasure and service. I am excited when I follow your rules and the protocols we have set up. They set me free to enjoy our closeness. I love the sweetness and meaning behind the rituals you set up for me. I feel that we can be a unit, together against the world.”

  Catriona took his head in her hands and kissed him fully on the lips. Not a passionate, ready-to-fuck kiss, but one of great sweetness.

  “Are you ready for dessert, Mistress, or would you like to postpone it until later?”

  “Will it spoil, my Angel?” she asked.

  “Oh, no, Mistress. It’s a matter of assembling it.”

  “Well then let’s wait. What other surprises do you have for me?” she asked playfully.

  He was astounded that she should have read him so easily. Then again maybe he shouldn’t have been. She’d had enough practice with her subs over the years and, if nothing else, she was the consummate professional.

  “If you will come into my bedroom, Mistress?”

  She followed him, and he watched her closely as he showed her the six rings attached to his bed. He saw a small smile of satisfaction light her eyes, as her little pink tongue slowly caressed her plump bottom lip. His cock swelled and grew harder! He knew what that tongue and those lips could do to him, and he couldn’t wait to have her here, living with him. First, he knew, she was planning something.

  “You’ve given me so many surprises and kept so many secrets, my Angel. You’ve planned this in secret and kept it all from your Mistress! There has to be retribution!” She smiled a long, slow smile as she said it. Angel’s cock became even harder if that was possible. “You have three minutes to bring me off, or else no orgasm for you all night,” Catriona said. Angel set to work with a will, lifting her dress out of the way, before pumping his fingers in and out of her cunt, curling them against her G-spot as he pulled them out. He set his mouth to her labia, and ran his tongue up and down her crease, not quite touching her clit. She threw her head back in delight, then he fastened his mouth on her cunt, like a limpet. Taking the hood of her clit in his teeth, he nipped her and lashed his tongue back and forth over the tiny bundle of nerves, sending her higher and higher. She clutched at his hair, and his golden mane flowed over her and tickled her pussy, as he used his talented tongue to bring her to completion. She exploded into his mouth, in a tremendous wave of release. She was a squirter, and her juices shot onto his tongue, and he swallowed them down in satisfaction. Her limbs shook, and she moaned as he continued to suckle and lash her with his tongue, until the aftershocks ceased. He led her to a comfortable chair, and placed a cushion on the floor. Then he settled on the cushion by her side, with his arms clasped about her calf, his head on one thigh, and gazed worshipfully at her. She, in her turn, bent her head and kissed him long and slowly, then released his mouth, and ran her still-trembling fingers through his glorious blond mane. She sighed in ecstasy.

  Later they ate the Knickerbocker Glory he prepared. She fed him with her long spoon as they both loved to do. They decided she would move in that week. She would need a couple of days to pack her things and dispose of any furniture, books, and CDs she didn’t want to keep. He had room in his kitchen units for all her lovely china, and showed her the space he’d prepared in his bedroom for her clothes.

  “You were so sure that I would say yes?” she asked playfully. “What would you have done if I’d declined to move in with you?”

  “Got on my knees and begged!” he said simply. She believed him. She’d wanted to move in with him, but had wanted it to be his request. Now she had all she wanted and could sit back and enjoy her life as never before.

  Chapter Ten

  For days Catriona had been getting odd looks from some people at the club. She’d had no new clients for a while and that puzzled her. All the old faithfuls turned up, as regular as clockwork but she sensed there was something going on. She couldn’t put her finger on it but there was an atmosphere in the club and it seemed to involve her. She’d no idea why until she overheard a conversation, one evening.

  “I tell you it’s true, she almost killed someone. Had them tied up and suspended, didn’t check the ties until the woman passed out, then she had no EMT shears with her, she’d forgotten the bloody things. Had it not been for Master Roger, she’d have had a death on her hands.”

  “I can’t believe it’s true. She’s so careful and professional.”

  “She is now, because she had
a close shave, so she plays it safe now.”

  Catriona was appalled. She wouldn’t tackle the sub. She didn’t trust herself. She might throttle the stupid cunt! Why this now? She loved the aesthetic of neatly tied rope. She’d always been careful not to have ties that constricted or cut off blood flow. With practice had come competence, and although she preferred the slow way in her private play, she could perform with speed and dexterity, but above all, safety, if that was what a client required.

  Where had this sub got such a rumour from? Had someone confronted her, she could have refuted the allegation. She would not deign to question the subs. No bloody wonder there was an atmosphere. No wonder there were some funny looks coming her way and no new clients had approached her. No one wanted a rope Top who might injure them or worse.

  She brought the subject up at the next weekly Doms’ meeting.

  “Someone is circulating rumours about my competence. I heard that new sub, Lulu telling one of the others I almost killed a woman by neglect and incompetence. I want this sorted. I can’t do it myself.”

  Llewellyn, the Dom in charge of training, had seen she was worried and had taken his concerns to Eric, who loved nothing more than to get his teeth into a problem.

  “We all know that these rumours are just that, Catriona,” Prometheus soothed.

  “Well, you might, but others don’t. There are several older Dommes who hate my guts. They see me as a rival, a younger rival, and they feel threatened. I’ve had no new clients for a couple of weeks and that tells its own story. Subs are afraid I’ll bloody kill them. If this doesn’t get sorted soon I just might kill someone, starting with Lulu. What a stupid name for a grown woman.”