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

by Clair de Lune

  Chapter Three

  What the hell is wrong with Jenny wren? Prometheus asked himself. His friend and partner, Angus, was deep in wedding plans and head over ears in love with his Jane, a sub he’d met in the club. Eric, the head of security in the club, had his Emma, a virgin sub, but he seemed to be having fun with her in the training, and he’d collared her. Prometheus didn’t have his Jenny and, for the life of him, couldn’t work out why. His cock and balls ached with the desire to make mad, passionate love to her. She was a delicious armful, and he knew she felt something for him as he’d caught some of the wistful looks she cast in his direction. Why, then, didn’t she take him up on his offer? They could have one of the upstairs bedrooms. It didn’t much matter which one. They could explore what they had, in private. There was so much he wanted to do for her and to her.

  His cock agreed and swelled even more, and he moved to adjust it in his leathers. Another bloody trip to the hot shower that solves nothing. When will it be my turn to find love? I’m getting older, and I want my happy ever after ending before I’m too fucking old to enjoy it.

  Nobody knew his real name except Torquil and Angus, who had taken care of all the club paperwork and permits to allow Prometheus to preserve his anonymity. One other knew, but he was as closemouthed as an oyster. Jack Robinson was Eric’s ex-flatmate. He and Prometheus had served together in the SAS in the Falklands war. When they had left the army, Jack Robinson had gone into the Special Branch, and so his days of BDSM were over. Prometheus had drifted for a while but ended up as a professional Dom, working in various clubs until he met Angus and they started their own. They’d both agreed that John, or Jack as he was called in the SAS, Jones was not a name for the owner of a BDSM club. They’d toyed with the name “The Two Jacks” as he and Jack Robinson had been called in the service, but in the end they’d decided against that. The club was his idea, so Angus was happy to call it Prometheus in Chains. The club was housed in a mansion, which was situated it its own grounds on the outskirts of Sheffield. Surrounded by a high stone wall, capped now with razor wire, the only entrance was through the wrought iron gates, which led to a car park. When Prometheus thought about the house, it never ceased to please him. When he’d first seen it he’d known immediately it was the one for Prometheus in Chains. Built in the nineteenth century with a facade of mellow old Portland stone, it stood three stories high. In the centre three stone steps led up to an imposing entrance with stone columns flanking the double oak doors studded with black nails. To either side of the doors were floor-to-ceiling bay windows on the ground floor, and elegant Georgian windows in the next floor. The attics on the third floor, former servants’ quarters, had skylights and had been converted to a private flat, where he lived alone at the moment.

  No sub had ever been taken to his private quarters, but with all the romance and pairing off that was taking place lately, he was beginning to feel restless. His fiftieth birthday was coming up, and he suspected that was part of the cause. If he was going to have a family and settle down he needed to do something and soon. Now, where had the thought of a family come from? He was a successful man, had all the sex he could use and more on offer. Did he really need the complication of a wife and family? How would that fit in with the life he led, and his work at the club? He didn’t know, but it was getting to him. He shrugged and shook off the feeling.

  Earlier on he’d felt restless and uneasy. He couldn’t put his finger on the reason, but he was far from his usual calm self, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He decided he’d better get on with the tour of the club, which usually calmed him down.

  He’d gone outside and checked. The gates were closed, and nothing seemed amiss outside. He opened one half of the door and went inside. The cool marble floor, burgundy velvet curtains and dark oak panels all spoke of quiet opulence. He enjoyed the club. It was his creation, and he was proud of it. He nodded to Linda, the receptionist, and entered the club’s main room via the double doors. He inhaled the lingering smell of spices and leather and let out a long, sighing breath. He looked around and saw the furniture had been rearranged as he’d ordered and all was clean and smelling of the lavender furniture polish he loved. It was the one his mother had used and brought back happy memories of his childhood. He looked with satisfaction at the new uncollared subs’ area. A new designer called Chris Walker had helped him with it. A square had been sunk into the floor, steps had been placed in the centre of one side, and all the rest of the space was taken up by chocolate brown leather couches with cushions in shades from caramel to dark brown and aqua to deep jade. Jane had made the cushions for him, and she had done a superb job. He made a mental note to take her and Angus to dinner as a thank-you. They’d placed small tables in the square left in the middle of the couches and, all in all, it looked really elegant. The first evening after it had been installed, the subs had arrived in ones and twos, and there had been squeals of appreciation from the women while the male subs just smiled and nodded. They’d all liked the cosy feel to the area. Prometheus liked to see them all corralled together. It would be very handy for passing Doms to lay their hands on any sub they wanted. Chris wanted an introduction to the lifestyle. Maybe Master Rafael would oblige her. He’d certainly enjoy warming her behind.

  “I’m getting maudlin,” he thought, as he crossed to the staircase up to the next floor to run a check on the rooms.

  There were five large bedrooms all with their en-suite bathrooms. The seventeenth-century French one, in shades of blue and gold, had a bathroom with pale blue tiles and fancy fluted washbasins with gold fittings and taps on basins and bath.

  Next to it was the medical playroom, with the examination table, complete to a shade with stirrups and an overabundance of stainless steel. This was not one of his favourite rooms. He’d wanted a Chinese theme based on the Royal Pavilion at Brighton. The music room there had so impressed him. Wiser councils had prevailed, and the medical playroom, it had to be said, was always well booked. It was very popular with many of Prometheus in Chains’ patrons. Once again he promised himself that, when the seventeenth-century French room came up for redecoration, he was having his Chinese fantasy. It would be counterproductive to redo the medical room as it brought in a lot of extra income.

  The next room was the playroom, with all the standard BDSM equipment, spanking bench, St. Andrew’s cross, hooks from the ceiling, manacles on the walls and a cage in one corner.

  He’d seen nothing out of place so far, but still the feeling of unease persisted. He tried to shrug it off, but he couldn’t. He wanted a future with Jenny before he was too old to enjoy it.

  The Romantic room was next in pink and white. Crisp, white cotton sheets and a duvet dressed the bed, with banks of pillows all white cotton and heavy lace trim. He could just imagine Jenny wren in here lying back on those pillows, looking at him out of her big eyes and awaiting his pleasure. His cock swelled and twitched at the idea, but she’d said no so very decisively that his dream had to be forgotten.

  He sighed in regret, because he wasn’t going to have his fantasy with Jenny any day soon, if at all the way things were going. He went to look at the last room. This was the medieval room, done in dark-oak panels with cream paint on the wall above them. The bed linens had the Tudor rose emblazoned on them.

  Each and every room had been cleaned, fresh towels and toiletries laid out, and all was in readiness for the evening. He expected no less and would have been seriously put out if he’d found anything lacking. His members paid a considerable sum in fees and expected to be provided with a high standard of service, with facilities well above the average, as well as privacy. What happened in Prometheus in Chains stayed within the walls. His staff were hand-picked, loyal, and discreet. He paid them well to ensure they stayed that way. Too many important men and women were members for him to risk any breach of security.

  Prometheus was satisfied that whatever was troubling him it wasn’t to do with these rooms. Some were already booked for sessi
ons during the celebrations tonight. He would check with Linda in reception and see if there were any vacant times, and maybe Jenny would change her mind. Maybe pigs would fly, too.

  He went back to the ground floor, looked in on the kitchens where his staff were hard at work preparing the food for later. It would be a buffet meal, but they had carte blanche and he was sure the food would be superb. The usual finger foods some Doms always required for their subs, slaves, or pets would of course be provided.

  He went down to the basement and checked Master Torquil’s dungeon. The rest of the rooms down there were located behind a locked grill with a keypad for entry and full of furnaces, boilers, equipment not in use.

  It seemed that all was perfectly peaceful and he had nothing to worry about. He went over to the screen in the corner of his office and, opening it, keyed in the private number. He opened the door which led to Eric’s domain, went in, and checked with the staff. All were in their places, all the monitors worked, and recordings were being made. The equipment was state-of-the-art. The staff had been screened and recruited by Eric. Many of them were ex-military. He sighed and left. Nothing seemed out of place, but still he was uneasy. He took the stairs to his home, two at a time. He was going to have a hot shower then read a while or maybe catch up on private correspondence before it was time to dress. A sandwich and a glass of blackberry and pomegranate juice awaited him in the kitchen, but first the shower. He stripped off and turned on the jets, nice and hot tonight. His cock was hard and painful, and he needed the relief he wouldn’t get with Jenny until later, if at all. He was no fan of masturbation, as it left him feeling more frustrated, but it brought some relief, and he needed something to take the edge off. He soaped his hand and began to pump up and down the hard, rigid length. Leaning one hand on the wall, he rested his head against his arm and brought himself to a quick release. As he’d suspected, his cock didn’t soften a great deal, but maybe it was enough to get him through the evening. There was one more thing he could do, and he turned the control to cold, staying under the jets for as long as he could stand it. That did help a little. Then he took a towel, wrapped it around his middle, and headed to the kitchen for his sandwich and juice.

  * * * *

  Jenny sat by Master Torquil’s side. He knew she trusted him because he loved Gemma, and Gemma loved him, so he wasn’t interested in Jenny in that way at all. He knew that he looked huge and intimidating, with his bald head and Celtic tattoos, but he knew, too, he was comforting to have as a friend, and she seemed to need every friend she could get.

  “I need to speak to you when I have my break,” he said.

  “Very well, Master Torquil.”

  When he got to back to the bar, she was waiting. He got his bottle of water and took her over to one of the sofas. He noticed that Prometheus’s eyes followed their every move.

  “Jenny, you’re fond of Master Prometheus, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master Torquil, I am.”

  “Then what’s stopping you taking it further?”

  “I don’t want to be alone with any man, not even Master Prometheus.”

  “What has he done to you?”

  “It wasn’t him, Master Torquil. It was in another club. But I don’t trust anyone since then.”

  “Tell me, Jenny wren!” he said, using the name Master Prometheus had always used for her. Hesitantly, she did.

  “That is terrible, Jenny. I can’t believe those two were real Doms. Safe, sane, and consensual is the code most of us live by. They seem never to have heard of it to inflict such abuse on you.”

  Torquil was appalled at the abuse and the threats. She hadn’t told him all the details, he was sure. Nor did she name the men involved.

  “They were important men in that city, and I’m sure they could do what they threatened, so I kept quiet. I also decided I’d do no more scenes in private, so it could never happen to me again.”

  “I don’t know how I am to sort this out, just at the moment,” he said. He didn’t have her permission to tell anyone, so he couldn’t let Prometheus in on the problem. He patted her arm.

  “Don’t worry, Jenny wren. I will find a way to sort it out. Let me think about it for a while.”

  He saw she looked a bit happier at that and only wished he might come up with some sort of solution. At the moment, he didn’t have a clue how to fix it.

  * * * *

  In the city centre Jenny finished her shopping and headed to the bus stop. She waited in the queue, feeling uneasy, as if someone was watching her. As she mounted the bus steps she looked behind her but saw no one she recognised. She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself it was stupid, that no one was there, but it persisted. At her stop she got off the bus and hurried down the street, pausing for nothing until she locked the flat door behind her and leaned against it. “Safe.” She breathed a sigh of relief as she checked the padlock again. She was going to the club later on and, as she felt uneasy, she ordered a taxi. When it arrived she put on her long raincoat, belted it tightly around her waist, and locked the flat door behind her. She looked up and down the street before getting into the taxi. There were a few parked cars and another taxi waiting in the street, but no one was about. She saw no one and berated herself for being scared and worrying about nothing. It must have been brought on by all the thinking about what had happened to her and trying to decide what to do about Master Prometheus.

  The taxi dropped her off at the club entrance, and she hurried across the dimly lit car park into the main entrance hall.

  “Hello, Jenny, you’re out of breath. What’s the matter? You look flustered,” Linda said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I just hurried through the car park.”

  “Yes, it is dimly lit. Master Prometheus is having better security lighting installed this week. That’s not before time. After what happened when Fiona was assaulted by Gordon.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea.” Jenny took her coat off in the locker room and combed her hair. I do look flustered. She took a few deep, calming breaths and walked out of the locker room.

  “Hello, whore.” She recognised the voice. She’d never forget it. She whirled round. It was Jim’s friend. Her knees buckled, and she fainted.

  Chapter Four

  She came to her senses in Master Prometheus’s office. He was there with Master Torquil and Jim’s friend.

  “I repeat, what the fuck did you say or do to her to make her react like that?” Master Prometheus’s voice was barely controlled.

  “I just said hello. I never laid a finger on her.”

  “Bugger that, you must have done something!” Master Torquil, large and menacing, was inches from the man’s face, and he looked very angry to Jenny. The man had backed away so far that he was up against the wall and could retreat no farther.

  “Well we shall find out when she comes to. If you have harmed a hair of her head I’ll rip your spine out myself,” Prometheus declared. Jenny watched as Torquil turned and looked at Master Prometheus in amazement.

  “What’s your name, and why are you in my club? You’re from London with that accent.”

  “My name is Alfred Mooney, and I’m from Watford. I’m here on a visit.”

  “Why my club? It’s way out of the city centre, and it’s not advertised.”

  “He must have followed me here.” Jenny’s voice was unsteady. Master Prometheus turned and walked over to her.

  “Do you know him, Jenny wren?” The tone of his voice was like a caress. Jenny held out her hand, he took it and pulled her into a sitting position, holding her close to his chest.

  “Tell me, Jenny wren. It’s time to tell me everything.”

  “Tell him!” Master Torquil said. Jenny saw Master Prometheus look questioningly at Master Torquil. Then it all came spilling out, between tears, sobs, and hiccups. She told him about Jim Laurents, the club, the date at the hotel, the mistreatment, and the threats. She saw Master Prometheus’s face at first express surprise then set in a
nger.