Learning to Live with Her Master [Prometheus in Chains 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (2 page)

“I am sorry, mo gradh. I had no choice, and it couldn’t just be a token as they will all be looking to see if I let you off. You will have to let them see. I don’t want anyone looking at your lovely body but me, and I know how you feel about showing yourself nearly naked in public, but it will be over soon.”

She thought about it and understood that she wouldn’t have wanted him to lose face, or his friends to think less of him, merely to spare her embarrassment. She knew that some people would use anything to make her look small, and that would reflect on him. At last it made some sort of sense. She sighed.

He fondled her breasts then, and she felt the fresh rush of moisture to her cunt. He stood her up, took her over to the same bench, and said, “We have time if we are quick. I will not leave you aroused and needy, mo run. Then this bench will have happy memories.”

She smiled her assent as she bent over and offered herself to him. It was quick and hard, and even though her bottom was a bit sore, she loved every minute of it. Even the sore bottom added to her arousal and pleasure. She’d read that but never really believed it, but it was true. As his thick cock sank into her, she sighed and soon was moaning as he shifted position. His cock stroked along her G-spot, driving her wild. He reached around and rubbed her clit with his fingers, pressing and stroking until she screamed as she came. Pleasure, in wave after wave, rolled over her, and her cunt muscles clenched, squeezing and milking his cock. She felt him still, then felt the heat of his release as it filled her. It had been amazing, so maybe this caning thing was not so bad, maybe she could get used to the way it made her feel.

Shortly afterward, he cleaned them both up, kissing her tenderly, apologising for the curtailed aftercare, and promising to remedy the situation later. She had no doubt he would. In spite of his fifty-nine years, he was vigorous and made love to her long and often. She had such a lot to be thankful about.

Master Angus took her hand and helped Jane into the short, thin robe and led her to the main room. She blushed as she knew all eyes were on her bottom, checking to see if he had done what he should. She was trying to come to terms with displaying herself like this, but it was hard amongst so many beautiful and much younger women. She held her head high. She’d face it. She was loved. This magnificent man loved her. What more did she need? What did she care what they thought of her ageing body if he thought she was beautiful? And he
did.
She stood taller and held her head high, and proudly she followed him. He was a dark man with heavy brows which almost met in the middle. His large eyes were deep blue, and he had the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. His hair was cut short, and his eyebrows were silver gray. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a hawklike nose. He was not a conventionally handsome man, but he was striking. He stood out in any crowd, and he loved
her
and had chosen to collar
her
. He was in full Highland dress for the ceremony. There were no leathers for him today. His kilt was the Black Watch tartan. He wore it with pride, and he looked good enough to eat. At that thought she giggled, and he looked at her quizzically over his shoulder.

In her opinion, she was nothing special. Aged sixty-two, she was five nine and curvy with plump breasts, somewhat marked from the babies and no longer as firm as they had been. Her legs were not long, slim, or beautiful. She had short brown hair with highlights, and she had arthritis, which caused her many problems. He didn’t regard any of this. He called her his “little darling” and said she was beautiful. At that thought, she straightened her spine. What did it matter what anyone thought if he loved her? And he
did
.

For the vows, she managed to sink to her knees, but he had to hold her and help her. She assumed the slave position and said the words she’d spent many hours refining. He’d told her he wanted her to look him in the eyes as she said her vows, and she was happy to do as he wished. She so wanted to see his expression as she said what she felt. She didn’t want to say a lot, just short and to the point. The last phrase would be the one she hoped he’d remember forever.

“Master, I offer you my body, my soul, and my mind. I offer myself to you as your submissive and vow to serve you and obey you to the best of my poor ability. A Mhaighistir tha gaol agam ort.”

She saw his eyes mist as he heard “Master, I love you,” in the Gaelic words she had striven to master. He replied, “I accept your offer of service and submission in all humility. Above all, I accept the precious gift of your trust in me and vow to care for you, protect you, guide you, and correct you. I will make sure that I am worthy of that trust. A Shine tha gaol agam ort. Jane, I love you.”

He placed her gold collar around her neck. He drew the key from below his shirt, locked the padlock, and returned the key to its place next to his heart. Jane was overjoyed at his words and had heard the hitch in his breath as he heard the Gaelic. It was worth all the hundreds of repetitions. Mistress Catriona had made her say it until she thought it was perfect, and it was not an easy language to speak. Master Angus held a longer and less revealing robe for her. She was thankful for that because everyone had seen her naked, or as good as naked, for long enough.

Emma wrapped herself around her grandma as she had always done, and the comfort and love flowed both ways as it always did. Jane loved her granddaughter with all her heart and soul and was overjoyed she had settled so near to her. She couldn’t say she was pleased to see her in the club, but then it was bound to happen from time to time as that was a large part of her own life now, and she didn’t want to exclude Emma. She was not ashamed of her new life and her Master, but she didn’t want Emma to think she had to emulate her, and she knew her son wouldn’t like it if his beloved daughter became a submissive.

Everyone gathered round for congratulations. There was good food and some drink, though the club rule of one alcoholic drink was observed, and there were soft drinks, water, and fruit juice available, so most people had the one drink to toast the couple.

Jane saw jessica in the crowd. jessica, a fellow sub in the club, didn’t like her because jessica herself had wanted Master Angus, but he hadn’t wanted her. When he chose Jane, jessica became her enemy. Now Jane heard her say, “Look how marked her breasts are. It comes with age, I suppose, but it looks ugly.”

The deep, stern voice of Master Torquil, the feared Dungeon Master, said, “You will
not
start anything here today. Those marks are not from age.
She
has had children and suckled them, and she can be justly proud of the marks left by that.”

jessica couldn’t believe that he would prefer an older woman over her. jessica was a pretty, blonde woman. She was slim, and Jane wasn’t. jessica had made scathing comments about Jane ever since Jane had come to the club. Those remarks grew more bitter in proportion as Master Angus’s interest in Jane developed. At first, Jane had been reduced to tears by the hurtful things jessica had said, mainly because Jane agreed with them. Eventually, as Master Angus had helped her to regain her confidence, Jane had rounded on jessica and put her in her place. This had given the blonde woman pause, but had not stopped her snide remarks.

Jane had heard the comment, but it didn’t matter. jessica had no power to hurt her now. She was amazed at Master Torquil defending her. She felt Master Angus behind her, his hands on her shoulders as he, too, heard what they had said. She supposed he was waiting for her to get upset, but today she wasn’t giving jessica the satisfaction of even knowing she’d heard, let alone thinking it might have hurt her. Then she realised it hadn’t. Such comments no longer had the power to hurt her. She squared her shoulders, and he nuzzled her neck as he said softly, “Well done, my lassie. She only has the power to hurt you with her words if you allow her to.”

Jane fingered her collar. “Not any more, Master,” she said.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her witless, giggling as he had to endure the remarks of his friends. “I’ll tell you later, when we are alone, just how much that Gaelic in your vows meant to me,” he whispered to her, and she shivered in anticipation. It was fortunate she had a robe on, revealing though it was. Her pussy was flooded with moisture, and her nipples ached for his touch. They were swollen and stiff. Everyone could see how aroused she was. He was bloody lucky, she thought. Who could tell if his cock was erect under all those yards of wool? Her eyes had strayed to the place that occupied her thoughts and he said, “Just so, little darling,
I can see you are very ready to be fucked. I am more than ready to fuck you, too,” which only made it worse. She knew he’d said it to increase her arousal as his dark chuckle curled her toes.

Angus took Jane to southern Spain for a holiday after the collaring ceremony. In Granada they had spent the day walking about the city and had a lovely meal. Then, tired with all the walking, they went back to the hotel. Angus could not wait to get her upstairs. She smiled as he impatiently pressed the button for the lift time after time until it arrived and he ushered her in. Once in their room he said, “Strip,” and when she had complied, he led her out onto their private balcony overlooking the Alhambra. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and the view was breathtaking. He put her hands on the railing and told her to hold on tight and not let go.

“I never told you how much it meant to me to hear the Gaelic phrase you ended your vows with. Now I am going to show you instead.”

He spread her legs wide, knelt between her and the railing, and opened her labia with his big strong hands. She whimpered in anticipation but knew he was not about to go fast.

“Watch the Alhambra as the light fades, and just feel,” he said, and she heard his voice shake with the emotion of the moment. He leaned in to smell her arousal, and she heard him inhale deeply, then she felt his tongue as he licked his way up to her clit. The jolt she felt as he flicked his tongue over the throbbing and swollen bundle of nerves was like nothing she had felt before. He pushed first one, then two, then three fingers inside her and began to fuck her with his fingers. With the other hand he clasped her bottom, and his tongue never stopped licking her clit. Her legs began to shake, but he held her in place. She knew he’d not let her fall.

Her orgasm seized hold of her, and she bucked and writhed in his hold as wave after wave of the pleasure that bordered on pain washed over her and left her limp on the shore. She fell prey to aftershocks that he encouraged with his tongue and fingers until she slumped against him and only held herself up by holding on to the railing as he had commanded her to do. He stood, and still holding on to her, sank his huge cock home in her cunt, and she moaned and gasped. He rode her hard and fast, never letting up. He reached forward and rubbed his large fingers, still slick, with her cream across her still-swollen and needy clit, and as the sun set, he pinched her clit. She convulsed around him. The strong contractions in her pussy squeezed his cock, and he came inside her, shouting his release. He pumped into her again and again, and she thought he’d never stop coming and filling her with his hot seed.

He withdrew from her, eliciting a moan of protest, and he chuckled.

“Demanding little darling. It’s going to get cold very quickly now, so let’s get inside. I prescribe a shower, bed, and rest.”

That is precisely the way it was, and several hours later he awoke and looked down on her. She had turned over in her sleep, and he was spooned into her back. She had her left leg straight down and her right drawn up. Her left hand was splayed across her pillow and her right, curled into a fist, was resting under her chin. She looked adorable in sleep. He liked the fact that she had accepted her age with no Botox or face lifts. Maybe she could not have afforded them, but to him it seemed she was trying to grow old gracefully. Maybe disgracefully now he thought about those emerald toe and fingernails. She had very definite thoughts on what was right for
her.
He remembered her words, “No use dressing as a teenager and looking ridiculous. You may have to be old, but you don’t have to be boring. There is nothing wrong with making the best of what you have. Just do it with grace and avoid the ridiculous. Who would want to be a teenager again with all that angst?”

Angus would always look at nice legs or pert breasts like any red-blooded man would, but he didn’t want that for himself. It was too much work, and there were too many tantrums. All he really wanted was his Jane. She still had problems with her shape and size, but in deference to his wishes, she tried not to let it show. He supposed most women felt the same, and airbrushed pictures of stick-thin “celebrities” did not help. He desired her and loved her just the way she was. She’d told him she loved to read erotic novels, even if the heroines were young, slim, and beautiful, so he had bought her the latest e-book reader to bring away with her and loaded it up with erotic novels. Laughing, she had asked if he thought she’d have time to read, and he had told her she could read to him. As she blushed, he’d told her, “In fiction, all subs are slim, petite, and beautiful with long, flowing tresses. In real life it takes all sorts, and you are my sort, never forget it,” and she’d smiled and snuggled up to him with her head on his shoulder and her hand fisted in his shirt. She smelled of summer and flowers and some sort of spice. Maybe it was cinnamon. She certainly ate enough of it.