Prue's Promises [Submissive Sirens 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (6 page)

That taken care of, Cyrus focused once more on the dance, knotting his hands tighter in the neckline of the muscle shirt he wore and jerking them apart so that the fabric of the shirt split from neckline to hem.
I should really own stock in these things
.

He tossed the ruined shirt away to join his hoodie, striving to hear the music over the din of screams. He passed his hands slowly over his abdomen down to where his whip rode low on his hips, never missing a step, and hooked his hands in the waistband of his leathers where they rode even lower. He swaggered down the runway, leaving one hand on his waistband while with the other hand he grabbed the handle of his whip, snapping it loose with one tug. He cracked the whip in the air, the satisfying sound it made accompanied by feminine gasps. Cyrus could feel the tension in the room rise, and he knew the women were riveted on the single tail he held.

He flicked the whip up over his shoulder, holding onto the handle and looping it diagonally over his torso from shoulder to hip. He let go of the handle and danced, confident that the whip would stay put.

“Yeah, Your Majesty!”

Cyrus heard the yell even above the other noise in the room and he looked around for its source, knowing that voice anywhere. Lulu was such a brat, but she was like his baby sister. He knew she liked watching him dance just as he knew she’d refuse if he ever tried to dominate her on stage. Not that he’d even try. The thought grossed him out too much since they’d been so close for so long.

Finally locating the petite blonde at the back of the room, Cyrus actually missed a beat as he got a good look at the woman standing beside her. As his eyes traveled up impossibly long legs to the sweet flare of hips and a trim waist, he felt his gut clench.

No way.

Cyrus felt sick. There was no doubt. It was Prue. Sweet, sexy Prue who’d let him do things to her that had shaken his control. And she was watching him strip, something that Cyrus didn’t usually feel embarrassed about. He was proud of his abilities, but knowing Prue was watching him take his clothes off on a stage in front of dozens of screaming strangers made him feel cheap.

Cyrus’s teeth clenched in the next moment. He had no idea how she’d found him, but if there was one thing he didn’t like, it was a clingy, desperate woman. He glared at her as he regained his footing, promising himself he’d deal with her later. He couldn’t very well stop in the middle of an act to throw a woman out of his club.

That thought in mind, Cyrus channeled his anger and embarrassment, grounding it until he found himself in control of it. He still had a woman to dominate, and he wasn’t about to lose control. It was his job to be strong for her. He danced back to where he’d seen the little sub who’d caught his attention, forcing himself to keep her firmly in mind each time his eyes tried to wander over to where Prue was standing. The little sub had been pushed back to the fourth row of women lining the runway, and Cyrus could see her standing on her toes, almost hopping up and down so she could see.

He tugged his whip off himself with a slither, and in a fluid motion cast it toward the little sub. His aim was true, and the whip tangled around her upper arm, not tight enough to cause discomfort but definitely tight enough to get her attention. Cyrus saw rather than heard her gasp, and he coiled the whip around his hand and gave it a gentle tug that had the woman stumbling toward him. The other women went wild, clapping and hollering, and Cyrus could see some envious looks directed at the sub he’d chosen.

When she’d reached the edge of the stage Cyrus stooped down and scooped her up without letting go of his whip, carrying her toward the ropes hanging from the ceiling on the main stage.

“Okay, sweetheart?” Cyrus had to bend close to her ear to whisper the words, and the little sub looked up at him with a combination of trust and nervousness.

“Yes, Sir.”

Good.
Cyrus always checked with the women he carried up on stage, knowing exhibitionism wasn’t for everyone. He made fast work of her clothes, thanking his good luck that the woman wore only a sundress and thong. He turned her around and quickly looped the woman’s hands and feet in the ropes, leaving her dangling spread-eagle, facing away from the crowd. He knew that for some women modesty was still a concern in this kind of situation, and he’d never tie a woman facing the crowd unless she’d specifically asked for it.

“Your safeword is ‘pink,’ dear.” Cyrus would never perform this kind of act without giving the woman a way of stopping him if things were too intense. “Use it and I’ll stop everything I’m doing right away.”

“Thank you, Sir.” The sub swallowed audibly, and Cyrus could see her tense.

Brave little sub.

Cyrus stepped back, turning once more toward the audience. His earlier playfulness, which he was willing to admit was only playful on him, had vanished. He felt his eyes grow cold as he looked at the crowd, and he felt the familiar surge of comfort run through him. This was who he was. He had the thought at the same moment as his eyes tracked once more to where Prue stood, and he had a brief moment of uncertainty as he found himself hoping she wasn’t jealous of the sub he’d chosen. He squashed the thought.
Where the hell did that come from?

Cyrus turned to face the sub once the crowd was silent. He commanded respect from everyone in the room, and he wasn’t shy about insisting on it. He looked at the little sub before him, tense and waiting for what he was going to do to her. Cyrus was gratified to see that her inner thighs were coated in a sheen of moisture, and he didn’t wait any longer.

He cracked the whip with an impressive sound that had the women in the room gasping, but he made sure the tip of the whip licked over the sub’s bottom in a sweet caress that only carried a little heat. He needed to learn what she liked, and until he figured out if she was a bit of a pain slut, he needed to keep his lashes light and teasing. He saw her head sag and her body relax, and he knew he’d chosen well. Cyrus kept the same pressure as he delivered lash after lash, causing lovely pink lines to form on the sub’s skin each time the whip fell.

By the time he was done, the sub was moaning softly and clutching the ropes binding her hands, and Cyrus was honored that his flogging had caused a wave of juice to gush from her pussy and coat the tops of her thighs. He rewarded the sub with a slightly harder lash, and she cried out. Cyrus watched with rapt attention as a drip of her own moisture actually ran down the woman’s leg.

Unbelievably, he found he wasn’t terribly interested in the woman bound in front of him beyond professional care. He wanted to make sure she enjoyed the experience, but he found himself wanting to sneak glances at Prue to see what she was doing, what the look in her lovely eyes told him she thought of his technique. If he turned and looked at her, would she be looking back with the same slack-jawed lust filling her eyes the night they’d shared on her porch? Would her eyes be glassy with arousal? If he slid a finger into her tight little pussy, would it clench him greedily in her wet depths? Or perhaps she’d be looking at him with censure. More than anything, Cyrus wanted it to be Prue up here on the stage with him. The thought scared the hell out of him.

Dragging his mind back to the present, Cyrus chastised himself. He needed to forget about Prue and focus on the sub in front of him. To that end, Cyrus began the series of moves that led to the grand finale of his act. He changed his technique slightly, using the whip as an extension of his arm to both pleasure and pain the small sub bound in the ropes. He struck a little harder against her bottom, making the sub squirm before he angled his arm differently and delivered a flick of his whip to the shadowed flesh between the sub’s legs, flogging her on her wet pussy. The sub screamed, the sound echoed by many of the women in the room.

Cyrus continued the alternation of flogging the sub’s ass and pussy, changing the weight of the lashes that fell on her and making her babble in delight as she begged for release. He kept her off balance, never warning her where or how hard the next lash would fall, and he finished the act by delivering a series of uninterrupted lashes to the woman’s dripping cunt. With the last lash, a hard one, the woman erupted. She convulsed as she orgasmed, screaming at the ceiling and writhing on the ropes, making a delicious spectacle for everyone watching.

She sagged as her orgasm released her, and Cyrus was quick to untie her from the ropes that held her suspended. He scooped her limp form into his arms, jerking his head at the side of the stage where Alejandro stood. The women in the audience turned away from the stage, chatting animatedly with one another. Clearly it had been a good show. The huge Dom walked up onto the stage, visibly surprised when Cyrus handed him the replete sub.

“Sea bueno con ella.”
Be good to her.

Alejandro’s eyebrows were raised in surprise as he took in Cyrus’s meaning. “You’re not going to take care of her?”

Cyrus shook his head, smiling coldly. “I have something else to take care of.”

Alejandro gingerly took the sub from Cyrus. “I have a sub, you know.”

Cyrus pinned him with a glare. “Then give this one a vibrator and set her up with the Dom she’ll be working with this week.”

Alejandro nodded, his eyes concerned. “Of course, boss. Anything else I can do?”

Cyrus shook his head grimly. “No. Leave the rest to me.” He walked to where he’d tossed his muscle shirt and hoodie, gathering them up along with his whip. He stalked through one of the doors without a backward glance at the crowd, not stopping until he’d reached his dressing room. Slamming the door behind him he debated putting the hoodie on, or at the very least finding a T-shirt, but decided he needed all his armor, and in his case armor was made of leathers and skin. He grabbed his cellphone and dialed a familiar number.

“The woman standing next to you right now. Bring her to me in the green room.” Cyrus disconnected before Lulu could say a word. He tossed the phone down on a table. Time to deal with Prue.

* * * *

Prue couldn’t stop looking at the door through which Cyrus had vanished. She’d loved watching what he did with the sub onstage, almost as much as she’d enjoyed watching him dance. Damn but the man had some serious moves! She was confused though, because she was sure he’d recognized her just as she was sure he wasn’t happy to see her. At all. The glares he’d sent her way had practically frozen her in place, and she couldn’t figure out what it meant. Dread began to coil through her belly. What if he was married, and the night he’d spent with her had been cheating? What if he was a good-time guy and she’d been played? And worst of all, what if he was ashamed of her?

The litany of what-ifs played through her head with increasing speed, and Prue cut them off only when the ringing of Lulu’s phone brought her back to reality. Prue watched as Lulu grinned when she looked at her call display, but the petite woman’s grin faded quickly. Prue couldn’t make heads or tails of the conversation she was having.

“Hi! You were…what? But…” Lulu trailed off, finally shrugging and ending the call. Before Prue could ask if everything was okay, Lulu turned toward her.

“Um, Cyrus has requested to see you. Now.”

Prue felt the color drain from her face. This did not sound good, and the most horrific thought struck her as she stared at Lulu. What if Cyrus knew she was from Homeland Security?

Lulu took her by the hand. “Look, I know he’s scary, but once you get to know him he’s…well, he’s still scary, but he can also be really cool.”

Prue seriously debated tugging her hand out of Lulu’s grasp and retrieving her things from her room. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to be on a plane back to Boston.

As if sensing where her thoughts were going, Lulu’s grip tightened.

“Prue, I’m sure he just wants to talk to you about your dance classes or something.” Lulu’s inability to meet Prue’s eyes revealed the lie for what it was. “Come on. He hates to be kept waiting.”

Bemused, Prue giggled, the sound slightly hysterical. Lulu had a tenaciously strong grip for such a little person, and she practically dragged Prue through the dungeon to the door where Cyrus had entered and exited. Prue’s heart danced a nervous beat in her chest. She’d really wanted to see Mr. Gorgeous again, but this was something out of her wildest fantasies and worst nightmares all rolled up together. A gorgeous Dom who danced was a combo Prue had fantasized over for ages, but the knowledge that he was the owner of a club purported to be used in the trafficking of women in the sex trade made her feel slightly sick to her stomach.

As they walked through a long corridor, Prue took deep and even breaths as she tried to calm herself. She repeated over and over in her head that she could do this. She pulled her resolve around her like a blanket, vowing that she’d stay steady and cool even if he got to her.

Her last thought as Lulu knocked on a door was totally unwelcome. Prue found herself wondering if Cyrus still had his whip with him, and she was utterly dismayed that the thought made her pussy clench in longing.

“Come in.” The muffled command sounded through the heavy door, and Lulu wasted no time in opening it before prodding Prue forward.

“Here she is, Sir,” Lulu called out, giving Prue’s hand an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll see you later, Prue.” The whisper sounded behind her, and before Prue could respond, the door swung shut.

Prue turned to face the room, taking in yet another space where modern comfort and decor blended seamlessly with the traditional building. She scanned the room before her eyes settled on Mr. Gorgeous.
I guess I should start thinking of him as Cyrus.
She swallowed as she took him in, resisting the urge to throw herself at him or to sink to her knees. Instead, she raised her chin another notch as she looked impassively back at him.
He is not my Dom. I owe him nothing but common courtesy and basic respect.
She repeated that to herself like a mantra as his icy blue eyes bored into hers, and she willed herself not to let her gaze slide away.