A Domme Called Pet

Evernight Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright©
2016 Raven McAllan

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-808-9

Cover
Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor:
JS Cook

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To
Kimberley Talbot for your help and encouragement. Hope you think I've done
Dario and Tula justice.

A
DOMME CALLED PET

Dommissimma, 7

Raven McAllan

Copyright © 2016

Chapter
One

“He’s
talking crap. Utter bloody shite.” Petula Talbot fought to keep her voice down,
as the guy on the lecture hall stage pontificated on. “The Dom is always right
and the sub knows it,” she parroted in a low disgusted voice. “A woman can’t be
in charge? What about all the female Dommes then? This is rubbish. Oh god, now
he says that if you don’t do as he says you’re not into BDSM? What planet is he
from? Why the hell did you book him? Do you know how much damage an arsehole
like this can cause?”

Edan
Murdoch, her colleague and good friend, shrugged. “I didn’t book him, I’m not
that daft. I know his reputation—his real one, not the one he tries hard to
project. He’s not liked, no one knows where he comes from, and most of those in
the lifestyle give him a wide berth. Prof. Peterson heard of him, got the
bullshit and booked him while you were off.” He didn’t mention why she’d been
absent, for which Tula was grateful. She wanted to draw a veil over those
weeks. Weeks when she wondered if she was about to be a widow, and even now
wondered how long she’d be a wife.

“Was
that why you insisted I come and listen?” she asked. “So I’d get mad and throw
a hissy fit? Tell him he’s an imposter?”

“What
do you think?” Edan grinned. “Go on, I dare you. Mind you, if you think it’s
crap, I’ve an even better solution. You take next week’s lecture and put your
side of the story to the students. Let them decide for themselves if a Domme is
fabrication or not.” He nodded at the five dozen or so undergrads that filled
the lecture hall. “They’re a good group. Open-minded and want to know the truth.
But be prepared for them to ask why you call yourself Tula.”

“Hmm?
That’s the easy bit. Whoever heard of a Domme called Pet?”

 
Edan laughed. “Okay then, that’s one question
answered. What about Master Asshole and his ‘this is the way it should be’ malarkey?”

“It’s
wrong. What they’re hearing now is wrong.” Tula stood up without even thinking
and cleared her throat in her best, ‘I am a Domme heed me now’ manner.

The
guy on the stage looked up at her. “Are you interrupting me?”

 
She grinned. “Yeah.”

 
“Yeah, Master, please,” he said in an oily
voice. “Master Rollo. You’d do well to remember that.”

Tula
saw red. Who the fuck did he think he was? Even if he was a Dom, and somehow
she highly doubted that, his attitude stank. “Master of what? Caramel chocolates?”

 
Someone sniggered and several people turned in
their seats to see who spoke.

“Master
in BDSM?” She shook her head, as the guy on stage took several steps forward.
Next to her Edan tensed and his hand moved to the walkie-talkie he held. Tula
shook her head at him. “No, not yet.” There was no need for security to interfere.
She guessed the bloke was all bluster. Her long curls spun out like a dervish
on speed, and she pushed them behind her ears impatiently.

“BDSM?
Not that, not in a million years. Master of Bullshit more likely. You’re a
charlatan.”

 
Most of the audience gasped and then you could
have heard a pin drop as the guy went red and clenched his fists.

 
“If you were my sub, girl, you’d not be able
to sit down for a week,” he said harshly. He might think it sounded masterful—it
didn’t. Just someone trying to be what they weren’t.

 
Tula laughed. “And if you were
my
sub, boy, you’d not sit comfortably for
a fortnight. I don’t deal well with imposters.” She turned on her heel and
walked up the steps toward the door.

 
Somewhere behind her, someone started to clap.
It was taken up and by the time she’d exited the hall, closely followed by Edan,
the noise had reached a crescendo.

“So
will you do it?” he asked as they walked away toward her office. “Next week.”

 
“I can’t,” Tula said automatically. “I need to
think of Dario. It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Edan
sighed. “He’s a man, not a mouse. Why not ask him and let him decide for
himself?”

 
That was the problem. She knew he’d say yes
for her and
not
think about himself
or the repercussions to him.

“I’ll
see.”

“I’ll
pencil you in,” Edan said as he walked toward his own room.

“Only
pencil. I haven’t said yes.”

 
“You will. You hate misinformation.”

That
was true, but she still hadn’t decided what to do when, several hours later she
let herself into the house she shared with her husband.

 
“Hi love, I’m home,” she called as she flung
her car keys in the bowl on the hall table and checked she’d locked the door.
“Sorry I’m a bit late, the lights at the corner are out and no one wanted to
make the first move.”

The
silence was unsettling.

“Dario?”
Oh god, what sort of mood was he in? Where was he? She tucked her briefcase
under her arm, and walked into the tiny room that she now called the snug and
stopped dead

“Pet?”

Dario,
almost bollock naked and with a worried expression on his face, looked up from
his position on a wide hardback chair. With his arms behind his back, he had
one leg tucked neatly in front of him. The other, his left, stuck out at an
angle that spoiled the picture of a perfect sub. The only clothes he wore—if
you could call it clothing, he tended to call it something a lot less polite—were
a brace around his knee and another around his ankle.

Thank you, god.

“My
Lady?”

Tula
swallowed and blinked away the moisture that appeared in her eyes. Her mouth
felt as if it was full of cotton wool and her vision became blurry. She’d
prayed for this day and never thought she’d see it. “Are you sure?”

He
nodded and moved his leg awkwardly. “I might be a bit rusty, My Lady, and not
as flexible as I was, but it’s all green. I…” He hesitated and she saw worry in
his expression. “I’m ready. If you’ll take me as I now am?”

Why
did he even think that, let alone say it? Did he think that because he could no
longer sit on the floor, crawl for her, do everything they loved before, she’d
think less of him? Say it was over?

Never. It’s for life.

“I’m
always ready for you.” Tula hunkered down so her face was level with his. “Why
now, pet?” she asked quietly. “What made you greet me in such a way? Has Edan
contacted you?
 
Your consultant? Your
manager? The club doctor?”

Dario
bit his lip and without thinking twice Tula rapped his knuckles, hard with the
briefcase she still held. “Do not do that,” Tula said sharply. “Any marks on
you are made by me, no one else and that includes yourself. You remember that?”

 
He nodded. Before she had a chance to tell him
to vocalize he spoke. “Yes, My Lady. I’m sorry. No one’s contacted me. I just
thought it was time to get my head out of my ass, build a bridge and get over
it. Enough of the wallowing. To answer, your in my mind, much more important
question, I’m green and ready to resume our relationship. This,” he tapped his
leg, “is gonna be part of me for goodness knows how many months, years … who
knows? I’ve let it bugger up what we have for long enough. Seven years ago I
vowed to be yours forever, in church.” He touched the platinum ring on his
wedding finger. “Four years ago I vowed to be your sub forever in front of our
friends.” He grinned as he fingered the silver chain he wore around his neck.
“Even some vanilla ones. I lost sight of that for a bit, and I’m sorry. Now
though, I need this connection, My Lady, if you wish it. I miss you, I miss
us.” He maneuvered himself to his feet and dipped his head. “I want to renew
our vows and move on.”

“In
church?” Tula asked. They’d only married to satisfy their parents. His
collaring was the ceremony that meant the most to them. Or, she thought, it had
been.

 
Dario shook his head. “No, in Dommissima. But
not until I’m using a cane, not crutches.”

The
tears she’d been fighting came in a rush. “You’re on,” Tula managed to say
before she bawled her eyes out.

He
might change his mind when she told him what she intended to do.

Chapter Two

Oh
fuck, he’d made her cry. Mistress and sub forgotten, Dario hauled himself to
his feet and tugged Tula after him, put his arms around his wife, and hugged
her as if his life depended on it.

 
“Tula? Sweetheart? We don’t have to. I’ll do
whatever you want, just tell me. You’re my world. My reason for living. You are
My Lady.” To his distress that made her sob even harder. Dario was at a loss.
His Lady, his Domme and he was helpless how to aid her. “I can’t make it better
if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Is
it because you don’t think you can flog a sub on crutches?” he asked at last. “Or
the sight unnerves you? It doesn’t make me less of a man. My cock’s still in
full working order.”

 
He had no warning before Tula punched him hard
in the stomach. If she hadn’t pushed him back onto the chair he’d be flat out
on the floor. Dario wheezed as pain radiated through him and his nuts threatened
to crawl inside him and hide. Even his prick had deflated faster than a spent
balloon and hung down between his legs in shame. Oh ho, she was mighty pissed.

That
pleased him. An angry Tula usually made for some interesting scenes. This time
though? He wasn’t so sure. He’d questioned her integrity, and might just have
gone too far. Ah well, hopefully it would be worth it.

Tula
stood over him, eyes flashing and ohh, thank the lord in all out, full on
pissed Domme mode. “You, boy, need more than a flogging for that. How
dare you
say something so insulting? Do
you think so little of our relationship that you assume I’d react like that?”

 
He grinned. “Nope, but it got you going didn’t
it?” Dario said unrepentantly. Then he sobered. “Tula, love, My Lady, please don’t
treat me as if I’m made of glass. I admit I’ve not been the best person to live
with since this.” He waved toward his leg. “But not any more.”

“You
can say that again. Fucking nightmare, arsy non-sub.” Tula took off her jacket,
rolled the sleeves of her crisp white blouse up and un-tucked the hem from her
jeans. “That’s better. Now, you were saying?” Her tone gave none of her
thoughts away, not even if she expected him to be Dario or pet.

“Today?
I got up, looked at it, and came in here. Our playroom, that was. With nothing
to play on. No spanking bench, no floggers, no ropes or shackles. Oh, books and
a desk are all very well, and I like them but not in here. I felt…” He paused
as he tried to formulate the words. “Bereft, I guess. As if I’d thrown something
very precious away.”

 
Tula put her finger under his chin and angled
his head back so he could look her in the face and see the green flecks in her
hazel eyes, “Not thrown away, pet. Just mislaid for a while.” She hiccupped and
fished a tissue from her jeans pocket. “God almighty we don’t half pick our
times, don’t we? I’ve got some news you might not be too happy about. But first.”

She
smiled what Dario called her ‘wicked evil Domme in a devilish mood smile’. The
one where he usually ended up with a red ass and blue balls. “I’ll show you
what I think about flogging a sub on crutches. Get them, stand up, walk to the
desk and bend over. Twenty to start I think, pet.” Her tone was so level she
could almost be talking about how many prawns to put in a paella. It was the
intent, sexy, dominant and febrile look in her eyes that gave her state of mind
away. It was such a bloody turn-on Dario almost came there and then. His dick
was hard, hot, and no doubt slick with pre-cum. His mouth was dry and his body
tight with anticipation. He needed her tough, craved it, and without it he was
only a half a person.

“Ten
for dissing your Domme and ten for not telling me how you felt, when you felt
it. And maybe another ten after for the sheer hell of it. To welcome you back.”

 
“Yes please, My Lady,” he said fervently,

 
Tula laughed. “I’m not sure if this is going
to be a punishment or a pleasure, but hey ho. We both desire it I think, pet.
On you go while I get what we need.”

It
was agony knowing she was watching him, as he struggled to his feet once more and
tucked his crutches under his arms. Dario made his ungainly way across the
room, and leaned over the desk. The smooth wood was cool on his heated skin. It
might not be a spanking bench, but even so, his mind whirled and he understood
that he was in his sub mind-set.

It
was the perfect feeling, and one he’d despaired he’d ever experience again.

“Color,
pet?”

“Green,
My Lady.”

“Good
boy.” She stroked his back, her hand soft on his skin. Stay like that. I won’t
be long.”

“Yes,
My Lady.”

 
The sting of a flat-handed slap on his ass
made him jerk. The warm caress after it was not just a balm to his skin. It
was, Dario decided, a benediction. A hint that all was well, and he hadn’t
screwed up by being a petulant idiot.

“Shall
I warm you up, pet?” Tula asked in a ‘butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth’
voice.

Dario
grinned to himself. That was a double-edged question and one to which he wasn’t
sure there was a correct answer. “If My Lady wishes.”

She
chuckled. “If wishes were kisses eh? It was a favorite saying of hers. “I think
this time, pet, I’ll keep you waiting.” He heard a rustle and then the noise of
a door opening, and closing. Not the door out of the room, but … his heartbeat
sped up. The door to the tall built-in cupboard in the corner. The one that, so
caught up in his misery, he hadn’t even given a thought to for months.

Mind
you, if he were honest, he hadn’t even opened the door to this room, not even
when Tula had told him, very quietly, that as she needed somewhere to write
reports, and mark papers, she’d changed it into a library. He’d nodded and she’d
sighed, but not pressed him. Had it been the correct thing to do? Who knew? The
door closed and he held his breath as he sensed his Lady approaching. Well he thought
it was her, the subtle scent of her favorite Jo Malone perfume teased his
senses. It was, she often said, one of the benefits of being his Domme. She
could still wear her perfume as she scened with him.

Tula
appeared at the far side of the table and tugged his hair so he looked at her
properly. “I’m putting this cloth under your head to cushion it.” She did as
she said and then spoke again. “It’s a pity we don’t have our bench, but
inventiveness is a wonderful thing. Comfortable?”

 
“Yeah. Spot on. Er, I mean yes, My Lady.”

She
chuckled. “You sound more like my pet by the minute and may I say how marvelous
it is. Welcome back, love. I’ve missed you.”

 
“I’ve missed me,” he said seriously. “I’m glad
I’m back.”

“We’re
both grateful then. Now, will you stay where I put you or should I tie you
down? I’m not asking because I think you should top from the bottom, but because
you know your balance better than I do.”

It
made sense. Dario thought about it for no more than a second. Normally he
prided himself on doing as she said and staying exactly as she put him, for
however long she decreed, but now? Unsteady on his legs and not sure how well
he would manage? “Tie me please, My Lady.” She might have asked a question that
to some, screamed of abdication of her duties, but to him showed care and attention,
and she was still in charge. Always his Lady.

And
once again, his Domme.

 
God, that sounded so good. Dario prayed he
wouldn’t let her down. He’d been given the chance to be her pet again and he’d
go to hell and back to make sure he didn’t fuck it up.