A Domme Called Pet (3 page)

Chapter Five

“So
now we know,” Tula, said in a dreamy voice so unlike her Domme voice, the
contrast was startling. She had no idea how long it was since they’d gradually
let Dario’s cock slide out of her and she’d scrambled across the mattress to,
she said, hunt out damp flannels, and she didn’t much care. Several minutes?
Hours? God knew how long later, she’d crawled back into bed and let Dario wash
her before she returned the favor and ministered to his dick. Now, she lay on
her back, her arms around Dario so tightly she hoped to hell he didn’t need to
cough or sneeze. If he did he’d probably lose his nuts, but she couldn’t bear
to let him go.

“We
haven’t lost it,” she said. “God, love, I was so bloody frightened I’d never
get my lover back, let alone my sub. I love our dynamics. I adore the fact you
want to be my sub, but that’s nothing compared to how I felt when I thought I’d
lost you.”

“You
haven’t,” Dario agreed, as he wriggled a little and her nipple moved out of his
ear. “As a lover or a sub. And you won’t again. How on earth I got into that
state defeats me. When I think of my attitude, I feel sick. I was an ass.”

 
“You’ll get no argument from me on that
point,” Tula said. “But, you know? I was no help either. All my Domme skills
went out of the window. I felt so helpless and had no idea what to do except be
here when you were ready to let me into your life again. And yes, I did wonder
if it would ever happen.”

“Thrash
me if I go off on one like that again,” Dario said seriously. He spoiled his
sensible demeanor with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “Long and hard.”

 
“But that’s no punishment,” Tula said with a laugh.
With every hour he seemed more like her Dario again. And she had a nasty
suspicion she was about to spoil things. “You like it.”

 
“Well yeah,” Dario agreed. “The best thing
ever to get me out of myself and into subspace. So thrash me, leave me dangling
almost, but not quite there, and then tell me that’s what I’ll be missing.”

He
was silent for a while, and Tula stayed unmoving, as she enjoyed their closeness.
To share a bed, feel his heat and his breath on her skin was beautiful. And now
she was going to risk spoiling that. However, there was going to be no good
time to tell him about Master Asshole of Bullshittery, and her lecture the
following week, but tell him she must. She was mulling over the best was to
explain, when Dario spoke.

“You
do know I’ll probably never play football again, don’t you?”

 
Tula kissed the nearest bit of him she could
reach. The top of his head. “Yes, I’m sorry, love. How do you feel about it?” A
stupid question, she was sure he was furious and gutted.

He
sighed. “Well I am almost over the hill, I guess, so I’d have had what, two, three
years more at best. It’s just all come a bit quicker than I’d anticipated or
liked.”

 
“But you’d have preferred to choose when to go,
not had it thrust on you?”

 
“Exactly. You’re the only person allowed to
dictate to me, in any way, love. Ah, it can’t be helped. It was just one of
those things. Now, though, I have to decide what to do. With your help.”

 
“First off, I wouldn’t say someone
deliberately tackling you in a way so dangerous they’ve been banned for the
rest of the season, is just one of those things,” Tula pointed out. “As far as
I’m concerned, he should have been banned for life. That’s the fourth time this
year he’s been handed a red card. He’s a menace.”

“Well
I won’t disagree, love, but it’s happened, I’ve done the ‘woe is me’ crap and
now I need to move on. And you’re biased.”

“Of
course I am. He buggered up our life. But you’re right, we need to move on,”
Tula said emphatically. “And on that note, I’ve got something to say that might
make you decide
not
to move on. Or
not with me anyway.”

Dario
lifted his head and looked at her. “I can’t believe anything would make me do
that. What’s wrong?”

Tula
bit her lip, realized what she was doing and stopped. If he wasn’t allowed to
do that, neither was she. “You know I went to a lecture with Edan today? He
dragged me along to what he laughingly called BDSM, 101—not. Said Athol
couldn’t make it. Well that bit might have been true, but I should have smelled
a rat earlier.
 
Edan’s been nagging me to
take some of the alternative lectures and not just stick to History. Anyway,
after the way he named the subject, I was interested, so said yeah okay I’d go.
Ha, if ever there was a set-up, that was it. Some asshole saying how it had to
be and that it was as he said or nothing.”

“Really?
And you let him?”

 
“Well, no, not exactly,” Tula said with a
snort. “He told me I had to call him Master Rollo and I sort of said he might
be a Master of a caramel sweet but he was no Master of BDSM.”

 
“Oh Christ.” Dario began to laugh helplessly. He
wiped his eyes and put his head back on Tula’s chest. His sniggers reverberated
through her and she giggled.

“Oh
there’s worse. As I got up and left, I evidently got a standing ovation. But
here’s the rub. After that I felt I had no option but to go put the record straight,
or at least show there are alternatives to Master Asshole’s ideas.”

 
“Yeah that’s a no-brainer, so what’s the problem?

 
Tula wriggled out from under him and slid off
the mattress to pace across the room. At the wall she turned and stalked back
to the bed, her eyes troubled. “Well people know I’m married to you. If I speak
as if I know what I’m talking about—and there’s no way I can do otherwise or
what’s the point—I bet they’ll expect me to say I’m your sub, and that will out
you, even if it’s wrong.’

 
“And that’s worrying you?” Dario stuck out his
hand, grabbed her wrist and tugged. He moved his bad leg just in time for her
to miss it by inches. “Oops, close shave.”

 
Tula poked him in the chest. “Idiot, what if I’d
have fallen on it?”

“I’d
have sworn, and been glad we weren’t in our dynamic, or you might have washed
my mouth out with bourbon.” He hated bourbon, much preferring a smooth single
malt whisky. “Seriously, love, why on earth are you getting your knickers in a
twist?”

 
She poked him again. “You need your eyes
testing. I’m not getting my knickers, thongs or granny pants knotted. I haven’t
got any on.”

 
Dario rubbed his hand over her bare cunt.
“Neither you have. Okay so you got me, why are you so worked up over something so
daft? Just tell ’em the truth. You’re no sub. You’re a Domme. My Domme.” He studied
her face from under his lashes. “It won’t bother me. I’m proud of what we are,
who I am. If some people think it makes me less of a man well screw them. It’s
one person’s opinion, and opinions are like assholes. We’ve all got them and
some are more obnoxious than others. Their loss, I reckon. They know bugger
all. “He rolled his eyes. “In fact, something Athol said to us way back when we
were getting started, has always stuck in my mind.”

 
“Yeah?” Tula began to scribe circles on his
chest with her nail. “What?”

 
“It takes a strong man to admit he’s a sub.
That he needs time when he’s not in charge and can let his Domme take all the
decisions for them both. That he can let go and be looked after. That’s
strength of a different kind.”

Chapter Six

“You
don’t have to do this, you know,” Tula said as they walked from the car park to
the lecture hall. She held a heat-retaining mug of coffee in each hand as Dario
used his crutches to manoeuver his way across the tarmac. He’d been told if he
carried on the same way he’d be off them soon and be able just to use a stick.
That was a real incentive to do everything by the book.

 
Except for their play times. And as he’d said
to his consultant, who was also a member of Dommissimma, and a fellow sub, that
was as good as any tablet or tonic. Stefan, the doctor, had laughed and agreed.
“It’s a pity I can’t prescribe it on the NHS.”

“Hold
on, let me get the door.” Tula put both mugs in the crook of her arm and pulled
the heavy door open as wide as possible. One mug had the words ‘Dommes wield
the whip hand delicately’ in cursive script around the brim. The other was
inscribed ‘A good sub is worth
his
weight
in floggers’. As they’d been a present from Athol and Edan when Dario had been
collared, it seemed apt to use them on this occasion. “I won’t blame you if you
don’t.”

“I’d
blame me,” Dario said firmly. “Look, love, unless we go into Domme and sub mode
and you forbid me to, I’m coming in with you, standing—or well sitting—by you,
and if need be putting my side of the story over. And you never know, for once
my profile might do some good. A bit like when someone famous comes out as gay
and people go yeah okay, so it’s no biggy. I can admit my sexuality and still
be the same person to everyone that I was. If, with me, it doesn’t happen, so
be it. I’m not playing any more. I’ve accepted the coaching job with the up-and-coming
teens to start in the summer and I’ve got a nice striped ass, and a couple of
interesting red welts on my chest. What more could I ask for?” He gave her a very
over the top, eyes wide open innocent look. “I’m sorted.”

Tula
laughed reluctantly. They’d had the discussion so many times over the last week
with the same outcome. She wasn’t going to pull the Domme act. The decision had
to be Dario’s and he’d never swerved from his first declaration. “What more
could you ask for?” she repeated. “How about nipple rings?”

 
He shuddered. “Er maybe not, thank you. That
is still a big fat red.”

 
“It doesn’t hurt much, you know, and they’re damned
arousing.” She’d had hers done the previous year for a Valentine present for
him, knowing how much he loved the idea of silver rings to tug on. It had been
coincidence that the night he’d greeted her as her sub, she’d caught one of the
rings on her lacy bra and taken them out just before she’d got home. That would
have been interesting if anyone had seen her. Thank goodness for private loos.

Now,
though, they were firmly back in and would stay there. They’d been hell to get
back in. It was easier just not to wear a bra and say sod it if people didn’t
like it. It was her body. They didn’t need to look.

“Yeah,
well.” Dario went sideways though the door and began to move along the corridor
towards a door at the far end. “Never say never but it’s like a Prince Albert
in my cock. Redder than red.”

“You
wuss.” Someone clapped him on the back and then grabbed his shoulder to steady
him. “Go on, I dare you.”

 
“Have you got one?” Dario asked Athol Donaldson,
Edan’s partner and a Dom both he and Tula liked and respected. “Are you all
Alberted up?”

Athol
grinned at him and put his hand over his own cock very theatrically. “Me? Oh no
not on your nelly, or in this case not in my willy. No one, but no one, except
Edan puts their hands on my family jewels. And as luckily for me learning to put
body jewelry in isn’t something he’s qualified to do, my dick stays as at is.”

“But
you do have nipple rings,” Tula said as they reached the door to the lecture
theatre. “I’ve seen them.”

 
“Yeah.” He opened the door and stood back to
let Dario and Tula precede him. “I tell you, if they ever come out they’ll never
go back in again. I squealed like a stuck pig. Worse than anything Edan can
inflict on me when he’s in a sadistic mood. I still have nightmares about it
all.”

Athol
and Edan were switches and had an excellent relationship where they each took
turns as Dom and sub depending on their moods. It seemed to work for them, but
Tula did wonder what happened if they both wanted to take charge at the same
time? Toss for it? Floggers at dawn? She had no intention of asking. It would
no doubt be revealed in conversation one day, as most things were.

“Where
do we go now?” Dario looked around. “Please god, not up those stairs.”

“No.”
Tula headed for a few chairs to one side of the steps that led to the stage.
“These are for you and Athol. Edan’s the emcee so to speak. Prof. Peters took
the huff when Edan told him his choice of guest lecturer left a lot to be desired.
Poor guy, he kept saying things like, ‘but he told me he was a well-respected
Dom, and he’s got letters after his name.” Tula laughed. “I do believe Edan
then pointed out to him that a BA in Home Economics or something isn’t really
relevant. And he could say he was a Master of Bullshittery, but saying something
didn’t always mean it was true. Although that surely is.”

 
Athol shouted with laughter, and several people
looked in their direction. Even though it was a good half hour until the lecture
was due to start, there was a scattering of people already seated or standing
in groups and chatting.

“You
know I feel sick,” Tula said suddenly. “I’m about to put my lover up to be
judged and it’s not fair. I feel like we’re in a mail coach with no ammunition
and the baddies are waiting over the hill.”

 
“Enough of that,
My Lady
.” Dario emphasized the title. “Remember you’re a crack
shot, or well a cracking whip shot, and every mail coach would have a whip-wielder.
Go slay em, Mistress.”

“He’s
right you know,” Athol said as Edan came down from the stage and walked toward
them. “There’s not many people get the chance to show it like it is. What would
you prefer? To hear it from the organ grinder or the monkey, so to speak?”

 
Dario made monkey sounds and Tula flicked her
finger over his chin. “God, if we were at home you’d pay for that.”

“Can
I have it on account then?” he said in an overtly hopeful voice. “You could add
it to the list.”

“What
list?” Athol asked with laughter in his voice.

 
“The one I’m trying to get her to make,” Dario
said. “We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up, from when I was full of
tomfuckery and a dickwad.”

“You
mean you’re not anymore?” Athol said. “How come you’ve changed the habits of a
lifetime?”

Tula
snorted. “He’s got you there, pet.”

 
“Hey,
those
tomfuckery, dickwad things are different to the ones we need to draw a veil
over,” Dario said plaintively. “I’m a reformed character. I’ve gone back to my
old ways. As best I can, anyway. I must admit though, it ‘ain't ‘alf fun
finding out what we can or can’t do these days. I now look at our unheated
towel rail in a new light.”

“If
you three jokers have finished, I need to spirit Tula away and run through the
timings,” Edan said. “You can have her back when it’s all over. We’re going to
have a full house, I think. So many people have asked if it is our Mrs. Talbot.
I think interest is piqued.”

 
Tula gulped. “Okay?” she asked Dario anxiously.
“It’s not too late.”

 
“To shut My Lady up with a kiss.” He suited
his actions to his words. Behind them, someone wolf whistled and someone else
cheered. He drew back, stroked Tula’s cheek and then very theatrically turned
and bowed. “We might as well turn all their preconceived ideas on their heads,
eh?”

“Of
course, love. I’m with you every step of the way.”

“I
love you, My Lady.”

 
“I love you too, pet.” Tula nodded towards
some seats not too far away. “Regarding ideas, I think we’ll shake them up
alright. Now a word of warning. Asshole alert on the end of the third row in
the middle.”

Athol
and Dario turned to look at the scowling guy who had just sat down. Athol whistled.
“The guy in the green checked jacket? That’s Master of the caramel sweetie? It
looks like it. And they’ve all gone around his middle.” To say the man was
chunky was somewhat of an understatement. “If he takes a deep breath he’ll pop
someone’s eye out with a shirt button.”