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 imp
ortant 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? Unstea
dy 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.

  Chapter Three

  Tula slipped off her heels, unzipped her jeans and tugged them down her legs. Usually she’d make Dario do this. It was part of their etiquette, something that heightened their senses, increased anticipation, and added to their scene. Today she decided they needed to take things gently. Dario had been very fragile emotionally since his life had gone pear-shaped and now, when it looked like things might be getting back to what they called normal, she didn’t want to upset it. He seemed to need her attention on him, to sink into his sub mind-set and enjoy—if that was the correct word, his flogging.

  She wanted her pet back. Life had been lonely without him.

  “Color, pet.” She stroked his back with the ends of her suede flogger and waited.

  “Green, My Lady.”

  “Good boy.” Tula stretched his arms out and tied them to the top of the legs of the desk, thankful she’d followed her inclinations and bought a small one. Had she subconsciously had this scenario in mind when she’d purchased it? She undid her blouse and took it off, so all she wore was a red ‘fuck me’ thong. A darker than it should be red ‘fuck me’ thong as it was stained with her juices. Even the thought of scening made her wet and wanting.

  Tula considered Dario’s stretched-out body. She didn’t want to tie his injured leg but wasn’t sure how else to make certain he didn’t injure it any more. “Can you open your legs and not hurt yourself?”