Nina's Dom

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Raven McAllan

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-968-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  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 everyone who loves Athol, and begged for him to pop up in another story.

  NINA’S DOM

  Dommissimma, 4

  Raven McAllan

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  As much as Nina lived and breathed busy streets, tooting cars, exhaust fumes, and the aroma of curry she reveled in standing by herself on the top of a Scottish hill.

  The sounds of birds, the fresh air, and hearing nothing except…

  Moans, grunts, gasps and "more, fuck it, now…"

  What?

  She turned and heaven help her, knew her face went as red as her hair at the sight of the two guys in a lip lock and tearing each other's shirts off.

  Damned if they didn't look hot. Bodily and sexually—it was somewhat warm in the Scottish summer sunshine—but as the only way down the hill was to just about step over them, she needed to make her presence known. Before they stripped off and locked more than lips.

  She kicked at a loose stone, annoyed that her stare at the horizon and refresh the senses time was going to be cut short. Then she groaned as the tiny not much more than a pebble sized stone gathered momentum, rolled down the hill, and hit the short-haired guy on the head.

  He swore and rolled away from the other guy, until his watch caught in the long curly hair of the second guy.

  "What the bloody? Shit and hell and fucking Nora, I'll have that sheep for curry on … Dinny Mack?"

  Nina was impressed by his outstanding vocabulary, not so much by his use of her hated nickname.

  "Nina," she said. "If your boyfriend values you as you are and not squashed in the wrong places."

  Athol Donaldson grinned. "Nina." As he gave Nina her preferred name he tried to untangle his watch from his companion's hair. "We must stop meeting like this."

  "Ouch, leave some hair attached to my scalp." His partner yelped the words.

  Nina made her way the few yards downhill to where they were. It was hard not to laugh at the spectacle in front of her. She'd bet the two men would prefer to be attached in a different way. "Here, let me have a go." She looked at the tangle of hair caught in the metal links and grimaced. "It'll have to be a scissor or penknife job if you don't hold still."

  "I'll hold still. Seeing as we're about to get very up close and personal, please don't rearrange any of Athol. I quite like what he's got where it is." The guy chuckled and then groaned at the slight movement. "I'm Edan Murdoch by the way."

  Nina giggled. "Pleased to meet you. I might have to cut a few strands, but it's better than losing half a head of hair to Athol's watch. How on earth did you get tangled up … er, no on second thoughts, don't bother. I can imagine. Right, don't move either of you, and let me go and grab my backpack. I've got scissors and a comb in it."

  It took her next to no time to make her way back to the brow of the hill, pick up her bag, and retrace her steps. Neither man had moved as she sat on the ground next to them. "This would make a great social media pic you know," she said as she got out her comb and began the painstaking task of separating the hairs. "We could run a caption competition. You know ‘what a catch’, or ‘do we really have time for this’. Something like that."

  "Take time to connect?" Athol shook his head. "Don't you dare. Or I will call you Dinny. Talking of which, well not really, but you know, what's Donny up to these days?"

  Nina released several more strands before she spoke. "Okay you can undo the watch now, and I'll carry on."

  Athol released the clasp and moved a foot or so away. He flexed his fingers. "That's better, I need supple hands."

  Nina wasn't going to ask why. She answered Athol's earlier question instead. "Donny? He's in Devon, working at a hospital down there. Though he's talking of going abroad soon. Still refusing to get involved with anyone after his last relationship went pear shaped." She worked steadily as she spoke. Some of the springy strands cooperated with her fingers and slid away from the watch like a dream. Others didn't. "Ach well. I liked her myself, but she was so not right for my big lug of a brother. Okay now I'll need to cut these last few hairs. Hold still. These scissors might be small, but they're sharp." She nipped at the remaining hair caught, and sat upright. "That's it, and not too much of a comb-over needed."

  "Bloody hell you're deft. Are you a medic?" Edan asked as he ran his hands through his hair. His muscles flexed. Beside him Athol groaned. "Hon, you're killing me."

  "I'm a teacher." Nina stood up and began to repack her bag. "My brother is the medic. Okay, I, er, think I'll leave you to it."

  Athol roared with laughter, and she realized what she'd said. Talk about foot into mouth syndrome.

  "Shut up," she said crossly. "You know what I mean. Nice to meet you, Edan."

  "And you, and thanks for your help." Edan grinned, and chuckled. "As attached as I am to Athol I'd prefer it not to be hair that holds us together."

  "Handcuffs?" Athol asked with a pseudo-leer. "I could sort that."

  Nina could feel the heat as it rushed across her skin. Really could she get any redder? Damn her Celtic complexion and propensity to blush. "Time for me to go, and, well, see you around maybe."

  "You will if you pop into Dommissimma," Athol said. "I haven't seen you there for ages. Did you get your Master’s?"

  Nina nodded. "I did and thank you. I'm teaching now at a local high school."

  Athol rolled his eyes and gave one of his deep dirty laughs. "Ohhh, I didn't know they taught that at school."

  "Idiot. Not BDSM 101. History." She slung her bag over her shoulders and prepared to leave.

  "Probably just as well," Athol said. "But that doesn't stop you coming to the club, does it?" His expression challenged her.

  Nina bit her lip. He was a nice guy, and he'd helped her and her brother. Her with her thesis, and Donny to accept who and what he was. She didn't want to hurt or disappoint him, but he knew her too well for prevarication. "No, of course not."

  "Then why not come? You're still a member?"

  "Yeah, but…" She stopped still unsure how to explain.

  "Tomorrow I'm on as dungeon master in the main room," Athol said. "Edan's coming to watch the play. Why not join him?"

  "You'd be welcome." Edan added his persuasion. "It'd be company for me, and help with the wannabe subs who don't understand why I'm there and not participating."

  Nina bit her lip. "I ah, well no thanks, it's nice of you, but no."

  "Why not?" Athol's tone was all Dom and demanded an answer. Nina examined her reaction. Irritation, no more, no less.

  "I'm not interested."

  She turned her back and walked steadily down the hill.

  ****

  "So, Mary Anne says why not go to this 'Check it out Tuesday' for Monica's hen night, at that kinky club in town. As it's only in service training the next day, and no pupils to teach, I thought why not. Well they can't do the Tuesday, but said as long as there's between ten and twenty of us they'd do a special night for us on the Monday. That's even better ‘cos the Tuesday is our half term so we can all sleep in
or whatever then. So, I said yes and arranged it, and now they need names, addresses, etcetera. I've got the forms for us to fill in for the security check. You know so they can make sure we won't run amok with the floggers or whatever. You'll come, won't you?" Karin, the freckled-faced PE teacher, beamed at Nina. As ever her words tumbled over each other in their hurry to be heard. A bit like Karin herself, always in a rush.

  "Ah, I don't think so, Karin, thank you. It's not my scene." Ever since she'd met Athol and Edan on her walk, she'd steadfastly not thought about Dommissimma. Not for anything would Nina upset Athol, who'd helped her brother discover his true self, but she'd prefer a night in with a good book and a glass of wine. "Nope, I'll go to the wedding shower drinks after school, but I'll give this a miss."

  She'd bet Dommissimma was where Karin was talking about. Nina had half expected a phone call or an email from Athol saying “why not?” when she hadn't taken him up in his invitation. Her details were all on the club member list.

  Karin stared at her as if Nina had just announced she was going to run naked down Sauchiehall Street on a cup game day. "Why not? I mean I'd counted on you, and didn't you do something with Bdm … Dm … oh for goodness sake, with kink for your thesis?"

  Nina nodded and wished that little tidbit of information had never gotten out. Luckily it wasn't general knowledge, and the few girls who did know weren't the type to blurt out everyone else's secrets even after a few drinks.

  "There you are then." Karin smiled as if she'd solved world debt. "All sorted."

  Nina shook her head. "No, really count me out."

  Karin bent her head to look Nina in the eyes. "Okay, tell Aunty Karin. What's the problem?"

  Nina smiled. "There's no problem. I just know it's not for me."

  "Teaching kids with attitudes, who turn their noses up at climbing a rope how to grow a pair and behave isn’t for me either, but I do it. We all have to do stuff we don’t want to at times. Suffer and get on with it is a universal state of affairs."

  Trust Karin, she had an answer for every occasion.

  "Point taken."

  Which was how, a couple of weeks later, Nina found herself picked up outside her house in a busy, up-market area of Glasgow. She had suggested she meet the other girls at the club. After all it was a ten-minute train ride into the city, and three minutes to walk to the club, if that. However her suggestion had been howled down. She was told that part of the night out was the minibus trip. As she declined to get on at school—and she wasn't going to drive fifteen miles into the country and have the problem of retrieving her car—then at least she had to do the last few miles with the rest of them. So there she was, squashed on a minibus with nine of her fellow teachers on the way into the center of Glasgow with an assortment of stuffed toys, including a pink elephant in handcuffs, and a battery powered wand that sparkled.

  Out of all of them she guessed she was the only one who hadn't needed to fill in the forms that Karin had handed out. Though to make life easier and avoid the questions that would eventually be inevitable if she didn't, Nina filled them in anyway. As each went into a separate sealed envelope, she wrote a brief memo to include in hers, explaining why she'd done so, along with a photocopy of her membership card.

  Now she was at the “oh lord what on earth will happen” stage. Right up until the bus arrived she’d hoped for a reprieve. It was difficult to explain why. She knew, deep down, but to put it into words was a big no-no. Nina had no problems whatsoever with the lifestyle or what went on between consenting adults. She could even say, in the interests of research, and nosiness, she'd been there, done that and got the t-shirts. Both the “subs are no substitute” and the “a Dom a day helps you work rest and play one”. But she had no inclination to try either again. If there was one thing she wasn't good at, it was giving, or even worse, following orders. Why therefore, was she sitting on a bus with a bride to be dressed like every lifestyle’s worst nightmare?

  A see through blouse with what looked like her great grannie's liberty bodice under it covered Monica's top half, and a tiny leather mini skirt and hold up stockings underneath almost didn't cover the rest of her. She had a bubblegum pink tiara and clashing purple veil on her head and nails that mismatched. The other girls seemed to have read every BDSM book on the market and divvied up the described clothing among them. Nina herself settled for her own denim skirt that skimmed her knees, a wide strapped vest in her favorite red—one that didn't clash with her hair—and a pair of flats. She knew they'd have to take their shoes off anyway, once inside the club, and she wasn't going to torture her toes in heels.

  "Ohhh." Karin bounced on the seat beside her. "I'm so excited. I mean I know it'll not be for real not with it being a hen night. But they did say we'll see a couple of demonstrations and stuff. I wonder if it's full of all those contraptions we read about. The St. Whosit's Cross and the, the benchy thing. I want to see everything."

  "Do you fancy yourself as a sub then, Kay?" Nina was interested in Karin's enthusiasm in spite of her own lack of interest. "Or a Dom? Floggers or wax?"

  Karin bit her lip. "I dunno, maybe a sub. Mind you, Iain could do with a shake up. Hmm, perhaps I'll do the flogging bit instead. A wee flip over his bum when he ignores me and concentrates on the footie might not be a bad idea. I swear that even if I had a body like all his fantasies rolled into one, and stood naked in front of the telly while the match was on, he'd just tell me to move ‘cos so and so was fouled or something." She rolled her eyes. "So a bit of an ‘oy you, use it or lose it, as in me your wife’, wouldn't go amiss. Now, see I'm a bit of a wuss with pain, but it's supposed to turn to pleasure isn’t it?"

  "So they say." It didn't for me, but then, aren't we all different?

  "Well anyway, I'll see soon. And it's as well you said you'd come. ‘Cos with Mandy ill and June not able to get a babysitter, we'd have been one short."

  Dammit, I would have babysat.

  Chapter Two

  "Athol Donaldson you owe me." Dominic Christopher, known as Nic to his friends and “that F-ing Christopher” to his enemies, rolled his eyes as he pulled on a red armband and flexed his wrists. "Why me? Where's Hamish or Fiona? Or even Edan? This is pure cruelty because I beat you at poker."

  "Too right it is. You fleeced me, you bugger."

  Nic grinned. "Me a bugger? Nah." They both burst out laughing. "I'm more of a wanker these days. You know, since Lue died, I've not found anyone to do the horizontal tango with. Or the over the bench, up against the wall, or tied to the bed one." His stomach tightened as it always did at the thought of his lovely wife, she of the chocolate colored skin, laughing eyes, and a zest for life. She'd lost her battle with cancer several years earlier, and Nic's appetite for everything they'd shared had been lost with her. Everyone knew there were specific things not to ask Nic to do. He was happy to oversee, be a dungeon master, and teach certain aspects of play enjoyed within the lifestyle. However, Linsey, the owner of Dommissimma, knew never to mention wax or Shibari to him.

  "It's as well no one else is around yet." Athol took up the folder with all that night's visitors contact details in it. "They might not get our humor. But to be serious for a sec, Edan's lecturing 'til six, Hamish is sunning himself somewhere away from the midges, and Linsey had a problem of the heart. Or the flogger. Not sure which is uppermost. Fiona's on her way. She rang to say the motorway through town is one big traffic jam as ever, so she's weaving her way through the suburbs. Several of the others will be in before we do any demoing. We'll have a perfect ratio for monitoring, answering questions, and playing I reckon, and if anyone wants to be the sub, well … well, well, who'd've thunk it."

  "What's that? A new game no one's told me about?" Nic asked as Athol stared into space with a suspicious gleam in his eyes. "What are you hatching, Athol Donaldson?"

  "Me?" Athol opened his eyes so wide he looked like an owl. "Cluck, cluck. Chickens hatch eggs, not Athols. Me? I don't hatch anything."

  "Hmm. Plotting, planning, sch
eming, thinking of doing something that may or not be detrimental to me and my health. I suspect that innocent 'who me' look. I know you too well."

  Athol laughed again. "So you do, mate, so you do. Right, let's go and make sure everything is set up. We'll split them up for the tour, and then see who wants to watch what. Evidently they're off for a meal if you can call it that, once they've finished here. At that curry a go-go karaoke place. Rather them than me."

  He turned and walked into the main conversation room, and Nic followed him. Together they began to systematically check everything was as it should be. Halfway through their rounds they were joined by Fiona and a couple of others. Within thirty minutes they were all back in the conversation pit.

  "All done but someone tell me why Linsey agreed to this?" Fiona asked. "A hen party, for fuck’s sake. Giggling women who'll squeal for all the wrong reasons, and cry if a flogger goes within six inches of them."

  "Harsh, Fi, very harsh. But probably true. But weird though it may seem the matron-of-honor to be, is a cousin of Linsey’s. Not in the lifestyle, but knows Linsey is, and is happy with it." Athol shrugged. "Okay it's all a bit of fun. A few floggers swished and a Shibari tie or two over whatever get-up they're in."

  Nic knew he'd gone very still. It was annoying how even the word hit him hard in the gut. Athol gave him a short sharp look, but didn't comment.

  "They'll giggle; we'll grit our teeth. But if it demystifies BDSM even a little bit, it's got to be good." Athol opened the fridge and took bottles of water out. "Especially after that stupid article in the weekly supplement. Forced to obey indeed. Argh. Ah well, water anyone?"

  As he took the bottle from Athol, Nic had to agree with the sentiments. He might not be active, but he'd be more than happy to show how good it all was, even if no longer for him. As long as he wasn't expected to demonstrate Shibari or wax play.