Secrets Learned Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Secrets Learned

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-948-0

  ©Copyright Raven McAllan 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2015

  Edited by Jennifer Douglas

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 1.

  Diomhair

  SECRETS LEARNED

  Raven McAllan

  Book five in the Diomhair series

  What happens at Diomhair, stays there. Pleasure or pain? Mimi needs to know and Alex wants to show her.

  When Mimi Leman is asked to go to a ‘Meet the Dom and chat to a sub’ night at her local BDSM club, little does she know what she’ll find.

  Curious? Oh yes. Interested? She’s not sure.

  After all, she’s anti pain and a BDSM virgin. Mimi knows things will go either badly wrong or perfectly right and has no idea which.

  It’s up to scribing artist Alex Sunderland to ensure it’s the latter. He’s everyone’s idea of how a Dom should be—even Mimi can see that—but is he the one to show her the lifestyle?

  Alex is intrigued by Mimi and is sure that deep down she’s the perfect sub…for him.

  Mimi wants to be, but can she conquer her fear of pain and let herself fly?

  Only trying will tell.

  Dedication

  To Theresa,

  I told you I would.

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Olympic: International Olympic Committee

  M: Eon Productions

  Louboutins: Christian Louboutin

  Creme Egg: Cadbury

  Stepford Wives: Ira Levin

  iPad: Apple Inc

  The Stripper: David Rose

  Boy Scouts: Boy Scouts of America

  Aga: AGA Rangemaster Limited

  Kindle: Amazon Inc.

  Chapter One

  “Er, you want me to do what?” Dominique Leman—Mimi to her friends—stared at the ingratiating, smiling, slimy guy on the other side of the table and wondered if she kicked hard enough she’d reach his balls and knock some of the ‘great I am’ out of him. Mind you, knowing her aim, she’d get the inoffensive elderly gentleman next to him or the tall, talkative, younger woman on the other side.

  Him, though? Talk about smug and self-satisfied. If there was an Olympic medal in it, he’d win the gold.

  Eric Lonnergan, deputy head of the forum, rocked his chair on two legs, put his hands high above his head and stretched and smiled. His shirt—bright enough to give her a migraine and two decades too young for him, in an obviously slim-fit style—stretched over his luckily flat stomach. She’d hate to see him naked. Mimi reckoned he’d be pigeon chested and have spindly legs. That was as bad as a beer belly in her opinion.

  Now that builder guy I saw on the roof next door would look good naked. I wish I’d seen his face. She was sucker for a guy with shoulder length dark hair and a killer body.

  “Are you listening or in a world of your own?” Eric snapped.

  The woman next to him at the large oval table opened her eyes wide but didn’t speak. Two or three of the other people nearby shifted in their seats. Out of the eight adults in the tiny, cream-painted and overly bland room, only he seemed happy with his attitude.

  He, of course, Mimi thought, was so full of himself he didn’t notice. He was more concerned with making sure he struck a pose.

  With him sitting in such a position, the material of Eric’s shirt was sadly more than form fitting and she couldn’t take her eyes off one ‘shall I stay or shall I go’ button, half in and half out of its buttonhole. No wonder her mind had wandered.

  “This is important.” He stared at each person in turn. “It’s the integrity of our community that’s at stake here.”

  I could maybe just kick the chair legs now.

  “Mimi, are you listening? I said, I’m sure you can do it.” He brought one hand down to stroke his tummy like an owner did to a favorite dog. “We have faith in your ability to do what’s right.”

  We? Who the hell is we? Pompous ass. At least he’s not touching me.

  “Just go and see the place and put in a report that it should be shut down.” He held out his spare hand toward her, across the table. Mimi ignored it. Clammy was an understatement. She never shook hands with him if she could help it. Their first meeting as a new member of staff and the headmaster had been enough. As soon as she’d pulled her hand away, Mimi had immediately wanted to go to the bathroom. How she’d resisted wiping her palm on her skirt she never knew. If he’d been headmaster when she’d been offered the job, she would have turned it down. However, he’d started at the same time as she did. As he had worked at another school nearby, as a deputy head, it was a step up for him, and Mimi was darned sure it had gone to his head.

  Eric frowned, twitched his fingers and withdrew his arm to rest his hand over the one still caressing his midriff. God knew why he was so fond of it. It was mundane in the extreme.

  “Why?” Mimi asked now. She should have known the slimy asshole had more than a cup of coffee on his mind when he’d asked her to meet him before the forum convened. She’d been wary of him and his ‘I am God’ attitude ever since she’d been introduced to him. With good reason, it seemed. Mindful of the fact he wasn’t called Octopus Eric without justification—those wandering hands were clammy—she had made her apologies and said no. Now maybe it would have been better to have met him, sat well out of arm’s length and told him what she thought of his idea and where to stick it. Instead he’d hit her with the request halfway through the meeting.

  Was it really better to be forewarned and forearmed? Probably, though Mimi was surprised at the frisson of excitement that coursed through her. Not that she intended to show it to him, of all people. She suddenly realized she didn’
t trust Eric as far as she could throw him. And she had a shit throwing arm.

  “Why?” He actually harrumphed. Mimi hadn’t heard anyone under sixty make that sort of noise. “Well, it corrupts, and we don’t want such things going on around here.” His hectoring tone made someone titter and his cheeks reddened as he dropped his chair onto all four legs with a thump. “You don’t need to see it properly. Just go and check the door or something, then put in your report. You won’t be lying about having been there now, will you?” He looked around the room once more, as if daring anyone to contradict him. No one did, although Mimi decided several people seemed distinctly uncomfortable.

  Unethical or what?

  “I would about anything else though,” Mimi said in as even a tone as she could manage. “How can I do that without knowing?”

  He snorted.

  How many other noises can he make? He’ll be honking or hissing next. And why hadn’t I noticed his shirt is almost identical to those hideous puce and pink curtains?

  “It needs shutting down. I’m going to recommend it is closed and those people sent on their way to the clean living committee when we all agree it’s bad for the area,” Eric said pompously in a voice full of righteousness. He stared around the bland—let’s fade into the background—room. Mimi thought if it wasn’t for those hideous curtains, you’d walk past the place and miss it. “The trouble with the people around here? They’re so pathetic. They won’t say boo to a goose without it being verified. Let’s face it. We don’t want that sort of stuff in our neighborhood.”

  Mimi saw that no one nodded their agreement, but no one openly disagreed. Were they scared of him?

  Asshole. You know that how? You’re as much of a newcomer as I am. Is it move and all must go to Eric’s plan?

  A couple of the other forum members nodded. Mimi noticed one woman dipped her head and said nothing, and the chairperson—a woman—looked from each of them in turn.

  So, then it beggars the question, who doesn’t? And who says it corrupts? Something weird here… Why not have this mentioned in the meeting’s agenda and not in such a creepy crawly underhand manner? Surely you can’t demand people leave the area just because they enjoy themselves in the way they want?

  “Corrupts who, Eric?” How on earth she kept her tone level, Mimi had no idea. You? Because it sure as hell hasn’t corrupted me. Each to their own. Not that she had a hell of a clue what she was talking about, but the man pissed her off big time. Such a shame he was her boss. She had an inkling they’d clash before long and that sadly would not make for an easy work environment. However, she knew it was a case of needs must and tough. She’d weather it. “Do they sacrifice innocents or snatch grown-ups in from the road and make them do whatever? Force people to do things that they don’t want?”

  He hissed and his nostrils flared.

  I knew he’d bloody hiss.

  Her normally placid temper changed in a second. Mimi slammed her palms on the table so hard her pencil jumped five inches into the air and landed on the boring, bland, beige carpet. Grief, this room is depressing. Thank goodness I don’t have to come in here much. The conference room wasn’t used very often, as it rarely got sunlight and looked out onto a blank wall and a row of rubbish bins. “Eric, listen up.” So what if he’s my boss. Not here, he’s not. “If you don’t want whatever it is around, you do something. However, do not involve me unless you want something all legal and above board. I’ll go. Oh yes, I’ll go, but by God you’ll get my honest opinion whether you like it or not.”

  “I think it would best if you went undercover,” he said stubbornly.

  Undercover? Does he think he’s M, or whoever runs the CIA?

  Mimi rolled her eyes. “In your dreams,” she said slowly and clearly. “If you think I’m going to don a wig and a French maid’s costume, you’re delusional.”

  He looked as if she’d taken his dummy away. Interesting.

  “Of course you won’t,” Theresa Martin, the chairperson said calmly. “Dominique, if you’ll do this, you’ll go and ask questions openly. They have a ‘Meet the Dom and chat to the sub’ night every so often. I believe the next one is on Friday. You’ll need to put your name down.” She handed Mimi a card. “That’s the phone number and the name of the guy who is in charge of it. I believe you’ll find it’s run by people just like us. All of us.”

  Someone clapped.

  Eric harrumphed. “Hmm, not normal.”

  Who’s he to say what’s normal and what isn’t?

  Mimi shoved the card in her pocket, half listened for the rest of the meeting and was pleased when she escaped at the end without having to talk to anyone else. She needed to think it all through.

  With wine and chocolate. She had wine in the fridge, but she’d been trying hard to cut back on the chocolate. However, needs must. She headed for the supermarket near her home in a village a half dozen miles from the renovated castle the club was set in. One good thing about living where she did? The local shop stayed open until late and had a good selection of basics.

  She grabbed her supplies, headed for her comfy cottage and wondered why fate conspired to laugh at her. What on earth had she done to deserve it?

  Mimi unlocked her front door and pondered over the meeting she’d just left. After all his machinations, it seemed that Eric, the creepy one, hadn’t needed to put her name forward. The chairperson of the committee—a sub-committee involved in assessing what the area needed—politely thanked him for his unexpected addition to the agenda. He’d gone white then red again but merely nodded stiffly.

  Theresa Martin had smiled at Mimi and asked if she would please talk to whoever the club offered as a spokesperson and report back to them what the next step ought to be. Theresa had added, with a smile, that it would work perfectly, as Mimi was new to the area and had no preconceived ideas.

  “Which the rest of us might have.” She’d stared at Eric, who’d stirred uneasily.

  Guilty conscience? Wants it, but won’t admit it?

  As she had no idea whatsoever about what really happened in a BDSM club, Mimi couldn’t refute the statement. Books were all well and good, but as some completely disagreed with others, the only thing she was confident about was that she had no idea what was right and what was not.

  Mimi poured a glass of Chenin blanc, grabbed some chocolate, mixed nuts and raisins, and took the card out of her pocket. She stared at the oblong piece of hard paper and wondered why Theresa’d had the details to hand.

  A matte silver card with elegant black script. The writing was sparse. Just a name—Alex Sunderland—and a phone number. Nothing else? Not Dom for hire? She rolled her eyes at her idiotic thoughts. Anyone would think he was advertising his traits—or whatever they were called—and she was damned sure, if nothing else, it didn’t work like that.

  Should she ring? Why did it feel as if she was about to change her life? Gah, too much late night reading.

  Mimi took a sip of wine. Do it now while you have the nerve.

  She reached for her landline and almost dropped the wine as the phone rang. The caller ID wasn’t a number she recognized. Her hand hovered over the receiver. After years of annoyance, Mimi had made a pact with herself not to answer unknown numbers. She was sick of “I’m not trying to sell you anything but…” callers. However, she recognized this was a local number, even if she had no idea who it was. If it was Octopus Eric she could give him a well-needed mouthful.

  It wasn’t. The answer machine clicked in.

  “Hi, Dominique, this is Theresa Martin here. I just wanted to thank you for going to Diomhair. I know you didn’t offer, you were pushed, but it is really…”

  Mimi picked up the phone.

  “It’s Mimi,” she said. “If you call me Dominique I think I’ve done something wrong. And I know what you mean. Oct…er, Eric is a…”

  “Pain?” Theresa said and her laugh echoed down the line. “A slimy, slobbering, wandering hands, self-important, pain. He always has been. I was
at high school with him and he hasn’t improved. And I will refute that I said that. But you can understand why it’s important we get an impartial view. He’s a bombastic fu…er, person. I…I assume you are impartial?”

  Mimi nodded then remembered she was on the phone and not face time. “Well, I’m clueless but not biased. Each to their own, I would have thought.”

  “Exactly,” Theresa said in a cheerful voice. “Have you rung that number yet?”

  Mimi rolled her eyes, glad that Theresa couldn’t see her. “I’ve only just got in. Isn’t it a bit late? I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  “Rubbish,” the other woman said. “Tomorrow never comes. And it’s the perfect time for Alex. He’ll be home now and so you can chat to him without his mind on other things.”

  It is? He is? I can?

  “Um…”

  “Oh, and you can tell him I gave you his card. He’s my little brother,” Theresa said. “Much to his disgust.”

  “Right. So how little?” Mimi guessed Theresa was in her late thirties, around ten years older than Mimi herself.

  “Seven minutes. I never let him forget I came first.”

  Mimi laughed. “My elder brother is like that but, in his case, it’s seven years.”

  “Bossy?”

  “Yes, and annoying.”

  “I know what you mean. You’ll know all about dominant men, then. Hold on a sec.” There were muffled voices and Mimi was sure she heard Theresa say ‘yes, Sir’. Then Theresa came back on the line. “I’ll have to go. My lord and master is home. So you’ll ring Alex now?” She couched it like a question, but Mimi heard the chairman in her voice.

  “Yes, I promise.” She ended the call and looked at the receiver as if it might bite. Why had she promised? Now she had to keep her word.

  Why was it freaking her out? Okay, she might not know much about BDSM, except the little she’d gleaned from books, but it didn’t worry her, disgust her or make her want to run screaming for the hills. If she was honest, it intrigued her. The thought that some people might want, need and like pain made her shudder, but she was a firm believer in each to their own. Surely this was a good chance to satisfy her curiosity? And maybe discover if she’d be interested in any of it.