Secrets Learned Page 2

  Whatever ‘it’ was.

  She began to dial.

  The phone was answered promptly.

  “Sunderland.”

  The voice made her insides quiver. Whoever said a voice wasn’t enough to make your skin tingle, your clit clench and your juices gather and plead for escape was oh so wrong. It was more than enough. If she hadn’t been trying to get enough saliva in her mouth to talk, she would have moaned in…in what?

  “Hello…is anyone there? Or is this a heavy breathing phone call. Because I can tell you now you need to practice the breathing bit. It’s rubbish.” His voice was harsh, but laced with humor and made her want to apologize in every way possible.

  “Oh, um, sorry, yes.” How could she say, one word from you and I was in a sexual haze? That would be a great way to introduce herself. Mimi bit back a hysterical giggle. “My name is Dominique Leman. I’ve been given your card by your sister, to book a place on the ‘Meet the Dom’”—she stumbled over the word—“Dom and chat to a sub night on Friday.”

  There was silence and she wondered if he’d got fed up and put the phone down. “Mr. Sunderland?”

  “Alex will do for now. So, Dominique.”

  “Mimi,” she interrupted him. “I’m called Mimi.”

  “Your birth name is Dominique?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Dominique, don’t ‘but’ it or argue. I’ll call you Dominique for now.”

  His voice curled around her like deep, warm velvet, and she responded to it like the victim of a siren’s song. “If you say so.” With anyone else she would have argued or flatly refused to respond.

  “I say so. Right, to business. My sister gave you my name? And says you should come to a Meet the Dom night? That I’m hosting?”

  Why did he repeat everything she said? Wasn’t it self-explanatory?

  “Yes, I’m on the same forum as her. The one about what’s needed in the area.”

  He sighed. “The one with people on it who think we’re an abhorrence?”

  Of course he’d know that bit. Eric had a loud voice and an even louder way of sharing it. “Um, yes, so…”

  “So, why you?”

  Somehow she could imagine him running his hands through his hair. Was he blond or dark? Was his hair straight, curly, long or short? What color were his eyes? Was he as fit as she imagined?

  Questions, questions. It would be a pity if that voice belonged to a guy with no charisma or a body that didn’t make you want to roll over and beg. Beg? Where did that come from? Mimi dragged her mind away from hot bodied men to remember the reason for her phone call. “Your sister thought I’d be impartial and ask all the right questions.”

  “And will you?”

  How on earth could a voice make her thighs damp? To say nothing of those places a wee bit higher.

  “Well, I hope so. I haven’t got any ideas one way or the other—not yet. That’s why I need to come and see for myself.” The words made her tummy quiver. Excitement or worry? She had no idea. “Find out what really goes on.”

  “A good idea,” he said neutrally. “What do you think you are?”

  “Pardon?” What on earth did he mean?

  Chapter Two

  Alex heard the astonishment in her voice and sighed. What was his sister thinking about? He was almost sure Theresa wasn’t setting him up with…well, with whatever or whoever, but what was all this about a ‘Meet the Dom, chat to a sub’ session? It wasn’t something the club did, and Friday was a busy, regular club night. Okay, he didn’t have a formal role this week, but he had thought of showing his face and maybe seeing if any free sub wanted to play. It was time he became active in the lifestyle again on a regular basis. Or so Theresa told him at least once a week. Up until now he hadn’t agreed with her.

  Decision time.

  “Do you think you are a Dom or a sub?” he asked patiently, wishing he could see the face and body language of the mystery woman. Hell, he didn’t even know what color her hair was, let alone her age and knicker size.

  Pervert. That thought made him chuckle. Lots of people could say that about his proclivities.

  “Oh.” Her voice trembled, and she cleared her throat.

  He waited.

  Silence.

  “Tell me.” Alex invested his tone with what his sassy sister called his Mr. Master voice. “Would you want to direct, or are you happy to be directed?”

  “Uh.” Her voice changed. “Ah, well, either I guess. Neither one nor the other. An impartial observer, as your sister asked. Someone with an open mind.”

  You might think so, but your tone is all out and out sub, pet.

  Alex made his mind up.

  More than ever he thought this had to be Theresa’s way of grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and making him think once more. If so, he’d either thank her or throttle her after he’d met his mysterious lady.

  “If you give me your email address, I’ll email you a do and don’t list and a disclaimer. Oh, and a temporary membership form,” Alex said into the phone. “You’ll need to get them back to me before a decision is made as to whether you can be admitted. If it’s a yes, I’ll send you details of times and where to come.” He snapped out his sentences and was rewarded with what sounded like a huff of annoyance. So the lady wasn’t all meek and mild then. That boded well. Alex liked his sub to have a bit of sass.

  Hold on? My sub? Whoa, man, stop it now. Whatever is going on, it’s a look around for that bloody forum, nothing else, even if Theresa has meddled. Talk about jumping to conclusions.

  “Well, okay.” The woman on the phone rattled off an email address.

  Simple and no stupid name, he was pleased to hear.

  “Take that as a yes, thank you,” she said. “I assume you’ll let me know before Friday?”

  “Exactly.” If she could be terse and to the point, so could he.

  “Right. Then goodbye until Friday.” The dialing tone sounded in his ear. His mystery lady was confident it would be a yes, then. Alex looked at the receiver thoughtfully, cut the connection then dialed his sister’s number. His brother-in-law answered.

  “It better be good. I’m in the middle of something.”

  More than likely. Ronnie worked off-shore so when he was home, he and Theresa were usually busy.

  “Hi, Ronnie, I need to speak to your sub.”

  Alex grinned to himself as his brother-in-law laughed.

  “Pity, she’s a bit tied up at the moment.”

  Literally, Alex guessed.

  Lucky buggers.

  “As for speaking?” Ronnie went on. “Not a chance. What’s up?”

  Not what’s up with you I guess.

  “Well, when she’s able to answer, can you ask her to give me a ring or tell me what she’s playing at with this forum and Dominique Leman.”

  “Do I need to punish her?” Ronnie said in a hopeful tone. “I’ve got a nice new flogger that stings like crazy, or so I’m told. I’m saving it for a special occasion.”

  “I’ll let you know later. After Friday. Who’s on duty?”

  “Me as dungeon master, and yeah, my love sub as subbies’ mate.”

  He might have guessed.

  “Then I’ll tell you about it on Friday. Cheers, Ron. Go back to torturing your sub.”

  Ronnie laughed. “I intend to.”

  Alex shook his head as he walked into his kitchen and selected a merlot. Until the phone call, he’d been dissatisfied that a reasonable day hadn’t pleased him as well as it should.

  Jaded.

  That was as maybe but not so much now.

  He’d been sub-less since he and his wife had separated and subsequently divorced several years earlier. Not that anyone believed him, but their separation had been amicable, and he was about to be godfather to her and her new husband’s soon-to-be-born daughter. They were in his mind chalk and cheese, and as Mariana, his ex-wife admitted, there was no way they could agree on anything. At first it had been a fiery, feisty relationsh
ip, at the end, snippy and regretful.

  Alex thought he was better off alone—Theresa and Mariana didn’t.

  He whistled as he took the glass of wine into the lounge and opened up his laptop. He had emails to send, a ‘Meet the Dom and chat to a sub’ session to plan and a day of meetings away from the house he was building. Planning officers were his worst nightmare.

  And non sub subbies foisted on me by my sister? Strangely, he didn’t feel he was being used or put upon. Instead, Alex realized he was looking forward to meeting the woman he’d never seen, with the lilt in her voice. He composed his email.

  * * * *

  Mimi overslept and if her cat hadn’t sat on her head and meowed plaintively for her breakfast, she’d have been late for work. How on earth hadn’t she heard her alarm? She squinted at her phone and found the answer. Dead as a dodo. She’d forgotten to charge it.

  From then on, the day went from bad to worse. Her laptop froze and that meant she could only access her emails on her phone. Except the battery took forever to charge and it wasn’t until lunch time she had a chance to read them.

  Bloody hell, thirty-three? Most were rubbish, but one stood out as if it was written in red ink and a font of fifty-eight.

  Alex Sunderland.

  Why on earth, as she stared at it, was her pussy wet and her mouth dry?

  Her finger hovered over ‘open’ and hesitated. If it was going to have all the stuff he said, then a primary school wasn’t the place to open it. Especially with Octopus Eric as your headmaster and always hovering over your shoulder when you least expected it. Mimi put her phone away, ate her sushi and went back into class. Today was the day the children made up stories and told them to the rest of the class, something she loved. As usual they read over the stories on a one-to-one basis before each child recited them to the class. Just before she read one young boy’s with him, he stared at her.

  “Miss, do you have a collar like my mum?”

  Mimi pointed to her blouse, uneasily aware he might not mean that. “I do on this top.”

  Sandy shook his head. “Nah, miss, not like that. Like the one in my story my dad has just given my mum.”

  It took a lot of persuading that maybe his classmates didn’t need to know what his dad had said when he’d fastened it around his mum’s neck. Or how unhappy his mum and dad could be to know that Sandy had spied on a very private moment. Mind you, the idea of mum having to kneel at dad’s feet and dip her head whilst dad told her it meant she was his, did make Mimi squirm in the best possible way.

  “I think you’d better just say Daddy gave Mummy a necklace to show how much he loves her,” she said firmly, and fixed him with her best, ‘teacher knows best’ stare. Thankfully, it worked.

  By the time the bell rang for the end of the school day, Mimi itched to get home and see what Alex Sunderland had written. Fate as ever conspired to ensure she didn’t make a quick getaway, and it was after five before she reached home, made a coffee and this time opened her laptop.

  Right. Mimi took a deep breath and flexed her fingers.

  Why on earth am I doing that? It’s just an email, for heaven’s sake. Somehow, she had a notion it would be life changing. Melodramatic or what? Open the bloody thing.

  Mimi skimmed the names of the senders of her other emails, noted nothing was urgent, unless you counted a penile replacement, a chance to adopt a porcupine—a porcupine for heaven’s sake—and a colonic irrigation set that someone seemed to think she should send five thousand dollars for immediately or miss out. She’d miss.

  The first thing she noticed when she opened Alex’s email was the number of attachments.

  Bloody hell, how many? She counted them twice to be certain she wasn’t hallucinating. She wasn’t. Eight attachments. Each numbered, but strangely no name to them other than one, two etcetera.

  His message was as brief as the titles of the attachments.

  Read the attachments in numbered turn. If you agree with them all, sign and return to me by Thursday night at the latest. Electronic signatures are binding.

  Alex Sunderland.

  It all sounded very formal for a meet and learn evening. Was it always like this? She didn’t think so.

  Mimi opened the first attachment.

  It was a sheet for her to write her personal profile, so not easy. Thank goodness for the hints at the top.

  Some of the questions to answer were incredibly straightforward like name and address. Then it got harder but with prompts such as…

  This is not a CV. Just how you see yourself. Easy going? Temperamental? What do you like and dislike about yourself’

  She bit her lip and wrote a few lines.

  I’m easygoing to a point. I don’t suffer fools gladly. I can compromise where necessary. I like my ankles and wish I had boobs you could see to like.

  Was that too frivolous? She thought for a moment. Tough. It was true. Her 34A cups had long been accepted but it didn’t make her stop wishing they were just a wee bit bigger.

  I tend to see things positively until I’m forced otherwise.

  Would that do? Mimi thought for a while. As she had no idea what else she should say, she’d be best to keep it brief.

  She turned to number two.

  This was longer and more formal. It was the temporary membership form and it was so in-depth that she wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d asked for her knicker size. Mimi was impressed by the complexity of it and even more impressed when she’d read the privacy part.

  If she clyped—not the word used on the form but she loved the word for telling tales that one of her pupils had told her—it almost seemed as if she could be stripped, shackled, gagged and tortured.

  Would that be punishment? The trickle of arousal she felt told her that her body thought otherwise.

  The other forms were easier. One asked her opinion on so many different things that she wondered just what was going on. Then she studied the title. Dominant or submissive traits. Surely that didn’t matter for a question and look session? She filled it in anyway.

  The next was straightforward. The long, but essential, basics of yet again, height, weight, any medical conditions and so on. The short disclaimer that stated she went to Diomhair under her own volition. Then there was one that made her stop, swallow and pour a glass of wine.

  Soft and hard limits.

  You what? Why was that needed for a chat and a look around? How did she know anyway? A look at the questions showed her the form was designed to make her think about it. She began to answer them.

  Luckily they were multiple choice and needed to be ticked in a yes, no or maybe after discussion box.

  Some were easy. Would she liked to be flogged, spanked, bound, gagged. She had no idea but if the way the nerve between her pussy and ass throbbed was any sign, she wasn’t averse to the thought of them, even though she couldn’t stand pain. They all got a maybe. That surprised her because she’d assumed they would be a big fat no.

  Was she a sadist or a masochist? Neither, thank you.

  Some were a definite no, not if you value your balls no. Such as cupping and scribing. Only once had Mimi thought someone scoring her skin was a good idea. She’d been all set for a tattoo of a star on her hip. Until she’d seen the needles and felt one tiny pin prick.

  Evidently then, according to Anders, her long-time friend and the tattoo artist, she’d gone white, her eyes had rolled and she’d fainted. He’d reckoned the only way she’d ever be tattooed was if she were unconscious and that would be unethical and illegal.

  Mimi typed a big cross in that and several other ‘no’ boxes.

  Wax play she hesitated over, and in the end did the maybe box. Mind you, if it was anything like the last time she’d accidentally dripped wax from one of the long tapers she used to light her bathroom when she was in a soak and chill out mood, it would soon be a no. Shibari and a swing? She had no idea what they were really about, but as she freaked when she felt constrained, she’d put maybe then
more than likely say no. When, eventually, she marked the last box and put her lap top down, her tummy was rumbling. Time to rummage in the freezer.

  She left the rest until she’d eaten. Then she worked her way through what she hoped to achieve during her visit, how to dress and please sign this form to show you understand that even after all this information is submitted, you may not be admitted to Diomhair.

  That final one made her smile. Even if she was admitted, what then? Probably not a lot.

  She checked that everything was answered in the best way she could, edited a few spelling errors and pressed Send.

  Two hours later, as she curled up on the settee with the cat and the crossword—was this what her life had come to?—her laptop pinged. The email was short and sweet.

  Dress as requested. Nine p.m. Ask for Master Alex.

  Master Alex?

  Chapter Three

  “Sheesh, Tee, are you on another planet or what? Does Ronnie know what you’re up to?”

  Alex stared at his sister until she squirmed in her Louboutins—her one vice as far as he knew, apart from Creme Eggs—and looked anywhere but at him.

  “What on earth made you think you could pass Friday off as a non-play evening? As far as I know, we’ve got a lot of stuff going on. And I’m not really the right person to show the lifestyle as sweetness and light, now am I? More sadistic and dark. Nice dark and, okay, not a sadist, but still, I guess to some people…” He let his voice trail off. His bent was more artistic than sadistic, but he knew many people wouldn’t be able to assimilate the difference.