A Domme Called Pet Page 4
“You think not?” Tula smiled, somewhat like a snake about to strike. “Well, that is your prerogative. Your way. If you don’t follow SSC then I’d say it’s an abusive relationship, but that’s my opinion. My way is different, but…” She held her hand up to silence him and to Dario’s amazement the man didn’t speak. “Thank you. You notice I didn’t tell you that you spoke a lot of rubbish. You’ll discover that for yourself, I’m sure. I don’t agree with you. My lifestyle and that of a lot of my friends would show you that.”
“Because you know you can’t dismiss what I say. Because you know you’re wrong.” He was almost foaming at the mouth. “You’re an imposter, woman, and an hour with me would show you the error of your ways.”
That was it. Dario tried to stand, got stuck and sent an agonized look at Athol who interpreted it correctly and helped him to his feet. Dario got hold of his crutches and moved to the end of the row to look at everyone, before he pointed one crutch in Rollo’s direction and hope to hell he didn’t fall flat on his face.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with My Lady, you worm.” He stared steadily at the other man who obviously still had no idea who Dario was. Good. That made it all the better.
“Hello Roland,” Dario said in a level voice. “I thought I recognized you, but you’ve expanded width-ways a bit over the years. I think you’ve been misleading the good people a bit, don’t you? This, My Lady, is Roland Carrick. Some of you might recognize the name but if not, let me help you out.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Roland took a step in Dario’s direction and stopped abruptly as three hulking twentysomething men stood in front of him.
“Best not, mate,” the tallest said with more than a touch of menace in his voice. “We’re from the first fifteen.”
“Tell him to shut the fuck up then. He’s a jessy, a sub he says. A pussy then, cock led by a pussy.” He folded his arms over his ample stomach and glared at anyone and nobody.
“Why does that worry you?” Dario asked. “If you’re saying your way is the only way, why does what I do worry you? I wonder if it’s something in your past you’ve tried to hide, eh? I happen to know that your way got you three years inside for GBH not that long ago. I even saw it first-hand. Oh yes, you didn’t know that, did you? When I was a young semi-pro footballer I was invited to a party. There I saw your ‘only one way, your way,’ for myself. I got out in a hurry and took a very young and innocent girl with me for safety. It should have been ten years, not three. No safe words, no consent and abuse all the way through. It doesn’t sound as if you changed a lot.”
Dario sat down with a thump, as the three rugby players corralled Roland until he stood with his back to the stage. Dario felt sick. It was horrible and he hated doing something so blatant but it had to be done. The man was dangerous. The court case had been nasty, and Dario thought the asshole had been lucky to get off with only three years inside.
Two men left the hall at a run, both with phones to their ears. Reporters, Dario surmised. Bang went his chance of saying what he was going to do next. Ah well, there was plenty of time, and really this was His Lady’s day, and she had mentioned it, bless her.
Edan stood on the stage and cleared his throat. “Does anyone have any questions for Mr. Carrick before he’s escorted off the premises? The uni has a zero tolerance approach to assault.
“Why he is such an asshole?” someone asked.
Edan laughed. “I think we’ll ignore that.” He waited until two security men walked up and escorted Roland Carrick away. “Shall we continue?”
****
It was several weeks later when Tula opened the door to their house and threw her keys into the bowl on the side table.
“Dario? Pet?” This time she got an answer.
“Here, My Lady.”
Tula grinned and hurried along the corridor to the room once more designated as their playroom.
She dropped her briefcase and bent her head for a kiss.
“My Lady.” Dario sat on his chair in front of her, his new cane by his side. The long hated crutches were stored in the cupboard under the stairs. “How was your day?”
This chair was made especially for Dario to let him sit in comfort and still pay homage to his Lady. Something he was adamant about. It had fast become their new favorite position, as Mistress and sub, before they scened. “Did you see that article in the Friday supplement?” he asked as Tula stripped off her teddy and shucked her skirt and thong. Her blouse was already discarded, and in the laundry basket.
“Which one?” She stroked his shoulder with her preferred flogger. The one that he said teased him into the right frame of mind for anything they’d decided on. “The one in the sports section praising you for your efforts to encourage teenagers into sport? Oh yes, I went around all day with it open on that page and your name underlined. Proud wife time.”
Heat rushed through him at her simple but heartfelt words. However, he shook his head. “Nope, the one about how to be a male sub didn’t mean you were less of a man.” He grinned. “The one I know was written by a certain Mrs. Petula Talbot, who happens to be the love of my life. My Lady, My Domme My mistress and my wife, who now writes under the by-line of A Domme called Pet.”
The End
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