A Domme Called Pet

by Raven McAllan

  “Well I won’t disagree, love, but it’s happened, I’ve done the ‘woe is me’ crap and now I need to move on. And you’re biased.”

  “Of course I am. He buggered up our life. But you’re right, we need to move on,” Tula said emphatically. “And on that note, I’ve got something to say that might make you decide not to move on. Or not with me anyway.”

  Dario lifted his head and looked at her. “I can’t believe anything would make me do that. What’s wrong?”

  Tula bit her lip, realized what she was doing and stopped. If he wasn’t allowed to do that, neither was she. “You know I went to a lecture with Edan today? He dragged me along to what he laughingly called BDSM, 101—not. Said Athol couldn’t make it. Well that bit might have been true, but I should have smelled a rat earlier. Edan’s been nagging me to take some of the alternative lectures and not just stick to History. Anyway, after the way he named the subject, I was interested, so said yeah okay I’d go. Ha, if ever there was a set-up, that was it. Some asshole saying how it had to be and that it was as he said or nothing.”

  “Really? And you let him?”

  “Well, no, not exactly,” Tula said with a snort. “He told me I had to call him Master Rollo and I sort of said he might be a Master of a caramel sweet but he was no Master of BDSM.”

  “Oh Christ.” Dario began to laugh helplessly. He wiped his eyes and put his head back on Tula’s chest. His sniggers reverberated through her and she giggled.

  “Oh there’s worse. As I got up and left, I evidently got a standing ovation. But here’s the rub. After that I felt I had no option but to go put the record straight, or at least show there are alternatives to Master Asshole’s ideas.”

  “Yeah that’s a no-brainer, so what’s the problem?

  Tula wriggled out from under him and slid off the mattress to pace across the room. At the wall she turned and stalked back to the bed, her eyes troubled. “Well people know I’m married to you. If I speak as if I know what I’m talking about—and there’s no way I can do otherwise or what’s the point—I bet they’ll expect me to say I’m your sub, and that will out you, even if it’s wrong.’

  “And that’s worrying you?” Dario stuck out his hand, grabbed her wrist and tugged. He moved his bad leg just in time for her to miss it by inches. “Oops, close shave.”

  Tula poked him in the chest. “Idiot, what if I’d have fallen on it?”

  “I’d have sworn, and been glad we weren’t in our dynamic, or you might have washed my mouth out with bourbon.” He hated bourbon, much preferring a smooth single malt whisky. “Seriously, love, why on earth are you getting your knickers in a twist?”

  She poked him again. “You need your eyes testing. I’m not getting my knickers, thongs or granny pants knotted. I haven’t got any on.”

  Dario rubbed his hand over her bare cunt. “Neither you have. Okay so you got me, why are you so worked up over something so daft? Just tell ’em the truth. You’re no sub. You’re a Domme. My Domme.” He studied her face from under his lashes. “It won’t bother me. I’m proud of what we are, who I am. If some people think it makes me less of a man well screw them. It’s one person’s opinion, and opinions are like assholes. We’ve all got them and some are more obnoxious than others. Their loss, I reckon. They know bugger all. “He rolled his eyes. “In fact, something Athol said to us way back when we were getting started, has always stuck in my mind.”

  “Yeah?” Tula began to scribe circles on his chest with her nail. “What?”

  “It takes a strong man to admit he’s a sub. That he needs time when he’s not in charge and can let his Domme take all the decisions for them both. That he can let go and be looked after. That’s strength of a different kind.”

  Chapter Six

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Tula said as they walked from the car park to the lecture hall. She held a heat-retaining mug of coffee in each hand as Dario used his crutches to manoeuver his way across the tarmac. He’d been told if he carried on the same way he’d be off them soon and be able just to use a stick. That was a real incentive to do everything by the book.

  Except for their play times. And as he’d said to his consultant, who was also a member of Dommissimma, and a fellow sub, that was as good as any tablet or tonic. Stefan, the doctor, had laughed and agreed. “It’s a pity I can’t prescribe it on the NHS.”

  “Hold on, let me get the door.” Tula put both mugs in the crook of her arm and pulled the heavy door open as wide as possible. One mug had the words ‘Dommes wield the whip hand delicately’ in cursive script around the brim. The other was inscribed ‘A good sub is worth his weight in floggers’. As they’d been a present from Athol and Edan when Dario had been collared, it seemed apt to use them on this occasion. “I won’t blame you if you don’t.”

  “I’d blame me,” Dario said firmly. “Look, love, unless we go into Domme and sub mode and you forbid me to, I’m coming in with you, standing—or well sitting—by you, and if need be putting my side of the story over. And you never know, for once my profile might do some good. A bit like when someone famous comes out as gay and people go yeah okay, so it’s no biggy. I can admit my sexuality and still be the same person to everyone that I was. If, with me, it doesn’t happen, so be it. I’m not playing any more. I’ve accepted the coaching job with the up-and-coming teens to start in the summer and I’ve got a nice striped ass, and a couple of interesting red welts on my chest. What more could I ask for?” He gave her a very over the top, eyes wide open innocent look. “I’m sorted.”

  Tula laughed reluctantly. They’d had the discussion so many times over the last week with the same outcome. She wasn’t going to pull the Domme act. The decision had to be Dario’s and he’d never swerved from his first declaration. “What more could you ask for?” she repeated. “How about nipple rings?”

  He shuddered. “Er maybe not, thank you. That is still a big fat red.”

  “It doesn’t hurt much, you know, and they’re damned arousing.” She’d had hers done the previous year for a Valentine present for him, knowing how much he loved the idea of silver rings to tug on. It had been coincidence that the night he’d greeted her as her sub, she’d caught one of the rings on her lacy bra and taken them out just before she’d got home. That would have been interesting if anyone had seen her. Thank goodness for private loos.

  Now, though, they were firmly back in and would stay there. They’d been hell to get back in. It was easier just not to wear a bra and say sod it if people didn’t like it. It was her body. They didn’t need to look.

  “Yeah, well.” Dario went sideways though the door and began to move along the corridor towards a door at the far end. “Never say never but it’s like a Prince Albert in my cock. Redder than red.”

  “You wuss.” Someone clapped him on the back and then grabbed his shoulder to steady him. “Go on, I dare you.”

  “Have you got one?” Dario asked Athol Donaldson, Edan’s partner and a Dom both he and Tula liked and respected. “Are you all Alberted up?”

  Athol grinned at him and put his hand over his own cock very theatrically. “Me? Oh no not on your nelly, or in this case not in my willy. No one, but no one, except Edan puts their hands on my family jewels. And as luckily for me learning to put body jewelry in isn’t something he’s qualified to do, my dick stays as at is.”

  “But you do have nipple rings,” Tula said as they reached the door to the lecture theatre. “I’ve seen them.”

  “Yeah.” He opened the door and stood back to let Dario and Tula precede him. “I tell you, if they ever come out they’ll never go back in again. I squealed like a stuck pig. Worse than anything Edan can inflict on me when he’s in a sadistic mood. I still have nightmares about it all.”

  Athol and Edan were switches and had an excellent relationship where they each took turns as Dom and sub depending on their moods. It seemed to work for them, but Tula did wonder what happened if they both wanted to take charge at the same time? Toss for
it? Floggers at dawn? She had no intention of asking. It would no doubt be revealed in conversation one day, as most things were.

  “Where do we go now?” Dario looked around. “Please god, not up those stairs.”

  “No.” Tula headed for a few chairs to one side of the steps that led to the stage. “These are for you and Athol. Edan’s the emcee so to speak. Prof. Peters took the huff when Edan told him his choice of guest lecturer left a lot to be desired. Poor guy, he kept saying things like, ‘but he told me he was a well-respected Dom, and he’s got letters after his name.” Tula laughed. “I do believe Edan then pointed out to him that a BA in Home Economics or something isn’t really relevant. And he could say he was a Master of Bullshittery, but saying something didn’t always mean it was true. Although that surely is.”

  Athol shouted with laughter, and several people looked in their direction. Even though it was a good half hour until the lecture was due to start, there was a scattering of people already seated or standing in groups and chatting.

  “You know I feel sick,” Tula said suddenly. “I’m about to put my lover up to be judged and it’s not fair. I feel like we’re in a mail coach with no ammunition and the baddies are waiting over the hill.”

  “Enough of that, My Lady.” Dario emphasized the title. “Remember you’re a crack shot, or well a cracking whip shot, and every mail coach would have a whip-wielder. Go slay em, Mistress.”

  “He’s right you know,” Athol said as Edan came down from the stage and walked toward them. “There’s not many people get the chance to show it like it is. What would you prefer? To hear it from the organ grinder or the monkey, so to speak?”

  Dario made monkey sounds and Tula flicked her finger over his chin. “God, if we were at home you’d pay for that.”

  “Can I have it on account then?” he said in an overtly hopeful voice. “You could add it to the list.”

  “What list?” Athol asked with laughter in his voice.

  “The one I’m trying to get her to make,” Dario said. “We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up, from when I was full of tomfuckery and a dickwad.”

  “You mean you’re not anymore?” Athol said. “How come you’ve changed the habits of a lifetime?”

  Tula snorted. “He’s got you there, pet.”

  “Hey, those tomfuckery, dickwad things are different to the ones we need to draw a veil over,” Dario said plaintively. “I’m a reformed character. I’ve gone back to my old ways. As best I can, anyway. I must admit though, it ‘ain't ‘alf fun finding out what we can or can’t do these days. I now look at our unheated towel rail in a new light.”

  “If you three jokers have finished, I need to spirit Tula away and run through the timings,” Edan said. “You can have her back when it’s all over. We’re going to have a full house, I think. So many people have asked if it is our Mrs. Talbot. I think interest is piqued.”

  Tula gulped. “Okay?” she asked Dario anxiously. “It’s not too late.”

  “To shut My Lady up with a kiss.” He suited his actions to his words. Behind them, someone wolf whistled and someone else cheered. He drew back, stroked Tula’s cheek and then very theatrically turned and bowed. “We might as well turn all their preconceived ideas on their heads, eh?”

  “Of course, love. I’m with you every step of the way.”

  “I love you, My Lady.”

  “I love you too, pet.” Tula nodded towards some seats not too far away. “Regarding ideas, I think we’ll shake them up alright. Now a word of warning. Asshole alert on the end of the third row in the middle.”

  Athol and Dario turned to look at the scowling guy who had just sat down. Athol whistled. “The guy in the green checked jacket? That’s Master of the caramel sweetie? It looks like it. And they’ve all gone around his middle.” To say the man was chunky was somewhat of an understatement. “If he takes a deep breath he’ll pop someone’s eye out with a shirt button.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dario stared and something tickled the recesses of his mind. Then he began to laugh. “Oh well, now then that is interesting. Very, very interesting. This is going to be fun.”

  He recognized the guy.

  “Let’s hope you still think so afterward,” Tula said with a sigh, “when all this goes ballistic. I can see at least two members of the fourth estate with their notebooks and recorders at the ready.”

  “Oh good. I’ll make sure I get a bit about my new job into it.”

  “How do you mean you,” Tula said suspiciously. “When?”

  “If I get asked anything, I’ll answer,” Dario said stubbornly. “That is non-negotiable whatever you say. Not to stand up for us is red. You know you’ll say who you are and who I am, so fuck ’em all. If what I think might happen, does happen, at the least I’ll be asked some questions, and by someone not best pleased with you.”

  Tula glared, and then her expression relaxed. “Well let’s be honest, I didn’t expect anything less. But why are you so sure you’ll be questioned?”

  “See Master Bullshittery, Asshole, Caramel? I know him, and if he starts on, which I reckon he will, I know who will come out best, and it won’t be him. Plus if anyone dares to say there is no such thing as a macho male sub, I’ll show ’em. Do not diss my Domme.”

  “God almighty.” Tula threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “This gets more and more complicated by the minute. Ah well, okay. Edan take me away and get me ready.”

  “I thought that my job,” Dario called after her. She turned, grinned, and he stuck his tongue out.

  Tula drew a very large stroke to indicate that was ‘one’.

  Dario took a deep breath, sat down rested his crutches on the seat to one side of him as Athol took the one on the other side.

  “Who is the Asshole Dom then?” Athol asked under his breath.

  “Shh, wait and see,” Dario told him. “This could get more than nosiness into our dynamic. Interesting.” He could hardly wait. Dario swiveled around to see every seat taken and people standing in the gallery. “Full house,” he murmured to Athol. “Bet some of the other lecturers wish they could do even half as well.”

  “Yeah, I used to copy most of my notes from someone a lot more conscientious than me,” Athol replied. “I bet they don’t get this sort of turnout very often. Mind you, your Lady has titled her lecture brilliantly. ‘As many kinks as people’. It’s sure to catch a person’s attention.”

  Tula took the stage and an expectant hush fell over the hall.

  “Hello.” Her voice was clear, her stance confident and she looked relaxed and at home on the stage. “As some of you know, my name is Petula Talbot. What most of you do not know is I am a Domme.” She paused and grinned at Dario. Obviously she’d decided to stick word for word to their script. “And before anyone who knows a little bit about BDSM, and has heard of some of the titles and names we use, says it, I’ve heard the ‘A Domme called Pet’, ad nauseum.” She paused while a ripple of laughter went around the room. “I’m married to Dario Talbot, who, I guess most of you know as a footballer, albeit one out of the game at the moment with a serious injury, and who is about to take up a job coaching talented teens. What I’m sure none of you know is, as I am a Domme and a Mistress, Dario is not only my husband, he is my sub.”

  Someone gasped, but apart from that you could have heard a pin drop. Tula nodded. “Yeah, I seemed to have stunned you all to silence. But why? Would you have been so surprised if I’d said I was his sub? That he was my Dom? I guess not. You’d nod your head and say that was okay. Think about it for a moment. Why should it always be a man in charge? Why shouldn’t he need time to breathe without worry and let someone else think what to do? Why does he always have to be the one to decide what’s needed? Why can’t he take that step back, put himself in my hands and let me, the person who loves him, give him what he needs?”

  She very deliberately looked around the room. Athol nudged Dario. “She’s got most of them by the short and curlies.”


  “Most if not all.”

  “Shh.” Athol turned his attention back to the stage and Dario followed him, but not before he saw the angry face of the previous week’s speaker whose name he now remembered—and where he knew him from. Got you, you bastard. You dare to diss my Domme and you’ll regret it. Although deep down a bit of him hoped the guy did stand up and make a contentious statement. Dario would take great pleasure in helping the bloke make a fool of himself. Thank god I told Tula everything about my past. Otherwise there would have been some interesting cats let out of bags, and not all the other bloke’s.

  “You see, I believe in the saying one size does not fit all,” Tula continued. “That each of us has our own needs and wants. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to find someone whose ideas mesh with ours. Sometimes, not. I guess Dario and I are amongst the lucky ones. We love and trust each other, and I’m happy and honored to be his Domme, his Mistress, or as he so lovingly calls me, His Lady. Even so, we have safe words, rules, and regulations. Everything we do is safe, sane, and consensual. SSC is the lodestone and cornerstone of what we do.”

  There was a murmur of agreement and from the back of the hall someone added their opinion. “Hear, hear, way to go.”

  “That’s a load of rubbish.” The guy who called himself Rollo surged to his feet. “There is only one way to be a true disciple of BDSM. I spoke about it last week. You’re deliberately trying to undermine my authority, girl. Just because you know I’m correct. Ignore anyone who says any other way is the only way. I know I’m right. I’ve studied for years and now I know this is what to do. A man is always in charge. A man tells the woman what to do and how. She does it with no argument. He is the Dom, the Master. Nothing else is correct.”