Nina's Dom

by Raven McAllan

  "Yeah, you said it. Okay it's ten to, so shall I go and open up?" Both he and Athol might be Doms, but Athol was a long serving, and as he often said, a long suffering Dom on the management committee of Dommissimma. Linsey was well and truly the boss, even though she now had a co-owner, who she was incredibly tight lipped about. No one had ever seen, least of all been introduced to, the mysterious Mr. Rivers. Nevertheless, she had a loyal set of Doms and subs who worked closely with her.

  Nic had bowed out of that elite group when Lue became ill, and never felt the need to be re-added.

  "We both will," Athol said. "Fiona, can you remind Sue to make sure they do as they've been asked re shoes and stuff, and Gordon, get ready to serve the soft drinks?" General Athol was in command. "We'll split them up once they're all here. I've a fear of giggling women who wouldn’t know a crop from a cross. The one good thing is that I warned the organizer that if anyone seemed to have drink taken no one would get in."

  Nic decided it sounded like Athol had thought of everything. So why was he looking at Nic in such a speculative manner?

  "Why do I feel you're up to something?" he asked.

  Athol shrugged. "Not a scooby, mate. Okay let's get the show on the road." He walked out of the lounge, and Nic followed him into the foyer. As Athol unlocked the door, Nic heard the sound of a vehicle crunch over the graveled surface of the car park. He switched on the screen of the security camera, which viewed the area in front of the building. A minibus drew up, and he blinked, somewhat bemused at the dress of the occupants.

  "'Strewth, what have they been watching?" Fiona came up behind him, and looked at the screen from over his shoulder. "I mean there's every worst dressed Dom and sub outfit there, and some more."

  "Yeah," Nic answered her in an abstracted way. One of the women stood out like an elegant flamingo amongst a shrieking, squawking flock of parrots. The only thing flamboyant about her was her carroty hair, which spiraled down over her shoulders. And somehow managed not to clash with her red top. Even without sound, he could imagine the noise around her. There were people gesticulating and bobbing about and grabbing each other's shoulders. This one person stood slightly to one side. Her body language showed no impatience, merely friendly amusement. When one of her friends took hold of her arm and pointed to the door she nodded, and let herself be led toward it. The others followed. Nic realized what had seemed like three dozen women was in fact only ten. And he had eyes for just one of them. The ginger-head in the red top and modest skirt.

  His cock, usually so quiet and subdued, perked up. Nic almost laughed aloud when he realized he'd given his prick a mind of its own.

  "Who's the one who looks like she's off to a meeting of the local anti-kink society?" Fiona asked.

  "Mine." Shit, had he really said that?

  Fiona stared at him for a second, whistled, and then hit him on the back. "Well, way to go, Dominic. Welcome back. Dom the Dom again, are we? No going through the motions, but living the life?"

  Nic swallowed and rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname that he’d heard more times than he'd flogged a sub. Lue might have called him “Dom, my Dom”, but to everyone else he was Nic, or Master Dominic. He wasn't sure he was going that far, not now. Even though his body tightened as he watched the conservatively dressed woman laugh at something one of her friends said, and stand by the door to let the girl in the veil enter first.

  Yet again he was struck by her unusual looks. With her long red wavy hair and blue eyes she drew him to her. The lack of excitement in those eyes, her serene expression—both at odds with the bouncy excitement of her friends—made him wonder what she was doing there. Her dress was demure, and her top covered what Nic judged—if his eyesight wasn't defective, and it wasn't—perfect breasts. Unless of course she was well padded. Somehow he didn't think she was the type of woman to resort to that sort of artificial aids. Why he was so definite he couldn't say. It was a gut feeling that surprised him.

  The small curvy blonde walked up to the desk, and Athol took a step forward.

  "Karin?"

  Karin nodded. "Yes, hello. This is Monica, our bride." She pushed the pink tiara clad, giggling Monica forward. "We're all here. A couple had to cry off."

  Nic risked a look at his mystery redhead. He reckoned she wished she'd cried off as well. Her eyelashes and eyebrows were dark—dyed he assumed—and wondered if her other hairs, if she had any, were dyed or natural. He hoped he got the chance to find out. His fierce reaction to her stunned him. Even at the space of several yards he would swear her scent teased him.

  She glanced at him and lowered her eyelashes again. Not in the manner of a sub, though he'd swear she was no Domme. It was more a case, he surmised, of not letting her feelings show, and thus upset her friends.

  Athol cleared his throat. "So we've decided the best way to show you ‘round is one of us to one of you."

  We have? Nice to know. Please God I don't get the bride.

  "We'll meet back up in the conversation pit, and you can say if anyone fancies a demonstration," Athol said. “Remember anything tonight will be minor. If you're really interested, there are lots of nights and events you can sign up for, as well as a monthly vanilla munch." Karin put up her hand, and Athol grinned. "Oh, I'll talk about that later.” He began to match the ladies with the Doms. "Nina, you're with Master Dominic."

  The redhead looked startled. "Oh, er, right." She looked up at Nic with disinterest. He was sure if she'd been chewing gum she'd have popped it.

  Nic had a sudden and violent urge to change her expression. He smiled. She looked startled, and Nic realized he had smiled in a way that Lue had called his “don't diss with the Dom” look. Nic did his best to temper the look, but wasn't sure he'd succeeded.

  "Nina? I'm Dominic. You can call me Sir." Shit, do I sound up myself or not? However, he reasoned they were in the club, he was the host, and he owed it to Linsey to be the Dom he was there as.

  "Dom the Dom?" she said and chuckled. Nic raised one eyebrow. Apart from his closest friends, not many people had the guts—or the stupidity—to say that to his face.

  "Sorry, but I do have a weird sense of humor." She took several steps away from her friends, and he followed her. The other girls began to follow their Club partner out of the foyer. Athol checked the main door was locked, winked at Nic and Nina, and sketched a wave.

  "Play nice, peeps, see you later maybe."

  He walked into the club proper before Nic had a chance to question him regarding his choice of words.

  "Look, Dominic," Nina said. "I'm sorry, but I'm only here to make up the numbers so to speak. I'm not interested in the lifestyle. If you'd rather spend your time doing something else," like filing your nails or watching paint dry, her tone intimated, "feel free. I've got my tablet, so I can easily pass the time until they're ready to go." She gathered her hair in her hands and pushed it behind her ears so it fell like a flaming waterfall down her back.

  I'd love to see her with her hair teasing her nipples. Before I… Nic stopped mid thought. Do not go there, you've only just met her, and she says she's not interested. Nevertheless, Nic was. Very, very interested. His reaction astounded him. All this time, so many chances, and he'd never had the glimmer of interest. Now all he wanted was to find out how he and Nina could mesh.

  "Not at all, it's my duty as a Dom to show you what my life involves." Well did involve, and maybe will again now. He took her arm, and was pleased when after a long look at his elegant hand, dark against her pale skin, she didn't shake it off.

  "Why?" Nina asked. "We're ships that pass in the night or whatever you want to call it. I don't need to know any more."

  "You do, you know." He was amazed how easily he slipped back into Dom mode. "How else are we going to decide to progress our relationship?"

  She opened her eyes wide, and he saw the golden tints in their blue depths. Then she shook her head. "We don't have a relationship."

  "We're going to."

  Chapter Three


  Had she heard him correctly? Nina wanted to press her ears, as she replayed his words over in her head. He was crackers, and Athol had left her with him. Now she knew what that wink meant. Damn Athol. He must have thought over her chat with him and Edan, put two and two together, and made goodness knows how many. Astute should be his middle name.

  The darned man in front of her was sex on legs. Dark hair, going grey at the temples, cut short, and with a slight hint of a curl over his forehead framed a face that interested her. His skin was the color of fine chocolate, and his eyes were that almost indefinable color, neither blue or grey, but deep and all seeing. Nina mentally shook herself for that fanciful notion, even as she squirmed inside. They certainly seemed to be looking deep inside her.

  "Look, I think we need to have a chat," she said as he continued to stare at her like a specimen on a slide. "Can we? I honestly don't want to look ‘round."

  "Hmm. Why don't you? You need to see what turns you on. I'm sure we can find something, or else why would you have come? If you hadn't been interested you'd have pleaded a headache. So?"

  "Because it's my friend's bloody hen night, that's why." The man was like a chisel digging into her. "And I have to suffer sodding karaoke afterwards." She shook her head. The thought depressed her. "I'm tone deaf, can't sing in tune, and it'll be inferior wine and half cold curry. Sod it, so not my idea of fun." Nina put her hands in the pocket of her skirt and wished it wasn't so fitted. His X-ray eyes followed her movement, and Nina swore they saw through the denim and tutted at her boy shorts with cartoon cats all over them.

  "We'll have to work on that language, pet. It doesn't suit you."

  The reprimand was mild, but, however, the tone wasn't. Nina ignored the shivers down her spine and the way her pussy muscles tightened as his deep voice flowed over her and hit her in the gut like a solid punch of displeasure. That had never happened before.

  "I'm not a pet, or any type of animal come to that, unless you count me being a bitch when the occasion warrants it," Nina said. She had to make something clear even if it annoyed him. They were mere acquaintances, so why did she have that horrid shivery “oh God what will he say or do” feeling she got before she went to the dentist? "I hate animal related nicknames. They make me want to baa or cluck or whatever. I have a perfectly good name, which my parents gave me, and if anyone wants me to answer, that's the name they use when they address me." Grief, do I sound pompous or what? "Look, Dominic, the others are all happily checking out the floggers on each other or pulling straws for who gets to feel a Wartenburg Wheel on their arms or whatever. That's fine. Now please. Can. We. Talk?"

  "They won't be. Tonight is much more watch, not play. You know for someone not interested you know an awful lot. How many people, not interested, have heard of a Wartenburg wheel?"

  "Lots I should think. They read."

  "Hmm. If you say so." He stared at her, and then almost as if he couldn't help it trailed one finger down her cheek.

  His touch scorched her skin. How she didn't gasp, Nina had no idea. She was darned sure her mouth dropped open and she gaped like a fish.

  "However, I think we must talk. Follow me." He turned without waiting to see if she followed, and walked toward a different door than the one the others had used.

  "Hold it. Where are you taking me?" Nina stood where she was. Who did he think he was giving her orders? A Dom, that's who. She needed to know more. After all, Athol might have paired her off with the guy, but she didn't know him from Adam.

  No way am I disappearing into wherever without letting someone know where that wherever is. She mentally winced at her tortured wording, but held fast to the sentiments. It was only safe, and sane, to do so, and unless he agreed she couldn't add consensual to her thoughts.

  He stopped and turned around. His expression was unfathomable, but it made Nina want to check her nipples weren't standing out. They felt tight enough to poke through her top. Damn the man, his presence is just too overpowering. Even though she had no inclination to bow to his demands, he still made her feel like a chastised schoolgirl. And he hadn't done or said anything to make her feel that way. It was all in his look.

  "To talk, pet. As you requested."

  "I also said I'm not a pet." Nina gathered her wits. That nickname, or whatever you'd call it, was enough to make her determined to stand her ground. She fished her phone out of her pocket. "Where do I say?"

  He grinned.

  Sheesh, that should be bottled and sold as an aphrodisiac. Even I want to roll over and say “take me, I'm yours”.

  "Well?"

  "Who are you ringing? All your mates will have turned their phones in. And you shouldn't have yours."

  She hadn't thought of that. "I'm not in the club yet, so we bypassed that bit. What about the dungeon masters?"

  Nic shook his head. "Nope."

  Suddenly Nina remembered something. "You have one of those mini pager, walky-talky things. Every dungeon master or Dom on duty does."

  "Now how do you know that, I wonder?" Nic raised one eyebrow. "No matter you'll tell me later."

  Not if I can help it.

  "So?"

  He stared at her. It took all of Nina's resolve not to fidget. Grief, he makes a ball gagged sub a chatterbox. Just as she wanted to scream or thump him, he spoke.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Then may I borrow it?"

  He stared and then raised one eyebrow. "Why?"

  "Oh for fuck's sakes, this isn't twenty questions." The words shot out of her mouth in a staccato rhythm. "And I know, I know, my language is crap. But seriously, I'm not going anywhere other than into the main club with you unless you tell me where and I tell someone else close by. So I reckon if I tell Athol that'd do."

  "I won't ask how you know Athol … yet. Or that someone has some explanations to make. Here." He handed a tiny oblong walky-talky to her. "Press three and leave a message. He'll be alerted it's there. We're going into the small staff lounge. No one else will be there at present. Be warned I'm in a need to know mood. Know you that is."

  Nina ignored the last sentence. She took the plastic box from him with a murmured word of thanks and pressed the appropriate key.

  "Athol speaking. What's up, Nic? Nina done a runner? Or has she got you over the bench and introduced you to living again?" Athol's voice was loud and clear. "Maybe she's the one over the bench, eh? Whatever floats your boats, the pair of you need each other." Nina almost dropped the instrument. Evidently it hadn't gone to voice mail. She glanced at Nic, who looked as stunned as she felt. So whatever Athol had planned, Nic wasn't in on it. That thought pleased her more than she thought possible.

  "He might not be alive if you don't fess up, you bastard."

  There was silence, and then Athol's raucous laugh sounded in her ear. "Ohh ho, busted. So honey-pie, why are you on the end of this thing and not deep into sub sp…"

  "Athol, shut it." Nina interrupted him. "This is to say Dominic is taking me into the small staff lounge so we can talk."

  "Ah, the tell a friend where you are? So I can rescue him if you get bolshie? No problem. Oh and is he there?"

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Tell him Kitty's room is free if you need it." The line went dead.

  Nina handed the walky-talky back to Nic, who slid it in his pocket. The way his hand tightened the black denim that covered it stretched the material until his cock was outlined in loving detail. Long, thick, erect, loving detail. Enough to make Nina swallow hard. She might not want the Dom stuff, but she could always appreciate a well-honed physique whoever it belonged to.

  "Did you hear that?" she asked. "What's Kitty's room?" It wasn't a name familiar to her.

  "Yeah." He didn't answer her other questions.

  Nina bit back an angry retort. She had the impression it would do no good whatsoever. Clams and tight had nothing on him.

  "You ready now?" He keyed in a set of numbers on a pad by the door, and the door slid silently to one side.

  "I g
uess." If he could be brief, then so could she.

  Nic stood back to let Nina precede him. She clenched her fists by her side. Why did his placid—if you ignored the implacable determination that oozed out of every pore—attitude, annoy her so?

  "And?" Nina demanded as she stalked passed him and waited in the long grey painted corridor until the door closed behind them. "Is that all you have to say?"

  "Not at all." His tone should have warned her even if the set of his shoulders didn't. "But I'm not arguing the toss in the corridor, where in effect any member of staff can come upon us. If we're going to disagree or not, we'll do it in private. I can reserve this room. Here." He put one hand in the small of Nina's back, used the other to flick a latch that covered the word available on the middle of a nondescript wooden door. Then, with a none too gentle shove, Dominic propelled her forward. It was only the fact that he held on to her arm that stopped her tripping over the rich maroon carpet.

  Blast the man. Do not say it. Do. Not. Say it. Bite your lip and behave. Show you're an adult. Ditch the temper and be gracious. She wondered if the lecture to herself would work.

  Nina looked around with interest and tried not to flinch as the door shut with a decided bang. So maybe Dominic wasn't as insouciant as he seemed after all. Now her contrary self wanted to know what was wrong with him. Wasn't she worth being set up with? The bleak look in his eyes halted the question before she voiced it. It seemed she wasn't the only one who had no interest in what went on at Dommissimma.

  But he's a Dom? Something doesn't add up. For once in her life, and Nina was mightily impressed with her restraint, she didn't query that horrible dark expression.

  "So they call you Nic?"

  "They do, you don't. Sir will do just fine."

  Arrogant prick. "May I sit down?" she asked quietly. Then she could have bitten her tongue out. He went pale under his dark skin and blinked rapidly. What on earth was that all about?

  "Of course. Sorry." He waved toward a big comfortable looking sofa, before he went to a fridge, took out two bottles of water and joined her.