Nina's Dom (2 page)

She'd
bet Dommissimma was where Karin was talking about. Nina had half expected a
phone call or an email from Athol saying “why not?” when she hadn't taken him
up in his invitation. Her details were all on the club member list.

Karin
stared at her as if Nina had just announced she was going to run naked down
Sauchiehall Street on a cup game day.
"Why not?
I
mean I'd counted on you, and didn't you do something with
Bdm
… Dm … oh for goodness sake, with kink for your thesis?"

Nina
nodded and wished that little tidbit of information had never gotten out.
Luckily it wasn't general knowledge, and the few girls who did know weren't the
type to blurt out everyone else's secrets even after a few drinks.

"There
you are then." Karin smiled as if she'd solved world debt. "All sorted."

Nina
shook her head. "No, really count me out."

Karin
bent her head to look Nina in the eyes. "Okay, tell Aunty Karin. What's
the problem?"

Nina
smiled. "There's no problem. I just know it's not for me."

"Teaching
kids with attitudes, who turn their noses up at climbing a rope how to grow a
pair and behave isn’t for me either, but I do it. We all have to do stuff we
don’t want to at times. Suffer and get on with it is a universal state of
affairs."

Trust
Karin, she had an answer for every occasion.

"Point taken."

Which
was how, a couple of weeks later, Nina found herself picked up outside her
house in a busy, up-market area of Glasgow. She had suggested she meet the
other girls at the club. After all it was a ten-minute train ride into the city,
and three minutes to walk to the club, if that. However her suggestion had been
howled down. She was told that part of the night out was the minibus trip. As she
declined to get on at school—and she wasn't going to drive fifteen miles into
the country and have the problem of retrieving her car—then at least she had to
do the last few miles with the rest of them. So there she was, squashed on a
minibus with nine of her fellow teachers on the way into the center of Glasgow with
an assortment of stuffed toys, including a pink elephant in handcuffs, and a
battery powered wand that sparkled.

Out
of all of them she guessed she was the only one who hadn't needed to fill in
the forms that Karin had handed out. Though to make life easier and avoid the
questions that would eventually be inevitable if she didn't, Nina filled them
in anyway. As each went into a separate sealed envelope, she wrote a brief memo
to include in hers, explaining why she'd done so, along with a photocopy of her
membership card.

Now
she was at the “oh lord what on earth will happen” stage. Right up until the
bus arrived she’d hoped for a reprieve. It was difficult to explain why. She
knew, deep down, but to put it into words was a big no-no. Nina had no problems
whatsoever with the lifestyle or what went on between consenting adults. She
could even say, in the interests of research, and nosiness, she'd been there,
done that and got the t-shirts. Both the “subs are no substitute” and the “a
Dom a day helps you work rest and play one”. But she had no inclination to try
either again. If there was one thing she wasn't good at, it was giving, or even
worse, following orders. Why therefore, was she sitting on a bus with a bride
to be dressed like every lifestyle’s worst nightmare?

A
see through blouse with what looked like her great grannie's liberty bodice
under it covered Monica's top half, and a tiny leather mini skirt and hold up
stockings underneath almost didn't cover the rest of her. She had a bubblegum
pink tiara and clashing purple veil on her head and nails that mismatched. The
other girls seemed to have read every BDSM book on the market and divvied up
the described clothing among them. Nina herself settled for her own denim skirt
that skimmed her knees, a wide strapped vest in her favorite red—one that
didn't clash with her hair—and a pair of flats. She knew they'd have to take their
shoes off anyway, once inside the club, and she wasn't going to torture her
toes in heels.

"Ohhh."
Karin bounced on the seat beside
her. "I'm so excited. I mean I know it'll not be for real not with it
being a hen night. But they did say we'll see a couple of demonstrations and
stuff. I wonder if it's full of all those contraptions we read about.
The St.
Whosit's
Cross and the, the
benchy
thing.
I want to see everything."

"Do
you fancy yourself as a sub then, Kay?" Nina was interested in Karin's
enthusiasm in spite of her own lack of interest.
"Or a
Dom?
Floggers or wax?"

Karin
bit her lip. "I dunno, maybe a sub. Mind you, Iain could do with a shake
up. Hmm, perhaps I'll do the flogging bit instead. A wee flip over his bum when
he ignores me and concentrates on the footie might not be a bad idea. I swear that
even if I had a body like all his fantasies rolled into one, and stood naked in
front of the
telly
while the match was on, he'd just
tell me to move ‘cos so and so was fouled or something." She rolled her
eyes. "So a bit of an ‘oy you, use it or lose it, as in me your wife’,
wouldn't go amiss. Now, see I'm a bit of a wuss with pain, but it's supposed to
turn to pleasure isn’t it?"

"So
they say."
It didn't for me, but
then, aren't we all different?

"Well
anyway, I'll see soon. And it's as well you said you'd come.
‘Cos
with Mandy ill and June not able to get a babysitter, we'd have been one short."

 
Dammit, I would have babysat.

Chapter Two

"Athol
Donaldson you owe me." Dominic Christopher, known as Nic to his friends
and “that F-ing Christopher” to his enemies, rolled his eyes as he pulled on a
red armband and flexed his wrists.
"Why me?
Where's Hamish or Fiona? Or even Edan? This is pure cruelty because I beat you
at poker."

"Too
right it is. You fleeced me, you bugger."

Nic
grinned.
"Me a bugger?
Nah."
They both burst out laughing. "I'm more of a wanker these days. You know,
since Lue died, I've not found anyone to do the horizontal tango with. Or the
over the bench, up against the wall, or tied to the bed one." His stomach
tightened as it always did at the thought of his lovely wife, she of the
chocolate colored skin, laughing eyes, and a zest for life. She'd lost her
battle with cancer several years earlier, and Nic's appetite for everything
they'd shared had been lost with her. Everyone knew there were specific things
not to ask Nic to do. He was happy to oversee, be a dungeon master, and teach
certain aspects of play enjoyed within the lifestyle. However, Linsey, the
owner of Dommissimma, knew never to mention wax or Shibari to him.

"It's
as well no one else is around yet." Athol took up the folder with all that
night's visitors contact details in it. "They might not get our humor. But
to be serious for a sec, Edan's lecturing 'til six, Hamish is sunning himself
somewhere away from the midges, and Linsey had a problem of the heart.
Or the flogger.
Not sure
which is
uppermost.
Fiona's on her way. She rang to say the motorway through town
is one big traffic jam as ever, so she's weaving her way through the suburbs. Several
of the others will be in before we do any demoing. We'll have a perfect ratio
for monitoring, answering questions, and playing I reckon, and if anyone wants
to be the sub, well … well, well, who'd've thunk it."

"What's
that? A new game no one's told me about?" Nic asked as Athol stared into
space with a suspicious gleam in his eyes. "What are you hatching, Athol
Donaldson?"

"Me?"
Athol opened his eyes so wide he looked like an owl.
"Cluck,
cluck.
Chickens hatch eggs, not
Athols
. Me? I
don't hatch anything."

"Hmm.
Plotting, planning, scheming, thinking of doing something that may or not be
detrimental to me and my health. I suspect that innocent 'who me' look. I know
you too well."

Athol
laughed again. "So you do, mate, so you do. Right, let's go and make sure
everything is set up. We'll split them up for the tour, and then see who wants
to watch what. Evidently they're off for a meal if you can call it that, once
they've finished here. At that curry a go-go karaoke place. Rather them than
me."

He
turned and walked into the main conversation room, and Nic followed him. Together
they began to systematically check everything was as it should be. Halfway
through their rounds they were joined by Fiona and a couple of others. Within thirty
minutes they were all back in the conversation pit.

 
"All done but someone tell me why Linsey
agreed to this?" Fiona asked.
"A hen party, for
fuck’s sake.
Giggling women who'll squeal for all the
wrong reasons, and cry if a flogger goes within six inches of them."

"Harsh,
Fi, very harsh. But probably true. But weird though it may seem the matron-of-honor
to be, is a cousin of Linsey’s. Not in the lifestyle, but knows Linsey is, and
is happy with it." Athol shrugged. "Okay it's all a bit of fun. A few
floggers swished and a Shibari tie or two over whatever get-up they're in."

Nic
knew he'd gone very still. It was annoying how even the word hit him hard in
the gut. Athol gave him a short sharp look, but didn't comment.

"They'll
giggle; we'll grit our teeth. But if it demystifies BDSM even a little bit,
it's got to be good." Athol opened the fridge and took bottles of water
out.
"Especially after that stupid article in the weekly
supplement.
Forced to obey indeed.
Argh.
Ah well, water anyone?"

As
he took the bottle from Athol, Nic had to agree with the sentiments. He might
not be active, but he'd be more than happy to show how good it all was, even if
no longer for him.
As long as he wasn't expected to
demonstrate Shibari or wax play.

"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?"