Dom Wars: Round Five

by Lucian Bane

  "You have five minutes before the games begin." The nameless announcer nodded. "Good luck." Then they headed to the gray sedan I'd arrived in.

  "Oh my God." Tara stared at the paper in her hands, mouth opened in what could only be horror as her eyes flickered from side to side over the contents

  I reached for the papers but she turned, taking them out of reach. "What? What is the assignment?"

  "No assignment. Punishment conditions." Her voice sounded small and overwhelmed and her hands quivered, making the papers flutter.

  I snatched the paper and began to read, needing to see for myself. "Oh no." I read it again to make sure. "Obey any and all directives? All of us?"

  "All of us?" Steve grabbed for the paper and I snatched it out of reach.

  I continued reading and building my fury. "Fuck no." I breathed slowly as the storm inside me mounted to reckless heights. . "Fuck, fuck, fuck no!"

  "Remember," Tara laid gentle fingers on my forearm, "you don't know what he's going to make us do, and we quit if it's stupidly outrageous."

  Steve sounded like he were fighting a panic attack and losing, his breaths nearing hyperventilating. "But, why am I required to participate? I mean what will I have to do?" A break down loomed in his voice as he shook his head until his cheeks jiggled. "I can't do any…sexual things, I'm sorry." He eyed us like freaks, back and forth, both hands raised. "I draw the line there. I mean, I need this money pretty badly, but I have my boundaries. I am a married man," he hissed like he were warding off devils.

  "Oh Steve," Tara quickly patted his arm, "you don't have to do this.

  "Um, yes he does," I held out the paper and pointed at the final note. "Says we all play or we all forfeit."

  "Dear sweet mother of divine mercy." Steve bit his knuckle as if to hold back other words.

  "Okay." Tara grabbed Steve's shoulders and shook them lightly. "Same rule for you. If they ask you to do anything you're not comfortable with, we all quit, we're all out. How's that?"

  Misery and defeat edged Tara's confidence, despite her upbeat tone, making me need to reassure her. "Look," I tried to reason, hating that I had to. "Maybe we're all jumping the gun. Maybe we'll not be… Steve will not be required to do anything. Too crazy. And if he is, yes, then we'll quit." I gave him an awkward jab to the shoulder. "'Kay, friend?"

  He bit his lower lip with brows pinched in desperation. He finally gave a faint nod. "Ok." He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I knew somehow it would all come to this. I should never have answered that devil's ad. I am the son of minister, and I have no business here. But…"

  We stared at him, waiting for the confession that hung in the air.

  "Truth is…" Many awkward seconds passed until he appeared tormented and near tears, mouth open with words he clearly didn't ever want to vocalize.

  "There, there," Tara whispered, "take your time. Talk to us, we're your friends."

  He looked from her to me then finally blurted out the words. "I'm about to lose my home and my wife is going to leave me if I don't find a way to save it." The ugly secret was hissed in a shameful desperation that sagged his ever-proud frame.

  I stood there, fighting anger. Fuck. Just fuck. One more pitiful goddamn reason to have to say yes. I stared at Tara who gave me a look that said aww now we HAVE to go on. For Steve.

  I glared at her, pissed as I jabbed a finger in her face. "We quit if that monster of the loin-cloth even hints at touching you. Do you understand?"

  She nodded at the speed of I'm a big fat liar.

  "I mean it Tara. And if and when we leave, you are coming with me. And we will just figure out another way to help your grandmother."

  She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. Fucking distraction is what it was, I knew that. And of course my body bowed before her needs, devious or not, my greedy hands pressing her body into mine.

  "Ah, dear Jesus, time to go." Steve looked over my left shoulder, a world of dread clear in his face.

  Chapter Three

  Tara pulled away and ran toward her car, calling back over her shoulder, "Gotta lock up."

  "For what?" Why would anyone think there might be something worth taking in that dilapidated hunk of bolts?

  "I don't have anything to lock up here," Steve said, shrugging, as if that had any bearing whatsoever on anything. .

  I watched Tara literally wrestle the window up then smash the lock down and shut the door with her butt. The hunk of metal barked a groan followed by a ka-cha-bang as it rocked in its tracks.

  She headed toward me, looking like a sassy teenage gangster, hips moving with a rebellion that brought a dire need in me. To fuck her and spank her. God, I missed her. That was the first thing I would do when I had the chance. Tie her up and fuck her while I spanked her. After I ate her pussy and brought her to the brink of orgasm, until I was deviously satisfied with her torment. Then I'd fuck her senseless while blistering her ass. And then I'd spank her pussy and bring her to the hardest fucking orgasm ever. Which I'm sure would make me unbearably hungry to fuck her again, from the front, my body covering hers, chest against hers, tongue tasting hers.

  God she had me wrapped. So tightly, and sadly, and gloriously wrapped around her finger.

  We made our way to the limo and I held Tara's hand in a vicious grip, ready to yank her out of harm's way at the first hint of threat. Steve climbed in and I eyed the odd couple in the forward facing seat as I handed Tara in, then seated myself next to her, pulling her exactly against my body, arm around her.

  I held the glare of the giant Caucasian before me in black jeans and black t-shirt, letting him know in no uncertain terms that his ridiculously massive size, hard onyx gaze, and the chewed up scar tissue along the entire right side of his jaw didn't intimidate me in the slightest. I could take anything he dished out.

  He returned my stare with an equally direct one.

  "I'm Steve." Steve shot a hand between us, but the Preacher Dom ignored it, keeping his brutal gaze locked to mine. "What a lovely lady here." Steve continued to hack at the iceberg parked between us. "And what might your name be?" He stretched his peace-wagon hand farther, toward the woman, ignoring her cool gaze of warning.

  The giant man struck like a snake and twisted the proffered hand, bringing Steve screaming to his knees. I instinctively covered Tara with half my body, ready to fight.

  The Preacher's frame quivered with tension, ready to pursue it further. "My brother…" the calm words were like gravel thrown in a cavern. "Back the fuck up."

  The woman next to him erupted in another language, her voice like supple leather. He gave her a look, then leaned to speak to her. His hushed tones in her ear were more like growls, but he suddenly released Steve, and placed a kiss on her temple.

  I was more than a little surprised to see anything but submission in the set of the woman's perfect mahogany jaw. Her reaction to him certainly didn't reflect his perfection as a Dom.

  Steve scramble-crawled his way back into the seat on the other side of Tara, eyes wide and breath labored, rubbing his wrist. He would be even more terrified of the Preacher Dom now, and that made anger bubble through me. That kind of retaliation had been too over the top. A bad sign of his Dom-ship. This wasn't going to work.

  The beautiful woman sat forward a bit with a gentle smile for Steve. "Please forgive my male," she articulated with perfect and exact English "He has not eaten his breakfast and he is like a rabid hyena when he is hungry."

  "It's called personal space." The Preacher Dom's voice rumbled, the effect a deliberate intimidation. "You ever come into hers again, I'll kill you." She gave a light sigh and he added a deep laugh to take the edge off the threat, but the sound rolled like distant thunder before a killer storm.

  Steve yanked at his suit jacket sleeves indignantly, putting himself back together while Tara nodded at the giant, a speculative gleam in her eyes. Before I could warn her to keep quiet, she gave another nod and spoke. "So you're the Preacher Dom?"

 
I held my breath as he gave her a slow grin and a curt nod before slicing that lethal gaze back to me. "And you're Mr. Lucian Bane." He said my name like a bad omen, but the grin on his wide mouth, showing a set of perfect, white teeth, said more like a fantastic secret. "The ineffable cheater."

  A mixture of bad vibes snaked through me, awkward shame being the most annoying one. "What's our mission, Preacher?"

  "Teach you obedience," he said as his woman reached inside a little drawer on her left and handed me a bulky package. Not taking my gaze from Mr. Preacher, I ripped it open and dumped the contents on the little console table between the forward and rear seats. Watches. Bulky black plastic ones with cheap looking digital panels. A note lay under one of them and I scanned the order to put the watches on immediately, apply the tamper-resistant seal, and turn them on. A quick examination revealed a plastic clasp had been added to the strap, and once fastened, couldn't be opened again without being destroyed. Wonderful.

  Everyone put on the watches as ordered, then the Preacher passed me an envelope. I opened it and read it silently with Tara. Yep. He was in charge to do as he wished. That was the overall emphasis that had my balls in a vice of fear. The one thing I seemed to have a hard time seeing past. Until my eyes hit the phrase must sell adult toys.

  A mixture of immense relief hit me as I read. We had to sell adult toys? To three specific businesses. My heart pounded with the intensity of the tension uncoiling inside me. I didn't have to lie to Tara or be cruel to her. Of course there were worse things, but that ranked up there pretty high on my list of dreaded orders.

  "Oh my God," Tara gasped. "I have to sell dildos at a hospital?" she hissed. "And you at a toy store? A children's toy store?"

  "Yes, but to the adults, love." I whispered, keenly aware of Steve reading along. I waited for his response to his assignment.

  "Oh Holy Mother," he finally said, or squeaked. "Preserve me from this, this…barbarian heathen escapade that would have me sell pornographic materials! And to a funeral home no less! It's…it's…" He shook his head, gasping for air, for words. "Sick and…sacrilegious, and… many other things that…well that I obviously can't speak for god sake!"

  The Preacher's laughter rumbled through the car and right into my bones. "I would say I can't wait to hear your plan for that Steve, but for some reason, they decided your box of goodies was not to be opened until time of assignment. Regardless, this will be an interesting and entertaining mission." His derisive tone inspired more apprehension in my gut, but not to the same degree that had plagued me earlier. Knowing the assignment, crazy as it was, filled me with hope.

  "And where are we going?" Tara looked around, the question casually pointing out that we'd left the city and turned onto a small road passing through a lightly forested area.

  "To headquarters," the preacher said. "Where we'll plot your escapades. Sales are points and we'll need a lot of them. So we'll want you to make as many for us as you can."

  "Us?" I said.

  "Yeah. Us. We're a team, we move as a team, we fight as a team, we fall as a team, only I don't plan on falling. That means you will do what I say, as I say, when I say, how I say. No more being led by your dick and breaking rules. Do we understand? Lucian?"

  The way he drawled my name acted like a band-saw on my last nerve. I wanted to argue the point, it was a lot more than my dick Tara owned. But there was also that knowing in his tone that went beyond my actions in this game. Like he knew my entire past and was self-righteously disappointed. Get in fucking line, preacher boy. "Oh, I'm very clear."

  "I'm clear," Steve said.

  Tara raised her hand. "Clear here. Very."

  The giant sank into his seat in relaxation. "Praise God for that." He capped the strange statement with a scary grin.

  I laced my fingers deeper into Tara's hand and squeezed, feeling like we'd just made that curve around the looney bend and the doctor in charge was the sickest patient of them all. And just because our mission was selling toys was no guarantee the bastard wouldn't make other demands. All we could do now was hope he had some sense of honor beneath that tough hide.

  After a few miles, the Preacher Dom settled even deeper into his seat and put his head back. From his deep, even breathing, I concluded he'd dozed off. His woman sat still and alert at his side, missing nothing while not studying anything directly.

  Tara leaned into me a bit more and I shifted so she could get more comfortable. She slept then, her head pillowed on my chest and her body cradled against my side. Ignoring the passing miles, I focused on reacquainting myself with every contour of her face. I could spend the rest of my life studying every facet of Tara, and still not be satisfied. Awe filled me at what she did to my body, my mind, my heart. How just being, right here, next to me, could make me feel like this, like the entire universe paused, and idled patiently while I stared down at this gift and absorbed it into me. I would do anything to protect her, even from herself. That's what I needed now, a strategy to protect her from the Preacher Dom and her own stubborn determination.

  Chapter Four

  An hour or more later, I looked out the window, way past the point of where the fuck are we? I watched as nowhere land turned into dense forest and still we drove. Was the driver lost? Surely nothing like a headquarters would be so far out in the sticks.

  By the time I managed to stop thinking about our predicament and all it might entail, the limo came to a stop. Tara's eyelids fluttered open with the sudden absence of motion

  Sitting up fully alert, the Preacher showed absolutely no sign of having been asleep only seconds ago. "Home Sweet Home." He chuckled, and leaned to open the door.

  We all climbed out, stunned, and looked around. "Where are we?" Tara asked, scoping the forest canopy spreading above us.

  "Headquarters," the preacher answered. "Gear is in the back. Set up camp."

  Camp? One glance around and it was clear he meant that in the literal sense. I found him glaring at me, a brutal intolerance for slackers in his dark gaze.

  I followed Steve to the rear of the car and found the 'gear'. I counted ten large black duffle bags with the Gladiator logo and several boxes with our names on them. I noticed the bags labeled with our names and handed them to their respective owners, minus the preacher and his…sub. I'd make him ask.

  As I unpacked my bag, I couldn't help being awed at how much shit was in there. A tent, clothes, sleeping bag, food, flashlight, fire starter, parachute cord. I lifted a pocket knife and weighed it in my hand before pocketing it and going back to digging everything out. Bug repellent, a hatchet, first aid kit, and still a ton of things I would go through later. The insect repellent I went ahead and applied liberally, then caught Tara long enough to spray her down with it, before tossing the bottle to Steve so he could do the same.

  Wow, they really were making us do this. I reached for one of the other bags, hoping for more supplies and found several the fixings for a make-shift bathroom and cooking gear.

  Camping was definitely not on my list of favorite things to do, but thank fuck—or my father, rather—I wasn't a stranger to the task. And thanks to that same bastard, it had never been a pleasant experience. I had no illusions about how enjoyable this particular excursion wouldn't be, either.

  The limo driver, Benton, got out for the first time and came around to the back. "Sir, please remove everything you might need for the night from the car. I have to leave in twenty minutes. I'll return at nine in the morning to take your group to your first assignment." And just like that, he turned and walked away. No time for questions. Nothing.

  The thought of spending the night in the wilderness with no way out and no means of communication didn't bother me half as much as doing it with the Preacher Dom in the next tent. Fucking frightening.

  Steve and I started unloading the car, setting all our stuff in a central location. I looked around and found Tara talking to the driver. One look at her face and my blood surged, shooting me toward them.

  "What t
he fuck is up?" I asked, still ten feet off.

  "Nothing man," the guy held up both hands with a smirk. "Was just asking an innocent question." His tone was entirely different from only moments earlier.

  I continued toward him until I was close enough to smell alcohol on his breath. "Don't talk to her, you understand? You're the fucking driver. Drivers don't talk, they drive. Got it?"

  "What's going on?" The preacher's voice rumbled behind me and he clapped a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away.

  "He asked her a question. I don't like whatever he asked."

  The preacher got closer to the dude, looking down at him now. "What'd he ask?"

  "Whatever it was, I don't like the look it gave her. What did you ask her?"

  Tara yanked on me and whispered, "It's nothing Lucian, I handled it."

  The dude grinned a little. "I was just wonderin' if she was into sharin'. Lots of these girls are."

  The preacher's hand shot out and clamped his throat. "How about you don't talk to the women ever and I won't rip your jugular out, deal? Stay in your cage, driver. Don't talk to my team. You need anything, you ask me. Real nicely."

  The man flailed with bugging eyes and red face, nodding while Tara pulled me back and held my arm tight. The preacher let go with a shove, and the dude hit the ground like he'd been body slammed.

  Preacher turned to me, his look lethal. "That won't happen again." He eyed Tara briefly then sliced those hard eyes back to me. "But if anything similar should occur, I want to know. I want to deal with it. Understood? Bane?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, I got it." As long as no one bothered Tara, I was good.

  The driver made quick work of obeying the preacher and gingerly parked his ass in his seat while Steve and I finished unloading. I gave a cursory check of the passenger area for stray items, but before I could really look, the driver informed me on the intercom to vacate the vehicle, it was time for him to depart. I got out, and Steve and I watched as the stretched Hummer disappeared back down the road. The desperate look on Steve's face said the last train out of hell had just departed without him.