Dom Wars: Round Three

by Lucian Bane

  Her fingers found their way between my legs, coaxing them open. I obliged her and she wet her finger on my cock then stroked it over my ass, drawing a loud hiss from me.

  "Fffuuuuck God." I stared into her gaze, and she stared back into mine, forcing my cock to hit the back of her throat. Her nostrils fluttered with her hot moans and whimpers, her forehead crimped in need. Need to bring me in her mouth. "Fucking suck it harder. Deeper. I love fucking your pretty mouth."

  Her moans became high pitched as I cut loose and bucked my hips. Her finger sank into my ass and blew my fucking world apart. I held on tight as she worked me in and out of her mouth, her finger fucking me perfectly, so fucking perfectly. She made those sounds that said I was the most delicious thing she'd ever had and she couldn't get enough. What insanity. Total wonderful insanity.

  Chapter Three

  "So stupid that we have to wear a camera! Seriously." Tara adjusted the camera on her bracelet. "And keep it on all the time! Really?" She growled. "You know it thrills me to take every perv out there on the web to the bathroom with me, right?"

  I didn't care. I smiled at her, feeling like we'd crossed a bridge and then burned it after. No going back. Only forward.

  We went into the restaurant and right away I got a sick feeling in my stomach. High class gentleman's club. Fucking great. From the hostess counter, we could see enough to get an impression of the parts the management wanted seen.

  A central stage, flanked by a pair of smaller ones, and a series of raised catwalks that reached out into the seating area, kept the patrons' attention focused on the dancers. Some of the tables sat close enough to the performers for the occupants to touch. Other tables, and a number of booths, kept an anonymous distance.

  Both male and female wait staff circulated through the tables, all dressed in classy black and white uniforms. I easily spotted some of the Security team, stern looking men watching unobtrusively, their attention on the patrons rather than the dancers.

  The careful lighting threw the tables into thick shadow, giving unspoken approval to any activity the spectators might choose to engage in. Anything could happen in this place and no one would see a thing. The staff would quietly clean up and it would all go away. The sick tightness in my gut intensified.

  I was no stranger to this sort of club, though the ones I'd frequented had been a little less… classy. But the upgrade made me nervous. The things that happened in this type of place were often dirtier than what went down in the back alley dives that served criminals. The thought set my nerves on edge and my protective instincts went into overdrive.

  The blonde hostess smiled as she approached the counter, swaying seductively in her little black cocktail dress. Her too-bright blue gaze flicked from my face to Tara's momentarily, then on to Steve. Dismissing them immediately, she focused on me. "Welcome to The Silk Rose, darling. You have reservations?"

  Steve stepped up and passed a card over to her. "I think this will explain."

  She gave him a look that said he'd risen a bit in her estimation, then glanced at the card. "Understood. Right this way, darling." Studiously ignoring Tara, she led us to a table right up front and center, within touching distance of the main stage.

  She flicked a finger and one of the Security men appeared like magic, holding a chair for Tara. No fucking way.

  Keeping my expression exactly neutral, I stepped up and put my hand on the chair, staring him in the eye. He got the message and stepped back. I turned to Tara and offered one hand.

  My fucking heart didn't know whether to stop or race when she gave me a smile that said she appreciated what I'd just done and would repay me in full. Later.

  Once she was seated, I drew my own chair close and sat, reclaiming her hand, and Steve took the chair at my other side, surveying his surroundings.

  The hostess dropped a hand to my shoulder and bent to speak, making sure I had an unobstructed view of her décolleté. "My name is Hannaleigh. Make sure you ask for me if you need anything at all. Anything. Your waiter will be around to take your orders in a moment." Almost regretful, she stood. When I thanked her, she finally moved away.

  Looking around, I had to admit, they'd spared no expense. The place was all oxblood leather, polished brass, and dark oak. It reeked of hundred dollar cigars and exclusive booze and designer colognes.

  Tara gawked around as if she'd… Well, of course she'd never been in such a place. I couldn't prevent a little smile when she intently studied the leather upholstery on the arm of her chair. After some poking and prodding, she sank a nail into it then inspected the dent she'd created. Impressed despite herself, she tightened her lips a little and sat back to find something else to inspect.

  For the first time, I gave more than passing attention to the performer on the center stage. Slender but well-muscled, the auburn-haired beauty strutted around in time to the driving beat of the current song. Unless I missed my guess, the girl had a background in real dance, and the act looked professionally choreographed. Clear, healthy skin said she was there to dance, not support a habit. Interesting.

  A curvaceous woman in black slacks and a white blouse approached with a smile and stopped at Tara's side. "I'm Felicia, your waiter for the evening. Would you like to start with drinks?"

  When both Tara and Steve shot panicked glances at me, I ordered gin martinis all around. Felicia passed over dinner menus and disappeared to get our drinks. I took a quick look at the menu and made my decision. Judging by Tara's frown and Steve's raised brows, neither of them had any idea what they might want.

  Felicia returned with our drinks and automatically looked to me. "We'll have the appetizer sampler to start. Is the filet mignon good tonight?"

  She flashed a dazzling smile. "It's perfect. The grilled salmon is also good."

  I nodded. "I'll have the filet, medium." Tara echoed my selection, while Steve puzzled a moment longer, then chose the same. "We'll have a good Cabernet Sauvignon, as well."

  "Very good, Sir."

  "You seem right at home in this kind of place." Tara's smile wasn't pleased with the idea.

  "I've spent my fair share of time in them, though nothing this nice. Jealous?"

  "Not at all," she lied, going back to looking around at every detail.

  The appetizers came quickly, and I'd never been so desperate for a distraction. Maybe eating would reduce my need to keep an eye on the burly Security men, in particular the one who'd held Tara's chair.

  "This shrimp is delicious." Steve chewed and stared somewhere in the vicinity of my bow tie. His intense face said he'd never been in such a place before either, and wasn't at all comfortable with it.

  For me it was like… not a second home, more like a visit home after moving out, a little awkward but not unfamiliar. Having women throw themselves at me was like shopping at the grocery store. Nothing fantastic and new. Tara on the other hand had obviously never been in a place like this. She openly gawked at what went on around her. Constant oh my Gods and are you kidding escaped her lips every ten seconds. But it was the way she constantly glanced at me to see where my loyalty lay that made it all so much fun. Every time she did that, I met her with a burning hot gaze. One that said, there's no other woman in the room but you, love. And God help me, there wasn't.

  The chirp of my phone sounded in my pocket and dread slammed into me. What the fuck would they make us do? I pulled the phone out discreetly. Keeping it at my leg, I pressed the message button.

  Taking the position of Dom, order Tara to join the club's nightly contest.

  Fuck. And what exactly was that?

  "What?"

  I looked up from my phone at Tara and put it in my pocket. "Nothing."

  She reached over and got the phone out of my pocket and looked. Her face went screwy. "What competition?"

  I shrugged and looked around. "Nothing I want you doing." I had no doubt it would involve allowing strangers to ogle her. Not fucking happening. Not where I had to sit and watch them.

  She lo
oked around for several seconds. "Do we have a choice?"

  "Yes, we have a choice."

  She stared at me as though waiting for the other option.

  I stared back at her with a pointed look.

  "We can't not do the…the things."

  "We can not do them, yes."

  "Not if we want the points."

  "She has a point. No…pun intended." Steve sipped his wine.

  I looked at him. "Why should that matter to you?" He hadn't told us everything, I was sure of that now.

  "It doesn't have to matter to him to make a point," Tara said.

  "No." Steve peered around with a slow nod. "But it does. It does indeed matter." He took a huge breath and let it out slowly, giving that weird tight lipped grin that resembled the smile on a masquerade mask. "I don't get my bonus if you lose."

  I rolled my eyes and sat back.

  "Well and there we have it, two against one." Tara's smug grin made me want to throw her over my shoulder and march out of there with her.

  I sat forward and nailed her with a glare. "This isn't a fucking democracy. If it's something unacceptable, you are not doing it."

  She sat back appearing stunned with my bark. And then she gave that amazed look, the one that said surely you don't think I have to listen to you.

  Goddammit. If this were real life, and she were my real sub, this wouldn't be an issue. I'd leave with her. No, I wouldn't be there with her. But I had to earn the right in this shit. Earn the position. God I hated this.

  The stage cleared and the air filled with the crackle of a microphone. A stunning blonde in a revealing red dress took the center stage. "Welcome to The Silk Rose, ladies and gentlemen! I hope you're having a good evening." She waited for the muted applause to die down. "Now, as you know, we have highly talented performers here. But every once in a while, we like to spice things up with something new." A seasoned pro, she worked the audience, building anticipation. "This evening, we have a special treat. Our guests, both male and female, will have the opportunity to come up on stage and give us a little demonstration of pole-dancing!" It took the applause a while to fade after that announcement. Apparently, the regulars liked fresh meat. "Meet me at the steps to sign up!" Returning the mic to its stand, she sashayed over to where a pair of men pushed a set of broad wooden steps up to the edge of the stage.

  "What is that? Pole dancing?" Tara leaned and hissed the questions at me.

  "You have to strip down to panties and bra and dance on that pole." I nodded to the stage. Her blank expression shouted her ignorance. "You know, like a stripper?"

  She jerked to look and her jaw dropped. Then she turned back to me, her gaze narrowed in terror. "I can't dance!"

  "Is that all you're having an issue with?"

  She kept her mouth open and another round of incredulity gasped out. "Naked?"

  "Not quite." Steve's words drew a glare from me and he held up both hands. "My mouth is shut. And my eyes, if she would happen to choose to do so." He demonstrated with a graceful closing of his lids.

  "How hard can it be?" Tara stood now. "Where do I go?"

  At least it wasn't a lap dance. That would be a definite no. I'd have dragged her out. And really, the idea of her dancing on a pole was suddenly something I really wanted to see. But alone. "So, get your fucking ass up there, strip to your panties and bra, and dance for me."

  She stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

  "It said command you, sweetheart."

  She rolled her eyes. "Ohhh, yes Master. Yes. Whatever you say, Master Bane. Master Baney. Master Luscious." She took her glass of wine and downed it. Then took my glass and downed it. "Whooo. Yeah. Okay."

  Steve nodded in pride at her. "What a champ." He quickly sobered at meeting my glare.

  The air crackled with the fumbling of a microphone. Then a male announcer using a treacherous tone made the call for the contest. "Okay, ladies, Selena is waiting for you right down front and center! Gentlemen, let's have a big hand for all our brave competitors!" Thunderous applause broke over the spectators.

  I stood as Tara headed to the stage where a handful of other girls gathered, giggling. They were ushered to the back and I sat down to wait.

  The announcer put up a hand for quiet. "Are you ready to hear what it takes to win tonight?" More applause, brief, with a few catcalls thrown in. "Our lovely contestants will be taken backstage. One at a time, in only bra and panties, they'll have three minutes on the pole to convince you they're hot enough to win." He held up a small electronic device. "Our handy little decibel meter will tell us which contestant you think should win." He made a few jokes about pole-dancing and virgins, then nodded to someone off to the side. "Okay, they're telling me the ladies are ready. Remember make a lot of noise for your favorite!" He left the stage and the lights went down.

  The music faded in, then a spotlight illuminated a brass pole at center stage.

  "She'll be fine," Steve muttered, patting my hand.

  I shoved away his weird reassurance and waited for this asinine thing to be done. While at the same time, I felt nervous. For her. She couldn't dance? Dear God. What did that mean?

  The music came on and I wondered how many women we'd have to endure before Tara. I didn't have to wonder long because the platform holding the pole turned to reveal Tara, dressed in…black panties and bra with black heels. I stood and walked to the stage so she could see me. The volume rose and the music began thumping through the air and she stood there, looking around, squinting against the bright lights. I waved my hand and she shielded her eyes.

  "Dance, baby!" a man yelled from the audience.

  She jerked to the voice and began to move awkwardly to the beat. She drunk strut-walked two steps from the pole, then back and grabbed hold of it, more to steady herself. Damn, she was sensitive to alcohol. And why would that turn me on?

  The crowd cheered and she gave a slight rock of her hips to the left then eventually to the right. I could almost hear the conversation in her mind. And I think you move your hip section to the right. Or side to side. Yeah, let's try that.

  More applause erupted and she seemed encouraged.

  Ten more seconds and my somewhat tipsy Tara began to let go of her inhibitions until she became a somewhat confident woman even while attempting dance steps she didn't know. Again, my cock grew unbearably hard. She was so fucking vulnerable and brave all at the same time. I was mesmerized, and the sheer virgin experience of it beckoned me closer to the stage, needing to see it up close

  I realized I wasn't the only male wanting a closer look. They whistled and waved money at her. She fucking better not go near them. Tara began to dance further away from the pole. She turned and saw me at the edge of the stage and our eyes locked. My heart thundered as little by little, she moved toward me until I was sure that I'd been wrong about her virgin dancing experience.

  Her ankle twisted and both arms shot out. I jumped onto the stage as she ended in a sprawl on the floor.

  "I got you," I said, picking her up and holding her in a tight embrace. "I got you sweetheart."

  "Oh God, oh God, they're laughing."

  "Shhhh." I held her head tight to my chest. "Fuck them, love. You were fantastic."

  "Am I done?"

  "Yes, you're done."

  "I…I can't walk in these damn things."

  I lifted her up and cradled her in my arms and she hid her face in my chest. I carried her down the steps, glad to see the Security men move up to shield us from the spectators.

  My phone chirped in my pocket and I asked one of the men where the women's restroom was and followed the directions he gave. I opened the door and discovered an outer sitting room with a couch and several chairs outside the actual restrooms. I sat her down and pulled out my phone to check the message.

  Sexually Dominate Tara in a public place.

  Goddammit. The last thing I wanted was to do anything sexual with her while she was drunk. And yet my mind already had her bent over with my tongue in
her fucking ass.

  Chapter Four

  I looked around. This was a bathroom? Lucian turned and locked the door then went through a decorative arch on the right and quickly opened doors. He turned and walked toward me, his mouth and jaw set in determination, those blue eyes packing enough intensity and heat to set my blood on fire.

  I braced my hands on the little couch edge when the room spun a little, waiting for the Lucian impact. But instead he paced before me, back and forth, looking at me, like he wasn't sure what to do. No, like he wasn't sure which thing to do.

  He stopped and faced me, his chest heaving. "Take your panties off."

  The rough command was breathless, and melted the strength from my bones.

  "Fucking hurry." He unbuttoned his shirt and I stood and worked my panties off. Lucian waited with only his black slacks on, his torso a heaven of creamy, hard, rippling temptation.

  He took my hand and switched places with me, sitting on the sofa. "Dance."

  I stared at him, confused.

  He jerked the phone out of his pocket, pressed a button and held it up for me.

  Sexually Dominate Tara in a public place.

  I stood in only my bra, my heart racing, the alcohol losing its effect a little too fast. Dance. For him. Here. I wanted to say what about music, but it could be clearly heard still.

  He held my gaze with a near brutal intensity while undoing his pants. My body suddenly needed things and didn't care what I particularly thought about it. He pulled his extremely hard cock out and my stomach clenched in anticipation.

  "Dance." He stroked his cock and let his eyes lower over my body.

  The command tickled my clit and entered my hips. I moved them from side to side and slid my hands along my stomach.

  His forehead crimped in concentration, his gaze hard on my hands.

  His arousal affected me much like the wine had, intoxicating me, flowing through my blood until I felt like liquid fire moving to his hungry desire. I suddenly wanted to dance perfectly for him. I forgot about not really knowing how to, and let the rhythm of his every moan and hiss move me. I turned and placed my hands on my ass and swung my hips, looking over my shoulder.