Dom Wars - Round One

by Lucian Bane

  “The ad described me. I’m a perfectly good Dom. People listen to me when I tell them what to do. I take charge. I get things done. If there’s a problem, I solve it I don’t whine and cry about it. I’m my own boss in my life, and I don’t take shit. Or cry.”

  The grin he wore was on the edge of becoming rude. “Or cry.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If you have a point to make, sir, make it. I’m not into word games.”

  “Does this mean you’re asking me to become your Dom?”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What?” And yet something in his demeanor called to me, insisting.

  “Well, you called me sir…”

  “Oh God,” I muttered, pretending to go back to reading my Kindle. “Not that kind, the normal kind.” I glanced at him. “And who is your Dom?”

  He grinned, a look of pure joy. Like he was having the time of his life. “Nobody.” The grin never faded with his answer.

  “Oh so you can be your own Dom but I can’t?”

  “I’m a Dom over subs. You have subs?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Are you available?”

  “Oh fuck!” He literally giggled, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune cookies.

  I just wished I knew exactly what he found so very funny. “Is that a yes?”

  “Do you want a sub to Dominate?”

  Another serious question. I had to remember that this lifestyle was real to him. To all these people. It was a form of therapy for them, I reminded myself. And I really needed to practice playing along. “I Dominate subs in the real world all day. Do I want or need someone to Dominate sexually? No.”

  “Do you want to be Dominated sexually?”

  Survival instincts kicked down my adrenalin door at the combination of those words. Dominate and sex. “Not particularly.”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Let’s go with not. Just not. No. I don’t want to be dominated sexually. I don’t want to be dominated in any way. I want to dominate. It’s what I do, who I am. And I want to win this competition. That’s why I’m here. This isn’t a rush or high for me. I’m not a Domaholic, I’m just…” I swiped my kindle screen, trying to think of the right words.

  “Domaholic?” His voice went all funny with amazement. “Fuck, you’re so cute.”

  “Doesn’t say you have to be for real. I can role play. I’ve read all about it.” We moved slowly forward again.

  “So you saw the ad for this competition and you thought, hey, I’m a natural Dom, I could win that.”

  I shrugged and nodded trying to think why that was clearly stupid. “Yes.” I seriously couldn’t find anything glaringly idiotic.

  He dropped his head and shook it. “Do you have any idea what is going to be required of you in this competition, sweetheart?”

  My stomach knotted at the dangerous warning in his words, tinged with sympathy. Again I managed nonchalance. “Not particularly. You?”

  He studied me for several seconds before his face slowly went serious. “I’m not entirely sure to be honest. But could include things you wouldn’t want to do.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I’m very sure.”

  I put my Kindle in my bag and leveled a professional stare at him only to realize immediately he was not one of my clients. He met my gaze with a ferocity I wasn’t used to. “I’m very sure you can’t possibly be sure. Yes, you can look at me and make some assumptions, I get that.”

  He put his hand on my back and prompted me forward to close the gap in the moving line.

  “And…well that doesn’t mean you know me.” I stepped out of the steaming hot touch of his hand. “I may be a little clumsy and I may not fit the picture you’re used to seeing but don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m not capable of accomplishing anything I set my mind to.” I angled my body and viewed the progress in the line. “Moving right along now.”

  I finally chanced a peripheral glance his way and my heart raced at how he stared at me. Intimidation. That’s all.

  “If you respond to every simple touch like that, love, you’re not going to make it past auditions. And I’m glad, really.”

  “I’m sure you are. That’s one less challenge for you.”

  “Hardly. One less sweet angel about to get burned where the devils come to play.”

  Oh geeze. If only he didn’t have that sincere tone, it’d make it a lot easier to play this game with him. But he wasn’t playing. I gave an unladylike snort. “I’m no angel.”

  “Oh, God,” he whispered, that fascination back.

  “The fact that I’m doing this for money says I’m no angel.” The stubborn streak in me insisted I prove to him how very un-angelic I could be.

  “No it doesn’t.”

  I swiveled my annoyed look to him. “And why are you harassing me again? Why should you care who comes to this audition? Who are you, an undercover moral policeman?” I added my sweet smile then. “Like it or not, I’m here. If they laugh me off the stage, what does it hurt you?”

  “Good, God.” He looked around. “Is your mother being held at gunpoint somewhere? Your child?” He looked at me, perplexity at its sexy finest. “I just can’t believe you would do this. No, I don’t know you, but think about how this looks to somebody, anybody. Some virgin from a small town coming to audition to be the top Dom?” He scrunched his shoulders and held them. “That’s… fucking insane, am I right?”

  I snapped my hand up. “Could you just leave me alone? Unless you’re here to help me, I’d prefer you zip it.” I dug my Kindle back out of my bag. “I’ll just be reading if you don’t mind.”

  “No, go ahead. Cram for your test, sweetheart.” His tone mocked me, as if he humored a child, or a mentally challenged person.

  “Why don’t you do something useful and help me prepare? Since you’re so interested in my sure failure.”

  Those broad shoulders expressed his amazement with a shrug. “I could kiss you.”

  My hormones train-wrecked until nothing but moronic syllables flooded my mind. Thankfully they didn’t come out of my mouth. “I’m being serious. Please.”

  “Please…” His voice lowered to that soft sincerity I was beginning to recognize as his trademark. “So am I.”

  “Oh dear God, you are a piece of work. Where did you take classes to be that smooth?” I angled a smile and nodded. “You are really good.”

  “I am good.” Like he stated simple fact.

  “Ohhhh, I bet you are. Plenty of practice, eh?”

  “Yes. That’s what a Dom does.”

  “No, no, no, that’s what you do. I don’t recall reading where it said you had to take fifty women and…” I wavered my hand in the air, “do…private things with them.”

  “Use your BDSM vocabulary words.” As if I were a toddler. “I spank them. Force them to orgasm over and over again. Worship their pussy. Their body. I bite them, fuck them hard and—”

  “I get it! Jesus Christ.” I wagged the Kindle at him. “It’s all in here, I don’t need you to recite the whole thing.”

  “Yes you do. I assure you, you do. There’s no doubt going to be a written test and several physical ones.”

  Oh hell. “Physical? Like what?”

  His grin bordered on sadistic. “Oh, I don’t know. Something along the lines of demonstrating Dominance.”

  “They said nothing sexual.” I hated how small my voice sounded.

  “In the audition.”

  I pursed my lips mostly to keep from chewing them to shreds. “Oh.” Yeah, I’d wondered what all might be involved after the audition. “I’m sure it won’t be too over the top. I mean, it’s going to be on television. They can’t get too extreme.”

  He released an oh shit sound of incredulity. “Online, sweetheart. Pay Per View.”

  “So? Everything is online.”

  “Oh dear God,” he whispered in awe of me. “This is online because it’s so over the top, sweetheart.”

 
I stared at him, mouth open like a fly-catcher. There was no hiding the oh-crap train wreck in my mind.

  He nodded, no doubt seeing it. “But you haven’t walked through those doors, love. You can turn around now, and go back to where you came from. After you give me your phone number.”

  Fear, insult, and intrigue ran circles in my gut at all he just said and meant. “I’m…” I looked around and took a deep breath with my eyes closed. I saw Gramma’s face, her jaw trembling, eyes full of tears, the lines at her brow etched with the horror that gave me nightmares. And the orderly working there, the one I’d gone to high school with, who’d grown into a giant with a severely negative vibe. My resolved hardened. “I’m in. I’m doing it.”

  I met his gaze, surprised at the sadness I saw there. He stepped closer and I braced myself as his thumb glided over my cheek. The world disappeared as he held me with that damn…stuff in his eyes, too many things I wasn’t familiar with.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not worth it. I don’t know what’s going on but please, don’t do this.”

  I waved off the fear he produced. “I’ll be fine. They can’t like kill me or anything, right?” I laugh/snorted a little. “Okay, you’re freaking me out with that look.”

  “No, they can’t kill you, love.”

  I fanned my face at the unspoken things in his tone. “I’ll tell you what.” Past time to lighten the mood. “How about we make a little deal.” I landed my hand on his shoulder for a truce. “You help me through this and… I’ll split the winnings with you if I win.”

  I held my breath as he stepped right up to me and put his warm hands on either side of my face in the softest caress. Surely he wouldn’t… oh dear. His lips lowered to mine then paused just before touch down. “I’ll do it.” He placed a feather soft kiss on the edge of my mouth and pulled up, his gaze sending sparks through my body at warp speed. “In fact…” he smiled barely with that relentless gaze, “…I’d pay you to let me.”

  “Ha.” The crazy sounding laugh came with my incessant nods. I couldn’t seem to make them stop as I looked around. “Okay.”

  “What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Oh! Tara. Tara Reese.”

  “Lucian Bane.” He held his hand out to me and I shook it.

  “Guess it’s a good idea to know the name of the person you’re…” Ah, shit. I drew my hand back and looked around. “Line’s moving.”

  Chapter Three

  Tara. It wasn’t just her name that rubbed my cock the wrong way, it was that she was a clueless woman running against me for the Ultimate Dom position. So unfair for her. My heart stopped as she emerged from the bathroom in black heels and dress. I watched as she bent to drink from the water fountain, my eyes landing on the perfect curve of her ass. Stomping grounds had never looked so enticing, that was for damn sure.

  She straightened and looked around. She spotted me and walked over, her stride oddly confident in this outfit. She was really going through with it. Every moment that passed, I kept expecting her to back out, to turn and run her lovely ass back to her car. But she stayed. Fine. If I couldn’t talk her into quitting, maybe I could make sure she lost. Now that they’d officially signed us up as a pair, it should be pretty simple. Some day she might even thank me for it.

  Things moved more quickly now that we’d made it past the written test. That phase had eliminated roughly half of the competition in short order. They’d moved the remaining contestants into a room that resembled a small cinema to await the next phase. An outraged grumble had passed through the group when the pair requirement was announced. One male bitched about the big coincidence that equal numbers of males and females had advanced. He was wrong on that, though. I’d spotted several male/male pairs.

  A gruff voice up near the front of the room sounded familiar and I searched for the speaker. Oh God. No way that bastard still walked the streets a free man.

  A burly dude rose and turned to someone behind him. “And I’ll say it again. Every so-called Dom here will sub to me.” A cruel mouth twisted into a sneer. “There’s no competition. They should have just called me to start with. If they’d talked to anyone really in the lifestyle, they’d have known that.”

  My muscles tightened with the urge to leap over the rows of seats and shut the bastard’s mouth. The attitude certainly hadn’t changed since I’d last encountered Jase Duff. The intervening years melted away and suddenly I was eight years younger, sitting in the public room of Mistress Stacia’s Playroom. It was the biggest BDSM club in the Dallas-Fort Worth area and had a formidable reputation for strict enforcement of the rules.

  Silence fell in the public room as two of the male subs carefully supported a female between them. Even with their help, the girl barely stayed upright. A lurid bruise puffed her cheekbone and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Legs bared by her mini skirt were covered with welts that oozed blood.

  Master Duff turned back to his subs. “Let her go. She refused the care and protection of my collar. She can find her own way out.” He turned on his heel and strode to the door.

  The male subs glanced to one another, then gently lowered the young woman to the floor. Faces carefully neutral, they followed their Master.

  I looked around, furious that nobody seemed inclined to help the girl. “You can’t just leave her. She needs care.”

  Everyone in the room held their breath as Master Duff froze. “Boy, I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, since you obviously are ignorant of certain expectations. No one challenges a Master unless they are prepared for the consequences.”

  I glanced around to find every single face turned away from me. They might not like Duff, but they didn’t feel strongly enough about it to challenge him, even as a group. “No decent master would leave her in that condition.”

  “What’s going on here?” A feminine voice cut through the tension. Mistress Stacia strode into the room, black leather corset gleaming against smooth ivory skin. The tip of her riding crop snapped against the delicate-looking embossed leather that snugly covered her calf.

  One of her own subs came forward to explain in hushed tones. As he spoke, she looked from the Master to the poor girl still on the floor. “Master Duff, I’ve told you before not to cross my lines. This does. Harming a sub to the point they need medical attention serves none of us. We’re allowed to exist because we don’t draw attention from the vanilla world. Henceforth, my Playroom shall be relieved of your patronage.” She turned toward the injured girl. “Take her to my private rooms.”

  He didn’t show up in my life again for a while, but when he did, he made a point to remind me who he was. His victim that night had become my first collared sub, and he was not happy about that either. Thus far, I’d always managed to elude his little revenge fantasies by outsmarting him.

  He would be fucking trouble.

  Beside me, Tara stirred in her seat, shifting her e-reader around to a more comfortable position. Squirming a little, she leaned her mouth close to my ear. “Who’s the loudmouth?”

  Duff was still going on about how lame he considered the competition.

  I had to make sure Tara didn’t pop up on his radar. If he so much as saw her sitting with me, a bull’s-eye would appear on her forehead. “He’s a serious loser. I can’t believe he’s still walking the streets.”

  She stared skeptically at Duff. “He doesn’t look that scary.”

  “You’re judging him by vanilla standards. Imagine a guy with cruel tendencies, only none of the normal rules apply to him. He can do whatever he wants and no one will stop him. That’s Jase Duff.”

  An almost speculative look crossed her face. “Listen to me Tara.” I took her hand to make sure I had her full attention. She faced me, one brow lifted slightly. “If you go anywhere near that bastard, I walk. You’ll lose.”

  The eyebrow went up a bit further. “Oh. You think I can’t do this without you?”

&
nbsp; Caution made me back off a little. “Let’s just say you go near him, I’ll make sure you lose. One way or another.”

  Finally, the tall blonde announcer stood at the front again. The room went quiet waiting for her to call the next pair. “Lucian Bane. Tara Reese.”

  I stood and drew Tara with me and the blonde’s sharp gaze zeroed in on us.

  “This way.” She waited for us to catch up and showed us through the door at the side. We followed down a broad corridor until she stopped outside a metal door. “You’ll find a description of your task inside. You have fifteen minutes to strategize, then you’ll be taken in front of the committee.” She waited until we were inside the little room and closed the door behind us.

  A sealed envelope imprinted with our names sat on the little cheap-looking side table crowded between a pair of stained office chairs. Tara flew over and ripped open the envelope then sat in the chair, mumbling through the words.

  I finally made out what we were supposed to do even though she wasn’t sure and re-read it. They wanted the Dom to make first contact with a potential sub.

  I dropped into the other chair and she suddenly looked up at me, a little puzzled. I spelled it out simply, “They want us to pretend we’re just meeting and see how well I can pick up a new sub.”

  “You?”

  “Unless you have experience picking up subs besides ‘hi, my name is Tara, I’m an adorable sexy woman who would like to have intercourse with you’. If we’re going to win, I’m playing Dom.”

  The pulse fluttering at the base of her throat caught my attention, beckoning. Her nervousness set my instincts into overdrive and I had to push back the urge to soothe her. If she were going to play sub, letting her be frightened and ignorant of what I would do was good. “Just follow my lead.”

  Whatever reason had induced Tara to audition must have entered her mind, because she suddenly became that woman willing to put her own self aside and do what it took to get the job done. Even if it meant listening to me. Thankfully.