Preacher Dom

by Lucian Bane

  PREACHER

  DOM

  

  Place me like a seal upon your heart

  Place me like a seal upon your arm

  For love is as strong as death

  Its jealousies unyielding as the grave

  Many waters cannot quench love

  Rivers cannot sweep it away

  It burns like a raging fire

  It burns like a mighty flame

  And if one were to give

  all the wealth of his house for love…

  It would be utterly scorned

  ж

  Song of Songs

  Dedicated to my wife—my soul—my sub

  I love you with all that I am

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter One

  Daniel stared at the building he’d seen in his dream, a euphoric sensation tingling along his skin. The familiar telltale sign was a confirmation. God was trying to tell him something important.

  Daniel tilted his head at the only sign on the side of the two-story black, brick wall. Sodom and Gomorrah. The faded subtitle read, No Turning Back.

  He glanced up and down the street for further clues before making his way toward the front of the building. He paused at finding the exact same sign and a set of double doors—glossy black—leading in. He continued walking, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he searched the area for any informing details. He followed the sidewalk a little ways then took the first turn that should bring him to the rear of the building. He found a small cigarette shop and clothing boutique blocking his view to where the backside should be. Again he glanced around and that euphoric feeling trickled in, directing him to keep looking.

  He needed a phone directory.

  It’d have to wait till after he went to The Last Supper and applied for a job. “I know you’re not eager to reinsert yourself into society, but I’m afraid it’s a necessary evil. You just get back on that bike and ride it again. You need to get you a job, a car and one of them digitized gadgets I see everybody carrying that does everything but take out the trash.”

  Daniel appreciated Gramma G’s perception. She knew just how much he dreaded every single one of those necessary evils, and yet… there was a strange pull toward all of it the moment he’d set foot out of prison. He was sure it was the Spirit, calling him to something.

  He headed toward The Last Supper, tossing a glance back at the towering black square. Whatever he was being called to, that place was part of the call.

  He hurried his steps, ready to learn what Sodom and Gomorrah-- No Turning Back was all about. While the name implied evil, he got no bad vibes. He realized then that he had no sense of anything about it. Almost like the place was being hidden from him. Or his purpose with it.

  But why would God hide that?

  Daniel’s soul hummed with an eagerness for answers. And they were coming. He could feel them on his heels, right around the corner.

  ****

  The wafting smells from The Last Supper tightened Daniel’s stomach with more than just hunger pains. He held the handle of the diner door, bracing himself against the sudden rush of memories. Gramma G had taken him there for his birthday surprise. He could still see that Heaven in her smile and sky-blue eyes as she fulfilled one of his greatest childhood dreams. To have her all to himself while they ate at the Last Supper Diner in Hell, Michigan.

  He was nine then. Living in a life of hope and young boy dreams. He was going to grow up and be a fireman so he could put out all the fires in Hell, Michigan. Maybe he still would. Just different fires.

  He pulled the door open and his gaze hungrily sought the table from that forever ago. It sat empty. Alone. His steps quickened as though his body knew before he did. He slid into the booth and released a gasp, closing his eyes. His hands trembled along the cool surface of the table, connecting and merging things inside him. The raging passion for all the nameless things stroked against his fingertips. He lay his head on the table, sucking in deep breaths of relief. All his tragedies had failed, they’d been unable to strip this part from him. He was home.

  “Welcome to Hell, sugar, what can the devil’s delightful demoness get for you?”

  Daniel lifted his head to the quirky, maybe rehearsed greeting. “Just coffee,” he muttered to the woman that smacked her gum at him. He tried not to stare at her dramatic red lips and glittery green eyelids, wondering if it was part of the dress code. “Coffee for now,” he repeated. “What’s the special?” He remembered there was usually one.

  She jutted a chubby thumb behind her. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, choice of veggies—might I suggest the green beans, they’re Hell’s finest. Choice of bread, rolls or cornbread and—”

  “I’ll have that. Cornbread and… the green beans. With the special. Thank you.”

  She wrote his order, smiling as she did. “You visiting family?” she asked. “I know ever face in this town and yours is brand spankin’ new. And cute too if I might say so,” she said with a giggle.

  “Uh, yeah. My gramma. She lives here.” Daniel prayed she didn’t ask for names or any personal questions. He’d rehearsed answers but preferred not having to give any.

  “Well, my name is Gertrude. I know all the sites and places. You need any suggestions for entertainment, you let me know. How long you in for?”

  “Not real sure yet,” he said, forcing his ill-practiced smile while remembering the building in his dreams. “I take my coffee black,” he said. He’d ask her on the next round of social torture. Give him time to plan his line of questions.

  While waiting, he took in the new interior. They’d changed it from the blue teal to shiny red with sparkly flecks. The floors were still black and white checkered, but he was pretty sure it was new. He eyed the cook and the other waitress. All new too. He stole glances at the few customers across the room, not recognizing either.

  He spotted the juke box and before his social inadequacy could stop him, he headed toward it. Standing at the portal to his past, he studied the songs, disappointment slowly filling him. All new.

  “The modern stuff is on the left and there’s some oldie Goldie’s on the right,” Gertrude called behind him.

  Daniel swung his gaze over and the second his eyes found home, his hand was already digging in his pocket for change.

  “It’s gonna takes dollars, sugar,” she called out as he looked to find where to put the money.

  “Dollars,” he mumbled.

  “A dollar gets you two songs.”

  He pulled his wallet out and studied the set-up, not sure what the modern technology might be. At seeing it was just like the one he’d used a thousand times in prison, his guts loosened a little. The very last thing he wanted was to have to ask Gertrude how to do anything that was simple to normal people. Not exactly resume material.

  He selected the two songs his Gramma G liked and returned to his seat, smiling when the first one filled the air with its bouncy tune and shrilly voices.

  “Oh, I like that one!” Gertrude said, dancing her way to his table with the coffee. “Oh yeah, wait a minute Mr. Post Man!” she sang, setting the cup down. “Your order will be up in about fifteen.” She leaned and whispered, “Mickey is a little slow but he’s a guarantee on the quality.” She winked, smacking her gum and staring with those glittery eyes.

  “I was walking around town,” Daniel said, diving in. “I haven�
��t been here since I was a kid. I noticed a building not far from here... a two-story black one?”

  Her eyes widened briefly before she whispered. “Sodom and Gomorrah?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “What kind of place is that? A church?”

  Her laughter rang out for several seconds before she gave him an angled look of devout warning. “A church,” she muttered quietly, glancing over her shoulder before aiming a comical stare at him. “That ain’t no church, sugar. That’s the devil’s playground and the name fits it to a T. You familiar with the Bible story of Sodom and Gomorrah? Well, let me tell you,” she said, not waiting for an answer. “That place is full of what went on there. We’ve been trying to get it shut down,” she said quieter. “Nobody wants that filth in this city. Hell or no Hell, this here is a family town,” she strained, her forehead pinched in a passion Daniel understood.

  But...how exactly was the place like Sodom and Gomorrah? Obviously, they weren’t doing anything illegal. “So, it’s like… one of those… adult clubs?”

  “It’s a little more than that,” she quipped, shoving her order pad into her apron pocket, missing the mark repeatedly. “It’s B…D...S...M.”

  Daniel puzzled over the acronym, trying to recall where he’d heard those letters and their meaning.

  “Sweet honey chile,” she barely said, like the topic was taboo in the diner. “It’s that 50 shades of gray matter. Good Lord,” she cried at his confusion. “Where have you been for the past decade? You know, the spanking epidemic with the… intimacy? Sadism and masochism evils?”

  Sadism and masochism. “The S and M are sadism and masochism,” he realized, recalling that in his psychological studies.

  “And the B is bondage and the D is… dominance I think?” Her face screwed up before she shook her head, back to smacking her gum. “The D is for dumb, dumb and dumber if you ask me. All them alphabets they use are perverted,” she assured with stern eyes. “And we’re all praying they shut down.” Her whisper had gone lower, like the devil might hear and ruin their plans.

  Shut them down. Hmm.

  “Order up,” the cook yelled, breaking up their conversation.

  “Be right back, I hope you’re hungry because this here is a lot of food.”

  He was hungry. For a lot of things. We are all praying they get shut down. Was that it? Was he supposed to help them with that? Had their prayers called him there to help with that?

  BDSM.

  His mind began connecting dots. So this was a place where sadists and masochists went and…

  The crying faces of those three women rushed into his mind. “You cannot tell, you cannot tell, please. They will kill us.” Sudden alarm froze him. Were there women at this place like them? Destined by evil’s fate to suffer at the hands of cruel, sadistic men?

  We’re praying they get shut down.

  Daniel slid his palms along his jeans, the need to act biting in his muscles until his right leg bounced. If there was one thing he’d mastered in his life, it was the disciplined art of praying. The art of wrestling with God until He blessed him with whatever wisdom he sought after.

  Praying was like breathing for him.

  Daniel ate his food like that eager nine-year-old from long ago. He had things he could hardly wait to do. He had plans. A purpose. And he had his freedom to carry it all out.

  But he especially had the need to pray. Pray Sodom and Gomorrah down to the ground.

  No Turning Back.

  ****

  Seven rounds around the Devil’s den, that was Daniel’s plan. The number of completion. He was on his sixth pass when he rounded a corner and stopped in his tracks. Three feet before him was a woman. Feet planted apart, arms crossed over her chest and piercing blue eyes staked into him.

  “Are you lost?”

  He angled his head, just as curious as her. “No,” Daniel said.

  “Why do you keep circling the block? Is your inner blinker stuck?”

  Daniel took in more of her appearance. Particularly the darker shadow around her right eye. She was either bad at putting on makeup or bad at hiding bruises. Before he could wonder how to answer her question, it came right out. “I’m praying Sodom and Gomorrah gets shut down.”

  Her brows shot up under the straight black hair across her forehead. “Are you shitting me?”

  A million questions entered his mind about her, particularly her age. She couldn’t have been much over twenty if that. “I’m not, no.”

  “Why are you doing that?”

  There was a curious sincerity in her tickled voice and Daniel realized she might be a patron there. “Why do you care?”

  “Oh, I don’t.” She put her hands in her back pockets with a shrug. “By all means, pray that devil’s den right down to the ground.”

  “You work there?”

  She gave an incredulous look at him. “Why do you care?”

  “Because I do.”

  She suddenly snorted and scratched her cheek, looking off to the right. She then turned her blue gaze back and let it roam over him. “What are you, some kind of preacher?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “A sometimes preacher, huh? Well, that’s about right for Hell, Michigan.”

  “I mean I don’t always preach. Sometimes I do. Mostly I pray.”

  “While circling things. What church you with?” She crossed her arms again and cocked her hip.

  “No official church.”

  “A loner? Like one of them street evangelists?”

  “Just somebody who believes in God.” It occurred to Daniel that God had put her in his path at that moment for a reason. “What about you? Are you a believer?”

  She laughed raucously at that, giving his answer. “Oh, I believe in a lot of things, Preacher. I believe in real things. Things I can see?”

  Interesting. “And why did you stop me?”

  She stared at him, making Daniel curious over the sudden calculations in her eyes. “Well,” she said. “Since you’ve been honest with me, I guess I’ll be honest with you.” She lowered her head and shoved her hands in her back pockets. “I was…”

  He stared intently at her, waiting. “You were...” he wondered, seeing her courage slip.

  “I was going to ask you on a date,” she blurted, not looking up.

  Her answer was so far from what he expected. He stood dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond or ease the awkwardness her confession put between them. “I don’t date,” he finally muttered, not sure what else to say.

  Her gaze hit his, maybe to see if he was being honest. Meanwhile, Daniel prayed fervently for the right words with her, prayed to get at his purpose with the woman standing there in that spot, in the sixth cycle of his prayers.

  “Are you… like… celibate?”

  “No,” he said, looking down. “I’m just… not interested in women.”

  “God damn,” she muttered, sounding pissed. “Hell Michigan steals all the finest men for the gayhood.”

  “I’m not homosexual,” he said, almost amused by her open disappointment.

  Confusion crimped her face with that. “So what are you, if you’re not gay? Every man likes women,” she assured.

  And yet she seemed ready for him to argue her point. “Every man does like women in some way, yes.”

  “So you don’t think I’m pretty enough to date?”

  Judging by the quirk in her brow, that possibility was clearly a comical concept she had never once heard or considered in her life. But now, as she did consider it, Daniel could see it might shatter whatever self-esteem she had going.

  “Your looks have nothing to do with why I don’t date.”

  “That didn’t answer a thing. It’s a simple question. Am I pretty enough to date or what?”

  Daniel struggled for an honest answer that would cut her the least. “You’re plenty pretty enough to date.”

  “To you?”

  Daniel lowered his head, hiding his smile at her quick par skills. He leveled his g
aze on her, deciding to go with the truth. Until he saw that vulnerability in her blue eyes. “Yes. To me. But I don’t date looks.”

  She looked off to the right, holding one of her arms and doing something nervous with her feet. Why did she care so much what he thought of her? “So what do you date?” She aimed offended eyes at him. “You trying to tell me you’re... into that heart shit?”

  Heart shit. A dull ache filled Daniel at seeing it in her eyes. All her womanly dreams of heart shit had been shattered by life. He was a freak show to her. But that was something he was accustomed to being to other people. He’d just never encountered a woman like this. One that had bowed to the weight of life’s disappointments and cruelty so young.

  “Are you a patron at Sodom and Gomorrah?” He needed to know that more than ever. It would explain a lot.

  This time she lowered her gaze and her shame filled the air between them like a physical presence. “Maybe.” She shuffled her feet again, her voice quiet. “Sometimes.”

  There it was. It was exactly what Daniel was waiting to see and even though it was just a glimpse, it was enough. She was trapped. “Do you need help?”

  Her gaze snapped up to his and the fear and caution sparking in the blue depths put him on immediate alert. “Why would you ask that?” She looked around suddenly. “Did Darius send you? Is this some kind of test?”

  “Stop,” Daniel ordered, seeming to further scare her. “Don’t panic, I have no idea who Darius is. Is he your boyfriend?”

  She suddenly moved closer to the building, fighting to catch her breath. Daniel watched her, taking in her body language. It scrawled out a wicked message of hidden abuse and lit Daniel’s passion with a hungry fury. “Let me help you,” he said, trying to remove the gruff from his voice. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help you. Why else do you think our paths crossed today?”

  She held her knees, shaking her head. “You can’t help me, Preacher,” she croaked weakly before suddenly straightening, a wild look in her eyes. “Look,” she whispered, still shaking her head. “I thought you were just a regular guy, okay? I was going to ask you if you wanted to go on a date. I have a Dom, if you know what that is. He likes to share and I was looking for a prospect. And you’re not it.” She held up both hands in surrender. “My bad. Please forgive me. My bad.”