Dom Wars: Round Five Read online

  We silently set up camp while I cursed under my breath and wrestled with three tents. I kept one eye on Steve who stumbled about, clearly out of his element but trying hard not to show it, as he examined the items in his bag like they were pieces to a puzzle he dreaded putting together. I'd already taken his tent from him before he mangled the simple pup feature from it then gave him the job of itemizing shit so he stayed out of my way while I worked.

  Periodically, I exchanged glances with Tara, finding her resolved to putting respective items in the tents as I set them up. My heart always skipped a beat and made me feel like a teenager at my first group camp-out when she caught me staring. It didn't help that I could read the clear need and longing in her eyes to be with me. Alone. And knowing exactly what she needed made it very difficult to not stop what I was doing and drag her into the woods to give it to her. Probably what the Preacher had in mind when he took off with his Princess down a nature trail with his arm around her. Guess we'd be the fucking slaves. I slammed the last stake into the ground for the third tent, giving it a few extra un-necessary whacks with the hammer side of my hatchet. Being his slave was fine by me as long as his little directives didn't get sexual. And I was ready to lay my little lost soul on the line and bet they would.

  Thirty minutes and a bucket of sweat later, we were done making camp, tents erected, fire ring set, wood fetched and fire started. I wiped sweat from my face with my arm, eying the supplies for the evening, neat and at the ready. Steve seemed to have found an odd driving solace in doing the tedious physical labor of this and that. His current new strange mission in life. I was worried about him. The whole thing had me on edge, but his every movement jerked with infused dread, as if he knew for certain he'd be asked to do something beyond his ability. I needed to let him know that I'd never let that happen.

  The Preacher Dom and his lady returned from their royal stroll and after the two exchanged silent looks, she went into the tent and he sat on one of the fallen logs Steve had rolled up beside the fire pit. The Dom watched us while whittling at a stick and then his woman emerged dressed in a bright traditional gown…what was it called? Khanga.

  She took one look at the preacher, nodded and headed toward the edge of the forest where Tara worked to drape a tarp to allow privacy for a makeshift bathroom, complete with the lovely camp toilet from the back of the Hummer.

  Even though he didn't look at me, I could feel it. The preacher wanted to talk to me, was waiting for me to come to him. He could sure wait.

  I grabbed the hatchet and started to split kindling off a piece of wood, using the work as a blind to find out everything I possibly could about this place. If there were any unpleasant surprises while we were there, knowledge of some small detail could make all the difference. They'd chosen a good site to make it hard for a person to get away from the situation, or to find help, which had my gut in knots of apprehension.

  No water spigot nearby meant this likely wasn't a state facility. Water flowed not far away though. A large stream maybe that I could hear, but not see. The trees all around were mostly hardwood and the leaf litter underfoot made stealth an unlikely proposition.

  I glanced down at the goofy watch on my wrist. For once it didn't bother me. Maybe our only link to salvation in this case. Fuck, who was I kidding? These people were likely hoping for bad shit to go down. I imagined huge audiences of people eating popcorn while having chain orgies and placing bets. Were Tara and I still the favored couple? Fucking crazy. I needed to keep us in that position. It would be nice if I knew what it was about us that they loved so much. How graciously we fucked up? Guess we'd just be ourselves and hope for the best.

  Once more, I listened to the water in the distance. Seemed like maybe a hundred yards or so away. First chance, I would take a walk and search it out and see what kind of advantage I could find there for Tara and me, or escape possibilities. At the very least, it could provide us a bit more privacy than we'd have in our tent.

  I glanced at Steve's tent, ready to barge over there and see what the fuck had him panting and grunting like he were rearranging fucking furniture. What could he possibly be doing to warrant that much racket? On second thought, maybe I didn't want to know.

  He'd finally changed out of his suit, which wasn't faring too well in this environment and to see him in jeans and a t-shirt was really…odd.

  I looked at the Preacher Dom and found his black gaze unreadable. His woman returned with Tara and sat gracefully at his side, elegant hands folded in her lap and a half smile on her full mouth. He cleared his throat a little, and she immediately stood and disappeared inside their tent. Fucking mind readers?

  He stood then and I realized he'd constructed a bow and arrow, instead of aimlessly whittling and fiddling with para-cord as I'd initially assumed. "Let's fetch supper Mr. Bane." He turned and headed toward the forest.

  Fetch supper? Was he kidding? He could hunt? I looked around then followed with my hatchet. My body hummed with fear and excitement as I took my time catching up to him. Unstable literally screamed from the man's pores, but there were things about him that made me curious. Something needed unravelling, something he was hiding. A secret. A big one.

  When I made it to his side, he brought a finger to his lips to silence me then began moving quietly through the forest. I followed behind him and we walked in stealth mode for about five minutes. How the fuck did such a big man move so quietly? Especially with all the dry leaves waiting to crackle underfoot.

  He stopped and held up one hand in a signal to halt. Pointing one finger toward something I didn't see in the ten o'clock direction, he waited in absolute silence.

  I carefully searched the area for whatever he saw, suddenly ten years old again with my grandfather, my heart hammering with the prospect of a kill. If I'd had more opportunity to learn from my grandfather, I might have actually absorbed it all. Instead, in my hatred of my father/teacher, I ended up despising the lessons.

  The Preacher very slowly nocked his homemade arrow onto his bow and just as slowly drew it back. I held my breath when I finally saw what he was aiming for. A rabbit. Fucker had incredible eye sight. The arrow released and he paused for several seconds before turning a grin to me. "Wabbit stew."

  "You got it?"

  He stared at me, his smile gone. "Fetch."

  I stared back at him, a shit load of familiar rebellion flooding me.

  He raised his brows at me. "Bane, this is going to be a very. Very. Long week for you. Now fetch… or I'll put a bit in that rebellious mouth of yours, ride your ass, and make you fetch with your teeth. ."

  My jaw worked slowly to the left then right before I gathered years of honed control and exaggerated reverence onto my tongue. "Yes, sir."

  "Yes, my lord," like he'd told me a thousand times to call him that.

  Motherfucker. One breath and my stubborn skills revved to life. "Yes. My lord." I gritted my teeth and headed to find the kill. When I reached it, I stared down at the arrow through the neck of the large rabbit, pissed that he'd gotten it. Pissed that he'd gotten it with a fucking homemade bow and arrow. Pissed that I fucking envied that skill. I'd never applied myself in my father's many endeavors to make a man out of me in the wilderness. I'd rebelled out of spite and gravitated toward more cerebral pursuits. Like writing. And by the time I wished I had learned both, it was too fucking late. Bastard.

  I picked up the still warm animal and startled to find the Preacher standing right there. "Let's get something crystal clear, Bane." That ominous thunder was back in his tone, along with quick and certain death in his eyes. "God doesn't like whoremongers. Liars. And cheaters."

  I remained silent, not acknowledging the jab, unable to resist one of my own, "And… are you God?"

  His face went slowly hard. "Blaspheme God, Bane, and I'll take you apart."

  I nodded and shrugged. "And what part of the commandments would that fall under?"

  He moved in a flash and my legs flew out from under me. I groaned and choked f
or air with his knee in my chest. "That would be commandment Number ONE. Thou shalt have no other Gods before me." He angled his head. "Got it?" Then tap-slapped my face several times as I fought to breathe around the massive weight he pushed down on my chest. "Got it, Bane? Or do I need to teach you a Bible lesson? Tie you to a slab, offer you up? Wait to see if the Lord will find you worthy? Maybe provide a pretty little sacrifice in the bushes named Tara, instead? Hmm? Didn't you go to Sunday School, son?" His tone sounded genuine and he suddenly got up and I gasped for air.

  He grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet like I weighed twenty pounds.

  "Let me tell you what's not going to happen here, Bane. You're not going to fuck this up."

  "You need me," I choked, glaring at him.

  "And you need me to not ask you to do something you're not willing to do. Right? I've watched the footage Bane. I know you better than you know yourself. And I won't hesitate to exploit that, got it?"

  "You'll lose too."

  He chuckled a little, staring at me. "If I lose…" he slowly grinned until he looked luridly insane. "Then God is a liar. And if God is a liar?" His arms spread wide. "What in the fuck is there to live for?"

  I stared at him, a cold feeling trickling along my spine at the realization he was dead serious. The idea that he would kill if I didn't comply wasn't all that far-fetched with him at this point. Religious nut running for a million dollars. "God said you'd win?"

  He giggled and nodded with wide eyes, confirming my sick suspicion. This dude thought he had a direct line to the Big Guy. Fucking great.

  I nodded for several silent seconds, pissed to the point of stupid. Words flooded my tongue until it danced restlessly in my mouth. "I broke the letter of the rules but there was something bigger at stake. The God I know wouldn't condemn that. And if He did?" I gave a huge fuck it shrug. "He can get in line with the rest of the world I don't give a shit about."

  I waited for his sure retaliation, watched it brewing in his face. Then watched it slowly die away. He turned back toward the camp, walking slowly. "The God you know, huh? The God you know?" I followed him finally as he began to laugh in deep chuckles until it grew to booming cackles around us.

  My body trembled in fury as I stalked after him, keeping a ten foot distance between us.

  "You don't know God," he finally said. "But don't worry, Bane. I've been chosen. Chosen to bring the truth to you. I had a dream about you Bane. A vision."

  I quickened my pace to hear him better, to hear his insanity, know just how fucked my situation was.

  "Do what it takes. That's what the dream said. Do whatever it takes to break Bane. Because I'm going to make him."

  A familiar terror took hold of my muscles at those words. I looked around at the forest, searching for anything unique to remember if we had to run. When we had to run. I'd run before, many times. My old man was good at surprising me with discipline. I'd learned to be ready to make a run for it. Escape for a while. My body interpreted the danger in this fucker's words as the same threat.

  He turned to me then and pointed. "Get ready Bane. To break like you've never broken before." He added a huge happy grin. "You're one blessed motherfucker. God must have some crazy shit planned for you, my brother. Because he went far, far off the beaten path for your ass." He tapped his chest. "And he sent me to do it. Two birds with one stone Bane. Two birds with one stone. I get the money." He turned a wicked looking pointer finger at me. "And you get the real treasure."

  The outrageous threat kicked my stupidity into high gear and I gave him my most direct stare, unblinking, knowing that my next words needed to matter, needed to convey I was just as crazy and not afraid to quit, no matter what. "Now that you got that off your chest, my turn." I closed the distance until I stood nearly toe to toe, eye to eye. "I don't mind being punished if I break the rules intentionally. But I won't allow Tara to be badly treated, and I won't allow anyone to subject her to sexual penalties. If and when that happens, I quit. We quit. Are we crystal clear?"

  He stared at me so long I started to worry he was having some sort of seizure. Finally, his gaze flickered and he gave a grin, a deranged looking expression that sent ice shooting along my spine. "Cooperation isn't something I need or require of you Bane, because I will get it if I have to beat it out of you. That is my job here as your Dom. And your job as her Dom is to take whatever punishment she deserves. Because if she fails, it means you failed to train her." He poked my chest. "But just so you know. You go against God's plan, Bane, and I will be your worst nightmare come true."

  "Don't flatter yourself, preacher. I learned all about nightmares at the hands of a true master in the third fucking grade. You can make things difficult, even intolerable, for me. You can even break me, that's all fine and good. But you will never be my worst nightmare." Even as I said the words, I knew even though they were true in one sense, he knew my fucking weakness. Tara. And if he was sadistic enough, he could surpass my father.

  He shook his head and stepped around me, dismissing me with a grunt. "You have no clue what a true master is, Bane. But you're about to learn. Be ready to sit down and talk strategy in fifteen minutes."

  Chapter Five

  I followed him into camp and the Preacher went into the tent with his woman after issuing orders for us to "prepare dinner".

  Steve emerged from his own tent, drenched in sweat and triumphant, like he'd conquered all his demons in a tribal sweat lodge.

  My stomach growled, reminding me it had been a long time since the sandwich I'd eaten at the airport. Tara and I exchanged silent glances that amounted to her wanting to know what we'd talked about and me trying to reassure her all was fine as I worked quickly to skin and gut the rabbit, wash it, then thread it onto a skewer above the fire to cook. I guessed his woman had started a pot of the freeze dried vegetables and some rice. Unless Steve or Tara had, highly unlikely. At least I thought.

  At the end of fifteen minutes, the three of us sat on the log on our side of the fire and waited. "I'm not eating that poor rabbit," Tara whispered quietly. "The smell is disgusting."

  "Then don't," I whispered back.

  The Preacher and his woman had yet to make an appearance and resentment flared in my mind. I had better things to do than sit and wait for them while they no doubt got to indulge in one another. I still hadn't had a chance to actually talk with Tara, or even give her a real kiss. Every fiber of my being yearned for her.

  Abruptly, I stood and began to pace. If they didn't come out in a few minutes, I wasn't going to wait any longer.

  Just my luck, they came out of their tent arm in arm, smiling at each other like a couple of new lovers. Totally absorbed, they came over and took the same seats as earlier. "Shall we get started?" The deep voice sounded more relaxed than earlier but it clearly meant ready or not. Had they been forced into the same involuntary separation that had been imposed on me and Tara between every round? It would be only fair. Somehow I had failed to consider that other partners would be kept apart as well.

  "Tara, would you mind helping Becca serve?" I stared at the preacher, shocked at the respect in his tone. And relieved.

  "Oh, sure." Tara hopped up only to stand and rock from foot to foot. "I can get the drinks?"

  The woman gave her a bright smile. "I will serve the meal."

  Steve stood too. "I'll—"

  "Stay put," the preacher answered. "We need your brains for strategy."

  He settled back down in jerky resolution then grabbed his make shift paper fan and went back to swatting at his face.

  "You all need to sell every single one of those products in four days," the preacher said, "and then some."

  I looked at him. "Just us?"

  "My assignment forbids me to sell."

  What the fuck. "So, they want you to what?"

  He looked at me like I was slow. "See to it that you do it. See to it that I dominate seeing to you doing it. What are you not getting about this? You are here to learn how to submit to aut
hority. I'm that authority. You are here to teach your sub to do the same. Comprende?"

  "So…" Steve began, "you help by…watching us sell pornographic paraphernalia."

  The preacher eyed Steve for a few seconds. "Steve…" he began, his tone seeming extra careful, "Don't be a fucker. It's not pornographic paraphernalia until it's used for that. Got it?" His tone bit at the end with annoyance.

  I fought the quirk in my lip, hating that he was fucking right. I didn't want him being right. About anything. "So what will you be doing?"

  "Making sure our team succeeds."

  "By…" I raised my brows in annoyed wonder.

  "By kicking your ass when you fuck up." Like that was the all-encompassing cure-all.

  "My ass."

  "You're the Dom over your team. I'm the Dom over you. They fuck up, you pay. I fail to change your ways, then we all pay." His brow crimped with perplexity. "You've been in the lifestyle for how many years? And you don't have a handle on the chain of command?"

  I glared at him, pissed. Something about what he was saying chapped my balls. He talked about the D/s like it was some kind of military operation. "It's a lot more than just tactical procedures, preacher."

  He stared back at me, a smiley face threatening. "Oh, that it is. But fail to get the military aspects of it Bane, and you will not achieve a fucking thing. Mission failed."

  "Love doesn't work that way, it doesn't…it isn't confined to those kinds of rules."

  More long staring and stupid laughter in his eyes. "My brother..." added headshakes for many seconds, "love made those rules."

  I sat there, bound in a prison of strange confusion. The concept he'd just given was like a… tiger-snake-frog that I could only stare at with repulsed curiosity. Love made the military rules? I wasn't sure how, exactly, but that was ridiculous bullshit.

  "So…" Steve adjusted himself next to me. "You'll be teaching Lucian to dominate selling…dildos?"