Dom Wars - Round One Read online

  “It’s not just pleasure. It’s… I can’t…” she opened her arms completely forgetting her nudity. “I can’t just do those things with just anybody.”

  My cock stood tall and she went back to covering herself at seeing it, eyes all suspicious. “Well when does one become more than just anybody to you, Tara? You have a formula for the human emotions?”

  She stared at me and finally turned, presenting her backside.

  “Oh God, baby, let me worship your ass. Choose Ass worship, I beg you. Or Face Sitting. I’ll pay you.” I pulled on the restraints in agitation. “Face Sitting is worth a lot. We need the points. It’s just pleasure, love, and I’m tied up. You’ve masturbated before I’m sure? You can close your eyes and pretend that’s all you’re doing.”

  She paced and shook both her hands. “Okay. Okay, okay. I’ll do it. But I have to bathe.”

  “Fuuuuuuck,” I groaned.

  “I’m not letting you do that unless I bathe. Ew.”

  “Can you fucking hurry?”

  “Fine, fine.”

  I watched her go into the bathroom and closed my eyes, sheer joy racing through me. An eternal fucking hour later the shower shut off.

  “Close your eyes. Please.”

  The timid way she demanded set me on fucking fire. What was it with her and that yin-yang behavior? Why did I like it so much?

  “You must be a prune.”

  I felt her hand pressing on the small bed. “I’m climbing on you.”

  I was speechless as I waited. I suddenly wondered if I could have an orgasm this way. It’d be a first. Might even qualify for one of the bonus awards for most creative. Too bad they didn’t have bonus points for most comical. We’d have that shit in the bag.

  “Oh God, don’t look,” she whispered.

  “Yes, Tara.” It was a reminder to her that she was in control. It was also a reminder that this was a role we’d be switching.

  “I’m. Ready.”

  Was she waiting for me to open my mouth? Stick out my tongue? I just never knew with her. Then I smelled her. Dear God. I leaned up instinctively and encountered smooth skin. “Oh Jesus, you shaved.”

  She squealed and moved out of reach. I laid my head down, somehow managing to keep my eyes closed. “I’m not chasing you. Plant your beautiful pussy on my mouth before I fucking scream.”

  “Okay, okay.” The scared whisper throbbed right in my dick.

  “Tara, your safe love. I promise I wouldn’t ever hurt you. Tell me you believe that.”

  She answered by putting those sweet soft secrets right on my mouth. She kept enough distance that allowed me to make out with the full folds in a tender reverence.

  I groaned on her. “Yes, just like that.” I tilted my head, feeling her at different angles, then licked and sucked each petal between my lips. I slipped my tongue between the folds and slid it softly up. The ache in my cock drew a painful groan from me. I teased around her clit with the tip of my tongue and she soon began to sing those delicate worried moans. My hunger went to new dimensions with the sounds she made and I rode that current with her, kept her gripped with it.

  I finally got her to the threshold where she could let go of her fears and embrace the desire. “Lucian, yes.”

  I could only gasp right on her, wishing she’d take over. “Make yourself feel good.”

  She gave the sweetest whimper and grabbed hold of my hair. Dear God. That. I moaned in sincere gratitude as she began moving herself on my mouth. Her hips rocked slowly at first then her fingers raked my scalp in tune to her delicate little pumps. And God, those precious whimpers and mewls were breaking me down.

  Her moans picked up in speed and pitch, now. Her fingers no longer scraped, they pulled my hair, and holy fuck, she twirled and bucked herself on my mouth.

  “Oh God! Lucian. Lucian.”

  I growled and sucked her clit into my mouth while she came apart on me, shudders racking her sweet body as her legs clamped my head.

  I listened to her spiraling down from ecstasy, the angelic sound touching forbidden places inside me. I wasn’t a religious man, but fuck, I was pretty sure I’d just heard the voice of God.

  ****

  I took my time in the shower, letting the hot water pound some of the tension from my muscles. As a coping mechanism, it was fairly effective and quite harmless compared to many. And if I ever needed a way to decrease some of the shit going through my head, now was the time.

  Just after Tara came apart on my mouth, a buzzer had sounded, followed by a recorded voice informing us we had one hour to prepare for dinner. The organizers were requiring all the contestants to participate in a semi-formal dinner each evening. The gatherings would serve several purposes, including announcements of the current scores and opportunities to accumulate bonus points.

  The whole idea of meeting the other competitors over dinner made me nervous as hell. I’d be perfectly happy to go through the whole thing without knowing who our opponents were. That particular bit of information wouldn’t change how I played the game. I just wanted to spend the time with Tara.

  On the other side of the glass shower doors, she fussed with her hair and makeup, even though she was already perfect.

  Finally, I could put it off no longer. I shut the water off and stepped out to dry off. Tara’s gaze followed my reflection in the mirror. Satisfaction surged through my cock and I went up behind her. Standing so close the tip brushed against her ass cheek, I waited like a good sub.

  A slight tip of her head invited my mouth to her neck and shoulder. I nibbled along the delicate column and she gave little moans in response. She leaned back a bit, bringing her shoulders to my chest, sighing as my arms went around her. God, I could hardly believe she was letting me.

  The damn buzzer chose that moment to sound. “All contestants, please be prepared to exit your rooms in ten minutes. Once in the corridor, proceed to your left until you reach the dining room. Repeat…” The digital voice went over the instructions once more.

  “Oh, we have to hurry.” Tara darted away and into the bedroom.

  I took my time dressing so I could watch her shimmy into a silky blue dress. She stepped into her sexy black heels while I buttoned my shirt. Five minutes later we stepped into the corridor and followed the directions toward the dining room.

  Just ahead of us, I recognized Jase Duff’s bulk moving through the double doors that must lead to our destination. A petite feminine form moved carefully at his side. Apparently he’d found a partner in the contest who fit his preferred victim profile. Guys like him had no shortage of willing prey.

  I had to work hard to keep my disgust from showing as more than a scowl. The last thing I needed was to invite Duff’s attention to Tara, or to lose points because I couldn’t hold my temper. I kept Tara close and escorted her to the long table in a room of gold and crystal opulence where the other contestants were in the process of finding their seats.

  When everyone was seated, a team of white-jacketed waiters flooded into the room. Some delivered plates while others poured wine, and just as suddenly as they’d appeared, they were gone. Ten adults, including Tara and myself, sat at the big oval table, staring speculatively at one another.

  “I might as well start.” A big black man with a bald head and a huge grin stood. “I’m Reginald. The rest of you might as well go home.” His large mouth opened and deep laughter boomed out like canon shots as he raised his glass, then lowered himself back down.

  Duff stood. “I’m sure you all know who I am. This contest is simply a formality, a cash cow for the company. I’ve already won.”

  The others simply introduced themselves, without all the bravado and pissing contests. When my turn came, I just stated my name. I wasn’t giving that bunch of half-baked assholes the respect of lifting a glass to them, much less standing. Tara followed my example, thankfully, rather than drawing attention to herself. The less reason Duff had for looking at her, the better, in my opinion.

  As if
my thought triggered his memory, Duff narrowed his eyes and looked at me closely. “Lucian Bane?” An ugly grin spread across his face. “I remember you, and I owe you. Two of my best subs left because of you and I had to find a new play room.”

  “That wasn’t because of me. It was because you’re a mad dog that should have been put down long ago. Your subs left because they were tired of cleaning up your messes.”

  A tall skinny guy who’d introduced himself as Burt Mathers let out a guffaw. “This is the guy that got you kicked out of Mistress Stacia’s? He looks like a vanilla puppy!”

  Just what I needed. Another sadist to stir Duff up.

  “Don’t look so nervous, sweetie!” The middle-aged woman called Catherine spoke from the other side of Tara. “The big bad Doms won’t hurt your little boyfriend. Too bad.” Her giggle sounded more like a deep rattle of phlegm. “But take some advice. If you want to play, you’ll have to dress the part. You look like you took the wrong detour and ended up here instead of the PTA meeting.”

  Next to me, Tara stiffened. Don’t bite the bait baby. Why didn’t I tell her how these people would search for buttons to push? Glancing around the table, I chose impromptu weapons I could effectively defend her with if the need came.

  “Well, Catherine, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Tara’s voice carried enough to silence the other conversations.

  Catherine grinned, nasty anticipation making her cruel green eyes glow. “Honey, I’m sorry, but it wasn’t meant as a compliment.” She rattled more phlegm in a forced laugh and glanced around the table, searching for approval from the others.

  “Are you sure?” Tara’s voice was pure silk. “As the PTA leader, let me educate you. My ability to blend in, to look normal, is what makes me, and guys like Lucian, the better Dom. See, we can have our kink, without having to look like circus freaks. We dominate both lifestyles, and no one has a clue.”

  A chuckle forced itself past my lips at the priceless words, despite the seriousness of the situation. How had I doubted she could handle herself?

  Silence fell around the table, then laughter broke out. Apparently at least some of the others liked seeing Catherine fall on her face, including Duff whose laughter gunned out like a plastic machine gun.

  Catherine scowled and glared at Tara. “Don’t think this is over, little whore. When you least expect it, I’ll be there to kick your ass.”

  Tara grinned. “Baby girl, when you feel like trying, come on. Bigger and badder than you have tried and failed. Of course, you wouldn’t want to be disqualified here, would you?”

  “Catherine, I think she’s got you there.” Duff tossed back the rest of his wine. “Bane, I think I’ve figured it out. She’s the Dom. You’re just here as her sub.”

  I kept my breathing under careful control and merely raised my glass in salute, agreeing like a good little peacemaker that I was. All the trash talk was yet another aspect of the lifestyle I didn’t care for.

  “Hello, everyone.” The tall blonde who’d acted as announcer during the auditions approached the table. “I see you’re all becoming acquainted.”

  A couple of the others greeted her, but she didn’t bother to give her name to anyone. So, she considered herself The Domme in the room. Interesting.

  “I’m sure you’re all ready for updates?”

  The table erupted in murmurs that amounted to affirmatives.

  “First, assuming you’re interested, I have some of the details for how you are being judged.” She signaled someone out of sight behind her and the lights went down partway and a screen on the opposite wall lit up to display Gladiator, Inc.‘s corporate logo. “You were aware coming in that your suites were wired and that the footage would be available online via pay-per-view subscription. You haven’t been privy to the scoring criteria, and you won’t be until the end of the competition. Raw and natural talent. That is what we’re looking for. We don’t want play Dom’s we want real Doms. And that is how we will find them. If you have it, you have it. If you don’t…” She twirled her hand in the air with a roll of her eyes then turned back to the screen with a handheld remote.

  “At the moment, Team Five is in last place.” She quickly went through the scores and placings, in reverse. “And in first place, Mr. Burt and Catherine.”

  Tara and I’d made third. What a miracle. We were doing something right, maybe the creativity part.

  Silence fell as everyone stared at the screen, each no doubt assessing their chances to gain enough points to win.

  The blonde turned to go, but paused. “I would suggest you all try to get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow is the group event and auction. You’ll know details when you arrive.” She took a half dozen steps. “Oh, and remember,” she raised her finger in the air, “you’re being judged at all times.” Heels clicked on the tile floor as she left the room.

  Chapter Eight

  I sat next to Tara, holding her hand. Because that would hopefully ensure more respect if they thought we were an actual item. I hoped. I didn’t know any of these people except the one I wished I didn’t, so it was anyone’s guess if it’d do a damn bit of good or not.

  The dining room from last night had been cleared except for chairs grouped at one end. The tiled floor had been covered with utility carpet, and large covered crates sat against one wall. The blonde announcer stood before the group, all seated in the chairs. “The numbers you each wear represents your team. After you mingle for thirty minutes, we’ll begin the group play. Basically, you’ll each be required to perform, for the group, whatever you find in the envelope with your team’s number on it. From the beginning, we deliberately withheld the standards we’re using to judge you by, except for the general information you were given at dinner last night. We can’t allow anyone to play to the judges.”

  Somewhere to my left, a female cleared her throat as if to speak, but the announcer didn’t stop for her.

  “And remember, the natural Dom is being judged. That means we don’t want it to be merely a role you play when it’s convenient, but who you truly are. A true Dom. The game begins on announcement via the PA system. Good luck.”

  Tara tugged me with her to the waiting envelopes on an elegantly engraved silver tray that rested atop a small, heavily carved table that stood in the exact center of the room, directly under the magnificent crystal chandelier.

  She led the way to a secluded corner while I discreetly watched our opponents’ faces, searching for some hint that might give us a competitive edge. Standing so that my body shielded her from the others, she opened the envelope. “Shit, flogging? Fifty lashes?”

  My heart lurched as I peeked over her shoulder at the dreaded word on the page. “You’ll flog me.”

  “What? No, I can’t.”

  “You can’t? No, I can’t.”

  She grabbed my arm and pulled me closer and began hissing. “What do you mean you can’t? You’re a Dom!”

  “So what?” I hissed back. “Did you think all Doms have to like making women hurt?”

  Forehead scrunched up, she appeared to think about it. “Kind of.”

  “Maybe some do. Maybe even a lot. But that’s not me.”

  “You cut me pretty good.” Her voice betrayed her disbelief.

  “Because I had to.”

  “You didn’t seem to be too bothered.”

  “Dead wrong again.” I shook my head. “You didn’t notice I did everything I could to reduce the pain? To keep the cuts small and shallow? To keep your mind occupied?”

  She glared at me, then rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to beat you with a flogger! I’m not violent.”

  I raised my brows.

  “Unless somebody pulls my hair.” She looked over my shoulder, then back to my eyes. “Can’t you pretend? One more time? It’s only fifty lashes.”

  “Only fifty?” I wiped my hand over my mouth and shook my head.

  “You spanked me. How’s that different?”

  “That was with my hand. And I can sooth
e you when I spank you.” My mouth had gone dry with the desperation of my need to convince her.

  “I’ll let you soothe me after, I promise, you can… do whatever you want.”

  I raked my hand through my hair wanting to pull. Not being able to soothe her flesh with my tongue and lips after every lash would unravel my fucking mind and soul. Fifty times over. “You need to do it.”

  “I can’t!” Her hiss had become a faint squeal and I worried she would draw unwanted attention.

  “Why not? Just give me one good reason.”

  She stared at me, biting her lower lip. “I… I just don’t want to hurt you.”

  Oh God. I turned away from the look in her eyes. Her words made it more impossible. I stood there fuming. Fuming with needs I didn’t get. She moved to stand right in front of me.

  “Just do it fast. I can take it. I promise. It’s just pain. I have a very high tolerance as a woman, women do. We…have giant humans out of our vaginas. Think of the money.”

  I couldn’t speak. I’d say something really weird and stupid that made no sense. “Fine. But if I do this…” She looked at me, tenderness in her gaze. “I…”

  “Anything you want. It’s yours.”

  “I know it is.”

  She quirked her brow. “I’m trying to be nice here, you don’t need to be a dick.”

  “I’m just being honest.”

  “You’re being cocky,” she murmured, then looked around. “Interesting crowd.”

  I caught Duff looking my way and turned my back toward him, hiding Tara again. Sicko. “Remember what I said about that dude. Don’t look at him. Don’t look near him.”

  “I feel sorry for that girl with him.” She leaned, trying to see.

  I yanked her around. “I just said don’t look!”

  She grimaced. “Sorry.” Her face remained pained as she held my gaze. She reached and patted my arm several times, the movements jerky. “You uh. Gonna be okay? We’re number four, so, at least you won’t have to wait so long to soothe me.”

  I could only glare at her while wanting to kiss her. “I know what I want for this.”