The Dominator

by Prince, DD

  He’d been inching me toward taking the next step for well over 2 years and now he was gifting me with a bride so that I could easily step in without raising anyone’s eyebrows at his choice to hand me the reins. It’d be my wedding and his retirement party all on the same day.

  I poured 2 glasses of red wine and handed her a glass. She now sat with her legs dangling over the edge of my bed and she had a look on her face that told me she was trying to hold it together despite wanting to fall apart. This trait would serve her well as my wife. Through her black stockings I could see that her toes were painted red, the same as her fingertips. Her lips had been the same color when she’d arrived but her lipstick was now gone. I could barely restrain myself to wait to taste those lips and make those toes curl.

  “Come.” I grabbed her hand and led her to the sofa. She pulled her hand away but sat beside me. I noticed she wouldn’t look me in the face. I wanted her to.

  “It’s unfortunate that your father put you in this situation,” I said, “And I have no respect for what he did. But that said, this is the situation. You were given to me as a gift. That makes you mine.”

  She blanched. My heart rate picked up with excitement but I wouldn’t show her that excitement yet, “So, it’s important to me that you understand and follow my rules. Not following these rules is dangerous. Deadly.”

  She kept her eyes focused on the carpet.

  “Rule number 1, I own you.” Shock flashed across her eyes as they finally met mine and I felt it in the groin so I said it again, “This means exactly what it sounds like. I own you. You’re mine. Mine to do what I want with. This means you obey my orders. If not, you face consequences. Being mine means that if I want you marrying me and I choose to give you everything that’s mine, that’s what happens. If it means keeping you in my bedroom and using you however I want, never letting you see the light of day, that’s what it means. If it means shipping you off somewhere and selling you to a pimp in Bangkok or Tijuana who wants to turn you into a five dollar whore that’s what it means. You need to understand the gravity here and come to terms with this as soon as possible. The sooner, the better. Any privilege or comfort you get is because I allow it. I can take it away. All of it. Do you understand?”

  She didn’t answer me. She looked back down at the floor and her chin started quivering.

  “The concept of ownership might be foreign to you but it’s a concept you need to learn fast,” I said, “Tia, look at me.”

  She looked up and what I saw in her eyes was pure and utter defiance. Perfect. A muscle in my cheek involuntarily twitched. I wasn’t ready to reveal all my cards yet but she needed a glimpse. And I wanted to push her, see what she’d do.

  I stood up and continued, “Because I own you, I’ll do what I want to you. Since you chose not to answer my question, I’ll reiterate: if that means that I want you to wear my ring and have my babies with the run of this house, you’ll do it. If it means you simply stay tied to my bed until I get tired of fucking you, so be it. I’m in charge. You obey me, things go well. You defy me --- they don’t.”

  Fear flickered in her eyes for a beat but she continued to stare up at me, right into my eyes, trying to be brave. I liked it. I liked it a lot. Yeah, I’m a sick fucker. And the only thing scarier than a sick fucker is a sick fucker with power. If I was going to have to marry to get all the power, I’d damn well get as much pleasure as possible from it. Fear and defiance rolled up in one? She was perfect. Maybe that’s why I’d waited so long. This was coming for me. Her.

  Yeah, Dare was right; Pop did do good with this choice for me. In that moment I was feeling something that felt like it must’ve been bliss because she was mine and I could feel it deep inside. John Lewis was right about the rush here. I’d never felt this level of excitement, this sense of ownership, with a woman before. I was standing in front of her, towering over her, and I was going to wipe that defiance right off her face.

  “Do you understand?”

  She didn’t answer me. Her eyes narrowed.

  I snickered and continued, “I’ll let it sink in for a moment, then. Rule #2, you reveal nothing to anyone about anything that you see, hear, or suspect to do with my business activities, my family, my personal life, or my preferences. You don’t discuss me with people outside of my family or my house and you don’t disclose information about me or what happens in this house or especially in this bedroom with anyone, including people inside my family or my house. The rules are simple. I’m in charge and you keep your mouth shut. The rest, we will figure out as we go. I hope you’re a smart enough girl that I don’t need to lay out consequences. Hearing about who I am you probably have an idea of what I’m capable of. If you don’t, you will soon enough. You shouldn’t test your limits with me. I’m not a patient guy and I like doling out punishments. A lot.”

  She closed her eyes. Now she was trembling not so subtly. Fuck, my cock was straining against my pants. I sipped my wine, strode over to close the blinds on the doors that led to the deck, and turned back around to look at her. She hadn’t touched her wine. She sat there holding the glass, eyes squeezed shut tight. Then she took a deep breath and looked up and stared me right in the eye. The girl hadn’t said anything yet but she had balls. I could see it. I looked forward to some sparring.

  I unbuttoned my shirt the rest of the way and shrugged to let it drop. Her eyes never wavered from mine but I saw her swallow hard. I sauntered toward her.

  She shakily raised the glass of wine to her lips and tipped it back and drank it all at once. Then she slammed the glass down on the coffee table and stood. She eyed me from head to toe to head again. It made my heart rate pick up. She was ready to fight with me.

  Tia

  I summoned as much inner strength as I could muster, despite wanting to cower and weep, and I glared at him. I glared hard, “If you think for one fucking second that you can just steal my life from me you’ve got another---”

  He cut me off, physically. In an instant he lunged from several feet away to in front of me, his hand around my throat. He held my throat and then pushed me up against a wall. He towered over me. He stared down at me, breathing heavily, his lips an inch from my temple, his hand still against my throat, not squeezing but possessive, making a point, “You are so fucking sexy,” he said slowly in a low and scary voice, his eyes burning into me. His body was flush against me and his erection poked me in the abdomen, “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

  Holy shit.

  I forgot how to breathe for a second. I finally gulped against his hand and tried to regain my bearings. I was breathless, totally surprised, and pretty much petrified. I tried to slink away from him. He tightened the grip on my throat just a little. My hands came up and I tried to pull on his wrists to get him to let go. He wasn’t cutting off my air supply but it was firm and scary. His jaw tightened. My nails dug into his wrist until I drew blood. His eyes darted down and when he saw the blood I saw something shift in his gaze, “I was about to dare you to give me a reason but it looks like you just did.”

  He let go of my throat and hauled me by the arm to the bed and threw me down on it so I was on my stomach. Then he climbed onto me and pinned my arms above my head. I let out a groaning protest and tried to struggle. I felt his dick digging into my ass. Oh no. Please no.

  He let one hand go and caught both of my wrists in the other hand, re-pinning them to the bed. His free hand ripped my dress upwards so that the part that was covering my bottom tore. Humiliation, mortification, the plethora of emotions flooding through me was overwhelming.

  Underneath that dress was a pair of black stockings, lace stay-ups and I was wearing a pair of matching black lace thong panties, so that my dress wouldn’t have underwear lines. I never thought that when I’d put them on they’d put me in peril. I’d thought, I’m about to become a grown up, I’m going to dress like one! Now I regretted that with every fiber of my being because it meant that Tommy Ferrano was looking at my might as well be bare ass,
looking at lingerie on me, and I was helpless to do anything about it. I was totally pinned.

  “Look at this…” he palmed at my rear end and snapped the thong quickly.

  “No! Don’t!” I screeched. His palm was hot. Or maybe my skin was hot. I didn’t know which. He rubbed it for a second.

  His mouth was right against my ear and hot breath tickled me so I squirmed and then he growled low in his throat, “You’re a very naughty girl telling me No,” then his hand wedged under my hips and he cupped me between the legs. I gasped. I felt a finger dip into the panties and touch my opening. Oh no. Please no.

  He groaned, “How come you’re wet down here, Tia?” he let out a little chuckle, a supremely pleased one, “Could it be? Do you enjoy being overpowered?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut tight and held my breath. His finger circled leisurely and then I felt him gyrate ever so slightly against my behind.

  “You do. Fuck. And you’re all mine.” His tongue was now tracing from my earlobe up the ridge of my ear, “How did I get this lucky?”

  “Not karma, that’s for sure, asshole. And I will never, do you hear me, never ever be yours,” I grunted and tried to squirm away. Why did I say that? Why was I provoking him? I was infuriated at the idea of my future being ripped away from me and crumpled up like a sheet of paper. I was furious with my father for doing this or for doing nothing about this. I was mad at myself for not being stronger, not finding a way to get this guy off of me. He was violating me!

  I was also mad because he was right, I was wet down there. And I didn’t understand why my body was reacting like this. Yes, this was the super-hot guy from the ice cream parlor who made me melt when he tongued that cherry provocatively. And okay, this was the same guy I’d rubbed myself thinking about that same night and the next night, imagining being under his body. But I imagined nothing like this. I’d been wrong, so wrong to fantasize about this guy. This was a dangerous guy who had me pinned to his bed, who’d grabbed my throat, ripped my graduation dress, who was violating me, who’d threatened me. Who’d said he owned me. Who’d said scary things that were a nightmare come true to any woman.

  “You’re disgusting,” I spat.

  His finger left and his weight was no longer on me but then he slapped me hard on the ass. I shrieked. Then he slapped my ass again and then stuck his finger in me again. I frowned and held my breath.

  “Oh but you are mine,” he whispered, “I like your spirit, Tia. And I look forward to breaking it.”

  Despair crested over me at those words. He let go of me then and he was off the bed. I whimpered, devastation filling me, but I stayed still. I think he stood behind me, staring at me. I could hear him breathing. A few moments seemed to pass and then I heard a zipper. Oh no --- no, no. I scrambled up and tried to bolt for the door. He was fast. He caught me by the arm and walked me back to the bed and pushed me down and then looked like he was about to straddle me,

  “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, Tia,” he said, watching me scramble up to the headboard, “You can relax.” He kicked off his shoes and toed off his socks and then dropped his suit pants, leaving him in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. He fetched the dark blue shirt he’d been wearing earlier at tossed it at me. It landed beside me. He looked so calm. How could he be so calm with what he was doing to me? What kind of sick psycho was I dealing with?

  “You can sleep in that; hurry back,” he smirked and motioned with his chin toward what I’d already discovered was the bathroom door on the opposite end of the room. He was standing there, arms folded. His body was lean and muscular. He looked even better without clothes than I’d imagined but it wasn’t comforting --- not one bit. His left arm was tattooed with a patchwork of black tribal-looking symbols that travelled from just above his wrist up his arm and over his shoulder. He was strong, muscular, someone I’d have a lot of trouble fighting off. He looked at me hungrily, “Like what you see, Tia?”

  I shook my head, “Not at all.” I grabbed the shirt and headed for the bathroom, hearing him laugh at me as I closed the door. Once alone in there, I started to blubber like a baby.

  I sat on the floor against the door for the longest time, face buried in my knees, ass on the cold floor. Eventually, I knew I had to go back out there. I heard a door. Maybe he was gone.

  I took off my ripped dress, took off my stockings, which now had a big snag in them, kept my bra and underwear on, and put the blue dress shirt on. I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked horrible. Tear tracks and black eye makeup streaks on my cheeks, my eyes all red, my hair a disheveled mess. I washed my face with hot water and a fluffy white washcloth that had been on the vanity and then hung my clothes up on a hook beside the shower stall. This bathroom was luxurious. The whole master suite was. And I couldn’t wait until I could forget it even existed.

  The shirt smelled like him, his cologne. It felt foreign to have that scent on me. I felt bile rise in my throat at the idea of it, the idea of him clothing me in things that smelled like him. It seemed so primitive.

  I two big deep breaths and then I hesitantly stepped back out into the room, hoping by some miracle that’d been the sound of him leaving. But he hadn’t left. The lights were off but I could see his form in the bed. He was sitting up, the blankets down around his waist. He was waiting for me.

  Tommy

  I flicked the lamp off a second after she came out. When I saw her wearing my shirt, I thought I’d combust and needed to turn the light off to regain my composure. She looked edible. I decided that second that it’d be a rule that she’d sleep either naked, with me wrapped around her, or in the clothes I’d worn that day so she’d smell like me, either way.

  Where these sudden possessive feelings had come from was a mystery. But the second I’d decided to accept her as a gift I’d suddenly become obsessed with the idea of having someone who was mine. Just mine. I know it didn’t make sense because I could easily find someone who wanted to be mine but for some reason it wasn’t the same. The minute Pop had told her she was mine, something in me had changed. I’d never wanted that before. That I’d wanted her to smell like she was mine must be some primal instinct.

  “New rule. Rule #3; you either wear something I’ve worn when you get ready for bed or you sleep nude. Get in.” I moved to the center of the bed and lifted the covers to welcome her into them. She stood, frozen in her tracks.

  “Do I have to come get you?” I asked.

  She stood there, not moving. I flicked the lamp back on and got out of the bed. She started to back up and then held her palm out at me.

  “Can’t I please sleep alone? I don’t know you.”

  “No. It’s time to get to know me. Don’t worry; I’m not fucking you. Yet. We’re just sleeping together.” I loved that she was saying ‘Please’.

  She let out a whimper and covered her mouth to try to stifle it. Gone was the defiance she’d had in her eyes. She was crumbling.

  “Get in. Or I’ll put you here myself.”

  She shook her head at me, blowing her hair out of her eyes. I reached for her hand. She flinched, didn’t take it, and then walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed in, staying as close to the edge of it as she could. She did a karate chop move down the middle of the blankets. She was trying to draw a boundary line. Fucking adorable.

  I got back in the bed under the blankets and slid over, obliterating her Berlin wall, then climbed on top of her. I pinned her wrists above her head and nuzzled into the crook of her neck and ran my nose up the length of her neck until my mouth was at her ear. She smelled amazing. She smelled like me but she smelled like a woman, too. Her hair smelled flowery. Her throat smelled like vanilla and cherries. Of all things! She stiffened under me.

  Tia

  He was running his nose up and down my neck, burying it in my hair. His hand travelled up my leg and then it landed on my hip. He dug his fingers in and then his nose trailed down my throat and across the opening of the shirt. He undid a button and then a
nother button… with his teeth.

  “Please don’t.” I whispered into the dark, pulling my hands from his grip and putting them out to stop him. He pinned them above my head, this time tighter. My eyes were adjusting. Then his nose was in my cleavage.

  “Big day for you today, huh?” I felt the hum of his lips against the skin between my breasts. If I weren’t so petrified I’d have been seriously turned on. He was obviously attempting to be seductive.

  “You could say that.” I tried to be sarcastic but my voice came out in barely more than a whisper.

  He lifted his head and let go of my wrists. His fingertips grazed my lower lip and I winced.

  “Relax, I’ve said I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he said to me, his voice was so deep it felt like it vibrated inside of me. Then he rolled over onto his back. I tried to stay as still as possible but was shaking like a leaf.

  He continued, “But I want something tonight from you.”

  I winced again, trying to stop my mind and heart from racing, “What?”

  “I want you to crawl into my arms and I want you to relax, like you want to be here. If you can do that for me tonight, sleep curled up against me, I won’t fuck you.” He stopped, moistened his lips, and then continued, “If you don’t do what I ask, you’re getting fucked hard and rough.” He put his hands, fingers laced, behind his head, flexing his biceps and looking at me expectantly.

  “You’re crazy.” I breathed. What a maniac! This was messed up!

  He reached over and flicked the lamp back off, “Well?”

  I took a deep breath, “You’re, like, fucked in the head, aren’t you?” Stupid, Tia. Why would I say something like that to him?