The Dominator

by Prince, DD

  What could I do? I needed to get out of here. Should I find a phone now and call the police? But then they’d kill my father. Maybe they’d kill me, too. Or ship me off to some foreign place to be a sex worker.

  I stood there for I don’t know how long, my hands over my ears, and not knowing what to do and then he was coming down the stairs, holding his phone to his ear and wearing just a towel. He passed me and then was pushing buttons on a panel on the wall by the door. The alarm’s screeching halted. He looked at me with what looked like an amused look on his face, “Thanks. Yep, got it under control.” He ended his call, “Looks like you tripped the alarm on your way out for a stroll, huh? Nice outfit.” He stopped in front of me. I was sure I was quite the sight barefoot in his track pants, which I could’ve swum in, and a way-too-big men’s t-shirt with no bra underneath. Where the heck was my bra? I’d gone to sleep with it on last night. I covered my chest with my arms and blew my hair out of my face.

  “Why don’t you go get a shower and I’ll have my housekeeper get some breakfast together for us?”

  I gave a little nod, wide-eyed and started to head for the stairs. As I passed him he caught me by my upper arm and leaned in,

  “Don’t try that again,” his grip tightened painfully, “You get a pass because you pleased me so well this morning. But try that again, you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” There wasn’t a trace of humor in his eyes; his expression shook me right to the core.

  I swallowed hard. This man was beautiful outside but obviously hideously ugly on the inside. He smirked like he’d read my mind and let go of my arm. I went upstairs and took a shower. I scrubbed myself for at least 20 minutes, almost frantically. I tried to wash him away but I could swear I still smelled the sex on myself.

  When I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I noticed clothes on the end of the bed, which had been made. There was a stack of ladies’ t-shirts and tank tops, a pile of several new pairs of underwear with the tags still on, yoga pants, a pair of capris yoga pants, and a pair of denim shorts. I got dressed and sat on the bed and combed my hair with the small hairbrush from my purse. Thankfully the tank had a built-in bra. Not ideal on its own for a bigger chest like mine but better than nothing.

  Someone knocked and then opened the door. An attractive Latino woman was in the doorway. She looked to be in her early to mid 40’s. She was about my size with shoulder-length wavy dark hair with copper highlights all through it. I guessed she had probably lent me some of her clothes.

  “Oh good, they fit. I’m Sarah Martinez. I’m your housekeeper. Welcome, Miss O’Connor. I’ve put your underthings in the wash. The dress, can’t likely be saved, I’m afraid, but I’ll see what I can do with it. You can borrow those things until your things arrive. The panties, they’re new; you can keep those.”

  She startled me and her kindness was sort of disarming. She reached out and shook my hand. She stared at my left hand for a second, probably noting I wasn’t wearing a ring. Had she actually come into the bathroom while I was showering to get my dirty clothes?

  “Thank you.” I managed to say.

  “I know it’s all unconventional,” she whispered, lifting her chin toward the heart-shaped box on the dresser, “but I’m so happy to see him settling down. I’m here for you and at your service. If there are changes you want to make after the wedding I’m happy to be accommodating. Don’t hesitate to come to me for anything, okay? We must talk but we’ll do it later.” She had a mild Latino accent and her tone was conspiratory. She winked at me.

  I nodded slowly, not sure what to make of her. If she knew the circumstances under which I was here and knew how this family operated and still chose to work here she couldn’t possibly be a good person. I couldn’t trust her. I wouldn’t trust her.

  “Come; breakfast is waiting.”

  I stood up. She linked arms with me like we were bosom buddies and led me downstairs, saying, “All those rooms are bedrooms. There are five and each has an adjoining bathroom, except the room that’ll be the nursery. That has a door adjoining to the master suite in through the walk-in closet.” She gave me a squeeze. What the heck?

  She led me through a big modern kitchen and then out some patio doors onto a patio area where Tommy was sitting, reading the newspaper with coffee in front of him.

  He tucked his phone in his jeans pocket. He was dressed now, I guess he’d come back in while I showered. He was Mr. Casual today, dressed in a pair of button-fly faded jeans and a tight black t-shirt. His still damp hair was pushed back with his sunglasses. He was barefoot. How could he be so attractive and yet be willing to be put in an arranged marriage? I suspected with his family being criminals he couldn’t get a woman to agree to marry him. Either that or he was so ugly on the inside that no one cared how good he looked on the outside.

  “Sit.” Ms. Martinez told me, “I’ll bring you coffee. Or tea? What do you prefer?”

  “Um, coffee, please. Milk with 3 sugars.”

  “Three? Oh, that’s bad.” She waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll wean you off.”

  Tommy glanced up from his paper at me, “She’s a sugar hater. She weaned me off a few months ago. Didn’t tell me until 2 weeks after I’d been drinking it with no sugar.”

  “Sugar is evil!” she replied, waving her finger at him. He rolled his eyes at her.

  I sat across the table from him. He was smiling, staring at the paper with what looked like not a care in the world. No, no cares. He had a prisoner here and had tricked me into giving him sex this morning by starting something when I was asleep and already sleeping on top of him, because that’s where he’d made me sleep, but now he didn’t have a care in the world. Too bad I didn’t have it as easy.

  Ms. Martinez brought me a coffee. When I sipped it, it tasted sugary enough. She winked at me, “I gave you 3 today but bit by bit, I’ll cut back and then you won’t even miss it.”

  How poetic. Tommy had promised me that I wouldn’t have my favorite vanilla after today and she was promising to wean me off sugar. Obviously, by his statement and by the way he’d spanked me and pulled my hair, he was a kinky son of a bitch so vanilla sex was off the menu. Would I soon stop missing my freedom and everything else I loved because I’d be weaned off? Would I ever stop missing vanilla ice cream? Freedom was something I was missing already.

  There was the illusion of freedom in front of me. The patio area was nice. Spanish themed, mosaic tiles, big infinity pool that overlooked a lush-looking forest. I wondered what the drop was like on the other side of the pool. Could I escape through the forest? I was in a big giant cell. A ginormous cell with an infinity pool and servants.

  “Tia?” Tommy’s voice broke my daze.

  My attention snapped to him. Ms. Martinez was putting a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit in front of me. Then she went back inside.

  “I’m leaving. I’ve got work. You’ll behave?”

  I think I nodded a little, I wasn’t even sure. I could hardly look at him, after what he’d just done to me upstairs. After how I’d participated. I knew my face was red, I could feel it. And I could feel his eyes on me.

  “Uh, you want your things picked up at your old place or are we starting over?”

  I was shocked at the question, “I, um… I have to talk to them, tell them, uh…” tell them what?

  “I’ll take care of it. I’ll have your things brought here. Then whatever else you need, I’ll arrange.” He got up, pulled me up to standing and took me into his arms, “Be a good girl,” he said and poked me gently on the nose, “No phone calls yet and no attempts to run.” I caught sight of his hand; it was covered in scratches from our scuffle last night. He saw that I’d noticed and smiled devilishly at me and then touched his lips to mine. His tongue darted in and his arms pulled me closer. I didn’t react, I didn’t respond. I guess was in shock. He let go of me and then said, “Watch her.” I glanced behind him and the Michael Clarke Duncan guy was standing in the doorway. I guess I had a babysitte
r.

  I robotically dropped back to sitting and stared at my plate. Ms. Martinez sat down with a cup of coffee,

  “Shoo Earl!” she said him, annoyed. He backed away. She sat down and put her coffee in front of herself, “He can go. Leave us girls to talk. Food not okay?”

  “I---I uh, haven’t tried it.”

  “Eat! I’ll keep you company,” she took a sip of her coffee, “Are you okay?”

  I stared, dumbfounded at her, then finally answered, “Not really.”

  “Tell. Tell me everything,” she leaned forward and propped her chin on her palm, her elbow on the table and stared at me with big brown doe eyes.

  I winced.

  “You don’t trust me. I understand. I’m a stranger to you. Let me talk while you eat. We’ll become friends in no time.”

  I took a bite of cubed melon from the plate.

  “I’ve been with the family since Tommy was a small boy. His mother died when he was just a boy. The Ferrano family hired me to look after him. I was an illegal alien with no future. I’d been smuggled into the country by a nasty piece of shit, who wanted to work me and my family to the death in payment for getting us into the states. Mr. Ferrano, Tommy’s father, Tom, he broke up the operation that was ruining lives of a lot of people. He freed dozens of people treated like slaves. In thanks to him, I offered to work for their family for nothing; they saved us, a lot of us. Of course they have paid me generously all these years, anyway. He got me citizenship, too. I stayed anyway; I wanted to be surrounded by people who cared.”

  “Slaves? They saved you from slavery?” I shook my head, a sour look on my face.

  She continued, “This family, they don’t play everything by the books. But they did a lot for me. There are a lot of people out there like them, don’t kid yourself. They don’t all get called by the same names but there are some very bad people out there disguised as good people and there are people who do bad things sometimes but are not bad, they do what they need to do. This family, what you see is what you get. They did good for me.” She pointed her thumb at her chest, “And for my parents.” She looked up to the sky and then kissed her fingertips and pointed them at the sky, “They’ve become family to me.” She motioned to my plate again, “Please, Chiquita; you need to eat.”

  I took a bite of food. She kept talking.

  “Tommy is the oldest of four. He’s taking over the family business after he marries you. He has big responsibilities. Big. This means you will have an important position. He’s like a son to me, you know? I have no kids but his mother died and so I was like his mother. We’re like family. You’re resistant to this. I know a bit about your father. I know that he gave you to pay them. Having a man like this for your father, what he did was a blessing. Better to be with the Ferrano family than a man like that.” She spat the word ‘that’ out with a grimace.

  I was shocked, “I’m a prisoner, Mrs. Martinez. How is this better?”

  “Call me Sarah. Better to be a prisoner of a good man than an evil one. Tommy is a good man. You’ll see. Underneath all his---you’ll see.”

  I shook my head, “I wasn’t imprisoned by my father. He left me in foster care for 9 years. I was free but he came and he--- and Tommy is forcing me into---” I stopped talking. I didn’t want to say another word. Rule number 2.

  “Your fiancé will provide for you, keep you safe, give you a family, an amazing loving family. Maybe you don’t think this is what you want but you will be very blessed. I know he has dark tendencies but I think the right woman will bring him into the light. He’s had much pain in his life so far. He’s had a lot to prove. He’s beautiful outside; he just needs love to help create some beauty inside where he feels ugly. You’ll see.”

  How promising. Ugh.

  I sipped my coffee and stared out at the forest beyond the pool. I was done listening to her. This was pointless.

  “I hope we can be friends. You can come to me if you need anything.”

  Yeah, she’s loyal to him, to them. I won’t go to her for a thing. I stared, unseeing, ahead of me.

  She must’ve picked up on my vibe because she left me alone then, patting me first on the shoulder and saying something softly in Spanish. I ate some of the food but really wasn’t all that hungry so it was tasteless and pointless. I was worrying about Rose, Cal and everyone who would be worried about me. I don’t know if ‘worry’ was the right word for the emotions I was feeling about my Dad, though. He had really done it this time. And Tommy said he’d take care of things with Rose and Cal but I hadn’t a clue what that meant. I felt sick about it. Was he trying to get me out? Tommy’s father had certainly said different. How could Dad have looked so calm when he watched them drive away with me?

  It started to rain so I wandered back into the house. Mrs. Martinez was cleaning the kitchen, “Should I give you a tour of the house?” she piped up.

  “Actually, I’d like to lie down. I don’t feel all that great.” I couldn’t care less about a tour of my prison.

  She smiled warmly, “Do you need something? Painkillers, tea, anything like that?”

  “I just need a nap. Thank you, Mrs. Martinez.”

  “I’m not married. And call me Sarah.”

  I nodded, then I went back upstairs to Tommy’s room and got under the covers. I felt dirty in his bed, the bed where he’d screwed me that morning. The bed where I’d let him do that to me without fighting back. The bed that smelled like him and that smelled like sex. I wondered if my Dad lost any sleep last night. I thanked my lucky stars, if I had any, (I probably didn’t) that I wasn’t going to get pregnant from this morning’s activities since he hadn’t worn a condom. I rubbed my arm, feeling the small birth control implant that was there. I only hoped that Tommy Ferrano didn’t have any STDs.

  I woke up a few hours later feeling no better. I wandered over to the wet bar Tommy had gotten wine from the previous night and opened the mini fridge. It was stocked with bottled water and had several wine bottles plus a few bottles of beer. I got a bottle of water and then wandered into the bathroom and found a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. I took two of them, hoping they’d save me from this excruciating tension headache, and then I climbed back into the bed. My eyes landed on the heart-shaped box. It had been moved from the dresser to right beside me on the bedside table and then my eyes flew up to the ceiling so fast that it was like I’d subconsciously thought I could un-see the box. I didn’t even want to think about that box. What I did want to think about was how I was going to get out of this mess.

  When it got dark, the door opened and I thought it’d be Sarah Martinez again as she’d looked in on me and tried to engage in conversation at least 3 times but this time it was him. I looked up at him from the bed, where I’d been all day. He stood over me, staring. I wanted to disappear.

  “Honey, I’m home.” I could see him smiling, probably thinking he was funny. I looked back to the television. My whole body was tense, locked tight.

  “Sarah has dinner ready for us.” his tone was gentle.

  I shrugged.

  “I need to talk to you about a few things so maybe up here is better. It’s more private. I’ll bring it up.”

  I chewed my lower lip and didn’t give him anything.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and flicked the lamp on, “I’m gonna try to be patient with you but I won’t tolerate this for long.” His eyebrows were up and he looked serious but not angry. I blinked at him a few slow times and then rolled my eyes and looked back to the TV, trying to give off a “Whatever’ vibe.

  Suddenly, he had me hauled me up to standing. Now his eyes were cold and angry-looking and he had my chin in his grasp, “I don’t appreciate being ignored,” he told me, “You’d be smart to remember that.”

  “I wasn’t ignoring you. I know you’re here.”

  “I don’t appreciate the attitude, then.”

  “I don’t appreciate being kept prisoner,” I said softly, pushing my palms against his chest to get him
to let go of me. How dare he think he can just manhandle me!

  He let go of me and I sat back on the bed, ignoring the fact that he was looking at me like I was a piece of meat. “I’ll go get dinner for us,” he said.

  “Not hungry,” I muttered.

  “Fine, suit yourself. You can wait until tomorrow to find out about the fate of your father, your belongings, and to find out what’s happened with your foster family.” He let me go and left the room and I sank down into the pillows like they were the pits of despair.

  I prayed nothing had happened to any of them quietly, biting back tears and just stared off into space until it got darker and darker and then I eventually fell asleep.

  ** ** **

  He was in bed with me, kissing my neck. My eyes bolted open and I squirmed away. He caught me and stopped me.

  “Out of those clothes,” he said.

  My eyes bulged. Oh no. I shoved him away and he caught my wrist.

  “Hey, I told you. Obedience is rewarded but you haven’t been very obedient this evening, have you? Are you going to take them off or will I have to do it?”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I muttered under my breath. I don’t know what possessed my mouth to say that but I instantly regretted it.

  Covers were flung back and then he yanked the pants off me, pulling the underwear down with them. I tried to struggle but it felt like I was a flailing toddler and he was a giant. Then the tank top was yanked over my head while I was simultaneously pulled over his lap. He was in a pair of silky boxers and I felt his erection poking me in the upper abdomen. One hand was on my upper back and the other on my ass and his fingers dug in.