Page 40 of The Dominator

I was whimpering in my defeat and at my screwed-up thoughts, and then I whimpered harder because the sensations he was creating started to feel good. Was I crazy for not knowing if I was whimpering out of desire or defeat? It didn’t matter because I had no choices here.

“Good girl; you know when it’s time to submit.” He passionately kissed my throat, and then he got his mouth right by my ear and whispered, “No one is ever gonna be inside of you again but me, you know that?” He rolled his hips and kept pumping into me. “No one.”

I couldn’t move. I was completely pinned and he held my wrists tight, too tight. He was hitting my clit and up inside that front wall of me where it felt so good. The fight had left me because I was powerless to do anything but go limp and succumb to it, so I guess I did.

At feeling me go lax, he stopped pinning me and pulled out and maneuvered me so I was on all-fours. That accomplished, he began to drill me. He pummeled from behind, and it was so deep, so fucking deep, that I thought I’d tip over and just go limp. He was fucking me like a bitch, just like a dirty little whore like he said he’d do, and I hated that it felt good. Was I just as sick and twisted as he was? He kept going and then he started to rub circles around my clit, then at an “ah” from me, he leaned in to my ear and announced, “I win.”

I guess he did win. He wasn’t pinning my arms any longer and yet I was obeying him. I fell on my face when he said that, and that’s when his belt bit into my ass.

The feel and the sound of it hitting me made me squeal in pain even more than the sensation. “Please Tommy.” I begged.

He kept pounding into me, then he grunted, “Your body was fucking made for me.”

Goosebumps had popped up all over me. My captor laughed low in his throat, a knowing laugh, knowing that he owned me, reveling in the fact that my body was doing just what he wanted it to do. He leaned back, rotated his hips, and smacked me across the top of my ass again, but with his hand, as he drove in. My eyes rolled back into my head and I let out another loud whimper.

He hit again with his hand, making me cry out not only in pain, but also in pleasure because inside, he was hitting that spot. He grabbed my clit and twisted, forcing an orgasm that made my body ring.

He leaned forward and grabbed my throat, mid-climax and lifted me back up to my knees, grinding out a husky, “Perfect, baby.” He kept going, hand covering my throat possessively, as he used me like a ragdoll.

He went on for what felt like forever, chasing his orgasm, grunting into me. It went on so long I wondered if it was ever going to be over. My crotch was raw, sticky, and sore. He slid in and out and in and out; making me feel the ridges of his cock as they glided over sensitive places inside of me. Goosebumps were all over me as he kissed the back of my neck and tweaked my nipple, his other hand rising and lowering over my throat in a steady rhythm.

Finally, there was a long and husky groan, and oh my God, it sounded so sexy.

How? How could that thought even occur to me?

When it was finally over, I was limp on the floor, totally spent. For a brief moment he was dead weight on top of me. I heaved in discomfort and he immediately rolled off me and disappeared into the bathroom.

I was still on the floor. I could do nothing but just lie there. Maybe I would just die there.

A moment later he gently lifted me off the floor and then he had me in bed. He was covering me up. “Nap? No way I’m making it back to the office now,” he whispered, kissed my temple, and then spooned me.

He was holding me like this thing he just did to me was consensual, like I hadn’t fought back with all of my might and drawn his blood. And I was too limp, spent, and emotionally paralyzed to do anything but lay there. I just lay there as he stroked my hair, dropping kisses on the back of my head, twisting to kiss my shoulder, my earlobe. I tried to not let what he was doing comfort me, but I cried softly into the pillow until I started to feel myself drifting off. I kept fighting it. A few minutes later, I guess I ran out of tears. His breathing evened out in sleep so as I was lying there staring off into space, in a wet spot from his semen that leaked out of me, eyes so dry that they ached. I shifted the blanket under myself to cover the wet spot. It felt like my guts had been yanked out underneath his hand, which was resting on my stomach.

I was tuned into him, into his breathing, which was tickling my shoulder, into the feel of his hard body against me, his hand possessively over my tummy. My ass hurt from the belt and I needed to pee. I held it for as long as I could, alternately worrying about waking him and also thinking I should really bash his head in right now while he slept.

Finally, what might’ve been twenty minutes, maybe even an hour passed, and I couldn’t wait anymore, so I slowly pulled away. His eyes opened and he watched me pull the top sheet out from the mess of tangled bedding and wrap it around myself.

His eyes met mine and while I couldn’t read his hard expression, I felt shame and pain wash over me at the same time. I looked away and went into the bathroom. When I sat down to pee, I almost hit the ceiling as it stung deep inside. It felt like I was torn inside. When I was done, I moved slowly back to the bed and climbed in, staying as close to the edge as I could.

He rolled over, his arm covering me, and half his body covered me, too. His lips softly touched the center of my back and kissed upwards to the back of my neck where he stopped and fell back asleep. His lips just stayed there, on the back of my neck. I just wanted to cry because it felt so loving and tender and yet twisted me up inside like a pretzel. The guy was some sort of master of the mind fuck.

I woke up to a darkened room and an empty bed. He was getting clothes on. He left the room. I stayed in the bed. I didn’t want to get up. Ever.

I got up, while flicking the lamp on. As I pulled the blankets back, I caught sight of the belt mark across her ass and lower back. I winced. I got dressed, turned the light back out, then left, shrugging my jacket on. When I grabbed my phone and keys at the bottom of the stairs, I ran into Sarah. As I walked past, ignoring her dirty looks, I caught a flash of shock in her eyes. I passed the mirror on the wall by the front door and saw that my eye was bruised and that there were claw marks on my face. Looked like I’d have a fat lip, too.

I decided to head to the gym to punch the rest of this out. I held back with Tia this afternoon. Yeah, I’ve been holding back all along but today I let the beast out more than ever and if I was honest with myself I knew I could’ve really gone another round, could’ve blackened her eye and bloodied her lip, like she’d done to me. The difference was I deserved it; she didn’t.

I hadn’t hit her back, other than her ass; I had zero desire to hit her anywhere else. In fact, I hated how I felt when I’d hit her ass with the belt. I didn’t think I wanted to do that to her again. Right now, I wanted to hit something or someone else to work these frustrations out. I had all this rage in me that I couldn’t put a label on. I still tasted my blood on my lip as I drove away.

I knew where at least part of the frustration came from. I was so fucking mad about that woman tracking her down and getting her aside. That could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been someone who wanted to take her from me that had the ability to do it.

Pop and I both got identical anonymous letters today. They were cryptic, done in cut up newsprint, saying something about fresh new Ferrano acquisitions being redistributed. It might not be about her, but I suspected it was. And in case it was, I’ve already arranged to double security for her, but before I could pull the trigger to get that done this happened.

I felt a pang of regret at the things I said to her, at the way I took her, but I’m split in two as I fucking loved the rush of it at the same time. I especially loved it when the fight turned to submission. She was beautiful, showing fear, fighting with me and then showing more fear, and then submitting to me and coming so hard like that for me. And fuck, when she melted into me afterwards, letting me hold her and comfort her? It was what I needed; she gave that to me. The next step for me was to get her to want to give it to me. Would she get there easily or would I break her? And would I always feel guilt like this after the fact?

It was like my chest weighed five hundred pounds right now. Everything I thought I wanted was in my bed, but it felt like I was fucking it up. Royally fucking it up.

The heavy bag would take the rest of this and then I’d go back, slip in beside her and get a good night’s sleep so I could think clearly tomorrow about what to do about this foster parent problem and hope that I found some clarity somewhere on the whole situation.

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