A Darker Dom: DOM

Prologue

I’m taking a walk, Charles bellowed. I’m sick of arguing. I need some air.

You’ve been running away from any discussions I try to initiate. What’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be the dominant one. I hate when you do this, Joy argued.

He turned around. Hate it then. You’re the submissive in this relationship, and it’s wearing off. To you, it was all a game. You need to rethink why you’re with me, babe, and think long and hard. Sure, I can deliver an orgasm that blows your mind, but that’s not what I’m all about. You have a lovely mouth and a great ass, but there’s more to this lifestyle. I have needs, ones I thought you could fulfill. I need control.

He slammed the door behind him.

Was he that bad of a judge of women? Christ, how could he have been so wrong about his last sub, Tasha? She turned out to be a nightmare and a murderer, yet he never saw it. Blinded by her beauty and devotion, he never saw the darkness within her. Joy did. But then again, that’s what she did for a living; she was a goddamn cop. Also, how the hell was he supposed to know that Joy knew Tasha when they were younger and that she went by the name of Marsha back then? He wasn’t a mind reader.

Joy Harding, the woman he thought he might spend the rest of his life with, was a New York City detective and a levelheaded woman. He admired her because she was different from most of the women he’d known and had been his sub.

He respected her strength and intelligence. She also had an inner darkness. It thrived deep within her, and so did his. Together, over the last year and a half, they explored that darkness, or so he thought. But what the fuck did he know anyway? All he knew was that he wasn’t happy, and over the last few months, neither was Joy.

He wrapped the woolen scarf she’d picked out for him for Christmas around his neck as he walked. It did a great job of protecting his neck from the cold. He then mumbled, Goddamn it, my problem is I like strong women. She’s a damn cop. Her job demanded that she be a strong, dominant woman during the day. But at home, and at night, I thought she wanted to be submissive and wanted the challenge of a strong Dom.

He wondered if he was done with the D/s lifestyle. Maybe they had come full circle, and perhaps they’d become a humdrum, boring, vanilla couple.

He missed the nights of her waiting for him with wonder and anticipation in her eyes. He would always call ahead of time and give her instructions before a playdate. The rush and the need he experienced during the day, before a playdate, were invigorating. He wondered if she had felt the same before those nights of sensual passion.

He wondered why he hadn’t learned early on in their relationship that Joy never considered herself the type of woman to bend or give in to any man. Yet she had admitted to having a submissive streak, a need for domination in and out of the bedroom.

The first year of their love affair centered on the club and learning about the lifestyle. And now, after a few glorious months into their second year together, he found her to be stubborn, opinionated, and quite thick-headed. A challenge, one he thought he’d never tire of, but he was wrong. Their relationship had become combative.

A friendly person, Joy loved people and enjoyed being the center of attention. She also enjoyed commanding a conversation, being right, and hating when he proved her wrong. She was an avid reader, which fueled a troublesome personality flaw, that of being a know-it-all. Her words rang true, A know-it-all needs to know a little about a lot, she told him constantly.

She had paperbacks, hardcovers, and a few eBook readers, obsessively full of books she’d confessed to reading.

Joy also had a hard-on for politics, politicians, and large corporations. He’d had a gift. He could crack any safe but had never used his skills to rob anyone or for illegal monetary gain. Instead, he put his talent to good use and created securities systems that were almost impossible to breach. How ironic for him that he was Vice President and on the board of one of the largest security corporations on the Eastern seaboard.

Joy was New York City detective, carried a Smith & Wesson MP, 9MM, MO.2, and she was an excellent shot. Joy was a straight shooter and a damn good law enforcer. He respected that. However, she had a lot to say about what he did for a living. Again, he was biased toward large corporations. Lately, he wondered if their love for one another would overcome their constant differences. He also wondered if the woman, who challenged him daily, could continue to bow to him and submit to him completely.

At five foot seven, 135 pounds, she religiously went to the gym five out of seven days a week, showing the control she had over her body. She was at the 9th degree in karate and had a bachelor’s degree in psychology. Her knowledge of human nature astounded him.

Joy was divorced because the man she married didn’t like being married to a cop. But then again, from what she told him, he concluded that her ex was a real asshole.

He remembered meeting Joy for the first time. The day after, he moved into the building, a stunning, expensive high-rise in the middle of New York City.

First impressions were important to him. The first time they’d met, she’d impacted him with her attractiveness and open, friendly demeanor. But after that, their encounters were brief and impersonal. Your typical hello, how are you, and goodbye, neighborly conversations. 

Once they were a couple, she opened up to him and gave him some insight into her life. The profession she chose, a cop, went against everything her parents anticipated for her. Their aspirations for her were a few rungs higher than law enforcement. Coming from a family of money and lawyers, she was expected to practice law.

I love being a cop, she had confessed to him. I couldn’t let my family dictate how I would live my life. Then, Charles, you came along, and the rest is history. I could never submit to my family, but I find submitting to you comes naturally.

As he recalled that conversation, he grunted. That confession was months ago.

Perhaps his being a Dom had intrigued her? Or maybe that he was an expert safecracker had fascinated her?

As the cold winter winds nipped at his exposed face, he realized that he was again at a crossroads in his life. He had two weaknesses: women and falling in love. He shook his head. A Dom should never fall in love. Ah fuck, he thought, he had a lot more weakness. He was, after all, only human.

Chapter One

Loss of Control

Dominant rule number one:

When you enter into a relationship with a submissive, you have no more right to order him/her around than does anyone else. Time is imperative. Your sub must get to know what you are like. Strength and gentleness go hand in hand, as do finesse and subtlety.

Fuck me, Charles cursed under his breath. Then he mumbled, Walk toward her slowly. Don’t let her feel how damn excited you are. Follow your own damn advice.

Clad in black silk, the lovely submissive was spread-eagle on the long, expensive table.

He approached the table and stood close enough to touch her.

His body trembled as one of his hands touched her lips.

Electric.

Inside, his emotions conflicted. He’d never seen her like this, so submissive and vulnerable. He wanted to lash out and punch his friend, Henry, a seasoned Dom, in the face. Had he succeeded where he’d failed? Was she really this compliant, or was she playing them both for fools?

Her moans of unfulfilled desire filled the room. All he wanted was to soothe her, make her feel loved and protected. Her strength drew him in—her willingness to let him take her hand and obey his commands satisfying. The greatest gift she bestowed upon him was her submission. This wasn’t defeat, it was her calling, and he was the one to dominate her. Charles would never let her fall. He vowed always to be there to catch her. Was this a new beginning? Or was this the end?

The fine linen tablecloth, expensive Rosenthal china, and Waterford water goblets no longer adorned the cherry wood dining table. She did.

Charles scanned the large room and noted the fine craftsmanship of the rest of the furniture. Henry’s taste and beautiful home always impressed him.

The click of the heels of his Berluti Scritto black loafers echoed on the oak floor as he stepped around the table and stood on the other side. He was so close. He could feel the heat of her body.

She was now on display and exposed, her pussy beckoning him. He could smell her need.

The twitch in Charles’s cheek was indiscernible because of the black mask.

Joy’s eyes were also covered with an ornate silk mask, and her wrists were secured with silver plated handcuffs.

When he was last in the room: he’d touched and teased her; his fingers aroused her until she was ready to scream out her need. Then he’d backed away, leaving her frustrated and unsatisfied. He made sure she heard his retreat. When he had closed the door behind him and stood against it, Henry Bass, her training Master, met him.

Pull yourself together, man. I’ve never seen you like this before, Charles. You’re the Master here. She’s quite defiant, but she needs you deep inside and needs to give all of herself. You must be able to handle that.

He ripped the mask from his face. I want to fuck her. I want to turn her around and bury my cock deep into her ass. She’s got me crazy. I have little patience when it comes to Joy. Damn it, Henry, I want to hurt her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Henry came close, grabbed his handkerchief from the pocket of his expensive custom-made suit, and wiped Charles’s brow. Hm, love does the damnedest things to a man. My advice is to step away from all of this for a while. Take in a few trainees. Find your Dom again. She’s unhinged you. You are useless to her if you can’t be the man she expects.

I’m going back in there. I need to touch her.

Don’t go down on her. You won’t stop until she comes. All you want to do is please her, and she knows that because she knows you love her. And for God’s sake, man, don’t bring her to a climax. Take her to the edge and stop short of making her scream. Frustrate her that my boy is a man who has complete control. Right now, you don’t. I want to see you control her climax.

Henry’s hand went to Charles’s crotch, and he grabbed his now hard cock. Your cock is raging. Make her bring you to a climax. Get your cock in her mouth. It’s all about control.

Charles made an effort to push his hand away and gave him a wry grin. No problem. Now, Henry, I’d appreciate you letting go of my cock and balls.

I do forget myself sometimes. You’ve known me a long time, Charles, and know my preferences. Male, female, I enjoy it all. However, I’m always the one in control. That big old cock of yours is useless unless you can use it to your advantage.

Charles straightened his six-foot, well condition frame. With a strong hand, he pushed Henry’s hand from his crotch. I am in control, and I think your idea is good. Taking in a few trainees can get me back on track. I know it will piss her off. I want her to be jealous. If she feels these emotions, there is hope to save what we have.

Henry’s brow furrowed, and Charles could see the look of frustration on Henry’s face. This isn’t a war, Charles, and you might lose this battle. I need you to be strong, caring and dominating. Get back in there and show me the Dom that I know you are. She’s ready, and you’re far from done.

He wasn’t done. Her body belonged to him, her Master, she wasn’t allowed to touch herself, and her climaxes belonged to him. He had to show her that.

As he planned to walk back into the room, he wondered how she had felt.

There was only one way to know for sure. He opened the large doors and stood in the doorway. He could see her body rocking from side to side to ease the fury he’d unleashed. He wore a smug smile. So far, he’d accomplished the first step. With a deepened voice, he addressed her.

I see your body and your need, my pet. Do you want your Master to ease your pain?

Yes, Sir, she whispered.

With all the control he could muster up, he walked back into the room. His cock ridged, and the tip wept with pre-cum. He wanted to grab her by the hair and shove his erection down her throat. But that would be too easy. She’d be winning. Wasn’t this a game of control, a lifestyle of dominance? However, Joy had him bursting at the seams.

Since his first wife, Antoinette, he hadn’t opened his heart and shown his vulnerability to any woman. Then he’d met Tasha, which proved to be a tragic affair. At least with Joy, the last year, he thought, had been a great year. She’d submitted to him and fulfilled his needs; however, he believed he had filled hers. Again, he’d been wrong.

Going back to the clubs, he thought, was the only thing he could do to save their relationship, but that proved disastrous. After two visits, she stormed out and called him a pervert. In the parking lot, they fought and said things to each other he knew they regretted.

I’m never coming back here! she’d screamed.

He bellowed back at her. There was a time that you begged me to come to the club. Now I’m the pervert? Fuck off, Joy!

She was then in his face. Maybe it’s you, Charles. Maybe I don’t want to be with you anymore. Did that thought ever cross your mind?

Her words ripped at his heart. Are you saying that you’re not in love with me anymore?

She turned from him and didn’t give him an answer.

His anger abated. If that’s the case, then there’s nothing left.

After that evening, a wall went up between them. Perhaps she never really understood him or his wants or needs. He wanted to love and just be loved.

He thought