The Dominator

  The Dominator

  by DD Prince

  This story is fictional and the work of the author’s imagination.

  Warning: The Dominator is considered a dark romance and is for adults. This story contains violence, mature and explicit content, and non-consensual / dubious content sex that some readers may find upsetting.

  Read at your own discretion. All copyrights / brands are the property of their respective owners.

  This story was self-published and is owned by the author and may not be copied without expressed permission from the author. Copyright 2015: DD Prince.

  http://www.DDPrince.com

  Tia

  In a few weeks it’ll be my nineteenth birthday. Some say it should be my ninetieth as I’m what they call an old soul. A few weeks after my birthday I’ll be striking out on my own. Well, sort of. I’ll be transitioning out of the foster care system and into my first apartment.

  My foster parents, Rose and Cal, who have been wonderful to me for the past 5 and a half years have arranged for me to rent the apartment above the garage at Rose’s parents’ home. So it’ll be my place but I’ll still be close to people who are like family; the only family I’ve had for a very long time.

  Because I’ve been a ward of the court for the past few years, the “system” will supplement my income through college and pay for tuition, too. The foster grandparents’ home would be the perfect blend of being on my own and having someone around in case I need help.

  Nona and Nonno Caruso have been like I’d expect real grandparents would be to me and the half a dozen girls that live with Rose and Cal Crenshaw at the moment. I’ll be the 5th girl to move into the garage apartment; the family has been fostering for years and they’ve helped over 100 teen girls have a home and a stable family for at least a little while.

  I could’ve opted to move out and finish my victory lap of high school from my own place on my 18th birthday but they invited me to stay and being an only child who embraced this busy, hectic, and crazy house full of laughter and love and great food, I was happy they invited me to stay the extra year.

  I’ve been in care since I was 9 and was moved around quite a bit before finding home here with the Crenshaws. My Mom committed suicide and that led to my already troubled father falling completely off the rails, landing me into the foster care system.

  His partying and gambling got progressively worse and he’d always had trouble holding a job which was amplified without my Mom around. My Dad tried to move me in with his sister, my Aunt Carol, one night after he got beat up pretty bad right in front of me by loan sharks, but she’d said Not a chance. She actually said that right in front of me. Shame on her. And shame on Dad for asking her in front of me.

  Not only did she refuse but she then called social services after coming to the apartment to argue with him because of seeing the way Dad and I were living. They took custody of me so that he could get his life together but he never actually did manage to do that for long enough to get me back. I was better off in care anyway. I thrived in it, especially once I got to the Crenshaw home.

  Dad seemed like he wanted to try a few times --- he’d go long periods of time without seeing me and then he’d turn up for a visit, tell me he was doing better, then he’d sometimes even do a monthly visit two months in a row but inevitably over the past 9+ years, the more common pattern was for him to get my hopes up and then let me down and disappear for many months at a time. I stopped having expectations of him a long time ago. Becoming a ward of the court made it simpler. They stopped trying to make him try.

  I’ve been through a few different foster homes but Rose and Cal’s has been, by far, the most nurturing of all. I moved here when I was 13 and not only do they go out of their way to make their home a real home but whatever isn’t provided that me or the other girls need through the “system” they take out of their own pockets. Three years ago they bought all us girls bicycles out of their own pockets for Christmas. The year after we got to go to Disney World together, on their dime. They’re amazing people and they’ve helped so many girls get their lives together. I hope to repay them someday.

  Rose, a sweet round woman with a heart of gold, tells me all the payment she wants is my happiness and success. And for me to continue to be a part of their family. Come for Christmas, come for special dinners on my birthday whenever I don’t have other plans, have them at my wedding someday, think of them as my family. I’ve been so lucky with them.

  Cal is an architect and Rose is a homemaker. They have one son and one daughter. Their son is autistic and one of my favorite people in the world. Their daughter Ruby is amazing too, with all the foster girls and with her little brother. Ruby has become my closest friend, like a sister, really. She’s a year younger than me otherwise we’d just get a place together.

  I’m lucky to be moving to the Carusos’. It’s a cute bachelorette apartment above the garage in a great neighborhood and the grandparents go to Florida for the winter so a few months after I arrive, I’ll have the place totally to myself. Ruby says she’ll stay over on the weekends.

  I’m starting in school in the fall for social work so I can make a difference in the lives of other kids who might otherwise fall between the cracks. So many kids do and many blame the system. I’ve had a great social worker all along who has always cared about my safety and happiness. I aim to follow in her footsteps and strive to do the same for other kids.

  I wouldn’t say I’m a model student or model foster child. I’ve gotten caught sneaking out to go to parties. I’ve skipped school a few times. I’ve gotten drunk and high and I’m not a virgin. But I’m not a slut and I’m not a bad person. I know what I want from life and I’m grateful for the blessings I have.

  I miss my Mom. I still don’t know why she killed herself. I wouldn’t say she was a happy person, and maybe her unhappiness ran deeper than I knew. I also don’t know why my Dad couldn’t seem to pull his life together. Even though he was never together before she died, he was really really messed up afterwards.

  I don’t know how often he checks it but I’ve sent him a Facebook message to tell him about high school grad. I’m not counting on him making it. He’s never made it to any school plays, birthday parties, or anything else that I’ve asked him to come to. When Dad shows up it’s generally very random. I don’t know why I sent him an invite but I guess I’ve never totally given up on him. I’ve always tried to believe that people are redeemable.

  Tommy

  “Her name is Athena. They call her Tia. She’s yours if you want her.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yeah, yours.” Pop waved his hand dismissively, “For whatever.”

  I was sitting in my father’s office absorbing this news, news that a nineteen year old girl was coming to me as a gift from my father, that she comes to him as payment for unpaid gambling debts. Pop said he was about to have the news of the payment arrangement conveyed to her father and then I could do what I wanted with her. “Whatever” meant I could put her on the streets under one of the pimps on my down line. I could also sell her off overseas into the slave trade and pocket the profits myself. Yeah, we had contacts in a variety of industries, including those of the seedy underworld. Looking at her photo, she’d fetch way more on the black market than the debt her Daddy owed. Way more.

  Or, I could keep her for myself. My cock twitched, looking at her. Silky straight long chestnut brown hair, big jade green eyes, beautiful skin, full lips, fit yet curvy, soft-looking. She sure didn’t look like she was just about to graduate high school.

  Re the down line, our family business has somewhat of an MLM set up. We receive commissions based on a variety of pursuits. Some call us mafia. I don’t really use that word. You might say I say tomato, you say tom-atto
and while it’s all the same fruit, of course, there are many varieties of tomatoes. We’re businessmen. Yeah, not all of what we do is legal but it’s not all shady business deals and gambling debts, either. The way it’s set up creates multiple layers and plenty of income streams and the money flows up to the family coffers from a variety of areas, like security, construction, and a variety of retail and wholesale businesses. There’s also a grayer type of security, loan sharking, prostitution, and drugs. We deal in herb, not in chemicals, and it’s a very small part of our business.

  Yeah, organized crime exists in the 21st century. No, it’s not always as glamorous as it’s portrayed on screens and it’s not always seedy, either. It’s a living. Some days are fairly ordinary. Some days are awesome. Some days we have to make tough decisions. I’d had to make many tough decisions so far and I was sure there would be many more.

  My father was a working guy who was connected around town and he wanted to start his own business. So he and his best friend, a guy also connected, started a construction company. The company did well; they were smart businessmen. Over time, they saw the need for a number of other services and they had the capital to begin expansions so they could better provide for their family without paying 50% of their earnings in tax. The company has grown by leaps and bounds in the past 30 years. After the construction company, he opened a coffee shop. He now has six of those coffee shops and it’s moving to a franchising model in the next 5-7 months. He’s silent partner in some restaurants, in some hotels, a few nightclubs, too. Some of those night clubs have back room card games; some that deal in big money.

  Drugs and druggies, alcohol and alcoholics, hookers, nymphos, bookies, gamblers, loan sharks… they’re always gonna be out there. Why shouldn’t we profit from it? We have the brains and the brawn and the green. And because of that we’ve got the cars, the houses, the fat bank accounts and the high tax brackets so we look above board to the tax man and have the fat rainy day funds in our mattresses, attics, basements, whatever. And this isn’t all we do; it’s just a way of supplementing things.

  Why bust our chops for a bit better than minimum wage and work like a dog our whole life to put money into a retirement plan we may never get to spend? Successful men get between what men want and the source. That’s what we do. You want to bet on the races? We can help. You want to get your rocks off, find someone to cater to your fetishes? We’ll hook you up. You need money to pay off your gambling debts or start up a new venture? Guess, what? We can help there, too. It all fits like a puzzle together nicely. People need protection. People need money. People need help from builders to build those businesses they want us investing in so we do the investing and we do the building. And people need vices so that the end of a hard day they’ve had a little fun. People need to pay up, too, though.

  And because men can have too much of a good thing and get caught up in the sins of the flesh and the thrill of the bet it can get dirty. Some people don’t pay their debts. Some people need to be dealt with. Sometimes people get greedy and try to take from us. We have to make hard decisions sometimes. People come to play; they must be prepared to pay.

  I’m 29, Pop’s namesake, I’m inches away from taking over the family business and we feed ourselves and look after our family this way so we take it seriously. If people borrow money, they have to pay their debts. We prefer cash as our currency of choice, of course, but sometimes creative financing comes into play when someone can’t pay.

  My family may be wealthy but I’ve earned my stripes, too. Pop didn’t believe in sticking a silver spoon in my mouth. He clawed his way up and believe me, he made sure I had to do the same. He called it character-building. I called him a hard ass.

  I started at the bottom and worked my way up. I bought my first place, a downtown condo, with cash, no mortgage, cash I earned from age 14 to 19. No one could ever say that I didn’t deserve to sit in my father’s chair when that day came.

  Sitting in my father’s office and getting told he was handing over a flesh payment on a debt to me was intriguing, to say the least. I’d never seen him take this kind of payment before.

  “Why are you letting the guy pay like this? This isn’t our style. There’s more to it. Spill.”

  Pop shrugged, “This was my choice, not his. Too many questions, Tommy. Just think of it as a gift. A bonus for all your hard work. Look at her.”

  He pushed the picture closer. I’d already seen it. My Pop didn’t like questions, that was for damn sure. I guess I sort of inherited that quality from him. But I needed to know the whole story, particularly because he was probably only a few key decisions away from retiring. He didn’t look ready to retire, he’s only in his 50’s and looks like he’s in his 40’s. But my Pop has worked hard to build his empire and he says he wants to enjoy the fruits of that labor before he’s too old to really enjoy it.

  “What kind of guy gives his daughter up for debts? The debt is measly,” I said. He looked reflective and a long moment passed. “Pop…”

  “I bought his debt. There’s history. Long family history. This guy! He…” he waved his hand, “He was like one of those, what do you call… fan girls. He tried to crawl up all our asses and worm his way into the business. But he was always a liability so he didn’t get the time of day. He disrespected me many years ago. Took something from me. He paid a price. But I don’t know that his price was enough,” he tapped on his temple with his index finger, “and some nights I still lay awake thinking about what he took from me. This daughter; she’s all he’s got of any value. And look at her. I’m thinking she’s young, she’s beautiful, you could make her yours. Marry her, maybe. Your call, I know, but that’s what I think. It’d be a shame to put her to work or sell her off. I saw opportunity. I acted. Two birds with one stone. Pay this guy back by taking his last thing of value. Take her to pay his paltry debt and help our family move forward.” He shrugged like it was no biggie but was looking at me studiously. I could see that it was a biggie.

  I shook my head. This was Pop’s way. He was telling me this Tia was mine to do what I wanted with but dropping his suggestion of ‘marry her, maybe’ was his way of saying, “Marry her” without outright demanding it. If I didn’t, he’d be disappointed. People know better than to disappoint my father. I also know that bonuses aren’t in his vocabulary so he isn’t giving her to me as a bonus, he’s got plans. But my father knows me. He knows better than to tell me what to do outright. When he really wants me to do something, he does this.

  “Married, Pop? Who says I’m ready to get married?”

  “Tommy, my boy, you’re almost 30! When I was thirty I already had 4 kids. You don’t become a man until you start a family of your own and need to be a family man to take over the company. You decide who you marry, of course, and this young girl, she’s part Irish, half Italian. She’s beautiful, she’s young so she can be molded into what you need her to be, and that doesn’t mean you can’t still have your fun. It’s your decision, of course, my boy…”

  “I’ll think it over.”

  This was the best way to handle my father. He’d been pushing me to get married since I was about 23 but never this bluntly. As his eldest son, it was expected, before I took over the company. I’d been prepped and primed to take over this company ever since I could remember. He’d drilled a lot into my head over the years and I’d jumped through hoops to prove I was worthy. Not just to him, to myself.

  To him, settling down showed a commitment to family, showed I was ready to be a man, so to speak. I was sure I’d already proven I was a man many times to my father with tests I’d passed, decisions I’d made, problems I’d taken care of, opportunities and profit I’d brought the business --- he knew I had what it took. My father was a demanding prick and I’d paid the price of being his son many many times. I was all but in charge as it was already. In his mind he wanted me to do this to show everyone, his associates, his enemies…that I was ready to take the helm. It was an old school way of thinking but that w
as how it was with Pop.

  He’d put me at the bottom of the ladder when I was 14 and made me work my way up like any other soldier that worked for him. I knew what it took to take over for him and I knew I was ready. Evidently he thought I needed to take one more step on this journey before he was willing to hand over the keys to the kingdom.

  But married? He’d talked about me being married in a “someday when you’re married,” or “someday when you’re a father,” “someday when you run this business,” way for years but I’d never given getting married much thought. Pop certainly enjoyed being married, he got married often, but despite his love for walking down the aisle he wasn’t a man who believed in any sort of marriage sanctity.

  Me? Women were a means to an end for me. They satisfied my desires. I had a healthy appetite and an active sex life with as much action as I wanted. I didn’t do relationships --- didn’t want to, didn’t need to. I never had the desire to get serious, to be monogamous. I knew women liked the way I looked and they liked the money, the power, but I hadn’t met anyone I cared enough about to take things to any level other than physical. Thomas Ferrano Jr. was a force to be reckoned with in and out of the boardroom, the boxing ring, the bedroom, and more and I’d been busy my whole life, proving myself, focused on the business.

  I liked control in and out of the bedroom and was very partial to rough sex. I had my pick of playthings to suit whatever my fancy was on any given day. Blonde, brunette, redhead, African American, Asian, whatever. I’d certainly never met someone I’d wanted to marry or even date seriously. Dating someone? Getting serious? That’d feel too much like giving up control to me. Not interested.

  Never desired having the same woman in my bed night after night, rarely was I interested in even having the same woman twice. Who needed a woman nagging me, thinking she could tell me what she didn’t want me doing, asking me inane questions that I couldn’t be bothered to answer? I had no desire niggling at me yet for kids, either. I had nieces and nephews through my two sisters and the kids were fantastic but they weren’t my problem on a daily basis. Being Uncle Tommy was just fine by me.