Page 3 of Dominate

Angered, he reaches for his belt. “Don’t make me ask you again!” I know I have to answer him, but I’m just not sure how, or what to say. There’s no way around it. This isn’t going to be good.

“I… It’s my acceptance letter to UCLA.” I stutter nervously.

“We’ve already discussed this, Devyn. I thought I’d made myself clear. You’re NOT going away to college! You’re going to Northwestern and living with me. There’s no way I will allow you to move across the country. You belong here, at home.”

Did he just seriously refer to this as a fucking home?

This is hell, not a home. I have never known what a home feels like. I never will.

“My guidance counselor required all of the seniors to send off applications. I was only doing what she said. I know I can’t go to any of them.”

“Damn right, you can’t go. You’re staying right fucking here where I can keep an eye on you. Your mother would want that.”

He uses my mother’s name all the time. For some stupid reason, he thinks it makes me feel guilty. I struggle to not laugh in his face. Fuck my mother! I don’t give a shit. I hope she is burning in the fiery depths of Hell for leaving me here with him.

“I’m sorry, Broderick. Just throw it away. I’m sure there will be more of them. Just throw them all away.”

There will be more of them because I am Valedictorian of my class. I’d scored off the charts on every college entrance test. Since I made school my obsession, I’d hoped, when it was time, that college would’ve been my ticket out of here. How wrong I had been to hope that he would ever let me go?

Broderick filters my mail, so I never expected to see any of the responses. Since my school also receives duplicate letters to place in my student file, I’d asked my guidance counselor to make copies of them when they came in. She’d given me a copy of the letter earlier in the week and I’d discretely hidden it in my room. Even though I knew I wouldn’t be going, I couldn’t stop looking at it with hope.

“Don’t you fucking get smart with me, young lady.” He says, yanking his belt off his pants.

No! Please, no!! Not again. Not after what I just went through.

Preparing for the first strike, I cover my face, hoping it shields me from the blow of the metal buckle. But strangely, it doesn’t happen. Instead, he steps forward and snatches my hands away from my face, wrapping the belt tightly around them. “Ow!” I cry out, but he only tightens the leather around my hands.

“Stop. I’m sorry, Broderick. I didn’t mean to make you upset. Please don’t do this to me again.”

He ignores my begging and spins me around, flipping me onto my stomach. The last bit of will I have surfaces and I fight him with all my might. I’m pretty sure he gets off on it, but I will be damned if I make this easy for him right now. Somehow, despite everything, there’s a tiny part of me that refuses to give up. Sadly, that part is almost extinct now.

Back and forth, I struggle to fight my way out from beneath him. But with my hands tightly bound beneath my body, I can’t get enough leverage to get away. Broderick laughs above me as he leans forward and pins his weight down with his knees, preventing me from being able to move any more.

“I think someone needs a little reminder of who’s in charge.”

Oh, God. No!

“Don’t do this, Broderick. Please! I beg you! I’m sorry. PLEASE!”

“Save your begging. I know you want it.” He snarls.

With one forceful yank, my panties are ripped from my body. When he moves behind me on the bed, I wait to hear the sickening sound of the condom opening, but this time, it doesn’t happen.

“NO!”

Broderick shoves my head down hard into my pillow, instantly muffling my screams. Choking on my spit, I cry into the cushion, wishing for a death that will never come. With brutal force, he rams himself into me hard and fast from behind, hissing loudly above me before shoving in deeper. Agonizing pain rips through my body as the burning sensation of his entry overtakes me.

This can’t be my life. It just can’t be.

“F-u-c-k! You’re so fucking tight every damn time. That little cunt wants it, doesn’t it?” I bite hard into my pillow, tearing at the fabric with my teeth.

“Answer me!” He shouts. When I refuse to give him an answer, he forcefully takes a handful of my hair and jerks my head upwards.

“Please, just stop.” I beg.

Ignoring my pleas, Broderick pushes my head back down into my pillow and increases the intensity of his thrusts. Each forceful shove in to me feels as if my insides are being ripped from my body. The overwhelming pain combined with my lack of oxygen is more than I can handle, causing me to fade in and out of consciousness.

Broderick shifts his position and removes his hand from my head, grabbing firmly onto my hips. A loud raspy gasp erupts when I open my mouth to take a breath. The excruciating burn in my lungs is unbearable, but I don't have the capability to scream.

Why am I fighting to breathe? I just want him to put me out of my misery. In two more painful pushes, I hear Broderick grunt and tense behind me. The unfamiliar warm sensation that follows sends me into panic.

No! Please no!

With a violent tug, my bound hands are unexpectedly freed from the belt. As my hands drop to my waist, everything hits me all at once. The full force of the pain, my despair, my never-ending hell, all are triggers for the flood of salty tears now spilling down my cheeks.

I just want to die. Why won’t he just put me out of my misery?

“I can't do this anymore. Just kill me. Please.” I beg him through my sobs.

A look of horror fills his face, but the anger remains in his dark eyes.

“You ungrateful fucking bitch! I’ve given you everything, and this is how you speak to me?”

Once again, the brutal force of his hand landing across my cheek fuels the never-ending tears.

“Shut that damn crying up now and go to sleep! You know you wanted this. It’s why you misbehave. You like being the bad girl. You enjoy me punishing you.”

Snatching the acceptance letter off the floor, Broderick turns back to me and zips his pants. With a satisfied smirk, he wads up the letter and then tosses it into the trashcan beside my door.

“We’ll talk about this again tomorrow.”

Talk about this again? No fucking way. My plan has just changed.

Tomorrow morning, I will leave this place and never look back. Biting through the pain, I pull the covers up over my trembling body and make myself a promise. Broderick Masterson has just touched me for the last time.

The morning sun spills its bright rays inside my room, but I’ve yet to sleep at all. Instead, I’ve been up and dressed for hours, ready to put my plan into action. Broderick is an early riser, so I have no time to waste. I hurry and gather the few last extra things I will need, shoving them into my school backpack, along with my money and fake ID.

For months now, I’ve had this all planned out. In the trunk of my car is another small bag of things. I don’t need much, just enough to start over somewhere; somewhere far away from here.

Before I leave my room, I retrieve the math textbook from my desk and look around the large space. People may be envious of the big room I have or the fancy things bought for it, but they know nothing of the sick horrific things that went on inside.

Taking a deep breath, I sling my bag over my shoulder and try to calm myself. If this is going to work, I’ve got to appear as normal as possible. I close the door to my room for the last time and hurriedly make my way down the large winding staircase, hoping to beat Broderick out of the house.

As luck would have it, Broderick is already downstairs eating his breakfast in the dining room. Just the mere sight of him makes my knees start to buckle. The memories of last night resurface and instantly sicken me.

Keep it together, Devyn. You don’t want him to know what you’re doing.

Tilda, our housekeeper, kindly offers me breakfast, but I

smile and politely decline. With my anxiety this high and my head still pounding from last night, I can’t even begin to think about food. My refusal to eat enrages Broderick, who’s overheard our conversation.

“Sit down and eat, Devyn.” He shoots me an angry look and points to the empty chair beside him.

“I can’t. I promised tutoring this morning in the library. I don’t want to be late,” I explain, hoping he buys my story.

Appearing agitated by my response, Broderick sits his coffee cup down and raises his eyebrow at me.

“Tutoring? Isn’t it a bit late for that? It’s almost the end of the term.” He replies, reaching for the knife to butter his toast. I find myself fixating on the blade. I can virtually feel my hand around that metal handle.

I quickly recover from my murderous fantasy and answer him.

“Yes, but this student wants to retake her entrance exam to college. I offered to help her get ready for it.”

“Fine, but you’re to come straight home from school today. We have an early dinner over at Senator Clark’s house tonight. You know how important this is for me, so don’t be late.”

“Yes, Sir.” I can only imagine how angry he’ll be when I’m not at home this evening. Just the thought of it makes me smile knowingly to myself.

He’ll never touch me again. Ever.

As if I am some sort of nuisance, Broderick waves me off and returns to reading his morning paper. Grabbing my keys, I waste no time in hurrying out the door. My heightened nerves kick into overdrive the minute the morning air hits my face. It simply can’t be this easy. This escape plan is going way too perfectly. Paranoid, I turn to look over my shoulder, only to find that I’m alone.

You’re free. This is it!

I click the key fob for my new Audi convertible, toss my backpack into the backseat, and start my car. The car was my birthday gift from Broderick, but I absolutely hate it. He frequently gives me expensive gifts to absolve his guilt, thinking that it makes everything okay between us. We are not okay, and we never will be.

Before I pull out of the long driveway, I look back one last time into the rearview mirror at the mansion standing behind me. People shouldn’t wish themselves into this luxurious lifestyle. No one truly knows what horrors go on behind closed doors. In this moment, I would give anything to burn it to the ground, with only him in it.

Lifting my trembling hand, I turn the mirror back to face me.

Don’t look back. Never look back! Drive!

I quickly revert my attention back to the road in front of me, As I tighten my grip around the steering wheel, I can’t help but smile. This is it, the day I’ve dreamed about since the first time he’d visited my room all those months ago. This is my new beginning, my end. This is the day that Devyn Wilder dies, and Honey Andrews is born.

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

FOUR YEARS LATER…

HONEY

There are lessons in life that we’re not meant to understand. Sometimes we can’t see that there may be a blessing, hidden within a curse. So many of us drift endlessly throughout life trying to find meaning in everything; a quest for our purpose. For a long time, I wondered why I was put here on this Earth. Now, as I stare down at my beautiful sleeping son, Kason, I know what that purpose is… Him.

Regardless of the way he was conceived, he’s been my heaven in a life of hell. He’s a tiny miracle, born to save me from myself. When I held him in my arms for the first time, I finally knew how it felt to love. Now that I have this, there is no way I will ever let anyone take it away from me.

Ever.

I wish I could say that I’m like most moms, but I’m certainly not. As much as having my son healed me, it didn’t stop the memories or the pain that scratch the surface every time I close my eyes at night. It’s been over four years since I ran, and I still watch the door handle at night, terrified Broderick will somehow find me and take away the best thing in my life… My son.

When you’re desperate to not let the darkness in your life, you’ll do whatever it takes to repel it, sometimes even going to the extreme. Although most won’t understand, I find my solace in the strangest of ways. During the day, I’m called, “Mommy” by my sweet son. During the night, I’m called, “Mistress Honey” at Club Climax, by men that have no problem giving me full reign to control them.

Dominatrix.

Mommy.

Believe me, I know just how crazy it sounds to use these two words together to describe who I am. Honestly, I never thought I’d be either one of them, yet here I am, both. I guess you can say I’m the modern female version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Like a light switch, I turn one off to become the other. There’s the Honey you see at the playground pushing her kid in a swing, and the Honey you will see in Club Climax, that prefers a swing of a very different caliber.

Club Climax, is a very well-known gentlemen’s club in Savannah, Georgia, only there’s nothing gentlemanly at all about it. Mike Powers, the owner, hired me on the spot, three years ago, when I walked in looking for a job. With no need for social security numbers or background checks, it had been the only option for employment I had. Let’s just say there isn’t exactly a job application for this kind of place. Here, it’s strictly cash under the table. Since no questions are ever asked, and no one cares what name you use, it’s a world I could hide safely within.

Obviously, stripping had not been my first choice of work. But without a high school diploma or official ID, my job choices are extremely limited. Unlike other mom’s, I’ll never be able to have the typical nine-to-five desk job. As much as I’d love to have a normal life, it’s just not going to happen. So, instead of working a respectable job, I sell my soul every time I go to work. Sometimes I wonder if I even have one left at all.

At first, the money was decent enough for me to stomach all the shit that came along with the job. But soon, working here started taking a toll on me. Night after night, I had to deal with horny men, ogling me and trying to feel me up. That was until I realized just how much control I actually had over them. They don’t have the upper hand… I do.

About a year ago, Mike had decided he wanted to step up his establishment by adding a special feature room called Ultimate Climax. Ultimate Climax isn’t just any room. Full of every imaginable sex toy and fetish contraption, it’s certainly not for the faint of heart. This high-end BDSM room instantly became an instant hit among higher end clients, who longed to fulfill certain deep desires or dark fantasies. Submissives For Hire, that’s what Mike wanted us all to become. Regardless of what he wanted, we still had the choice of staying on as a stripper or becoming a high paid submissive. My decision had been an easy one. There was no way I was going to submit to anyone… Ever.

Even though it was made very clear that I wasn’t available for hire, men still requested me constantly. The money they offered me to try and change my mind was atrocious and almost sinful to pass up. But no matter what the amount was that they offered, I always declined. And then the day came when an offer was made that I could not refuse.

Mike stood in the middle of our dressing room with his arms crossed, looking absolutely furious. The entire time I’d worked here, I’d never seen him so frustrated and angry.

“Are you fucking kidding me? No one wants this one? The guy is offering a fucking fortune!” He shouts waving the request in his hand. Requests are always offered upfront before girls accept them. Everyone had already seen it and had quickly said no. I kept wondering what the hell could be on that piece of paper for them to turn down that kind of money?

Mike hadn’t bothered to show me because I always refused offers. But that little piece of paper in his hand continued to beckon and taunt me. It was inexplicable how desperately I felt drawn to it. I tried to fight it, but my curiosity became the better of me. When I could take no more, I silently stood and walked towards him. Every eye in the dressing room was fixed on me. Shock and confusion filled Mike’s face as I approached him. Frozen, h

e watched me reach out and take the piece of paper from his hand. The room remained silent as I unfolded the paper to read.

Each word written on the piece of paper made my smile grow wider. What this guy wanted was something we hadn’t seen here at the club before. He didn’t want sex. He didn’t want submission. He wanted to be dominated. Little did I know then that this man’s request would be my salvation, my once unanswered prayer, now answered.

“I’ll take this one.”

Mike’s jaw dropped. He looked as though someone had just slapped him. “What? Are you serious? I thought you said you never wanted any part of that room.” His words come out in shock. Puzzled, he scratched his head and waited for my answer. I folded the request back up in my hand and grinned before responding.

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