Dominion

• This is a work of fiction. My experiences and likes influence all my writing, so there might be a nugget or two of truth somewhere within, but don't worry, it's carefully hidden... Any similarity with actual people or places is entirely coincidental.

• This story involves interracial sex between adult men. There is lot of crude stereotyping, role play, nasty and demeaning language and other things that might be called kinky or just plain ignorant. If any of this offends you, please leave now.

• If you are underage or if reading this is illegal where you are for any reason, please leave now.

• Feedback is welcome.

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Simms was feeling himself.

Even he knew he was a cocky bastard. But he felt that way with good reason. He was a boss. On top of his game.

He loved power. He loved to win. Hell, he didn't just want to win, he wanted to destroy. He wasn't just an alpha asshole, he was an alpha sadist. He didn't just like power, he liked using it. Using it to hurt.

There are lots of crazy people in the world. Simms may not be unique, but he was certainly special.

There are lots of dominant guys in the world. Simms wasn't just dominant - he was mean. Mean at his core.

Some dudes get off on dominating others. They get a sexual fulfillment from forcing others to submit. It can be mild or wild. It can be men or women. Sometimes it can be both. For some really fucked up people, domination sex has nothing to do with sex at all. It's just a means to an end.

Simms didn't get off in dominating. He didn't get off on having someone submit. It wasn't the kinky role play thing that got Simms going. He used sex, and power, as a way to impact others. The thrill wasn't from the sex, it was from the before and the after. And the aftermath.

It wasn't about sex, it was about fucking people over. He liked messing with people's minds and exercising power to change their path in life.

Simms wasn't a rich man. He didn't have worldly power in the traditional sense. He couldn't buy an enemy's company to punish him, or buy a larger car than his enemy, just to show off. There were limitations. He was a black ex-con to start with. If he pushed anyone too far, the law would never come down on his side. He was comfortable, but he couldn't escape. He had all the money to do what he wanted, but his world was a small one. He might get a bigger TV, but he would never get a mansion. He might fuck the beautiful sorority girl wives and debutante daughters at the club - and some of the sons and fathers come to think of it - but they would never marry him, or treat him like their equal. They might lick his balls in private, but when he turned away they would be whispering about that big black man in the room. His only way in the front door of the club or the big houses was with his pants unzipped and a trick up his sleeve.

So he was a bick-dicked fish in a small pond. In Hidden Valley he had power. He had more power than anyone realized, but he had to use that power discreetly, quietly and it took time. This was his only hobby...

He thought about the beautiful blond wife and trim tanned husband he fucked over last year. They were divorced now. One of their kids had dropped out of school and the other was well on his way to becoming a drunk and coke-head in his early twenties. Thanks to Simms.

He had fucked the pretty wife in the pool storage room first. He banged her raw in the ass and made her lick his dick clean before sashaying back in to dinner party. There she sat with friends and neighbors, with the taste of her own ass and Simms' dick on her tongue. Within a couple of months she was addicted to him. He nailed her so many times and so many places that he finally got her pregnant. She had an abortion, but lots of folks found out about the baby anyway. News like that didn't say secret for long in Hidden Valley. Simms had helped spread the word. She gave up on her husband, and their marriage was doomed. The last time he met her he pissed on her face when she was about to give him head. He zipped up and walked out. The damage was done.

The husband was a closet-case who just needed some prompting to get him out in the open. Simms was there to help. While he was still fucking the wife, Simms was getting closer to the husband. He would get close to him, rub against him innocently, and show off as much skin and bulging dick as possible. He made the dude want him. He finally facefucked him in the parking lot until he threw up. Copious amounts of alcohol that night had made the husband an easy target. He gave him a couple of minutes to recover and then he fucked him in the ass, bent over a golf cart behind the club. Within a few weeks he had dude wearing a chastity belt, calling Simms "sir" and walking around with a butt plug. The finally time they met Simms had him sucking his sweaty toes before he spat in his face and told him he was disgusting and not a man. Simms turned him in to a submissive bottom, and his beautiful wife was never going to do it for him again.

He had given one of the kids some drugs, but he had never banged either of them. The parents were getting divorced and selling their house in Hidden Valley before he got the chance.

There were so many others. Broken marriages. Lost jobs. Depression. Addiction. And even the men and women who thought they were one thing, but were left by Simms realizing they were someone else.

Like all evil, Simms can be patient when he needed to. He wasn't just going for ass, he was going for lives. That kinda shit didn't happen overnight - no matter how big your dick was...

There were so many stories and so many faces flashing through Simms mind. He wasn't a chronicler, but if he had written all his exploits down, his journal would run to the hundreds of pages. He didn't need a diary. He could remember the faces. The tears. The shock. The desperation. The smell of fear. For so many of these privileged people, Simms was the fork in the road that made them chose a different path. He changed nature itself. Yeah, Simms was feeling himself tonight.

And now there was Eric Clinton. Poor little rich, unworried Eric Clinton. Well, he was worried now. He had good reason to be.

He and his family were so perfect, so pristine. They were snobs. No one from Eric's family had ever been rude or even dismissive to Simms. They just seemed above it all. They were on some kind of ivory tower, and they wore the white robes so comfortably. But when Simms saw something white and pure and pristine, he only wanted to get it dirty. It was time to bring the gods down from Mount Olympus. Down with their knees in the dirt like the rest of us.

Simms knew he could really push this kid. He might push him too far. Simms wasn't worried about the result, he was just intrigued by the possibilities.

He could just pump money out of him and blackmail him for years. This kat might end up as a Senator some day, so that gravy train might go on for years. Simms wasn't sure where to go with this one. He had done this shit so many times, but each time was so invigorating. He had options. He had power. His dick was harder thinking about the panic in Eric's head when he read that email. Harder than it had been when he fucked him bloody in this very bed.

Simms laid there, rubbing his bare belly and thinking of his place in the world. He had come a long way from getting punked in prison. From being slapped around by his father. Now he was doing the punking... Now he was doing the slapping.

He was drifting off to sleep, content with how things were progressing. This was gonna be fun.

He never saw the car pulling up outside and the three guys approaching his house. He was already dreaming.