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.

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It took Tariq all of half an hour to lay his hands on a battery for the Blackberry. Before midnight he had powered-up the phone and was looking through all the files and data. He had crashed back at his mom's crib, in his basement lair that his mom never visited and that was truly Tariq's private space. He had sent his boys away with a few harsh words, but he had taken it easy on them. He wanted to get home and be alone, so he wasn't really in the mood to punk down his crew like they deserved.

Other than wandering out on the streets to lay his hands on the battery, Tariq never set foot outside that night again, not to the clubs or any of the other spots that would normally keep him occupied on a summertime Friday night. He didn't even answer his phone and texts, which were stacking up as the night went on.

All he could do was search the Blackberry for all the information he could glean. Even Tariq was surprised how much information was there for the taking. "Who da fuck puts they real name and address in dey damn phone?"

Eric Thomas Clinton. He had a home and school and work address all saved. Four different contact numbers, helpfully labeled "WORK" and "SCHOOL" and "INTERNSHIP" and "MOM AND DAD." He had three email addresses saved on the phone, one business-looking account and two personal accounts. He had credit card numbers saved, apparently for doing online banking and purchasing, pictures of his friends and family, and a Facebook account set up. The fool even had a notepad document with his email and account passwords typed in. Almost his whole damn life story was right there for the taking. It was the electronic Book of Eric. It was like he was begging to be robbed...

He wrote down every bit of identifying information on a pad, powered off the phone, popped out the battery, put the pad in the bottom of his desk drawer and threw himself back on his bed.

He had mirrors on the ceiling above his bed, just like a cheesy hotel in Las Vegas. He enjoyed watching himself, even when he wasn't fucking some piece of ass. He kicked off his Timbs, pulled his beater over his head. He slid his jeans and boxers down his legs in one motion. He spread his arms and legs and looked at his image on the ceiling above him. Wearing only socks and a couple of chains around his neck, he had to admit he turned himself on a little. He pulled off his socks and then was there, butt-ass naked, with just some of his better bling around his neck and on his wrists and hands to set his body off. With his dark skin that gold and all the fake diamonds really stood out.

He ran his hands across his chest and worked-out belly, feeling the muscles and flexing to see how the tattoos changed as his skin moved. The slight muscular bulge in his belly flattened out completely as he was stretched out on his bed, and then you could really see his muscles. His arms and legs were well defined, and with his full body in display you could clearly see the "V" shape as his torso blended in to his waist and lower body. He had a little treasure trail of hair right down the center of his belly that ran down to his dick, and a little bit of hair on each of his pecs. Other than that he was mostly smooth, but had bushy thick dark hair around his dick and in his pits. All in all he looked strong and masculine. He looked like he fell right off the front of a rap CD cover, or the cover of ThugLife magazine. If you liked dark-skinned guys thugged-out looking guys, there was virtually no way you wouldn't lust after Tariq's bod.

As he ran his hands down past his stomach and on to his legs, he admired what he saw, and he knew why so many bitches had been begging for his dick. He did have an awesome body, worked out but mostly natural. He grabbed his dick with both hands and started to slowly work his way from top to bottom. The minute his hands touched his dick he closed his eyes and grunted out loud. He reached down with one hand and starting massaging his nuts, while he slowly jacked his 10.5 inches to its full length. His shit was hard as hell tonight. He reached up and started pinching and massaging his nipple, not too hard but enough to know he meant business. He closed his eyes tighter and started to jack off a little harder now, as his excitement started to build. He went back to two hands so he could really work his piece, and he could feel his blood starting to boil as he thought of that white dude sitting there on the bench smoking that cigarette, starting at him?.

"DA FUCK?!?!?!?!?" he sat up and shook his head, snapping out of it for a minute.

"I know I'm not thinking of that muthafucka while I'm jackin mah dick, damn..." He laid back and thought about bruising Renee's throat with this dick the other night, feeling her gagging and trying to pull back as he kept her head buried on his pole, hoping she couldn't breath, but knowing if she could all she was getting was the smell of his dick as it invaded her throat. Bitch didn't have skills for shit, but she would let him bury it in her throat without complaint which made his dick happy. When Tariq's dick was happy, Tariq was happy.

He was jacking hard and in his mind he threw his head back as he growled and starting breathing deeply, and kept fucking the face in front of him, feeling his nutt getting closer and closer as his dick seemed to go deeper and deeper. He had his hands on her head as he made her keep up an aggressive pace not wanting to give his dick or her throat a moment's rest. He looked down to see that rock hard dick going in and out and was surprised to see short blond hair on the head he was pounding. "DA FUCK?!?!?" The blond pulled off his dick with a pop, and looked up at Tariq while licking his lips. The messy face he looked down on may have been covered with sweat and spit and precum, but it wasn't Renee.

It was that white dude.

Eric Thomas Clinton.

Tariq opened his eyes and realized the dick in his hands was harder that he could ever remember. This didn't make any fuckin sense, the fantasy of this Eric kat getting his throat used had him about to bust. This wasn't just some convenient head from some random broad or dude when he was drunk or high or both. Not just a nutt is a nutt is a nutt. He jacked harder and he could feel his legs trembling and toes starting to curl. He bent his legs at the knees, spreading his legs so he had full access to his dick which was just about to explode. He watched his sexy dark body writhing in the mirrors above him. There was sweat beading up all over his face and chest, and he felt a chill - his body was shaking a bit as his feverish jacking had his bed creaking on it's frame. If someone had been able to listen through the door, they would assume he was diggin the hell out of some hoe, with a sock in her mouth to stop her from screaming.

He was really using all his strength now to bust a nutt he had been building up all night. He was so close, and he closed his eyes again so he could focus all his energy on emptying his balls which felt like they were about to catch on fire.

The minute he closed his eyes he saw Eric's face, sitting across from him on that bench at the mall. Eric blew smoke in Tariq's direction. He kept his eyes tightly closed, not wanting to let that image fade away, and he felt the first ropes of burning hot cum hit him under his chin. "UGH!!!" He was shooting nutt a couple feet in the air, and it was raining down on his chest and abs. "AH, FUCK!!!!" "TAKE DIS NUTT!!!" he grunted as more of his own seed landed on his face. Some of the cum landed on his lips, his eyes and he sensed it was in his hair and all over the bed. "FUCK, FUCK..." He must have fired off 5 or 6 more spurts like rockets from his dick. "TAKE IT!, UGH, TAKE DIS CUM BITCH!"

The image in his mind starting spinning, and Tariq saw red flashes in his eyes as the power of his nutting caused his whole body to convulse and shake on the bed. "GOTT DAMN" he sighed out loud, trying to catch his breath, still feeling like his whole body was on fire.

Tariq was covered with cum and sweat - he was wet all over. He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection above him. Even in the mirror he could see the sweat gleaming and milky white cum all over his upper body. He leaned up just a bit and looked down his soaked body. He had never seen so much nutt in all his life. He pulled himself upright, sitting in the bed, and he felt puddles of sweat and cum dripping down his body. It was like the first time he jacked his dick, he felt like he had experienced something for the first time. "DAMN" he said over and over again under his breath.

He grabbed a sheet and wiped himself down as best he could, and then stripped all the soaked, funky sheets off his king size bed. As he turned on the shower he could feel his muscles aching, having been pulled and worked in ways he wasn't used to. He felt like he had just played two full halves of football in that maybe ten minutes he had jacked his dick.

The hot shower felt good, and as his breathing normalized and he was able to get his bearings again, Tariq's mind started to really think about what happened. The thought of this little dude that he didn't even know had made him bust what seemed like a dozen nutts at once.

He dried off and slipped on some boxer briefs and walked in to his room, mind still swirling. He sat down at his desk and pulled out the pad he had stashed in the bottom of the drawer.

Eric Thomas Clinton.

He flipped open his laptop and pulled up his email. Not the one he used with his family and friends, but the one he used for "dirt." He looked at the email accounts he had written down from Eric's Blackberry and typed a message to all the addresses at once.

"I GOT YOUR PHONE. MEET ME AT THE MALL SATURDAY AT NOON. SAME SPOT YOU GOT SLAPPED."

He laid back on his bed and looked over at his clock. Ten hours to go.

Eric was sitting in his room at his parents' spacious house on the water. He had a desk that looked out through a picture window, past a big balcony, and out over the shady back yard that gently sloped down to a wide, slow-moving river. Eric sat at that desk, his view switching back and forth from the inky blackness of the summer night outside to the brightly lit computer screen in front of him. He spent a lot of time on the computer, reading the news, surfing the web, and working on projects for school and work. But today the computer took on a different meaning, and he kept looking past the monitor and out into the night. He wasn't comfortable sitting there, as he had been so many hundreds of hours in the past. This week the computer got him in trouble, the first real trouble of his life, and his hands just didn't feel right on the keyboard any more. Each time a advertisement popped up, or a new window opened, he felt his stomach sink. Even the little weather icon that swirled around and showed the current date and temperature seemed ominous now. Each time it flashed he panicked for a moment.

He opened his personal email account and started deleting the spam and advertising emails from all the stores that Eric shopped online. He left one email alone, not daring to open it again, and not daring to delete it.

He looked at that email address and subject line for a few minutes, and he was lost in thought and he felt himself being dragged back down. He opened his BGCLive account on his "other" web broswer, the one he used just for the naughty stuff he wouldn't want his mom or his friends or a girlfriend to ever see. He didn't have any messages, and he clicked over and looked at his profile. The headline was "Hoping to meet new friends and try new experiences." He listed his preference as "don't know yet" and had all accurate stats and descriptions. There wasn't anything explicitly sexual, and he even omitted most of the selections that he thought were too graphic. He didn't know what he was "looking for." All he knew was that he was looking. The only additional information was "want to talk to guys who have different perspectives and experiences, love to meet new people, and look forward to making new friends."

He had one picture, a crystal clear headshot that was taken by a professional photographer. It was marked as private now, so only folks he wanted to see him would be able to. Eric didn't have any dick pics or pictures of himself on the beach wearing a swimsuit. It never occurred to him to take such pictures. So he uploaded the face pic, never intending to ever let anyone see it. When it comes to technology, things often don't work out like we intend...

Eric clicked on My Settings and scrolled down the screen. He found the link for Delete Account and clicked once. In seconds the account was gone. Eric breathed deeply and sat back in his chair, once again staring out the window in to the dark.

The lights from his room cast a glow on the Weeping Willow branches that hung along one side of his balcony, as a slight breeze caused the branches to sway gently. The branches crossed over one another as they swayed back and forth, creating layers of shadows - layers of darkness streaming down. He watched those dark branches swaying and as his focus softened, the image in his mind slowly melded in to dark dredlocks.

That dude tonight. "What was it about him?" he wondered. Yeah he was sexy, of that Eric now had no doubt. This week had proven to him that guys could be attractive, and that he could take pleasure from being with a dude - take pleasure in ways he had never experienced with any of the girls he had made love to in the past. This week had also proven to him that the forbidden fruit was forbidden for a reason, and breaking the rules can lead to your ass on the line.

He started to think back on the dude staring at him so intently, that fierce look in his eyes, that later didn't look so fierce, but looked more intent and serious and important as the night went on. His dick stiffened and he felt a chill down his neck.

He knew he was frozen that night, not out of fear from the dude, but out of fear from another man. A man he had finally met a week ago.

As he was walking through the mall, there was no possible distraction big enough to pull him away from what he was reading, no obstacles he wouldn't have walked straight through as he marched forward slowly. He was in his own world, there's no doubt, but it wasn't a world anyone would want to be in... As soon as he got to the mall his phone beeped to alert him to the email, and from the moment he read the subject line he knew his life might never be the same. When he opened the email and saw what it contained, it cast a shroud over Eric that blocked out everything else happening around him. Nothing could have broken that miserable spell. Nothing could get his attention.

Nothing.

Nothing, except a tall, muscular thug with dredlocks and eyes that tore right through him.

But even that took some time. What Eric was dealing with that night totally eclipsed the world around him. Although he didn't know that Tariq's friend Corey was thinking it, that night he could have truly fallen down an escalator or flight of stairs, or slammed head first in to a wall. And although he didn't know it, in a way, Tariq's attack might have saved him from a worse fate. God only knows what would have happened if he had tried to drive home with his mind locked up like it was earlier than same evening.

That week he had learned that a part of him craved the strength and power of a man. Part of him needed the relief and peace that comes from shedding the responsibilities and obligations of manhood, if only for an hour, and placing yourself entirely in the control of another. He didn't really understand it, the thoughts were still too new, too untested, too unrefined and too raw. He realized he could get pleasure from providing pleasure to another. He discovered that by submitting himself to a man, by lowering himself, he raised himself up somehow and felt satisfaction and comfort and purpose. Contentment.

Masculinity wasn't a concept that occupied Eric's thoughts until this week. It was something he took for granted, a force like gravity that no one questions and everyone depends on.

Eric was no queen. There was no swish to his walk, no limp-wristed mannerisms, and no fake bravado either. He was a guy. He acted like a guy, fucked his girlfriend like a guy, could tackle his buddies on the field like a guy, and pissed standing straight up, like any other guy.

In order for two masculine dudes to interact in a way that's logical and natural, there must be one alpha male, one leader and one follower. Since Eric wasn't the following type, and wasn't shy and wasn't in any way submissive by nature, the dude he interacted with, the other piece to the puzzle, had to be MORE masculine. The only way beat good is with something better, and the only way to beat something better is with the best. In a thugged out guy he had found his best.

Of course he didn't know Tariq, and hardly a civil word had passed between them. But he sorta knew the type now, thanks to his online cruising, and thanks to this week's "adventures."

The first night Eric created his profile on BGCLive he uploaded his face pic. He followed the instructions and went merrily along creating his profile. He even narrowed down his location to his parents' fancy neighborhood, Hidden Valley. What he didn't know was that his first uploaded the face pic as public. It stayed that way for only about 15 minutes. As Eric was messing around and exploring the site he realized his error and quickly deleted the pic, and then uploaded it again, this time making SURE it was safely locked and private.

The online world is so huge and anonymous, that even a newbie like Eric realized his error was stupid, but that it was something he fixed quickly and without much risk of really "outing" himself to any of his friends and family. He knew it had been less than 15 minutes, and how unlikely is it that someone he knew would be on BGCLive and would stumble across his profile and make the connection. I mean he had never done anything with a dude, so there was nothing to know. If someone did find his pic and his profile, it wasn't evidence of anything other than interest.

In truth no one knows how many people pulled up Eric's profile that night and saw his pic. It might have only been one guy.

One was enough.

Eric was brought back to reality when he heard a ding to let him know a new email has arrived in his inbox. He clicked it open and read the message.

I guess he was going to have to go back to the mall...

When Simms saw Hidden Valley as the location on the BGCLive profile, he couldn't help but immediately click. If there was a thug in NC that knew about Hidden Valley, it was him.

His real name was Simmons Murphy. His family called him Murph - everyone else called him Simms.

Simms stood right around 6'1" and weighed in at a solid 220 pounds. He worked out EVERY day, a habit he picked up while serving 60 months up state for some bullshit drug charges. He was 31, but he looked like he could be 20 when you looked at his face. He had a babyface on a man's body, and he used that asset to his advantage. He had a caramel complexion and hair braided in cornrows that grew down his neck to his shoulders. He could flash a broad friendly smile that took away a bit of the intimidation that the rich-ass white folks in Hidden Valley felt when they saw a dude like Simms walking up.

Simms could be intimidating because you could tell he didn't just dress and carry himself like a goon on the streets. There was a roughness to him, even when he was dressed in a tux. He was educated and could carry on a conversation about art, travel, or politics with any Hidden Valley college student or the captain of the golf club. He could frown and make a strong man afraid, and grin and make men and women blush. He could stomp a bitch to the ground and still have them beggin for his dick, and he could whisper in the ear of a 40 year old and make them feel like they were the most important person in the world.

If Simms had one weakness, it was his passion for trickin bitches, and to him it didn't matter if the bitch was male or female. He especially liked punking rich white folks. Nothing made him happier than taking the pussy, the money, the cars, the pride and then coming back to take whatever is left. He didn't just get off on demeaning his victims, he liked profiting from their misfortunes, robbing from the rich and giving to the whores... He was a pretty good judge of character, but unfortunately he used that skill to figure out what would make his conquests feel the very worst about themselves, and he used that knowledge to hit them where it hurts.

Simms knew all about Hidden Valley because he was a server at the Hidden Valley Country Club, and he got to wait tables for the best families in the area. There he got the chance to smile and suck up to the richest folks, while their sons and daughters were sucking on him after hours. They liked his body and his rugged looks, with enough polish to take the edge off, but still enough of a thuggish appeal to make them lust for the taboo of "givin up dat ass" to the bad boy. Like any true playa, he got paid for nearly every load he dumped in Hidden Valley. He thought of his dick as The Money Tree, and every time he shook it his pockets got swole.

He got access to all the rumors and the secrets of Hidden Valley. He knew who was sleeping with who, and who was stealing from who. People are more trusting of someone who's nutt they just swallowed, even if it was forced down their throat, so Simms knew more than most of the hired help... He had worked at the Club for over three years now, and he had spread the love non-stop. At last years annual Christmas Ball he looked around and counted 51 people out of the 300 or so members attending who had his seed in them at least once, from age 14 to 44. He drove a three year old Mercedes, lived in a two bedroom condo that he owned outright, and had his bills paid for him in advance every month. All of that was due to the 44 year old plastic surgeon who would have already popped out 6 of his babies at least were it not for condoms... He made the mayor's son take off the shoes that he paid for, the socks that he paid for, and suck the toes that his money paid to get manicured. His favorite so far was using the sister's money to pay the water bill that washes the piss of her tough brother who everyone in town thought was a big stud athlete but who Simms gave golden showers whenever he wanted.

All the rest he scored from his adventures went to coke and weed and all the clothes and jewelry he wanted. He really did live a charmed life, but even all this was starting to get boring. No one stood up to him, and he practically had folks grabbing their ankles with a look.

When Simms clicked on Eric's profile and that face pic popped up, Simms had to do a double-take and reopened the profile several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"You gotta be fuckin kidin me" he said outloud, as he saved a copy of the page on his hard-drive and clicked print to make a few copies of the profile. He thought someone was playing a joke on poor Eric or his family. The idea that Eric Clinton would be on any sort of gay or bi website was preposterous, almost impossible to believe. Dr. Clinton and his family had never fallen for Simms, not that Simms didn't make his usual plays on all of them. Straight as arrows, no pun intended. He almost respected them since they were one of the few family groups that didn't have some sort of weakness that Simms could manipulate.

That night a little more than a week ago he thought he saw a crack in the armor. It was just Simms nature to try to pry that crack open, any way he could.

"So, you want to meet someone different, huh, you dumb bitch? Well, lets see if you are that stuck up Eric Clinton. I'm about to show you just how different you really are..."

He clicked Send Message on the profile and typed "SUP, HIDDEN VALLEY? GLAD TO KICK IT WITH SOMEONE WHO GOT AN OPEN MIND AND WANTS TO TALK. BEEN HOPING TO FIND SOMEONE DIFFERENT HERE AS WELL. TELL ME BOUT YOU, NEIGHBOR"

Maybe, just maybe, the boredom was about to let up after all.