Date: Fri, 10 Jun 2016 17:29:39 -0400
From: eric jones <joneseral@gmail.com>
Subject: Dominion, Chapter 10

* 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.