Date: Sat, 27 Feb 2016 00:50:01 -0500
From: eric jones <joneseral@gmail.com>
Subject: Dominion, Chapter 2

* 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.

* Please consider making a donation to Nifty.  Your donations make
this resource possible for all of us to enjoy!

---------------------------------------


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.