The Domination of Dominica Dunn: Discovering New Worlds of Sexual Sensation
The Domination of Dominica Dunn
(Episode #1-4 of The Domination of Dominica Dunn)
By Daniella Divine
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This story includes sexual content, and is suitable for readers aged over 18 only. All characters in the story practice safe sex at all times, even if the details are not explicitly mentioned in specific scenes. This work of fiction is for adult readers who love red-hot romance books with sensual and exciting storylines. Enjoy!
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This work of fiction is an original romance by Daniella Divine. All rights are reserved. Copyright © Daniella Divine 2013. Published by Red-Hot Romance Books.
What’s Inside?
1: A Dark, Handsome Stranger
2: A Date with Destiny
3: Passion On The Menu
4: Sex at Sea
5: Dominica’s Dilemma
6: The Ginger Love Machine
7: Sweet. Fruity. And delicious.
8: Clear and Present Danger
9: Secrets in the Basement
10: A Very Naughty Girl
11: An Uninvited Visitor
12: A Stranger in the Street
13: Sex in the Shower
14: Let The Games Begin
1: A Dark, Handsome Stranger
Despite all the candles surrounding her, Dominica does not feel this moment as a mere romantic one. It’s so much more than that…it is intensely erotic, and then some. Erotic and exotic in the extreme – pushing her to the ultimate limits of her newly-discovered sexuality. For the first time in her life, she is opening the floodgates to new heights of unimaginable animal pleasures. And it feels so damned gooooood!
She lies back on the huge bed, feeling the cold metal of the steel shackles that bind her wrists to the bedhead, breathing in the heady new-leather scent of the black collar around her neck, and awaiting his next move with glorious, almost orgasmic anticipation. The excitement is almost too much to bear, endorphins flooding her body with the unbridled joy of expectation.
Is this really her? Dominica Dunn, the sane, sensible soccer mom and strong-minded businesswoman? The independent and dependable pillar of the community who had never let her hair down in all her 33 years? If only the PTA could see her now. Shock doesn’t adequately describe what they would feel. Apoplexy, more like. She would be banned, humiliated, expelled for ever and punished.
Not that punishment seems such a bad idea any more. She is discovering that in expert hands, the experience of just the right amount of stimulation is a truly liberating one. In the last few days, she has truly been to places she had never been before. A whole new world has opened up for her, a Pandora’s Box of unknown delights and pleasures. She has learned that submission can be not just exciting, but exhilarating – breaking down the narrow divide between pain and pleasure to experience the orgasmic seismic shock that true sexual freedom delivers.
But now she must concentrate. There are too many sensations to enjoy, and she wants to miss none of them. She can see nothing, thanks to the blindfold that bites tightly against her skull. But she can hear him approaching the bed. She waits for the first touch. What will it be? The gentle caress of a loving kiss? Or the stinging switch of a bamboo cane? Or something else altogether…a new sensation…something she has yet to experience? There is no way of knowing. She must wait and savor the moment. Waiting and not knowing is part of the pleasure. But now she is desperate for the next experience. She hears his breath, deep and slow. In her mind, she imagines him naked, the dark hairs on his powerful chest rising and falling as he prepares for the exertions to come, whatever they may be. In her mind’s eye, she sees his erection, proud and hard as always, stimulated by the exposed white flesh of her near naked body. She enjoys the knowledge that she can affect him in this way, understanding that he is not the only one who has power, no matter how helpless she may be right now. She can control his stimulation, his pleasure, his enjoyment of the moment, just through the beauty of her flesh alone. The thought makes her giddy.
Then she feels a touch, and her body flinches in a reaction she can’t control, adrenaline flooding her body and making her even more aware of every sensation. She hears the sharp intake of her own breath, ready for whatever comes next. But this time it is just a kiss…no, a lick. His tongue gently flicks across her belly button, then across the flat plane of her stomach. She relaxes, enjoying the tactile sensation. With her sense of sight lost for the moment, she finds that she becomes more aware of her other senses. She feels the contours of his tongue as he explores and enjoys. She hears the squeak of the bed springs as he climbs onto the bed, and she inhales the acrid smoke of the candles that burn so brightly around her.
She wants him right now…to feel the weight of his body pressing down on hers, his chest pressing against her naked breasts…his manhood pushing into her for release and bringing them both to a shuddering climax. But no, not yet. Maybe later…maybe not. He will decide, she will enjoy. She feels his tongue descending slowly down her body, flicking across one hip bone, and then the other. The sensation is moist, warm, caring and gentle. These are good sensations, to be enjoyed and savored for as long as possible. The nerve endings under her skin seem more sensitive than ever, lapping up every touch, and relaying and multiplying the pleasure sensations that are flooding her brain.
She arches her back as his tongue descends deeper, down between her legs to the soft and moist oasis of femininity below. He pulls away.
‘You are ready, Dominica. Let the games begin,’ he says, his voice stern and commanding. Yes, let the games begin again, she says to herself. It seems incredible that she is here, right now, in this place – with him. Who would have thought it? Why only a few weeks ago, she was….
***
…stuck at the side of the road, in the dark…and in the rain, with heavy rush-hour freeway traffic passing just a little too close for comfort. Dominica bends down to peer at the rear wheel of her Volkswagen Golf. Now she can see why the steering suddenly became so heavy – the offside tire is as flat as road kill.
Damn it all. That’s all I need.
She kicks at the tire in frustration. She’s had a busy and frustrating afternoon, and all she wants now is to get home and get some rest. She has endured enough stress for one day, and is already running very late. This setback is going to chew up the rest of her evening. On top of which, she is cold and getting wetter and more miserable by the second. Crap, she thinks. Work days are never great days, but this one is worse than most. At least her daughter Jo is staying with her father tonight – that’s one less thing to worry about.
Climbing back into the relative safety of the driver’s seat, she reaches for her iPhone. She finds the number for AAA and dials. Nothing happens. She checks the phone, and finds there is no signal. Probably due the great black storm clouds overhead.
Great. Just great. One problem after another.
There’s only one thing for it. She will have to change the tire herself. She has done it once before, although that was many years ago, helping her Dad. But it can’t be that hard, right? Dominica Dunn is an independent woman who doesn’t need a man to get her through such trials and tribulations. Woman power, right?
She opens the door to get out, and a passing truck blares his horn at her. She gets out and slams the door, kee
ping as close as she can to the side of the Golf. It’s a pig of a night. The rain is hammering down hard from a thunderously black sky, and a driving wind has picked up to force the rain into every conceivable nook and cranny. Dominica has only been outside for a few moments, but already she can feel that her clothes are soaked through to the skin. This is not exactly the California weather you see in the movies.
Shit, shit and double shit. Why is that cars only break down when it’s wet and raining?
She struggles to the back of the car, wishing that she wasn’t wearing heels. Not exactly tire-changing footwear. She opens the trunk of the car and hunts for the compartment where the tools and the jack are kept. She finds a tire iron and takes it round to the damaged wheel. After a few minutes of struggling, she manages to lever off the hubcap, and sends it spinning to the floor. She has broken a couple of nails and covered herself in some kind of oily gunge from the tire iron.
Crap. This is no fun at all.
She bends down and fits the tire iron over a wheel nut. As she does so, the spray from passing cars splashes into her eyes. Even in the poor light, she can see that the dirty water has muddied her previously-white and spotless dress.
Jesus. This is awful.
There is nothing for it but to continue, or she will be trapped at the side of the road until God only knows when. She pushes down hard on the tire iron. Even above the traffic noise, she hears the wheel nut squeak as metal scrapes on metal, but it does not move. She tries again, applying all the weight she can muster in her slim body. She pushes, squeezes and kicks.
Nothing.
She shivers as she considers the situation, shrugging off the drops of rain that are dripping down her neck. The wheels were probably fitted using a tool powered by air compression, sealing them tight. Far too tight for a light-framed woman in high heels to shift. But she doesn’t give up. The alternative is to walk home, and that would be even less fun than this. She shifts her weight right over the nut and pushes down hard, shouting as she pushes with all her might.
Still nothing. Zilch. Nada.
OK, sometimes you do need a man. Maybe.
She throws the tire iron down on the blacktop in frustration. The traffic continues to surge past her in a relentless parade of vehicles, both large and small. She looks up and sees that a car which has just passed her is now pulling off the road into the emergency lane, braking hard. It stops fifty yards ahead of her, then she sees the reversing lights come on. The car reverses carefully until it is just a few yards ahead of the Golf, then stops again. The driver’s door opens immediately, and a man in a suit gets out. He raises a hand above his head to shelter himself from the driving rain and runs over to where Dominica is still crouched over the wheel. He bends down beside her and grins.
‘Looks like you could do with some help,’ he says, raising his voice to be heard above the passing vehicles.
The headlights from the passing cars throw enough light for her to get a half-decent look at her rescuer. He is in his mid-thirties, or thereabouts, and dressed expensively in a dark business suit, and patent leather shoes. As knights in shining armor go, this one definitely passes the test. The rain is plastering his hair to his face, but she can see that it is dark, with a curl that is defying the onslaught of the rain. Her daughter Jo would call him cute. Dominica just thinks he’s sexy.
‘Yes, I certainly could use a hand, thank you,’ she replies, with a smile of relief. ‘I’ve got a flat, as you can see. I need to get this tire changed so that I can get home.’
The man frowns and shakes his head. ‘No, that’s much too dangerous. You don’t want to hang around in the emergency lane. Lots of people get killed at the side of the road like this. You only need one idiot who isn’t concentrating to swerve off the carriageway, and we could both be dead. It happens more often than you might think.’
‘But I can’t go anywhere until I get this tire changed. My phone is dead, and it is too far too walk home. I don’t have any other option.’
‘Of course you do,’ he replies. He points back towards his own car and grin. ‘Your carriage awaits. I can give you a lift home, then we can get someone to come and sort out your car. Come on, let’s lock up and get moving while we are still in one piece.’
Dominica hesitates. Bizarrely, the memory of her mother telling her not to accept lifts from strangers floats into her head. Of course, she is a big girl now, but you never know…this guy could be an axe murderer. He didn’t look like one, that’s for sure…but how can you tell? He would hardly be carrying his axe under his arm, would he?
The rain thunders down harder, and the man leans closer and shouts. ‘If we don’t get out of this rain soon, we are both going to die of pneumonia.’
He is right. Between the traffic and the weather, accepting a lift from him can hardly be more dangerous than staying where she is.
‘Thanks, I appreciate it,’ she calls back as she stands up. A few moments later, the car is locked. The man holds out his hand for the keys. ‘Give me those and I’ll put them in the exhaust tailpipe.’
‘The exhaust tailpipe?’
‘Yes. Then we can send out a recovery truck to get the vehicle…we’ll tell them where to find the keys.
‘Oh, I see. Good idea.’
Dominica removes the car key from her bunch of keys and hands it to him. He takes the keys round to the rear of the vehicle. He is back a few seconds later, telling her to head towards his car. As they hurry through the rain, he stays on the outside, protecting her from the splashes of the rush-hour traffic. He put his arm around her defensively, only touching her shoulder lightly, but enough to give her a buzz. Dominica isn’t used to men taking care of her…it has been a long time since she has enjoyed that kind of attention. Even in the generally uncomfortable circumstances, it feels surprisingly good. Dominica tells herself not to make too much of it. The last thing she needs is another disappointment in the men department. There have been enough of those in her life already. She gives herself a mental lecture.
Don’t be so stupid, girl…he just doesn’t want a dead body on his conscience, that’s all. He will be gone shortly, and you will be alone again…as usual. Get used to it.
He escorts her round to the front passenger seat of his car and opens the door. Wow! When was the last time a man had opened a door for her? Better not to think about it…better just to enjoy the moment. She slips into the passenger seat and finds herself sinking into expensive leather. The car still has that reassuring new-car smell, and she realizes she is sitting in an expensive Mercedes. Compared to the compact Golf, the Mercedes seems huge and opulent. A moment later, he is in the driver’s seat, belting up and starting the engine. He reaches over to Dominica and extends a hand.
‘I’m Max, by the way. Max Rockford.’
She takes his hand and shakes it, trying to return his firm grip, but abjectly failing to do so. ‘Dominica…Dominica Dunn. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble. I’m getting your beautiful car all wet…’
He laughs as he pulls out into the traffic. ‘Trouble? This is not my idea of trouble. A few minutes ago, I was driving home alone. Now I have the company of a beautiful lady. That’s the kind of trouble I can live with!’
Beautiful? He thinks I’m beautiful? No, he’s just being polite. You must look like a sorry sight at the moment, girl. Wet hair, mascara running down your face. You might have got away with that when you were nineteen…but not when you are 33. Pity, though…
Max turns up the heater to full volume, and soon the car is warm and reassuring. Dominica feels safe and comfortable as she begins to thaw out, and she isn’t in any hurry for this journey to end. She risks a sideways glance at her gallant knight, and isn’t disappointed. Even in the half light, she can see that he is a good looking guy in the classical sense. Whatever business he is in, he probably wows the ladies he works with.
‘So where are we heading…where do you live?’ He glances towards her as he speaks, and catches her looking at him. She turn
s away quickly.
‘Only a few minutes from here,’ she says. ‘My house is in the Hope Valley estate.’
Max nods. The next ten minutes pass quickly in small talk. She tells him that she is a single mom with a sixteen-year old daughter. She doesn’t mention the fact that Jo was an accidental teen pregnancy, but it isn’t hard to do the math. Jo’s father was just a kid himself when Jo was conceived – and what they thought was love turned out to be just teenage infatuation. He went out of their lives many years ago, and it was only in the last couple of years that Jo had rebuilt her relationship with her father. But despite the heartache, Dominica knows that Jo is the best thing that ever happened to her. They are best friends. Soul mates….more like sisters than mother and daughter.
Max tells her that he has never married, being too busy running the family business to settle down. Dominica wonders if he is single because he is gay. He sure doesn’t look it, and it would be a real loss to the female population if he was. But it’s hard to imagine how a good-looking and successful man could reach his thirties without some woman pinning him down.
She gives him directions, and it’s not long before they are pulling up outside her home. Dominica’s house is a typical Californian suburban home. Mediterranean style, pleasant and cozy, but nothing out of the ordinary. Just home. She doesn’t want to get out of the car. The Mercedes is warm and comfortable, and the company is agreeable. But he obviously has a life, and she is not a part of it.
‘Thank you so much,’ she says. ‘That was very kind of you.’
‘Not at all…I’m glad I was able to help.’
She opens the door, ready to get out, and turns to say goodbye. The interior light comes on as the door opens, and she sees drops of water dripping from his hair. He is obviously drenched through to the skin.
‘Oh, you are soaked!’ she says. ‘I can’t let you go home like that. Why don’t you come in for a moment, and we can get you dried off. I think I owe you a dry towel after all your help.’