In the Domain of the Dominatrix (Part 1)

OOC: This is a piece that I posted under my niankhsekhmetID some time ago. This was originally written over on Pan Historia for Tango Cattivo It is rated NC-17 for language, graphic sex and violence…because, well it is fiction and I just happen to write that kind of stuff. Please note that all characters are completely fictional. All resemblance to anyone either living or dead is purely coincidental – and no, I am not writing from personal experience here! Again, look up the word ‘fiction’ in the dictionary just so that there is NO confusion. Fanny does not appear in this story.

Backstory: Dominique Nefaria owns an exclusive fetish club near NYC that pulls down approximately $30G’s per week. She is, unfortunately, married to a cop who is more than a bit on the take. Her husband is cutting into her business and wanting to expand into the ever-lucrative field of blackmail. Dominique has gone to the son of the man who helped her start the club, Vincent LaGuardia Gambini, who is of course part of organized crime. She has asked for help again with the promise of a lucrative percentage in the club if they can help make her dirty cop husband disappear. Vincent’s piece was written by a co-writer in the ‘novel’. That is defitely why the dialogue etc does not seem the same as the earlier bits.

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“Certainly I have often told you that pain holds a peculiar attraction for me, and that nothing kindles my passion quite so much as tyranny, cruelty and above all, unfaithfulness in a beautiful woman” – Leopold Von Sachermasoch


Dominique watched two of her clients as they indulged in the secrets of their desires. The dance between them would have tweaked her own responses, but as always, she remained the aloof proprietress of the Velvet Glove. Throughout the night Dominque knew that passing through her domain she would be admired, worshipped by both men and women seeking to entice her to possess them herself, but rarely had she ever indulged. . They came to the Velvet Glove because of its reputation, but more, because of Dominque’s own special talents . Always it was hers to push, to test, to sense ability in those that would suit her purpose. Few were truly aware of the things that she could do to the body and the mind of her submissives – but there was her reputation. Always her reputation. To everyone else sex, domination, submission – these were little more than just titillation, a walk upon the precipice between pleasure and pain. To Dominique Nefaria in her Domain, it was far, far more.

‘First you work on their minds’, she thought, there was, of course, the beginning, the mental seduction.’Dominique took a champagne flute from the tray held out to her by a beautiful young man wearing nothing but leather pants. She smiled at him as she took it, giving him a wry smile. “Mistress, ” he managed with a slight smile before bowing his head and moving away.

In the salon at the grand piano, Mr. Arlington Sover and Dominique’s protege’ Katarina, were both sharing an after dinner aperitif in the form of a delicious redhead who had been spread out on the top of the piano like so much confectionery on a dessert cart. Mr. Sover with a peach buttock in each hand, dined on the sugared sweetness of cunt dribbled with champagne, while Katarina, also on top of the piano held the wrists of the auburn haired young woman. Domina felt herself grow warm as she watched them, there was something about watching two indulge in a third was not only voyeuristic, it was freeing. Freedom was what the Velvet Glove was all about.

Dominque’s eyes surveyed each of the rooms in their turn, observing the writhing bodies and came to rest upon the powerful scene upon the younger brother a well known client who was watching Sover and Katrina. He was known only to her as Monty and with a glance she was able to assess his desires just in the way he held his posture. He had a boyish gravitation toward the very attractive yet markedly older women in attendance. One in particular seemed to have caught his eye. Mrs. Fitch-Hatton, a lovely, 40-ish widow. Mrs. Fitch-Hatton spilled out of a black leather sheath dress,, her body and face that of a woman still in her early thirties with auburn hair and a hauntingly desirable air of unattainability.

Monty’s behaviour reminded Dominique of a small boy who was trying to impress a teacher. The elder woman just smiled and did her best to try to look interested as Monty rambled on and on. Mrs. Fitch-Hatton had been shifting her thighs and stroking her own breasts through the leather that she wore. The poor lad did not realize that it was the two women who were draped over a divan, one flogging the other with a short riding quirt that had so aroused her. What Monty was in need of, Dominique mused finishing the last of her champagne, was a firm hand.

Dominque slinked toward Monty and Mrs. Fitch-Hatton. She came behind the young man and wrapped her arms around him. She slid her long sinewy fingers over his crotch and found that he was hard. Tracing the head of his cock through the fabric she leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Monty let her drag him off by his neck tie at her suggestion, and dutifully he followed her like a pet.

‘Yes that’s more like it,.’ she smiled devilishly. When she had pulled him into a quiet, private parlour, away from the rest of the writhing bodies, she kissed him hard, feverishly. He pushed her back against the wall and she could feel his erection against her own pubis. When she broke of the kiss at last, she bit his lip almost as an afterthought, leaving Monty looking dazed.

‘Confuse them and stir them up, she thought,’ her fingers pulled his shirt from his, ‘This leads straight to emotional seduction – where the real power lies. Sensual desire spreads like a poison throughout the body and once it reaches the mind….the pot boils and then boils over into panic..’

With a single, deft move, Dominque overpowered him. She shoved him against a door frame and then twisted his arm behind him.

“Hey!”

“Time for your training, Monty,” she hissed in his ear.

From a nearby table she produced a new riding crop. The smell of fresh leather assailed both of their nostrils, the gleaming handle shone in the dim light. While Domina continued to address him, pinned against the wall.

“I know you like older women,” she purred sweetly, “Your desires, however, are secondary now.”

It would be an immense pleasure to see Monty disciplined and finely honed like a tempered blade and it was a task in which she would take at least a little delight, though she had done it countless times before. Monty did not offer up any resistance. Indeed he seemed to thrive on her strong hand, hands that would reach out and smack his flesh or tug at him in various places, just a little too hard. When at last he was trussed up to her satisfaction she stood a little away watching him sway with anticipation.

“Please, touch me,” he moaned piteously to her, still swaying as if he may topple any moment like a great Aryan looking monolith.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”she asked, she said, flicking her own thigh with her crop. At last she curled around him, licking his earlobe, flicking the back of his thighs with the whip, “Would you care to beg?”

“Yes….I’m begging.” Monty struggled forward on his knees, his wrists bound behind him .

“My very, very poor, Monty,” she he forced him to kneel before her and he did not miss the malicious undercurrent in her voice.

“Please your Mistress,” kiss my feet.”

When he looked upwards it was as if he was gratified to find that Dominque’s lips were curled in a smile and she made no move to reprimand him for his impertinent glance.

It was the soft sound of one of her protege’s that stopped her. She turned to see Lilith with her very white skin and dark hair standing in the doorway, the girl showed much promise as a Dominatrix.

“What is it?” Dominque asked in a low authoritative tone.

“Forgive me, Mistress, “Lilith said without bowing, for she was not a submissive, but an understudy, “You have a visitor, a Mr. Vincent LaGuardia Gambini in your office to see you.”

“I see.” Dominique said. Vincent Gambini, she thought ‘this should be a delicious encounter indeed,’ . Perhaps he had news about what would be done about that filthy-cop husband of hers. Turning to Monty who was still prostrated at her feet, purred, ” Monty, tonight you will be very fortunate indeed.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” Monty mewled at her feet.

“Mmmm…yes, well, since I am needed elsewhere at the moment, ” she said, ” I will be sending in Mistress Tina Von Hurtsyou in my place.” Monty almost seemed to let out a sigh of relief. ‘If you only knew, child,’ she thought.

Dominique turned on her exquisitely crafted stiletto-heeled boots and swept out of the room, following Lilith who was heading back toward the Domina’s office. Before reaching the door way, Dominique shot back over her shoulder she said with a nefarious and knowing smile, “Lucky you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Vincent Gambini walked up to the elaborately carved door of the Velvet Glove fetish club. He pulled his dark jacket closer, adjusted his tie. Opening the door he entered only to be greeted by a solid wall of human flesh in the form of one of the Glove’s bouncers. His body was as wide as it was tall.

” Members only. ” the bouncer said blandly.

” Move it fat ass, ” Vincent barked summoning up every last bit of his own pesronal brand of wiseguy intimidation. , ” I got some business here with Ms. Dominique Nefaria.”

” Yeah, right,” the bouncer scoffed, “Everybody’s got business with her. ” Fat Ass taunted. ” If you ain’t on the guestlist, you ain’t gettin in. Capish paisan? ”

Gambini’s eyes narrowed to slits, ” Well hows about you take a look at your list and see if I’m on it? ” Vincent knew exactly what was going on in the fat assed bourncer’s head. He was old enough in the game to where he didn’t wear flashy clothes or jewelry. That was they younger bunch that did that. To this idiot, who probably had an IQ equivalent to his shoe size or less, Gambini knew looked like a shlub. Fat-assed bouncers with low IQ’s would always underestimate guys like him. And it was for just that reason, Vincent LaGuardia Gambini knew that in his line of work, it was good to be underestimated.

” What’s your name, ” the bouncer said finally, looking at the clipboard in his meaty hands.

” Vincent La Guardia Gambini. ” Vincent said slowly enough so even a fat, stupid punk like this guy could understand. Even this guy couldn’t be that stupid.

The human wall looked up. ‘Paydirt!,’Vincent thought. Judging by the expression the jerk just came to the realization what an incredible fuck up he just made. Having your name recognized on the street, even among fat assed, idiot bouncers had its moments.

” I apologise, Mr. Gambini,” came the complete change of tone, “I…. I didn’t recognize you. Please, go on inside and I’ll have someone take you to Ms. Nefaria.”

” You do that. ” Vincent pulled out a stick of chewing gum and popped it in his mouth.

He follwed another bouncer and was led through the club where his eyes saw things live and in person that he’d only seen before in the Hustler and Penthouse magazines that the boys left lying around the back room. The soldier in Gambini’s trousers began to twitch, threatening to come to full attention. ‘ Down boy… he tried to will his cock to obedience but it was clear it had a mind of its own. Finally the second bouncer opened another carved door that led into a small but tastefully decorated office. When the bouncer left and closed the door softly after him, Vincent sat down and made himself at home on a small leather sofa. He had barely gotten comfortable when the door opened again and in swept the dominatrix he had requested to see wearing a latex and leather strapless evening dress that left little to the imagination. Each and every dangerous curve was visible through the garment that hugged her body like a second skin.

All bets were off now while his cock was dancing the mambo against his drawers..

” Hello Vincent ” she purred.

‘Marrone!’ his mind screamed, ‘That voice would be enough to make you cream your jeans!’

” Hello Nikki,” he managed to speak at last, ” You busy or can you come out for a drink? ”

” I’ll buy you a drink if you like, ” she purred again, “It’ll be on the house”.

” No offense,” Vinent smiled, ” but this ain’t my kinda club. You know, I know a nice little spot where both the wine and the music are vintage. ”

Dominique appeared thoughtful and she cocked her head with a smile, ” Sure, let me get my coat. ”

It could be said that Vincent LaGuardia Gambini may be a liar, thief and murderer, but the one thing he prided himself on was that his mother had taught him just how to be a gentleman. He helped Dominique wriggle her voluptuous vixen self into her wrap and held the door open for her as they exited the club. He opened the car door for her, making certain that nothing would get caught and settled himself in the drivers side.

” I’m glad you decided to come out, ” he hesitated before starting the car just to drink the sight of her in again, “I think you’ll have a good time. ”

” I’m sure I will…” she said, still purring at him.

Gambini jumped onto the FDR South and over the Brooklyn Bridge into Red Hook. It wasn’t long before the car was weaving through the narrow alleys of the Fulton Fish Market. The reached a secluded spot just beyond the street lantern’s reach. Looking around he parked and killed the headlights.

” Vincent, I thought we were going for a drink? ” Dominique said, not quite purring now.

” We will, we will. There’s just a little matter that needs settling first. ” Just as Gambini glanced over at Dominique, an unmarked police car pulled up about 100 yards in front of them. Moments later, a black mecedes sedan pulled up alongside the police cruiser.

Both car doors opened.

Another wiseguy, known around the neighborhood as Leo The Fart exited the Mercedes and walked toward the unmarked police car. He looked too slick for the area. Too out of place to Dominique’s mind. Neither Vincent nor Dominique could hear the conversation, but they both watched as Leo handed over a large envelope to the cop on the driver’s side.

” That’s Derek… ” Dominiqie gasped. She watched the image play out of the man handing her husband the envelope. Dirty cop, dirty money, always Derek had his hands in the till, someone’s till.

” Is it? ” Vinent Gambini grinned, as if he knew full well that it was Dominique’s husband that was accepting a payoff from the wiseguy. They watched as the cop counted the take and toss the envelope to the passenger seat. Just as Derek was about to put the unmarked police car into reverse, they both watched as the wiseguy removed a 9mm automag from a holster under his arm pit. He quickly put it to Derek’s head and pulled the trigger, sending bits of bone, brains, and flotsam flying all over the windshield and front seat.

‘Oh my God! Oh my GOD!’ Dominique mouthed silently, ‘Derek’s dead!’, she thought,. Her first instinct was to get out of the car, go running to see if he was still alive, but it was Vincent Gambini’s hand that closed over her wrist. His fingers bit into her flesh and he seemed unimpressed with the events that had just unfolded in front of them.

” Consider the contract fulfilled.” Gambini said with a slow grin.

Dominique felt nausea, and heat flare up in her cheeks and her ears. How dare he sit there and grin like that?’ she thought, Her husband was killed right in front of them! ’I’m a widow, I really am a widow now!’ her mind raced, ‘Oh fucking, Christ Jesus God! I have got to get out of here!’

But Vincent Gambini’s fingers had not relaxed and there was nowhere to run. She slumped back in the seat, her mind awash, in the shock of it all. The low turning sound of the Cadillac engine starting and the gravel from the deserted parking lot pinged against the fenders and the wire rim wheels.

Dominique felt cold, and struggled for air, as if she couldn’t breathe. It was the rubber jumpsuit, no…it was what she had seen and what she had asked Vincent to do. She hadn’t expected that it would be like this, she had not prepared herself. She reached into her bag and grabbed a tissue, coughing into it quickly rolling down the window as they pulled away she let the wind catch it and take it away into the night.

Dominique dispondently watched the lights go by as they got onto the BQE, over the Williamsburgh Bridge down Delancy Street and finally into the neighborhood known as Little Italy. Neither of them spoke, and maybe it was better that way.

’Derek is dead ‘, she thought. He had been an abusive son-of-a-bitch, he had taken what he hadn’t earned, from her, from countless others and he always tried to make her pay top dollar. She would like to have played the part of the grieving widow, but that would have been a lie. She hated the bastard, hated everything he stood for, the lies, the deceit – and yet how was any of that different.

When they pulled in front of a small little out of the way restaurant and bar called Antonios Ristorante, Vincent looked over at Dominique who was looking very wilted.

“Hey, I understand about you being a new widow and all that,” he said in an almost conciliatory tone, “Why don’t I buy you that drink now?”

Dominique nodded numbly and didn’t move when Vincent got out of the car and came over to the passenger side to open the door for her. She placed her stilleto-heeled feet on the pavement and stood on still wobbly legs and took the arm that Vincent LaGuardia Gambini offered her.

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