Truth or Dare; The Dominator II

This story is fictional and the work of the author’s imagination.

Warning:

This book is for adults.

This story contains violence, mature and explicit content, and non-consensual / dubious consent sex that some readers may find upsetting.

This book’s heroine is a sex slave that gets rescued. She’s broken. The book does not spend chapter after chapter describing the abuse in explicit detail but there is explicit content related to her memories. 

All copyrights / brands are the property of their respective owners.

This story was self-published and is owned by the author and may not be copied without expressed permission from the author.

Copyright 2015: DD Prince.

http://www.DDPrince.com

This book is owned by DD Prince (http://ddprince.com) and should not be copied or distributed without the author’s permission.  If you have received a copy of this book without purchasing it, it’s theft of the author’s intellectual property. Kindly delete it. Thank you for supporting indie authors!

This book is dedicated to

the best dog ever ---
my
Marley.

Marley was my golden retriever and my best friend from 1996-2009.

I miss you, sweet boy

XOXO

Prologue

Note:

Reading The Dominator before Truth or Dare is highly recommended.

It’s available from Amazon at
http://bit.ly/tommyandtia

($2.99 USD or free to read with Kindle Unlimited)

Recently, my father died. He was a hardened criminal and duplicitous liar. He was also a
known
wise guy that was part of something larger and more evil than any of us realized. After he died I took it upon myself to legitimize and then sell the family business so that I and the rest of my siblings could move on.

But little did I know that before his death he’d started the ball rolling on giving me the same kind of gift he’d given my older brother. When news of this gift arrived on my doorstep my already chaotic world was turned on its axis.

I had just gotten home from my brother’s wedding and I had a to-do list longer than my arm. I told my brother I could handle most of it on my own; I had it under control. I had a few key guys to help me here. He could go, enjoy time with his new bride far away from home, away from secrets and lies and deceit. He’d been my idol and my best friend all my life and shouldering a lot for the last several years and I wanted to ease his burden. In our family he was the heir and I was the spare so I probably also wanted to prove that I was just as capable as he was. 

So after the death of our father Tom Ferrano my brother Tommy and his new bride Tia were giving a go at starting a fresh life overseas, away from secrets that needed to be kept. My brother decided he needed to be out of sight for a while for a couple reasons.

I, however, was to be back home doing the “laundry” so that we could sell off the empire that my father had spent 30 years building. It was for the best. The empire extended to so many dark and dank areas it was better off for all of us to just start fresh. The kind of businesses he was in, though, made it so that we couldn’t just make a clean break. That’s why I was cleaning things up first.

Before my father died he arranged for my brother to get married, gifted him with a girl. After I saw the impact of that girl on my brother’s life I joked with him that I wanted a mail-order bride for my upcoming birthday, joked about it with emotions about my now sister-in-law that I should not
ever
have been feeling. 

My father joked back that he was already shopping around and would find me a perfect fit. At least I’d thought he’d been joking. But when I got home from my brother’s wedding I found out that before Pop died he had gotten that ball rolling. He’d gotten things rolling in a way that could not be stopped and that was going to be a problem. A messy problem.

See, my Pop was deeply involved in a human trafficking ring, one of the many involvements he’d neglected to tell me and my brother about as he prepared us to take over the family business.  We never knew that what he’d had in mind for us was just the top skim off a cesspool of filth he’d been too happy to be wading in. We had suspicions but we had no clue just how filthy it truly was.

Pop and I had a conversation when talking about Tommy and Tia and how my brother went from being the non-marrying kind to devoting himself 100% to the girl my father had arranged for him to have. Pop wouldn’t tell me his motives behind the choice at that point but it all unfolded over the subsequent weeks. A little less than two months before my birthday he had asked me what I wanted in a bride.

“What’s on your wish list, son?” Pop asked.

“Beautiful.  Redhead. But she has to want what I want from life. She has to have an insatiable sexual appetite but want kids and a picket fence, too.”

“How about if she’s all those things because she does exactly what you tell her to do? How about if she’s been schooled in all the ways to please a man in
and
out of the bedroom?”

“That’s too good to be true, Pop. Too bad such a woman does not exist.” I’d laughed and our conversation got cut short.

I’d always wanted a wife and kids. I wanted the picket fence and enough kids to start my own soccer team. But when I caught my fiancée cheating on me with the DJ we’d hired for our wedding reception my heart went cold and what my sister dubbed my ‘man whore years’ began.

After seeing Tommy’s life change because of falling in love I decided that maybe it was time to open my mind up to the possibilities of connecting with someone again beyond a one night stand. But when I got home from my brother’s wedding, ready to start the massive job of cleaning up the family business so that I could move on with my life and think about finding my own happily ever after I found out that Pop had already ordered my mail order bride. And I couldn’t cancel that order.

My Pop’s involvement in a human slavery ring, it was deep.  We knew the trade existed and we knew he knew people in that trade. Tommy had seen a little more of the inside of it than I had. But neither of us knew that he had partnered with them, that he had an in that meant he could get me the woman on my wish list.

She’s waiting for me to pick her up in Bangkok. She’s been told she has been sold and is going back to North America. She’s about to turn 23, she’s a beautiful redhead, and she’s been in captivity for 2 years. There’s no way I can accept this gift, keep a woman who was bought for me. I need to pick her up and set her free. Don’t I?

Life isn’t always what you think it’ll be. Sometimes it falls short and sometimes you get more than you ever dreamed was possible, even if it doesn’t play out the way you expected. Life throws curveballs and when you sit and dream about an obstacle being in the way of your happiness and that obstacle finally gets moved it’s not always smooth sailing like you thought it’d be.

One night just a few days after we got married my husband had my throat in a crushing hold during the throes of a nightmare and I almost didn’t make it out of it. After a huge argument Tommy agreed to therapy and I don’t know yet if it’s helping or not. Right now it almost seems like it’s making it worse because he’s facing facts and hard truths about himself and it’s making him go from aloof and quiet one minute to broody and growly the next. I hope the old adage of “it gets worse before it gets better” is true because that’ll mean it will eventually get better.

I also hope I’ve seen the worst already.

I’ve tried to reassure him that he had no choice but to shoot his father. Tom Sr. wanted a showdown. He wanted to punish his son for his perceived betrayal and Tom probably would’ve killed me and maybe would’ve killed him, too.

But I know Tommy feels guilt even if he won’t admit it.  He has nightmares that he won’t talk about.  Sometimes I can calm him down with a cuddle when he’s moaning in his sleep and he won’t even wake up. Sometimes he gets out of bed after jackknifing straight up, sweaty and hyperventilating and then he doesn’t want to be touched. Sometimes he just disappears to the roof terrace to beat on the heavy bag in the middle of the night or swim a dozen laps. And sometimes he wakes up and takes me…devours me, fucks me hard and rough and like his life depends on it. Sometimes when he’s really aloof or broody and I can’t figure out how to help him through it I push and pick fights with him until he pushes back and his pushing back usually means that his control snaps and that means extra rough sex.  Afterwards, he’s always a bit more himself. Sometimes it lasts a few hours, sometimes a few days.

Tom Sr.’s funeral was hard. Lisa was in rough shape and then she found out a week after Tom died that she was pregnant. Tessa and her boys moved in with her and I think they’re helping one another heal from the loss of Tom and Tessa’s husband James.

Me?  I think maybe I need therapy, too. My father, poor excuse for one that he is, the man who sold me to pay a debt to Tommy’s father and who thought it’d buy him an opportunity to be a big shot… he’s still incarcerated but he’s alive and safe. For now. Last I heard, anyway.

I struggle daily with my situation, with what my life has become. But I can’t imagine living without Tommy being the center of my universe. Our relationship isn’t healthy; I know this. I also know that I don’t want a life without him in it. Hopefully in time we can find our way to a healthier place.

Tommy’s moody. I know he’s in pain and he feels guilty and he’s so protective of me it feels smothering some days. We rarely leave home, I never get to go anywhere without him.  And the sex? Even when it doesn’t come on the heels of a nightmare it’s pretty rough sometimes.  But it’s what we both need. We both get release. He gets confirmation that I’m his, he gets full control over one thing in his life. And me? I get to be his, get to help him by giving him what he needs and it’s not altogether altruistic either because I get to let go of the crap in my head and for a few minutes I feel totally, utterly, free. He takes control and for those few minutes or sometimes, those few hours, I worry about nothing.

Sometimes, too, it’s so gentle I cry when I orgasm because I can feel how much he loves me as it’s etched into his features. He worships my body and stares into my eyes whether he makes love to me or whether he’s fucking me with this passion, this fire that I will never ever get tired of.

Tommy and his brother Dario decided that Dare is going to transition the company and the subsidiaries and then once it’s as squeaky clean as it can possibly get, it’s being sold. Tommy’s not out of the loop but Dare is hands on. They hired a consulting firm to help and he and Tommy talk pretty much daily over the computer.

When Tommy and I got to Costa Rica and got married on a beach at sunset it was almost perfect. It was breathtaking, exactly what I wanted, staring into the eyes of the man I loved with our toes in the sand and the sky a dozen brilliant colors. The only missing ingredient was the people from my life before Tommy but I came to terms with the fact that it couldn’t be helped. We need to be incognito for now and I would never want to put the people I love in unnecessary danger so that’s how it had to be.

I sent them a letter before we left that said I was taking an extended trip and I plan to get word to them again soon so that they don’t worry. I might have Tess mail them a letter soon so that it’s not traceable to where I am.

Tommy suggested I visit to say goodbye before we left moved and even talked about sneaking them to our wedding like he had to do with his family but I’m not the same girl I was a few months ago and I didn’t want to bring them into the orbit of the danger surrounding this family. I feel like I’ve grown into a different person. I’ve known so much fear and seen so much death and I’ve felt so much pain that I’d hate to cloud their light and airy lives with that. They probably wouldn’t know me anymore. They’d look at me and see I’m different and they’d worry. Or they’d be sad. And if I looked too long at them I might be sad, too. I might be sad for my lost innocence. I don’t need that. Regret won’t help me.

Tommy got angry when I kept making excuses about not bringing them to the wedding and then I blurted some of what I really felt and he got really upset. He blames himself for this. I blame our fathers. I also can’t help but blame my mother, too. She gave up. She gave up on life. She gave up on me. She fixed nothing before she left. She left so many things at loose ends and so many questions unanswered and I know she was hurt and sad and depressed but I can’t help but be angry with her for not thinking about how her actions would affect me. That’s what mothers are supposed to do --- protect their babies.

As for our safety, I was hoping that here we’d have a fresh canvas, a place where we could move on and live without Tommy feeling like he’s got to be looking over his shoulder all the time. But so far, that isn’t happening.  Tommy got fake identities for us so that we could slip off the grid for a while. He knows that there’s a chance that if what he did is suspected there will be people to answer to that are even more threatening than the cops. He also said that if he goes back he’s afraid he’ll just get sucked into the business and have trouble finding his way out of it. He says some day we may move back, he’s not sure. He kept the farm for us and has someone checking on it once in a while. The house his father bought him for his 29
th
birthday was sold and he sold his brother the condo as Dario was living there anyway.

Dario and the girls are all on the path to healing, it seems.  No one talked about what happened with Tom at the end and they were all here for the wedding acting like there was nothing but love between them all. I guess the girls are all just quietly mourning him as if he were someone they loved and lost tragically. It
was
tragic. It was tragic how he revealed his true nature in his last days on the planet and hurt his family so deeply, cost his daughter her husband and the father of her children, put his son in a position where he had no choice but to fatally shoot him.

I get a vibe from the girls like maybe they know what really happened because they and a lot of other people saw what went down just before Tom had me taken but no one’s talking to me about anything. The kiss Tom planted on me at his welcome home party before he abducted me was never mentioned by any of them. I could be wrong but I get the impression they’re just burying it. It seems like we’re all just working at healing. They don’t treat Tommy with anger or push him away. If anything, the wedding seemed like everyone was closer, tighter than ever. Moods were quiet and somber when they came for the wedding but there was love and well wishes at the ceremony and reception that’s what mattered to us the most.

Here, we’re Tommy and Tia but on our passports we’re Tommaso and Valentina Caruso, names I picked. I chose the surname for Rose’s parents. He says we don’t have to worry about money, he’s got enough put away to look after us for a few years and once the company’s taken all apart and sold we’ll never have to worry about money again. He tells me that to comfort me but money probably can’t buy my husband what he needs the most --- peace.

In an argument we had a few days after the wedding when he was being moody and broody and refusing to leave the house Tommy said he wished he could turn back the clock to the day he first saw me and leave me behind that ice cream counter untainted by his poison. I slapped him in the face when he said that to me. In reaction to my slap he pinned me against a wall with my arms held over my head and scowled at me but I screamed in his face that poison or not, his love is mine and how dare he wish that away. It turned my blood to acid to think that he’d wish what we have away for even a second. What we have is everything to me. It’s all I have.

That heated argument resulted in my getting a wicked spanking in retaliation for slapping his face and then sex so rough and so totally amazing that I limped the next day, my body feeling like I’d run a marathon. Sex is a common argument ender for us. It’s a common way to share joy, deal with frustration or fear, it’s what we do. Sometimes he gets wound so tight that I know it’s what he needs. So I push his buttons until he takes what he needs. I’ve changed. I don’t know that I’m stronger but I do know that I find ways to deal with my anger and frustration now. But it’s usually through sex.

A few days after that argument we had another when I wanted to go for a walk and he made an excuse about waiting for a phone call. I waited like two hours but then told him I’d just go and be gone half an hour. He wouldn’t let me and refused to bring his phone on the walk with him, mumbling about bad reception and missing the call. So I told him off and left the house anyway.  I saw him come out behind me and I said, “I’m going for a thirty minute walk. Just let me go!” He grabbed me and threw me over the shoulder and carried me back and when we got back in the house he snarled, “Don’t you ever do that again!”

I stuck my tongue out at him and took off back out the door toward the water and he followed me so I started running and of course he chased me and tackled me to the sand and I started pushing and shoving and swearing at him and told him I couldn’t spend 24/7 with him without losing my freaking mind and that I just wanted a fucking half an hour walk on the beach to myself and he responded by apologizing for being so overprotective but then he fucked me hard down in the sand, telling me he loved me more than anything, begging me to be patient with him.

I’d often said it was a fantasy of mine to have sex on a beach but it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be. First, there’s the sand.  It gets … everywhere. E-v-e-r-y where!

I had sand in my vajayjay, up my fanny, everywhere. We were kissing and there was sand getting in our mouths. There were freaking bugs on us, too. It was not as sexy as Hollywood makes it out to be, especially when it’s as rough and tumble as it is with Tommy.

But that release of frustration helped us both that day and fortunately or maybe unfortunately, that plus the spanking after the slap in the face meant the start of a cycle of me goading him into rough sex whenever he got moody or broody.

After the beach sex he took a two hour walk with me. But during that walk we didn’t talk. We just held hands and walked, the air heavy with all we were both feeling.