The Italian Dom by N.J. Adel

CHAPTER 34

Domenico

 

Body covered in sweat, cheeks the color of blood, Nicky could barely stand after her sixth orgasm. “I hate you. I fucking hate you, do you hear me?”

Apparently, not enough. “I’ll stop if you tell me.”

“Tell you what?” she whimpered.

“What did he really do to you?”

Her eyes hooded with exhaustion. “What difference does it make? You already know I’m damaged, and there’s nothing that could fix me.”

“I will fix you.” Like she would fix me. “That pain you carry with you, I’ll carry it for you. Always. You just have to tell me.”

She dragged her gaze up to mine, tears gathering in. “You won’t understand.”

“Try me. I might surprise you.”

She shook her head, letting out a weak scream. “I don’t want to say. Please, leave me alone. I vowed I wouldn’t beg you for anything, but for this I will. I’m begging you, Dom, please let it go.”

Hearing her beg didn’t satisfy me as I thought it would. Maybe in a different situation, it’d have. But not now. Not for this. “What are you so afraid of? Anything that happened, anything at all, was his doing. It was all his fault, his shame, his fucking crimes, never yours. Just tell me.”

“Why do you even give a shit? All this to get me to fuck you? I’m right here at your fucking mercy. You can do anything you want, and I won’t be able to fight. So just take me and stop asking me about the past.”

To surrender and offer me what she never wanted to offer meant only one thing. She must have been in so much pain and shame that she’d accept the lesser pain and shame. Just so she wouldn’t have to deal with what truly tormented her.

I hesitated—for the first time of my life as an enforcer and punisher—before I switched the vibrator back on and placed it on her cunt.

“No. No! Please no more!” Her whimpering screams penetrated my heart, burning me, begging me to stop.

For the first time ever, I didn’t know who would break first. She or I? Because the more she screamed, the more I wanted to go on my knees and beg her to just speak so I could spare her the pain.

The veins in her neck popped as she clenched her teeth, another orgasm hitting her. She seemed to be too tired to even moan. Silence took over her as the first tear she shed in front of me rolled down her cheek.

I’d seen so many tears in my life, and I didn’t even blink. That one tear of hers held more power than any I’d witnessed. That one tear had the power to revive and destroy. Right now, it was doing both. Reviving emotions I thought they’d long died when my innocence was slaughtered. Destroying the calloused walls I’d long built around my heart and soul to survive.

“Goddamn it. Nicky, why don’t you just tell me? What did that fucker do to you?!”

“Oh, God, please, stop. Please don’t make me say it.”

“Cazzo!” I used the vibrator on her again even though torturing her was the last thing I wanted to do to her right now. But she left me no fucking choice. The pain was the only way I could make her talk. The only way I broke her so she could let me in, so I could own her as I should. “When he came to your room and laid his filthy hands on you, he made it sound right, didn’t he? He told you he fucking loved you. He made you think it was okay. He might have even told you it was fucking meant to be.”

She shook her head rapidly, writhing and squirming. “Shut up. I don’t wanna hear this.”

“He fucking taught you how to come for him. He taught you to say, ‘Thank you, Daddy,’ when he was fucking done.”

“Fuuuuuck! STOP IT!”

“Then fucking tell me!”

“Yes! Yes.” She let out a bellowing scream that sliced through my bones, crumbling down. “I was eight. I didn’t understand what he was doing to me at first, but when I did, it was too late. The things he told me. The things he made me believe… I was so confused. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. How my body was supposed to react.”

That child fucker didn’t just rape her. He made her thank him for it. He fucking made her like it.

She gave a long moan. “So yes, I came for him, and he taught me how to thank him…just like Mom used to do. I was her replacement to him. He’d convinced me that was why God made me look like her, so when she died, I’d take her place.”

Revulsion and fury blistered inside me. It was a shame a motherfucking prick like him could only die once.

“You know what else he said? Whenever I begged him not to touch me, he said God gave him two girls so when one wouldn’t obey and give herself to her father as she should, the other would.”

To save her sister, she told herself it was okay to let him use her, and to keep going, her mind tricked her into accepting it without resistance, to fucking enjoy it.

“Is that what you wanted to hear or do you want more?” she asked.

“If there’s more, tell me. I want it all.”

She stared at me with her big blue eyes, terrible shadows of darkness dimming them. “It wasn’t over when he died.”

“What do you mean?” I knew what she was going to say, but I asked anyway.

“Every time I’ve touched myself since then…he’s there. After everything he’d done, everything he’d taken from me, how he fucked me up beyond repair, I still come for my fucking rapist and thank him when I’m finished.”

With that, she burst into tears. As if hearing the confession out loud was too much to bear. As if she couldn’t take it anymore, and neither could I.

The sound of her defeated sobs did bring me to my knees. Literally. I fell right in front of her and wrapped my arms around her, wishing I could have found her before it’d all happened and protected her like I would from now on.

Here they were. Her real tears I’d yearned to see soaking my skin, seeping through the pores, eating at my soul like acid. The door she opened for me to claim her as mine. But in this moment, it was her that owned me.