Domino Effect

Tristan

Buffalo, NY [South East Lancaster]

"Why are you still here?" I sneer at the redhead who is in a current state of undress. Her makeup is a mess, along with her hair, and some might find it sexy, but I am not impressed. Although, I do find this look better suits her, not because it is attractive, but because she finally looks like what she is worth. A cheap whore. 

"I--I thought maybe you wanted to. . .you know?" I look down my nose at her as she struggles to voice her need for sexual gratification. I let her see all the disgust I feel on my face. She shrinks visibly under my gaze.

"I didn't bring you here to think." I reach down, gripping her chin while using my thumb and fingers to push into her cheeks, so that her lips are forced to pucker up like a pucker fish. "Honestly, I don't know why I even wasted my time with you. These lips and mouth were mediocre at best. Such a disappointment. Should've went blonde." I squeeze tighter until she whimpers. I shiver in delight as her eyes widen with a mixture of pain and fear. If only I had the time. The panic in her eyes is exactly what I craved. However, I have a virtual meeting to prepare for and this whore served her purpose. I needed a release and I got it. 

I push her backwards with enough force to send her sprawling backwards. It's quite comical actually. She is topless, wearing only a short skirt, and I get to watch her breasts do a little jiggle as her skirt flies up showcasing her lack of underwear. I scoff at her shamelessness and her overall boldness. Did she really believe that she was worthy of me? She should be kissing the my feet and the ground I walk on; thanking me for even allowing her to be in my presence.

Instead, here she is flopping about and blubbering as she rubs her face like it soothes her to do so. Normally, I might take the time to sit back and enjoy her humiliation as I further degraded her value in my presence, but I had things to do today. She got a taste of her downfall, that would have to be enough. 

"Why are you still here? Get the fuck out of here." I use the bottom of my Louboutin loafers to press down on her right thigh and give her body a nudge. "I was going to let you leave here looking somewhat presentable, but you have lost the privilege. You leave now. As is." I take the same foot to step on her shirt to make my point. I stare at her unblinkingly, quirking an eyebrow at her, and let myself smile when she starts to get up and turn. 

As soon as she is out the door, I log into my computer and watch her on my monitors, while simultaneously pulling up the recording of our time together in the bedroom. I replay it, not to watch or relive the experience, but to ensure that it recorded successfully. As the co-owner of TestaByte Security, I am a bit of a techie, so I don't doubt I have what I need recorded. It's simply a part of my routine.

This is the part I enjoy most. The sexual act itself gives me a small, instant gratification that comes with a release, but the evidence that it leaves behind? It is incomparable. The redhead that left my home with her tits out is none other than Deborah Clarke, daughter of the CEO of Clarke Connections, Brian Clarke. His only daughter. In his eyes, she is ready to take over his company once he retires. Her reputation is squeaky clean and she is known to be a tough, yet professional businesswomen. 

One video is all it would take. Would Daddy turn on his whore daughter? Would he offer the world to keep that video from surfacing online? For his sake, I hope he never has to find out. Luckily for him, as of right now, he is not on my official radar so she is safe for now from . Deborah was always meant to be in my collection. Her downfall is inevitable. Just not today. 

I finish burning the video onto a physical CD-R disc after uploading it onto the cloud. I label it with her initials and today's date then add it to my growing compilation of proof that women are all the same. Especially women like Deborah Clarke who view themselves as strong, independent, and demand respect from the men they interact with. It's all an elaborate scheme to trick men into believing that women could be more than what they are. That's what I am here for. One night with me and said woman gets reacquainted with her true worth. The ones that stand the tallest fall the lowest. 

Well, everyone except her. Dolores. My Lola. Her transparency and inability to hide behind a mask of pseudo-strength is addicting. I look forward to taking a taste for myself. She is unlike the women I date  or take to bed. Those women like to perform for the world; a performance where they pretend to be like my mother. My mother is an exception to the rule when it comes to most women in power. I should know. I believed that I could find a woman like her, a woman who could complement me, and stand by my side proudly. I learned quickly that my mother, Valentina Rizzo, is an anomaly amongst women. 

I may carry the last name of my father, but Valentina raised as a single mother. She is a Nurse Practitioner so she wasn't home much, but I always felt her presence growing up. She made sure  I had everything I ever needed, learned to be independent on my own so I would not end up like my 'no good father' and she never felt the need to be please me or any other man in her life. 

For so long, I looked for my mother in the women I dated. I did try to find someone that could rival her tenacity and overall willpower that made even the strongest of men cry. Upon realizing that seeking such a woman was a lost cause, I stumbled across a revelation that unveiled a new obsession. 

This particular fixation revolves around a beautiful, sweet Puerto Rican girl. She may be old enough to be considered a woman, but her innocence reminds me of a young girl. A girl that can be easily transformed into the woman I need on my arm. To become my wife. She doesn't know it yet, but she belongs to me.

I work mostly from home and only ever need to head into our official headquarters when possible clients need to come in for a meeting or when I need equipment. The former happens about once a week while the latter is a rare occurrence. I pride myself in having everything I could possibly need and want all in the comforts of my own home. 

So, when it comes down to my sweet girl, I spend all my free time observing her and learning everything about her. She makes it easy for me to do so. It's almost like she is begging me to come find her in person. With minimal effort, I was able to discover that she lives here in Buffalo as well. I take a look around my bachelor pad. I walk towards my private research room, a room I am careful to keep locked at all times, then open it using my password--which is her birthday. As soon as I walk in, I glance at the monitor that shows me what she sees every time she uses her phone or laptop. Right now, she is recording her video for the day. I walk over to her framed photo. "My place needs you to spice it up. A feminine touch. " I say this as I allow my finger to slowly stroke the current picture in my hand. 

Soon, she will be mine. I want to be insider her--physically, emotionally, and mentally. I want to be so deep inside her that she will feel me wherever she goes. I study her blue eyes, dark hair, and her beautiful olive skin. I remember the first time I ever saw her. She works for Telecom.inc, which is apparently run by predominantly Spanish speaking personnel, so she helped translate during a meeting between my company and theirs. She did all this remotely. Of course, I sent my own version of a Trojan horse when I emailed her some required documents. Initially, my plan was to do what I always do, but after watching her for a full day she had me hooked.

She is a good girl. As long as she continues to please me, her life will soon change for the better. Soon she will have no choice.