The devil's Palm
1517 Words
Tagline:
Forced to watch. Forced to want. And someone else was watching too…
Misha woke with a start.
No chains. No cuffs. No Dominik.
Just the empty bed, the faint scent of sandalwood on the pillow, and the memory of cold steel locked around his ankle.
He sat up, blinking away the haze.
Then the door opened.
Two women stepped in. Tall. Voluptuous. Dressed in sheer silk that barely clung to their curves.
Misha's breath hitched. “W-What is—?”
Dominik followed behind them.
He looked immaculate. Black shirt, sleeves rolled, no jacket. Eyes sharp and soulless.
“Misha,” he said. “Get up.”
Misha froze.
“I said get up. Sit in the chair.”
There was a large leather armchair positioned directly across from the bed. Dominik grabbed his wrist and pulled him gently—but firmly—into it.
Then Dominik crouched in front of him.
“I gave you freedom last night. But you lied. Someone made you c*m, and you still haven’t told me who.”
Misha shook his head. “Please—I didn’t—”
Dominik grabbed his jaw, forcing Misha’s face up. Their eyes locked.
“Fine,” Dominik murmured. “Then you’ll watch. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before hiding things from me.”
He snapped his fingers.
“Strip.”
The girls smiled like they'd been waiting.
One bent at the waist, peeling her dress over her round ass slowly, letting the silk slip like water to the floor. The other cupped her breasts and moaned softly as she tugged her n*****s through the fabric, teasing herself before letting the straps fall.
They were completely naked within seconds.
Misha’s lips parted in disbelief. He had never seen another naked body up close before—let alone two… moving like that.
One woman slid her fingers between her thighs and began to stroke herself, eyes locked on Dominik. The other climbed onto the bed, legs spread wide, fingers gliding up her inner thighs, dipping into her dripping center.
Misha turned his face—
Dominik’s hand caught his jaw again.
“No,” he whispered. “You don’t get to look away. Watch.”
His grip was firm. Unrelenting.
“You're going to see what real s*x looks like. And you’re going to remember who’s in control of your first time.”
Misha's cheeks burned. His c**k stirred, hardening against his will. He bit his lip to suppress the gasp as one girl leaned down and licked the other’s breast, moaning softly as her fingers pumped inside herself faster.
Wet sounds filled the room. Gasps. Slaps of skin. Moans that dripped heat.
Dominik leaned close to Misha’s ear. “That make you hard, Misha?”
He said nothing.
Dominik’s hand dropped to Misha’s thigh. His fingers pressed into the tense muscle. “You're learning. You’ll beg me for more soon.”
Then Dominik stood.
He unbuttoned his shirt slowly. His eyes never left Misha's face.
The girls opened their legs wider, inviting.
Dominik descended on them like a beast.
He bent one of them over the bed, slapped her ass hard, and drove into her with a brutal thrust that made her scream.
Misha watched.
He didn’t want to—but he couldn’t look away.
His body was trembling. Mouth dry. c**k aching.
He’d never seen anything like it.
Dominik f*cked her hard. Rough. Like she was nothing more than a warm hole. His muscles flexed, sweat beading on his brow. Then he switched—lifting the other onto his lap, grinding into her while she rode him, breasts bouncing, cries echoing.
All the while—Dominik stared at Misha.
Made him feel every second of it.
“You’ll remember this, Misha,” Dominik growled through clenched teeth. “Next time I touch you, you’ll know exactly what’s coming.”
Misha couldn’t speak. His own c**k was straining, leaking.
And then—just as Dominik grunted out his release—
A knock.
One of the guards entered.
“Sir,” the man said carefully, “we found something.”
Dominik stood. Sweat dripping down his neck. Eyes cold.
He zipped his pants. Walked to Misha, still sitting frozen in the chair.
“Stay here. I’ll deal with you later.”
He left.
The room fell silent.
The girls slipped out wordlessly, their performance over.
And Misha was left trembling. Alone.
Until—
A whisper behind him.
“You looked so pretty, watching him ruin them.”
Misha turned sharply.
It was him.
The man from the bath.
Standing in the corner.
Smiling.
Gun in hand
The man stepped closer.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” His voice was soft, almost affectionate.
“Who are you?” Misha whispered, eyes darting toward the door.
“You’ll remember soon enough. Or maybe you won’t. Either way…” he c****d the gun lazily, “I don’t need Dominik learning I came to fetch you.”
Misha’s breath caught. “F-fetch me?”
The man tilted his head. “He thinks he owns you. But we both know… that’s temporary.”
The doorknob twisted.
Heavy footsteps echoed beyond it.
The man’s eyes widened. “Shit.”
He spun toward the open window and without a word—he was gone.
The glass trembled in the frame as he disappeared.
Dominik entered the room seconds later, face like ice. “Did anyone come in here?”
Misha didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not yet.
Dominik’s eyes narrowed. “Get up.”
Earlier, before the intrusion, the guard had handed Dominik a bloodied cloth and a phone—Misha’s phone.
“In the west wing,” the man had said. “Under a loose tile. Same spot we found footprints—larger than the boy’s. Someone else was there.”
Dominik’s jaw had gone tight, his voice colder than winter. “Double the patrol. And no one tells the boy. I’ll deal with it.”
Now, back in the room, Dominik’s grip on Misha’s wrist was like iron.
He pulled him into the bathroom.
The shower roared to life.
Dominik didn’t bother removing his clothes. He shoved Misha under the icy water and followed him in fully dressed.
Misha gasped. “Wh-what are you—”
“You’re filthy,” Dominik growled, “inside and out.”
“Because someone—someone came in—”
“I know.”
The water plastered Misha’s hair to his forehead. His lips were shaking.
Dominik’s hand slammed beside his head on the wall. “You’re mine. He touched what’s mine.”
“He didn’t! I swear he didn’t—!”
“I don’t care.”
His lips crashed onto Misha’s—hard, punishing. Misha whimpered against his mouth, weak from fear, from heat, from the confusing ache that wouldn’t go away.
Dominik broke the kiss only to say, “You’re beautiful when you’re terrified.”
Then he kissed him again.
After, Dominik dressed them both. Matching black.
He combed Misha’s wet hair back and buttoned his silk shirt to the collar.
“Eat breakfast with me,” he ordered.
Misha nodded, voice gone.
They stepped out into the hallway.
Just then—Dominik’s earpiece crackled.
“Sir… we found blood in the garden. But no body.”
Dominik didn’t flinch.
But his grip on Misha’s wrist tightened just enough to bruise.
Misha’s heart dropped.
He’s still alive.
And he’s coming back.
Later _ The Dinning Room
The long black dining table stretched across the room like a throne of power. Velvet chairs. Crystal decanters. Silver knives that gleamed like weapons.
Dominik sat at the head. Misha stood beside him, trembling under the eyes of ten men.
Guards. Associates. Family.
And all of them were staring at him.
“This,” Dominik said without smiling, “is Misha.”
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
One of the men chuckled low. “Pretty pet. Yours?”
Dominik’s eyes cut to him. “Do you want to lose your tongue?”
The man fell silent.
Misha flushed, his fingers twisting at the edge of the tablecloth. He didn’t know where to look. Every gaze undressed him. Judged him. Possessed him.
Dominik stood.
Without warning, he took Misha’s chin and turned his face toward the others. “Look at him.”
“Dominik—” Misha whispered, trying to pull away.
Dominik held him firm.
“Look at what you don’t get to touch.”
Another man muttered, “s**t, boss…”
“He’ll be eating here from now on,” Dominik continued. “At my side. No one speaks to him without my permission. No one touches him. Not even to wipe his tears.”
Misha swallowed hard.
Then he sat, carefully, as Dominik’s hand rested on the back of his neck like a collar.
He barely touched his food.
He didn’t need to.
The air was already thick with tension. Power. Claim.
And at the edge of the room… a figure in black paused outside the window before slipping into the shadows.
He was watching.
Waiting.
Planning.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD