Too Deep to Pull Out (3/3)

Roxy had become a permanent fixture at the club. Night after night, she danced under the dim lights, her surgically enhanced curves drawing hungry eyes, her every movement calculated to please. Dominic had made it crystal clear—there would be no going back. Any attempts to leave, or even the faintest hint of resistance, wouldn’t just cost her. “Try me, Roxy,” he’d said more than once, his smirk cold and unyielding. “You might not care what happens to you, but I don’t think the girls here would survive your mistakes.”

Dominic’s threats were enough to keep her exactly where he wanted. Day after day, she endured his control, her place cemented not only as a dancer but as Dominic’s favorite toy. Each night ended the same way—with her on her knees in the private room or bent over whatever surface Dominic chose, servicing him while his mocking words burned in her ears. Over time, the humiliation became routine, her resistance fading with each passing day.

Then, one night, Dominic decided he was done sharing her.

“You’ve earned yourself a promotion,” he told her after finishing with her in the private room, his tone smug as she adjusted the straps of her heels. “Pack your things—you’re coming home with me. From now on, you’re mine.”

That was months ago.

Now, Roxy leaned against the white piano, her lace-covered thighs pressing softly against its polished surface. The ruffled lingerie skirt Dominic had chosen for her barely covered the swell of her hips, leaving her exposed in all the ways he liked. She wasn’t even sure why she still wore the outfit—Dominic rarely left it on her for long—but she knew better than to question his whims. Her clear platform heels glinted in the light as she shifted her weight, her body conditioned to stand in the perfect pose: back arched, chest out, lips slightly parted.

She wasn’t Ryan anymore. That much was clear. Ryan was a memory—a ghost who felt more distant with each passing day. Dominic had made sure of that. Months of bending her to his will, both in the club and later in his mansion, had erased any trace of the man she used to be. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought of herself as anything other than Roxy, Dominic’s obedient, submissive plaything.

Her cock—if you could even call it that anymore—remained locked away in a gleaming chastity cage, a constant reminder of what she used to be. She hated the thing at first, the way it ached and throbbed every time Dominic used her body. But now it felt like just another part of her uniform, as much a part of her as the stilettos she wore daily or the glossy lipstick that never faded from her lips. It was small, useless, and perfectly contained—just the way Dominic liked it.

She heard the heavy slam of the front door and immediately straightened, heart racing as Dominic’s deep, commanding voice echoed through the house. “Roxy!” he called, his tone sharp but tinged with amusement.

She didn’t hesitate. By the time Dominic entered the room, she was already on her knees, her soft hands reaching for his belt. His broad frame loomed over her, and she didn’t dare look up, focusing instead on the bulge in his pants as she deftly undid his buckle. The smell of his cologne flooded her senses as she freed his cock, her lips parting instinctively.

She didn’t need any orders. This was routine now. Her lips wrapped around his thick length, her tongue swirling over the head as she worked him deeper into her mouth. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating against him as she looked up through long, dark lashes. Dominic smirked down at her, one hand tangling in her silky hair as he guided her movements.

“You’ve come a long way, haven’t you, Roxy?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Not so much fight left in you anymore, is there?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth was too full, her focus too singular. She bobbed her head in perfect rhythm, her hands resting delicately on his thighs as she worshipped him. Her jaw ached, but she pushed through it—her body was his to use, and she knew better than to slow down until he allowed it.

Just as she thought he might finish, Dominic pulled her up with a sharp tug, spinning her around and bending her over the piano. Her heart raced as she felt the head of his cock press against her ass, and she braced herself against the cool surface, her back arching naturally.

He entered her without hesitation, his movements rough and demanding as he took what was his.

She gasped, her body trembling as he filled her completely. The familiar stretch sent a shiver through her, and she bit her lip, her polished nails clawing at the piano for support. He didn’t take his time; this wasn’t about her pleasure—it never was—but she couldn’t deny the heat pooling in her belly. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but a part of her had started to crave this.

Dominic’s grip on her hips tightened as he drove into her, his pace quick and unforgiving. Her moans spilled from her lips despite herself, muffled by the sounds of their bodies colliding. It didn’t take long before he groaned deeply, his release flooding her as he gave one final thrust.

Dominic straightened, zipping up his pants as he smirked down at her. “You know, Roxy,” he said, his tone smug, “I used to think breaking you would be difficult. But look at you now. You’re exactly where you belong.”

Roxy stood shakily, her legs wobbling in her towering heels as she smoothed down her ruffled skirt. The sticky reminder of his use still clung to her thighs, a silent declaration of her place in his world.

Once, Ryan had gone undercover to take Dominic down. Now, the only thing being taken was her—again and again, just the way Dominic liked it.