Dominik Mysterio Nude Novels & Stories

“Whoa… easy girl.” I hide a smile. “Just didn't want to stress you.” The lie sounds stupid, even to myself. He rolls his eyes and lifts both hands in surrender. I can sniff the mild disbelief, but he brushes it off as quickly. I guess he’s trying to make it up for last night. “This early?” Dominic’s voice disrupts our moment. I turn to see him in the most sexy outfit ever! Dominic Mercer is fire! A literal god in mankind. He’s bare-chested, with an overall tropical print jacket over his firm muscles. My eyes follow the fine downy hair on his chest, that run along a straight line, and disappears in his pants...

“Yeah… I slept okay.” Before the guilt could settle too deep, Dominic walked in. He looked sinfully hot, black tank top clinging to his chest and shoulders, grey gym shorts hanging low enough to show the deep lines of his hips. His hair was messy, jaw shadowed with stubble. My stomach flipped hard. Heat rushed between my legs again like my body had zero shame. I turned away fast, pretending to be very interested in the orange juice on the counter. My cheeks burned.

Women definitely watched him with hungry eyes full of need and desire but it takes more than a pretty face to catch his attention. People often made the mistake of believing Dominance was loud. Master Steele proved otherwise. His authority lived in restraint. In patience. In the dangerous calm behind His silver eyes. To those privileged enough to know Him, He was a Master in every sense of the word — respected, feared, desired. A man who understood the intricate dance between control and trust better than most understood themselves. BDSM was not a hobby to Him. It was culture. Psychology. Ritual. Art. And Fantasy was His masterpiece.

High above the central training coliseum, on the grand inspection balcony of Dome One, Dominic stood with his boots planted firmly against the polished basalt ledge. He had stripped off his formal imperial mantle, wearing a sleeveless dark velvet combat tunic reinforced with meteor-steel mesh. His broad, muscular chest and corded shoulders were exposed, showing off his bronzed skin and the dark meteor-steel runic tattoos that pulsed along his arms and neck with steady, low currents of liquid-black solar plasma. His short dark hair was windblown by the internal climate vents, framing a granite jawline set in an unyielding expression of apex authority. His grey eyes, glowing with deep, steady

I complained, hands on my hips. Seven and Seleira were down in the field handling the rest of the she-wolves, while we were up on this hill doing backflips. It felt absurd. Zayn smirked. “I promise, it’s not a joke. Trust me, this is essential training.” “Essential? Really? Because it feels more like a circus act!” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “Hey, if you wanted to be a clown, you could’ve just said so,” he teased, crossing his arms. “But seriously, you’ll thank me later.”

I kiss back desperately, my hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer. When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard. "Strip," he commands. "Now." My fingers shake as I fumble with my jeans, the wet fabric clinging to my skin. Dominic watches, his eyes burning with hunger. When I finally get them down, kicking them aside, he growls in approval. "No underwear," he notes. "Were you hoping someone would find out? Hoping I'd find you?" I can't answer, can only stand there trembling as his eyes rake over my naked body. My cock juts out, leaking pre-cum, and my thighs are slick with arousal.

I asked, my hands tightening at my sides. She shook her head. “I cannot be sure.” I walked past her, down the hall. When I reached his room, I pulled the doors open. My eyes widened at the scene in front of me. Dominic stood in his room, shirtless in nothing but boxers. He had gotten even more bulky than I’d last seen. His muscles stretched on and on, dark tattooed ink trailing down his torso to his abdomen and ending just above the boxers. My eyes trailed lower. I could see the outline of his cock through the fabric.

In the first room, a leather-clad Domme cracked a whip toward a male submissive who was bent over and restrained in old-fashioned stocks. Scott glanced at Jade, who kept her eyes downcast. With a hand on the small of her back, he continued forward to the next room. There, a bare-chested Master Dominant in leather pants was just fastening a nude female slave, spread eagle, to a St. Andrews Cross.

My eyes widened in absolute bewilderment when I spotted Dominic standing right at the base of my stairs, casually executing a deep, exaggerated stretch. "Why on earth... Why are you dressed like that?" I asked, pointing a confused finger at his vibrant outfit. He was sporting a brilliant neon green sleeveless shirt paired with simple black shorts, athletic sneakers, and a bright pink sweatband wrapped snugly around his forehead. "Ah, this outfit? There's actually a community Zumba session happening over at the covered court today. Lola Aida really wanted to join in, so I promised I'd accompany her," he explained easily, transitioning into another dramatic stretch right there on the dirt path

With his stare pinned on me, Dominic worked quickly to divested himself of his jeans and shirt. It wasn’t the first time that I saw Dominic in his naked form, but each time was perfect than the last. It was shameful, appalling even, that I was so embarrassingly attracted to him. My gaze gradually swept over the lean muscles, the boxed abdominal structure, and then onto his hard dick. The sight was enough to make my throat dry and render me speechless. Rage and desire burned blue in his eyes in equal measure, and I knew, he wanted to hate me as he fucked me. I wanted to do the same.