My Mafia Dominant Is Back

"Bend over."

The man's voice echoed behind her, magnetic and irresistible.

Lyla Sinclair trembled, feeling the coarse texture of the small leather whip grazing across her hips, again and again, each stroke both a threat and a tease.

She instinctively leaned forward, her hands pressed against the couch. Her underwear and skirt had somehow been removed, leaving her in a shameful, exposed position.

The man's broad hand caressed her buttocks, gently patting her as if calming a prized mare, a mix of punishment and reward.

In this intoxicating caress, Lyla gradually abandoned her shame. Summoning her courage, she leaned back and, with a trembling voice, said, "Let me see you."

The next second, the whip landed hard on her skin, making her gasp in pain.

"Watch your tone," the man said coolly, "What should you call me?"

The pain sharpened her mind. Lyla knew the rules of this game well-she should address him as Master. But her innate pride and shame kept her from uttering the word.

The whip lingered on her skin, tracing the fresh welt, the slight sting making her skin tighten.

"My patience is limited," the man spoke again. "Do you want me to s*pank you in front of all your students?"

Lyla's body tensed, the intense shame making her bolt upright, shouting, "No!"

The alarm clock rang mercilessly, waking Lyla from her nightmare.

Strictly speaking, it wasn't a nightmare, but rather an extension of her innermost desires. As a psychology-majored master and now a lecturer at Westhaven College, Lyla was well aware of this.

That man, buried deep in her heart, was a secret she felt ashamed of-a man who only appeared in her dreams, yet had become her most unmentionable obsession over the past three years.

She picked up her phone to silence the alarm, and suddenly a message popped up on the screen, "Are you on your way? I brought you breakfast." It was from Lucas.

"Crap." Lyla muttered, realizing she'd almost forgotten about an important department meeting at the college today.

A mysterious benefactor had donated a building to Westhaven College's Psychology Department, and today was the day to finalize the design plans. The Dean of Psychology Department encouraged all faculty to attend and share their opinions.

As an unassuming lecturer, Lyla wouldn't normally attend such meetings, since her opinions didn't carry much weight. But she was determined to apply for an assistant professorship and wanted to make an impression on the Dean and the review committee, so she had RSVP'd for the meeting.

Dragging her aching body out of bed, she quickly fixed her hair and makeup before heading out.

The Monday morning rush hour was a disaster, and by the time Lyla arrived at the meeting, the contractor's presentation had already gone through three slides.

Thankfully, the meeting was open, with around a dozen people in attendance. Lyla slipped in through the back door, found a seat, and sat down. The man next to her slid a cup of coffee and a paper bag with a croissant toward her.

"I knew you'd be late, so I grabbed a seat at the back," Lucas whispered with a gentle smile.

Lyla smiled awkwardly. She wanted to refuse, but the allure of the first coffee of the day was too great, and she wasn't sure she could get through the meeting without it. So she took the cup and took a big sip. "Thanks, I'll pay you back for breakfast later."

"Just take me to a movie," Lucas whispered, leaning in closer.

Lyla smiled again but didn't respond, focusing on her croissant instead.

She knew Lucas liked her.

As the youngest assistant professor in Psychology Department, Lucas had a stellar reputation in both academic and professional circles. Besides his academic talents, he was incredibly handsome, with striking red hair, a legacy of his Irish heritage, and a gentle demeanor.

He was a true gentleman, always respecting Lyla's wishes and maintaining a careful distance. He brought her medicine when she was sick, brought her breakfast when she was late, and was a great help with her application for assistant professor."

But Lyla always felt something was missing between them. Even though they had done most things that couples do, aside from sleeping together, their relationship remained in the limbo between friends and colleagues.

Gentleness. That was it! Gentleness.

Despite the shame Lyla felt for her dream self, she had to admit that a gentleman held no attraction for her.

In the most naïve and yearning years of her life, a man with his whip and rope had barged into her heart with conquest and desire, in a way she had never expected, and had since remained there.

The sound of applause brought Lyla back to reality. The presentation seemed to be wrapping up.

The presenter, sent by the contractor, made an exaggerated gesture to halt the applause. With a mysterious smile, he pointed to the remote in his hand. "Finally, the mysterious benefactor wishes to reveal the name of the building at the end of this meeting. He wants it to be named -- 'Nicola Selene.'"

He pressed the remote, and the name Nicola Selene appeared on the screen.

In that instant, Lyla's hand froze around her coffee cup, a storm brewing inside her.

The faculty in the room began murmuring, all speculating about who Nicola Selene could be.

"There's no information about her online."

"Sounds like a screen name."

"This building is worth a hundred million-what kind of significant person would warrant such an expense?"

Lyla could no longer hear any of the voices around her. Her world had gone silent, as if she could only hear the sound of a whip cutting through the air.

No one would know who Nicola Selene was, because that name belonged to Lyla Sinclair. It was tied to the shameful and indulgent secret she kept buried deep inside.

After the meeting, Lyla ignored Lucas calling after her, leaving her bag behind as she rushed toward the presenter.

"Who's the benefactor? Can you tell me?" she asked, with an urgent voice .

The presenter looked her up and down, seeing her as an insignificant faculty member, and replied impatiently, "I told you, it's a mysterious benefactor. Even I don't know who he is."

"Then who contacted you? Someone as wealthy as him must have assistants or secretaries. Do you have their contact information?"

"Sorry, ma'am, I can't help you." The presenter quickly packed up his laptop, turning to leave the room as if to escape.

But Lyla wasn't about to give up. She knew the college's' donation office would have a way to contact him. No matter what it took, she had to find out who this person was and why he had disappeared so suddenly all those years ago.

Just as she stepped out of the building, the Dean called out to her.

"Lyla," he said, looking at her with a peculiar expression before pulling out a sticky note from his pocket. "This morning, I got a call from the benefactor's office. They said that if no one inquired about his identity after the donation plan was finalized, his identity would remain a secret forever."

Lyla's heart started pounding wildly, and she interrupted him, asking urgently, "What if someone asks and won't stop until she gets an answer?"

The Dean''s expression grew even stranger, as if he had stumbled upon a juicy piece of gossip.

"He said that if a woman inquires and is the type who won't rest until she gets an answer, she shall have this number."

With a hint of a smile, he handed the sticky note to Lyla. She snatched it, not even looking at it before clutching it tightly in her hand, as if she were holding onto a shameful secret. A blush spread from her cheeks to her neck.

"Thanks," she muttered, ignoring the Dean's gaze as she rushed to her office.

It wasn't until she leaned against the leather chair in her office that she let out a breath, trying to steady her racing heart. After regaining some composure, she opened her hand.

The paper was crumpled from her grip, but on it was a string of unfamiliar numbers.

With trembling fingers, she dialed the number on her phone.

"Hello, who is this?"

A familiar voice came through the phone, but Lyla froze, a sharp pang of disappointment in her chest. She didn't speak, the phone growing warm in her hand.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end repeated. "Ms. Sinclair?"

"Yes, it's me." Lyla snapped out of her daze, taking a deep breath. "Has he... come back?"

"Yes, Ms. Sinclair, he has returned."

Even though she had braced herself for this moment, Lyla couldn't stop the tears that silently filled her eyes.

Her mind drifted back to that night three years ago.

Three years ago, at the age of 23, Lyla was accepted into Stonemont University's psychology department due to her exceptional academic achievements. Skipping the master's program, she became the youngest fully-funded PhD student, studying under an advisor renowned in academic circles. Her future looked promising, yet she was anxious-her advisor's primary research focus was on BD/SM psychology.

Growing up in a traditional Christian family, Lyla had always received a conservative education about sex. She had never encountered anything related to BD/SM, and she found it difficult to understand.

She once asked her advisor why, during the interview, he chose her despite knowing that her background didn't quite align with his research.

Her advisor gazed into her pale blue eyes, as clear as a river, and said sincerely, "You're a girl with a strong curiosity, and you're brave and persistent in your pursuit of answers. You're a natural researcher-that's why I chose you."

Becoming a research scholar had been Lyla's dream since childhood. If she had completed a master's degree before applying for a PhD, she might have had more options. But her father had passed away early, and her mother had worked hard to raise her. To attend college, Lyla had taken on significant student loans, leaving no time or money to pursue a master's degree. This path was her best option.

Her advisor's' words gave Lyla great encouragement. Even though the research field was one she found hard to understand, she bravely set out on her journey. However, the path was far more challenging than she had anticipated.

Shortly after starting her program, her advisor assigned her to a research group that focused on studying the relationship between contemporary BD/SM practices and anxiety relief. Lyla buried herself in an overwhelming amount of literature, but she struggled to make progress because she couldn't connect with the subject.

She felt like her anxiety was about to reach a breaking point.

One evening, as she left the lab with dark circles under her eyes, she ran into Jessica, a fellow psychology PhD student. Jessica was dressed in a sequined tank top and a mini leather skirt, her face perfectly made up, as if she were heading to a nightclub. Seeing Lyla's exhausted expression, Jessica was startled.

"Lyla! Are you sick?" she exclaimed.

"No," Lyla replied with a bitter smile, shaking her head. "It's just that I have to present my research topic to my advisor next week, and I still have no idea what I'm doing."

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself." Jessica patted her on the shoulder. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a tissue and a lipstick. She wrote a web address on the tissue with the lipstick and handed it to Lyla. "This is the most popular BD/SM dating site in the country. Our lab often recruits interview volunteers from there."

"Thank you." Lyla gratefully took the tissue. "I think I can find someone to interview there. Maybe it will give me some research inspiration."

"No, no, no," Jessica said with a smirk. "What I meant was... you should actually meet someone there and experience BD/SM firsthand."

"No way!" Lyla's face turned bright red. "Just because someone studies criminal psychology doesn't mean they need to commit crimes. Likewise, studying BD/SM doesn't mean you have to experience it personally..."

Jessica cut her off, "If I'm not mistaken, your research group is studying the relationship between BD/SM and anxiety relief, right? If you don't believe in the subject yourself, how can you produce convincing research?"

Lyla was left speechless, biting her lip in embarrassment.

Jessica gave her a sympathetic look and patted her shoulder again. "Come on, cheer up! Don't push yourself too hard-research isn't the only thing in life!"

Lyla couldn't remember how she said goodbye to Jessica. Her mind was a blur as she returned to her dorm. As she changed clothes, she realized she was still tightly clutching the tissue in her hand. The lipstick marks had smudged a little, but the web address was still legible.

Jessica's words had sparked something in her. The reason she hadn't been able to find inspiration was because, deep down, she didn't believe BD/SM could relieve anxiety. How could she write a scientific paper to convince others of a theory she couldn't even convince herself of?

Perhaps even Lyla didn't realize that, despite her seemingly conservative and introverted nature, she had a spirit of challenge buried deep inside her.

With a hint of hesitation, she opened her computer and typed in the web address.

The site looked simple, much like any other dating site, requiring users to register before accessing the forums. Lyla clicked on the registration button and chose a username: Nicola Selene.

Nicola was inspired by the famous scientist Nicholas Maximilianovitch, who hanged himself twelve times for his research on near-death experiences. By choosing this name, Lyla wanted to express her determination to sacrifice herself for science, just like Nicholas.

Selene, on the other hand, represented darkness, symbolizing her shame regarding the experiment she was about to undertake.

Lyla never could have imagined that this username, which held special meaning for her, would one day become the name of a $100 million academic building. Such casual irony and playfulness was typical style of Shadow Master-Lyla knew that all too well.

After registration, Lyla quickly posted a message: "Looking for a Dom." She naturally assumed she should pretend to be a Sub rather than a Dom, since trying to act like a commanding Dom without any experience would only cause the experiment to fail miserably.

Just as she was about to send the post, some rather blush-inducing ads popped up on the screen, making her hastily add, "NO S/EX!" Still feeling uneasy, she added another line: "NO LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIP!"

After making those changes, she took a deep breath and hit the ''send'' button. She didn't dare look at the successfully posted message and quickly shut her laptop, her heart racing like she had just done something wrong.

That night, she slept fitfully, dreaming that she was being punished for failing to submit her paper. A man held her over his lap, s/panking her hard. His face was unclear, but his outline was strikingly handsome. He was stern, and his hand came down on her backside repeatedly. In the dream, she couldn't feel pain-only the intense shame of being punished.

That powerful sense of shame lingered into the next day during class.

Lyla opened her laptop to take notes, only to realize she had forgotten to close the BD/SM forum page the night before. At that moment, a message notification popped up in the corner of the screen-it was a reply from someone with the username Shadow Master.

"Watch your tone, miss. You deserve a good punishment."

Lyla's face flushed bright red. She had always been a well-behaved, obedient girl and had never been criticized like this. Remembering the dream from the night before, she felt both angry and embarrassed. She couldn't focus on taking notes and clicked the reply button.

"Shut up, egomaniac. It's none of your business."

To her surprise, her reply made the previously unnoticed post suddenly popular. The message notifications didn't stop for the rest of the class.

"That's Shadow Master-you've got some nerve."

"Don't let him become your Dom, or... good luck, hahaha."

"You better apologize to Shadow Master and leave the site."

The constant barrage of messages gave her a headache, but it also piqued her curiosity about this Shadow Master. She opened the mysterious user's profile and browsed through it.

This person seemed to have a high reputation in the BD/SM community. Despite not having posted a single message, he had tens of thousands of followers.

His profile picture was a man's lower body in a suit, with a large, long-fingered hand resting on his knee, holding a slender cane. The image exuded an air of mystery and allure.

Lyla was captivated by the hand's beauty, but thinking of Shadow Master's arrogant attitude, she felt some disdain and muttered, "Psychologically speaking, people often flaunt what they lack. This guy probably has ugly hands and just borrowed a model's hand for his profile picture."

Suddenly, a private message window popped up in the corner of the screen with a "pop" sound, startling Lyla.

Shadow Master: Have you seen enough of my profile?

Lyla's breath nearly stopped from the shock. She instinctively glanced around her, but the classroom was empty, the doors closed. There was no way anyone could be spying on her screen.

She thought for a moment, then exited Shadow Master's profile and clicked into her own. At the top of the page, she noticed a section showing recent visitors from the last half hour. But when she registered last night, she hadn't seen this feature.

Shadow Master: "Are you curious about the recent visitors feature? Don't be surprised-I just added it. The code was written in a rush, not perfect, but it was more than enough to catch a mischievous little bug like you."

Lyla smirked with mild disdain.

Nicola Selene: Are you a hacker?

Shadow Master: A hacker? I built this site myself-no hacker in the world could break into it.

For a brief moment, countless thoughts raced through Lyla's mind. Reflecting on today's events on the forum, a bold idea suddenly formed.

Nicola Selene: You wouldn't happen to be the founder of the forum, would you?

Shadow Master: You're not completely hopeless.

Nicola Selene: So what if you're the founder? Does that give you the right to change the site's rules whenever you want? Keep this up, and your lousy site will shut down soon!!!

The three exclamation points reflected Lyla's inner anger. It wasn't really about Shadow Master changing a feature-it was the unsettling feeling of being controlled without her knowledge that truly bothered her.

Shadow Master: I'm a dom, you're a sub, and you want to talk about rules? It looks like you're in need of some serious punishment.

Nicola Selene: I am NOT a sub!!!

Lyla's face flushed with excitement, but Shadow Master didn't respond again.

That night, as she slowly calmed down, Lyla couldn't help but think that this man, the founder of such a well-known site, could be an ideal subject for her research. Maybe she could even ask him for an interview.

With that thought, she collected herself and sent another message, explaining that she was a PhD student in psychology, researching the relationship between BD/SM and anxiety relief, and she wanted to interview him as part of her study.

A response came back quickly.

Shadow Master: Not interested.

Nicola Selene: I can pay you. I have funding.

At that moment, the man reclining in a hot bath smiled slightly at the message on his phone. He raised his head and downed the last of the wine in his glass.

The butler, Hudson, refilled his glass and asked, "It's been a while since I've seen you smile like that, sir."

The man seemed to be in a good mood, emptying his glass once more. "Someone wants to pay me."

"Oh, really?" Hudson smiled. "What's the job this time? A shooting? Poisoning? Or car accident?"

"No, not killing anyone. Just someone trying to extract my secrets." The man's smile widened. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a glow on his handsome face and bronze chest. His bare abs rippled slightly in the water.

"Secrets?" Hudson raised an eyebrow. "Intelligence? How much are they offering?"

"A hundred bucks."

"A... a hundred bucks?!" Hudson blinked in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock.

"Yes, a hundred bucks," the man said with a casual smile. "And I've decided to accept."

Carlo Ferretti stared intently at his phone screen, the smile on his lips never fading. Hudson was right-it had been a long time since he'd smiled like this.

Nicola Selene: Thank you for agreeing to the interview. As per our lab's policy, we typically offer a $100 gift card for a 60-minute interview.

Shadow Master: I'm not interested in money.

Nicola Selene: That's great! Voluntary participation will contribute more to our experimental data!

Carlo nearly spit out his wine. He stared at the message on the screen, as if reading the funniest joke in the world.

He had only intended to scold her for her tone on the forum, annoyed that a sub would speak that way. But he hadn't expected this girl to be so alternately sincere and fiery-innocent in her words, yet incredibly stubborn. She was like a wild mare running free in the forest, igniting his desire to conquer her.

Shadow Master: I'm the Dom. I make the rules.

Nicola Selene: Of course! Whatever requirements you have, I'll do my best to meet them.

Carlo glanced at Nicola's profile page and saw that her location matched his city. A plan started to form in his mind. He wiped the wine from the corner of his mouth with his thumb and leaned back, half of his face hidden in the shadow where the sunset couldn't reach.

Shadow Master: Your behavior today already warrants a good s/panking. Let me s/pank you, and for every s/pank, you'll earn one minute of interview time."

This time, there was no immediate response. The "typing..." indicator flickered at the top of the chat box, as though he could almost see her flushed face through the screen.

After a long pause, a message finally appeared.

Nicola Selene: Sorry, I can't agree to that request.

A sly smile curled at the corner of Carlo's mouth.

Shadow Master: Can't even meet that simple request? It seems you're not as dedicated to scientific research as you claim. This field isn't for you-better drop out while you can."

After sending the message, Carlo put down his phone and rubbed his wrist, where an old scar circled like a band. The occasional sharp pain served as a reminder of its presence.

As a dom, Carlo didn't enjoy violence for its own sake-what he truly relished was the intense sense of control, not just over the body, but over the mind. He had a strong hunch that Nicola would be a particularly challenging subject. But Carlo never backed down from a challenge.

He wasn't in a rush to wait for Nicola's reply. Instead, he lazily reclined in the bathtub, watching as the sun slowly sank beyond the horizon. The city's towering skyscrapers resembled gaping monsters, swallowing the crimson orb bit by bit until the sky was draped in a deep, dark blue.