Revised and Expanded
American Meridian Bank was a Chicago institution. Founded in 1907, it occupied the upper forty-five floors of the Meridian Tower, a sleek monstrosity of steel and glass rising above LaSalle Street. Only five blocks from Lake Michigan, it was a cornerstone of the city. It’s mirrored façade hiding the machinery of money being made there but reflecting its power back into the large part of the Loop it ruled.
The bank’s name was only visible in the understated brass plaque, polished each day, beside the revolving doors. A discreet directory behind the reception desk, the center piece of the three-story lobby, indicated that the bank occupied floors twenty through sixty-four, the higher the floor, the more powerful the decisions made there.
Trading desks, analysts, and endless rows of glass cubicles where young associates worked could be found in the twenties, middle management offices that dealt with the constant pressure of markets humming thousands of miles away made up the thirties. As you moved higher, the hum of people got quieter, the furnishings more luxurious, elevators became private, and sumptuous Persians rugs replaced marble floors. On the highest floor, there were only eight offices. Each had a floor to ceiling view that stretched across the horizon of Lake Michigan, its direction depended on the placement of the office.
David Marlowe had been on the thirty-third floor for barely a week, but it already felt smaller every time he stepped in the Advertising Office. He knew he was nothing like the other advertising interns. He didn’t fawn, didn’t flatter, and certainly didn’t shrink in the shadow of power. His boss in advertising could attest to that. In his late twenties, David carried himself with the kind of confidence that couldn’t be taught—an effortless swagger perfected in classrooms of his Ivy League alma mater, in his fraternity, in organizations and societies he ran all over campus. He had the sharp mind of someone who could go head-to-head with executives twice his age, and the body of someone who could make them forget what they were saying mid-sentence. They often did.
Simon Camden was fifty-two, the Senior Managing Partner for Finance and his office was on the sixty-fourth floor. His horizon faced East. A man carved out of power, he wore it like a second skin. He didn’t just work in high finance; he commanded it. Six foot two, he was broad-shouldered beneath his tailored charcoal suit, every line on his body and every stitch of fabric sharp, precise, and expensive. His movements were efficient - he was a man who had mastered time, who made others wait without apology.
At 28, with the naturally athletic build of a college track star, David filled out his navy dress shirt in a way that felt almost indecent. The word for him would be magnetic. One inch taller than Simon, his torso tapered to a narrow waist, and his slacks clung just enough to make turning around a calculated move. His skin was warm olive, his dark hair cropped short on the sides but rebellious and textured on top, it was coordinated.
Simon’s silver-streaked hair was swept back with the same discipline that governed his million-dollar deals: clean, deliberate, controlled. No hair out of place, no gesture without purpose. His jaw, still square and strong, bore the faintest shadow of stubble by five o’clock—just enough to hint at the man beneath the polish. And his eyes—ice blue and unblinking—had a way of lingering just a fraction too long, as if he was already four steps into your next move, measuring whether you were worth the investment.
No meeting truly began until Simon decided it would. He never raised his voice. He didn’t have to. The weight of his name did the work. The boardroom fell silent when he entered. Assistants stiffened when his door opened. More than one young associate had tried to impress him—many with ambition, a few with charm—but none of them lasted long. He had no time for weakness.
Normally these two would never come into contact, being a part of two completely difference divisions and so many floors apart, but serendipity has a way of making sure people who are destined to meet actually do.
Simon noticed early on, coming into the building one morning, the eyes of the young intern that caused people to stumble. They were a warm brown, rich with intelligence and spark. His smile – slow, crooked, unapologetically sure - daring dressed in playful and sexy.
Simon had a strategy – find out everything you can about him – and insert yourself into his life. Little did anyone know, David’s appearance in the lobby was calculated and planned. He knew everything about Simon’s schedule, his background, habits. This wouldn’t be Simon’s ambush at all. It would be David’s.
David met Simon when delivering a package on the 64th floor, accessible only in a private elevator that required an escort. Coincidentally, on that day, Simon strategically planned for that to be him. Their first meeting was electric, and their age difference only added heat.
That was what made him so irresistible to David.
David hadn’t taken this internship to polish a résumé. He was playing a longer, more deliberate game—one that ended in corner offices, elevators that only belonged to him, and men like Simon that he could change, control and discover. He had also taken this position to get Simon Camden – entice Simon – lure Simon - have Simon.
This man was everything David craved: older, incredibly masculine, carved from discipline and dominance. But he knew there had to be a place beneath all of Simon’s outward control, and he wanted to crack it open. Because for all the power Simon projected - all the men who feared him - David could sense something else simmering just below the surface.
Ceding control. Giving up power. Submission. David knew all the signs.
And something told him that, given the right moment, the right pressure… Senior Controlling Partner Camden might finally, deliciously, snap.
Over the first week, flirtation had become their unspoken ritual. A brush of shoulders when they passed in the hallway. David summoned to the sixty fourth floor daily for task after task. A low, knowing laugh from David that drew Simon’s gaze. A planned delivery at Simon’s desk as David bent just enough to point out a number on a report, the scent of his cologne lingering long after he’d gone. Simon, in turn, offered unnecessary “mentoring” meetings, leaned closer than strictly needed, letting his gaze flick downward before returning to David’s eyes with the faintest smirk.
They played with each other but never crossed that line of propriety. It was simply a hand on a back, a shoulder bumping a shoulder, a gaze that lingered, each not wanting to be the first to break it – daring, pushing.
It was a game, and they both knew it. Simon relished the illusion of control—he was the one with the corner office, the influence, the authority. But David was certain he saw it—the pause before Simon responded, the barely-there flicker in his gaze when David entered the room, the way he sometimes smiles before David was finished speaking.
David’s eyes couldn’t conceal the other story being told, the one where the older man’s power was a prize he intended to share. And somewhere beneath Simon’s polished composure, the thought thrilled him more than he wanted to admit.
The moment that confirmed it came on Friday of the fifth week.
Friday evening found the floor nearly deserted; the city’s lights glittered beyond the wall of glass in Simon’s office. He was packing away his laptop when David appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. No tie, top two buttons of his shirt undone, a shadow of stubble on his jaw and a wicked smile.
“Working late again, sir?” David’s voice was smooth
Simon stood at the window, one hand in his pocket, the other cradling a crystal rocks glass of something dark and expensive.
“It comes with the territory,” he said, allowing himself a measured glance down David’s torso before meeting his gaze again. “Shouldn’t you be out enjoying your Friday night . . .drinks and dinner with some hot date?”
David stepped inside, and said, “Maybe I am.”
He took a few careful steps toward the desk, hesitating just enough to betray his nerves, though his smile stayed easy. His eyes flicked up to Simon’s, unsure but bold enough to hold the gaze.
“I mean… I think you’ve been watching me all week,” he said with a soft laugh. “Like maybe you’ve been testing me? Seeing how far I’d…maybe go?”
Simon’s mouth curved, his eyes blazing into David’s. “And?”
He stopped in front of him, close enough that Simon caught the faint scent of cedar. “Could I take a turn at testing you?” His tone was low, steady - command wearing the mask of suggestion.
Simon raised a brow. “But aren’t you the intern and I’m the one in charge?”
“Oh, I know, sir…” David said, leaning in just enough for his breath to graze Simon’s ear. “But have you ever wondered what it would feel like if you weren’t?”
Simon felt his pulse spike, his carefully cultivated authority teetering. David’s hand rested lightly on the edge of the desk beside his, his posture loose but his eyes sharp. That did it. A beat passed. And for the first time, Simon didn’t answer.
David leaned in just a fraction closer, breath grazing Simon’s neck. “And what if all along you just needed the… right… intern…sir?”
Simon simply looked at David—measured, tense, locked in a moment where decision and desire collided. Almost daring. The silence in this moment between them was loaded – thicker, tighter. And David, steady and patient, stepped fully into it.
“Why don’t we make this interesting?” David continued. “Let’s pretend, that tomorrow night, the man who runs the finances of this place is the one who follows orders.”
Simon swallowed, a flicker of heat running through him. He should have laughed it off. Maybe sent David home. He knew he was playing with fire. But instead, he found himself leaning back in his chair, a slow, dangerous smile touching his lips. “Then tell me, Mr. Marlowe… what’s my first order?”
He reached up and loosened Simon’s tie—slowly, deliberately—his fingers brushing against the strong column of the older man’s throat. Simon didn’t stop him. He stood still, watching, breathing a little more slowly, his usual guarded composure precariously tipping into the unknown.
David slipped the tie free and let it hang from his hand like a strip of silk. “You know,” he said, circling around Simon, brushing behind him as he moved, “you spend your days telling rooms full of men what to do. Dictating policy. Commanding markets.” He reached the back of Simon’s chair and leaned down, whispering just above the rim of his ear. “But what if here with me… you’d get to really let go and be the one who obeys.”
Simon let out a slow breath. No one had ever dared to talk to him this way - ever risked what it would cost to challenge him. But Simon accepted it and didn’t know why.
He began to realize how tightly wound he’d been today - how the constant command, the endless decision-making - had settled into his body and become his whole persona. It was exhausting.
And now, in the stillness of his own office, with David standing in front of him - so bold and yet uncertain, so unafraid to see him, really see him—that facade began to crack. The breath he released was relief. It felt terrifying. And it felt inevitable.
And maybe, just this once, being the one who gave in was something he needed to experience and maybe this young intern was destined to show him.
David loosened his own collar, eyes never leaving Simon’s. “You’ve been in charge for so long, Mr. Camden. No one questions you. No one dares. But I think…” He reached down, placing the tie across Simon’s lap again. “You’ve been waiting for someone who would.” He leaned over and his lips touched Simon’s, tentative at first, but tongues collide as passions overtake them.
As some of the heat of the kiss fades, David breaks it, giving Simon one last peck, and slowly gets up and makes his way toward the door, turning to say, with a wicked grin, “Tomorrow night, sir, I give the orders.”
He exaggeratedly adjusted the erection tenting the front of his pants. Simon looked a bit stunned but smiled as the door shut quietly.
The Next Night
Simon’s tie was still knotted at his throat, though the weight of it felt like a noose after twelve hours of boardrooms, power lunches, and endless negotiations. His reputation as the man who never blinked had carried him through the day, but now every muscle in his body ached with fatigue, every raw nerve throbbing.
His mind went to David. The thought of surrendering to this intern’s quiet but unshakable authority was the only thing keeping him motivated the last few hours of the day. Tonight, he longed for the strange relief of giving all that power up, even if just for a few stolen hours.
When Simon finally pushed open the heavy door to his office, expecting the familiar sanctuary of polished order, he stopped dead. David was sitting in his chair - leaning back with one ankle propped casually on the gleaming mahogany desk as if he owned the place.
No one had ever dared to sit there; Yet here was David, all ease and insolence, his dark eyes glinting with a satisfaction that came from knowing exactly how much he was breaking Simon’s rule. The sight stole Simon’s breath, not just from shock, but from the surge of something dangerously close to excitement—Simon could feel the ground shifting beneath him.
David rose slowly from the chair, unhurried, as though the entire office now belonged to him. The leather creaked under his movement, the faint sound somehow louder than the city traffic outside.
Simon just stood there, briefcase still in his hand, staring at the young man who had boldly sat where no one else had or would. David didn’t rush to fill the silence; he let it hang heavy, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. For once, Simon was utterly speechless, caught between outrage and an undeniable pull toward surrender.
He motioned for Simon to come forward. The executive moved a step or two, facing David, his mouth dry. He nodded once, not trusting his voice.
David moved toward him, slowly, circling him like prey. The dim light overhead caught the hard lines of the younger man’s beautiful face, casting his eyes in shadow. As he continued to move slowly around the large office, his boots made a slow, deliberate and menacing sound against the floor.
“You know what I like, Simon?” His voice was deep, measured. “Men who are pussies.”
Simon groaned hard. “I’m …”
David’s eyes cut to him, stopping the words cold.
“Well, I think you are.”
He locked the door to the office.
Simon heard the click and shivered.
David touched Simon’s ass through his pants, touching his hole as he slowly massaged, making Simon moan softly.
Without a word, he grabbed Simon’s suit coat and ripped it off his shoulders, wadded it up and threw it into the corner of the room. Simon started to interrupt with a complaint about the expense of the suit, but David covered his mouth with his hand aggressively. “Nobody gives a shit about your suit, Simon!”
He pressed closer so that Simon could feel his erection as he seductively worked his arms around Simon and reached deep into each pocket of his suit pants, grabbing the executive’s cock and playing with it as he pulled out loose change.
“I’m getting the feeling that you’re very excited about the possibility of me having yours, Simon. Your pussy that is.”
David pulled his hands out, making sure to hold and fondle the executive’s cock as he withdrew with coins. The only sound he heard was Simon’s heavy breathing.
A soft metallic clink broke the quiet — the unmistakable sound of coins scattering on the hardwood floor. David glanced down to see them rolling in uneven arcs, spinning before settling at his feet.
He quickly backed away, turning Simon to face him. Their eyes locked. David raised one eyebrow, the faintest challenge in his smile.
“Pick them up,” he said, his voice smooth. “Every last one.”
Never breaking eye contact, Simon’s pulse kicked up, as he slid to his knees with deliberate slowness, getting on all fours and started to gather the coins
He reached for the first coin, letting his fingers linger on it. He could feel David’s gaze on him as he sat on the edge of the desk watching, swinging his feet and then planted one on top of Simon’s head.
“You need to get down closer to the floor to get them all, Mr. Camden,” David said, pressing down with his foot.
Simon, pulled away from the foot, but still bent forward, collecting another coin, his tailored shirt stretching across his back, always looking up to meet David’s eyes. Inside, he savored the absurdity of it. The man who could make boardrooms hold their breath was now kneeling, obedient, collecting loose change from the floor.
David crouched beside him, his voice low and taunting.
“I could get used to this.”
He went behind the desk and pulled the chair out into the room, turning it so it faced Simon, and sat down – leaning back, feet planted wide, hands gripping the armrests.
David’s lips curled slowly, not quite a smile. “Right here in this hand, princess. Get every single one.”
David’s tone wasn’t raised, but the steel underneath it left no doubt — whatever was coming next, Simon wasn’t the one holding the controls.
And that realization sent an unexpected calm through him. He briefly closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth betraying the faintest hint of a smile. No, he wasn’t in charge — and for the first time that day, he felt completely at ease.
“It suddenly feels very hot in here, Simon.” David’s gaze dragged slowly over him. “Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable without that shirt?”
The question wasn’t really a question.
“You can take it off yourself,” David continued, calm and amused, “or I can do it for you.”
Simon only stared at him. He didn’t move.
With a sharp motion, the intern grabbed the front of Simon’s shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying across the room before the ruined fabric was tossed into the same corner as his coat.
“Now that, Chairman, was your fault.”
Simon stood there bare-chested, tense and flushed, the light catching against the faint sheen across his slightly hairy chest. The scattered coins glittered with almost absurd brightness.
For a moment, he didn’t move. His shoulders stayed tight, pulse hammering visibly in his throat. Then, with deliberate care, he bent down and picked up each coin.
One at a time.
The tiny clink of metal landing in David’s palm filled the silence like a drumbeat. Up and down. Each slow bend gave David an unobstructed view of every muscle in his back and thighs.
“Show me that pussy, Mr. Chairman,” said David, whistling. “Give me a view of what’s coming my way.”
Holding all the coins in one hand, David motioned for Simon to stand in front of him, grabbing a belt loop to pull him closer. He slowly leaned over toward the desk, grabbed an ornate small bowl and let the coins fall loudly into it, smiling wickedly.
Slowly unzipping Simon’s pants, He pulled the older man’s large, engorged cock and balls out of his underwear, letting them settle. The cock stood straight up, the head glistening with precum. With one finger, David spread it all around the slit, then offered it to Simon who sucked it clean.
“Good boy.”
David stood, quickly pulling Simon into a passionate kiss, grabbing his ass. Pulling with both hands, he forced the wet and sticky cock and balls against his own crotch, tasting the precum on his tongue.
Breaking the kiss, he sat back down in the chair - naked cock and balls now at eye level - he took a single lick from the base to the head, cupping Simon’s sack and letting it swing.
He leaned, grabbing the bowl from the desk, turned it over and let them spill slowly back on the floor, one by one. Never breaking eye contact, the metallic clatter echoing in the quiet office, David was smiling now, a wicked little curve that promised this was far from finished.
“Oops, look what happened?” David said, his tone almost teasing.
Simon’s eyes flicked to the floor. The coins were scattered wider this time, some under the desk, others near the windows. He realized he’d have to crawl for them again.
“Better get out of those pants, Simon,” David said, smiling.
The executive turned to find a chair, but David shook his head.
He slowly sat down on the floor, taking off his shoes and socks. He shimmied out of his pants and underwear, tossing them aside and stood up fully naked.
“Goddamn, you are one sexy sight to behold!”
David unzipped his own pants and pulls his own cock and balls out of his underwear, settling them into his open pants.
“I want you to see what you do to me, pussy boy.”
Spreading his legs, David leaned back to show off the girth and length of his member.
“You want a little taste, baby?”
Simon just stared, clearly wanting to kneel and taste the head of David’s large cock and maybe suck on his balls.
“Not yet though. Gotta clean up this mess first.”
David takes hold of his cock in one hand and shakes it at Simon.
“All for you, baby boy.”
Embarrassed at having his desire so plainly exposed, Simon lowered himself onto his hands and knees. His movements stayed steady, controlled — but every slow reach, every careful shift forward, sent a quiet thrill through him.
He could feel David watching him. Not just the obedience, but the care with which he obeyed.
One coin had rolled nearly out of sight beneath the desk. Simon crawled after it, reaching into the shadows until his fingers finally closed around the metal. Above him, he heard David laugh softly — not mocking exactly, but confident, amused, savoring the sight.
Simon had just grabbed the coin and started to back out when David’s shoe came down firmly against him, stopping him cold beneath the desk.
For one suspended moment, Simon stayed perfectly still.
“Now,” David said quietly, “I want to hear it.”
Simon tilted his head. “Hear what?”
“That you’re my pussy boy. Say it.”
Simon’s instinct was to smirk — to turn it into a joke and keep his pride intact. But he stayed still, feeling the weight of the request. It wasn’t just about kneeling. It was about admitting it. Out loud.
“I’m your pussy boy.”
On his hands and knees, Simon crawled over to the chair and attempted to hand David the coin. He stayed kneeling, his eyes lifted.
“Not there.” David murmured, indicating his hand. He motioned to the area at the front end of the chair where his cock was – “Here.”
Simon reached but his hand was slapped away.
“Not with your hand, silly boy, with your mouth.”
Simon’s jaw tightened. His pulse hammered. Placing the coin between his teeth, he crawled over to David’s chair and said, “May I?” looking up to seek David’s permission.
David nodded. Simon pushed his face into the sitting man’s crotch, rubbing it into his sweaty balls, depositing the coin at the head of David’s cock.
He looked at Simon, smiling. “How badly do you want to suck this cock?”
“I want it, sir!”
“I thought you might.”
“Yes, sir, I do, sir.”
Retrieving Simon’s necktie, David went to the corner of the room, wrapping it around his wrist. He used it to pull Simon down to his raging erection.
Tentatively at first, Simon took David’s cock into his mouth, licking the head, sucking it slowly. As he gets used to its size, he started to suck on the knob, bobbing up and down, opening his throat.
“That’s right, swallow it all the way, baby!”
David tightened the tie and began to fuck his mouth, pulling Simon’s head up and down on his cock, making him gag.
“Eat it, bitch! So good!”
Letting go of the tie, he put both hands on the back of Simon’s head, holding it in place and thrusted in and out, going as deep into his throat as he could until Simon started to scramble for air.
“You’ve got a sweet, sweet mouth. Daddy loves it when his pussy boy sucks on his cock like that. Pull that load out of my nuts, baby!”
David thrust forward until his dickhead was banging the back of Simon’s throat and his nose was in his pubes. Frantically grabbing his own cock, Simon began to jerk himself off as he continued to lick and suck David’s huge cock.
“Oh, fuck! I’m gonna blow, baby. I’m going to flood your throat!”
He bucked hard three times. His cock flared even wider, and his hot cum came spurting down Simon’s throat. David pulled out and let out gasps as his cock kept spraying ropes of cum on Simon’s shoulder and bare chest. Simon never slowed his sucking, swallowing whatever he could, not wanting to give up feeling the surges of energy that poured through David’s shaft.
He noticed Simon’s hand frantically going up and down his own cock
“Yes, cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy. He wants you to feel so good.”
David put his hand over Simon’s and the two of them stroked together.
“Ahh! Sir! I going to shoot!”
A huge load of cum came out of the tip of Simon’s prick, hitting David in the face. The next spurt hit Simon in the stomach and the third covered both of their hands.
They sat there panting, catching their breaths
“You have a mess to clean up, pussy boy. Better get to it.”
Going between fingers, Simon began to lick David’s hands clean, then moved to his face. Grabbing his head, David kissed him passionately, spreading the cum between both of their faces.
David pulled back, giving Simon room to lick and clean his entire face, his nose, his cheeks, his eyes.
“We are finished, baby boy. I need to go, but before I do, Daddy needs you to clean his cock.”
Going to his knees, Simon squeezed David’s softening cock, licking the head until he couldn’t coax any more drops from the tip. He then licked and cleaned his pubes, his balls, and then his ass. David even let Simon stuff his soft cock back into his pants and zip them up.
“Tomorrow, pussy boy, your ass,” said David, kissing him on the top of the head and exiting the office. Simon was still on the floor, kneeling, naked, covered in cum.
Fuck! What just happened!
The only thing Simon could be sure of was that he wanted more.
The Next Day
The email arrived at 6:14 a.m., jolting Simon awake before his alarm.
The subject line was blank.
The body contained only four short sentences.
Conference Room B — 11:00 p.m.
Pussy Mine.
Report naked.
Don’t be late.
Simon lay still beneath the sheets, staring at the pale glow of the screen. His chest tightened, though he had no reason to be surprised. He had known David would summon him again.
Then the doorbell rang.
Irritation flared first at the absurdly early hour — quickly tangled with something far more dangerous: anticipation. Because beneath all his resistance, beneath the humiliation and yes, anger, Simon had already admitted the truth both to himself - David possessed something he craved with terrifying intensity: release.
Moments later, his housekeeper appeared carrying a small box wrapped in matte black paper.
Simon took it carefully and peeled back the wrapping. Inside rested a single card on thick, expensive stock.
He recognized David’s handwriting immediately.
“Sweet, pussy boy, some backdoor pleasure, just for you. Wear it all day. Don’t remove until I see you. It has several speeds that I control. Today, I will probe and you will vibrate and squirm. Be a good boy for Daddy. He’ll reward you tonight.”
Inside the box was a sizeable black butt plug and a little brown bottle, with a tag attached that read, “In case you need a little help getting it in.” Simon smiled but was frightened by the size of the plug.
He stood naked before the full-length mirror in his high-rise condo, the skyline still soft with dawn haze. He raised a leg, having stretched his hole with one and then two fingers, using lots of lube until it dripped down his legs. But the plug was so big. Though he’d never used poppers, he’d seem them used in porn. He lifted the brown vial to his left nostril and took a big hit, then the other nostril and did the same. His head swam, his body relaxed, making him able to press the butt plug into his ass, thin to thick and he sat in a chair to keep it in and get used to its length and girth. He even popped up and down on it, loving the feel.
As he continued getting dressed, sliding on his tailored shirt, fastening the crisp white buttons with steady fingers, the butt plug started to vibrate, and Simon let out an audible groan of pleasure. A text arrived.
“Good morning, pussy boy.”
At 8:00 AM, on the dot, he was at his desk, jacket perfectly pressed, tie knotted with his usual precision. His executive assistant slid his morning reports across the desk, her voice a low drone about appointments and priorities. Simon nodded in the right places, but his ass pulsed, and his mind focused on only one thing: 11:00 p.m.
In the boardroom, with David right beside him, directors argued over quarterly margins, but Simon’s gaze drifted to the long mahogany table. David had a small black remote control on his writing pad. He pressed it and a stronger vibration went off in Simon’s ass. The executive saw not charts and contracts, but the memory of his palms spread flat against its surface, David’s voice at his back. It took everything he had to not show a reaction, but he groaned in pleasure internally. David glanced over at him with a wicked smile.
A question broke through his haze—something about budget allocations—and Simon forced his lips to move, producing a polished answer. The directors nodded, reassured. David smirked. He upped the vibration one more speed. None of them saw the tremors that went up Simon’s spine. As they exited, David stood in the corner of the boardroom, slightly smiling, pointing his finger at Simon and silently mouthing, “You’re mine.”
Lunch passed in silence at his private table. He pushed food across his plate, appetite hollow. Every forkful carried the metallic taste of waiting.
By midafternoon, he found himself in his office, suspended in a private orbit David had drawn around him. His assistant asked if he was well. “Fine,” he said, the word clipped. But inside, his thoughts were not fine—they were unraveling in anticipation. Would David make him kneel and crawl again? Show him his pussy? Slap his face with his cock? Humiliate him? Make him beg? The not-knowing was its own exquisite torture.
At that moment, sitting at his desk, the vibration level in Simon’s ass was turned up to the highest of the day. Simon squealed and groaned, hopping up from his chair and leaning over his desk. He ripped his pants open and took his cock in hand, pumping furiously, as he groaned and moaned.
There was a knock at Simon’s office door. He froze and quickly returned to his chair, trying to maintain his composure as best he could, hiding his nakedness. David stuck his head in the door and said, with a wicked laugh, “Just wanted to make sure you were awake?” He switched the plug down to its lowest speed.
Simon relaxed and fell against the back of his chair, panting. David walked over to the desk, pushed Simon’s chair back, grabbed the chairman’s hard cock, placed it back in his underwear and zipped up his pants, patting his crotch. “And remember, my sweet pussy,” purred David. “Bad boys that touch things that don’t belong them get punished severely.” He left Simon panting.
The afternoon finally ended, and evening fell. Simon’s staff filed out one by one, their good nights echoing faintly in the emptying halls. He tried to kill time reviewing numbers, drafting emails but it was useless, his sole focus was on 11:00 PM, the butt plug and David’s cock. His ass tingled at the thought. His erection never faltered, even for a moment, but he didn’t dare touch it for fear of David’s anger.
With only a few minutes to kill, David started to remove all his clothes, tossing aside his underwear wet from his cock leaking profusely all day. He stood in his office completely naked, butt plug vibrating, his whole body trembling in anticipation. He checked his reflection as he walked by and knew he was a new kind of man and belonged to David.
The corridors were empty, save for his own footsteps. It was too late for anyone to ordinarily be there, but the risk was still possible. Simon walked down the corridor of the office he owned and ruled, completely naked, his ass vibrating.
At what he thought of as the exact moment, his hand rested on the cool metal handle of the door. His heart thundered, not with dread but with anticipation sharpened to a knife’s edge. He drew a breath, steadying himself, and knocked.
“Enter.”
When he opened the conference room door, the scene was stripped bare. The long table stretched under a single lamp, its glow pooling at the center like a spotlight. All the chairs had been pushed aside, except for the one at the head—his chair—which David occupied with ease, as if it had always been his.
“Close the door.” The command was soft, but absolute.
Simon obeyed.
“Approach”
Simon moved to the end of the table.
“Up on the table, pussy boy, and show Daddy that sweet hole he’s been controlling all day.”
Simon’s hesitation lingered a second too long. David’s hand slammed flat against the table, the crack of it exploding through the quiet conference room like a gunshot. Simon jolted, eyes snapping up.
David bolted up from behind the desk, grabbed Simon and put him over his knee, using the chair in front.
Spank! “Bad”
The first blow caught him complete unawares. It jerked his body into a straight line across David’s lap.
Spank! “Bad”
David’s hand felt so powerful on the small of Simon’s back. The pain was intense.
Spank! “Bad”
When Simon twisted around and looked at David’s face, he saw his focused stare, his jutting jaw – all locked and square – but also a tiny smirk.
Spank! “Bad”
It wasn’t David’s dark hair falling into his face or his unshaven face with its perennial shadow that Simon noticed but the body: all muscles, sweating, dominating.
Spank! “Boy”
David’s big hard dick pressed up against Simon each time he took a hit.
Spank!
Simon realized suddenly that the wetness in his pubic hair was his precum oozing out the slit of his cock. The swollen head was swimming in the stuff and soaking the front of David’s shorts.
“What do you say, pussy boy, when Daddy tells you do something?”
Spank!
Simon quickly says, “Yes, sir. Yes, Daddy.”
Simon’s ass was red and sore but the last two strokes seemed to linger more squeezing and rubbing.
Spank!
“Now that’s the pussy boy Daddy knows and needs.”
David’s fingers reached into Simon’s crack on their way to his pulsing hole.
“Now do as Daddy asked.”
Simon climbed up on the conference table and laid on his back, spreading his legs and showing his pucker.
David pressed down on the butt plug a time or two, making Simon groan then pulled it out in one, quick motion, like a Band-Aid. He moaned and opened his legs as widely as possible, giving ultimate access.
David pressed two fingers into Simon’s mouth, he sucked on them hard, getting them wet. He used them to deeply fuck in and out of Simon’s hole and then to scissor and stretch the lips of his pussy.
“You need to open yourself up, baby, so you can take this big piece of Daddy meat.”
The look on Simon’s face goes from pain to pleasure in a matter of seconds. David pulled his fingers out of Simon’s ass, holding them out. Simon sucked and licked them clean.
Feeling the polished wood cold against his back, Simon had used this table to dictate terms, to close deals worth millions. Never like this. Legs open. Begging for his hole to be pounded.
David stared at him, watching him open his hole with one hand, the other brushing and playing with his hard cock. “Enough,” he growled. Both of Simon’s hands dropped to the table.
“Look at you,” he said, voice threaded with satisfaction, their eyes locked. “Say it,” he ordered quietly. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Simon’s breath shuddered. “I’m yours, Daddy. I belong to you”. The admission hollowed him out, leaving only the raw freedom of release.
David smiled, sharp and slow, as if the words had been carved from Simon’s very core. “Good. Then understand this—everything that happens next is mine to decide. And tonight, I will take all of you.”
The world of boardrooms and balance sheets fell away. All that remained was David’s hand, David’s cock, and Simon’s shuddering surrender as the night began.
David didn’t move at first. He let Simon lay on the table with his hole exposed and ready. Only when Simon’s breathing began to steady did he finally act.
He was dressed casually that night. He pulled his T-shirt over his head to reveal his hairy chest and beefy pecs, now covered with sweat.
“Baby, sit up and tell Daddy all the things you like about him.”
“OK, Daddy, sir!” Simon said as he gets up from the table and moves to David. “I love your sexy, hairy chest, Daddy.”
Simon rubbed his hands and his face in David’s chest hair, licking and squeezing his nipples.
“I love your huge biceps, Daddy.”
He squeezed and licked one as David flexed.
Going down on his knees, Simon panted, “And, Daddy, I love your great big cock and your huge, hairy balls.” He pressed his face and mouth to the front of David’s shorts, licking them through the fabric.
Looking down at Simon on his knees, David said with praise in his voice, “Use that sweet mouth of yours, my little cunt, on Daddy’s cock. It’s been a long hard day, and Daddy needs some relief.”
Simon opened David’s zipper wide, pressing his face in the front of his boxer briefs, inhaling deeply. Then taking the waistband, he pulled it down and David’s cock popped out, slapping his face.
“What do you say, baby, do you want Daddy’s big cock tonight?"
Instead of answering, Simon ravenously devoured David’s cock, licking and sucking. He loved the way David’s cock grew in his mouth as he licked and sucked the head, swallowing precum and teasing him to his full nine and a half inches.
A key is heard in the lock and the door to the office suddenly opens. Simon and David freeze. The night cleaning guy, a tall, lean black guy walked in without knocking and turned on the overhead light. His eyes went wide, gaping at the two men with a look of shock on his face. It was absolutely clear to him what was happening, exposing everything in the whitest, most revealing light.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
The man is tall and broad-shouldered, the kind of frame that made even the loose fit of his uniform shirt stretch at the chest and arms. His chocolate brown skin glistened faintly under the fluorescent lights, more from nerves than exertion, and a strand of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, damp with sweat. He looked like he belonged in a magazine more than a deserted office building. His eyes darted toward the door, calculating the distance, but froze again when David lifted a hand in warning.
“What’s your name?”
“Barron.”
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Barron, you’re going to do whatever I tell you to or the chairman, who is on his knees with my cock in his mouth, is going to fire your ass. Understood?”
The guy, unsure and frightened, simply nodded his head as David motioned him over. The gesture wasn’t loud or dramatic – just a small crook of a finger, commanding him closer under the unspoken threat: come forward, or lose everything.
“Barron,” David said, not harshly but firmly. “Grab that bench from under the window and bring it over here.” He did what David asked.
“Now, let’s get comfortable,” said David, motioning for Simon to get on top of the bench. “All fours, chairman, doggy-style.”
David pet Simon’s ass and then turned his attention to Barron.
“Strip!”
“Say, what?”
“Everything.”
Barron just stood there, dumbfounded.
“Now!”
Barron’s fingers hesitantly found the top button of his shirt, working each loose with deliberate slowness, the fabric parting to reveal the smooth, muscular lines of his hairless chest. He shrugged out of his shirt, throwing it behind him and brought his enormous biceps into view, transfixing both Simon and David.
Sitting on the edge of the bench, as far from Simon’s ass as possible, he removed his shoes and socks and then stood again. The sight was an erotic take-your-breath-away moment.
Unbuckling his pants and lowering his zipper, he let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. His boxer briefs hugged the form of his body like a glove. He ass was a thing of beauty, firm, round and bubbled. The front of his briefs hid a collosal, thick piece of meat that would surely hang halfway to his knees.
Putting both hands in the waist band, he dropped them to the floor revealing a magnificent beauty. Uncircumcised, hefty with a juicy crown. The balls underneath were large and held in a beautiful, crinkly sack covered with black hair. Surprisingly, to the men, it started to grow and harden. Barron simply stood there.
“Now, my little bitches, let’s get this show on the road. First thing you’re going to do, Barron, is eat his hole.”
WHAT?!!
“Don’t tell me you’ve never eaten an ass before?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“Dude, eating ass is eating ass. Ass up, chairman.”
Very apprehensively, Barron slowly moved to Simon’s rear. A few seconds go by. He just stood there.
“Well?”
Barron slowly got down on his knees, staring at Simon’s ass.
“Show the man the pretty pussy you have to offer him.”
Simon, looking backward, used both hands and opened his hole wide, granting access. Staring at the butthole for a second or two, Barron cautiously touched Simon’s cheeks, slowly and hesitantly, as if testing them. He started to gently rub the left then the right, opening the crack, putting a finger on the pucker.
Simon groaned. Barron slowly moved his mouth to the chairman’s ass, biting his right butt cheek, hard, leaving a mark, and spanking the left, leaving it red and stinging. His moist tongue slowly stretched out and he took a single lick of the rosebud, turning into a tonguing of the area around the hole, lapping up and down between the cheeks.
“Jesus – get inside my fuck hole,” Simon squealed, looking over his shoulder, vocal for the first time.
“Goddamn, baby, give the man a chance!” laughed David, shocked at the outburst.
Barron went directly to the hole and penetrated it directly with his tongue. Fucking Simon now, he pushed it in as deeply as it would go.
Released and free, Simon went a little crazy, proclaiming, “Yeah, that’s right! Now you’re doing it!”
David chuckled and confessed, “I think I might have created a little pussy monster.”
Barron began to shake his face from side-to-side and bury it deeper in Simon’s crack, licking and sucking on his hole. He slobbered on one cheek than the other. Up from Simon’s perineum, over his balls, then far into the furrow from one side to the other.
“Thanks for the help getting his ass ready, Barron. Now this slut is going to swallow that monster of yours and we’re going have a spit roast!”
Barron moved slowly to the opposite side of Simon, lining up with his mouth. Grabbing his huge, semi-soft cock, David pulled it to Simon’s mouth.
“Now, pussy boy, I want to see you get this cock hard and swallow every drop of cum that comes out of his balls. Do it for me, pussy baby! Do it for your Daddy!”
Simon leaned forward until his lips were only a fraction of an inch from Barron’s cock, the thick hair that covered his balls brushing against his chin. Then, almost delirious with desire, he slowly sucked the head of the fat dick into his mouth. Inch by inch, the soft spongy shaft filled his throat, and Simon felt the enormous penis begin to grow.
Brings his hands up to caress Barron’s balls, he pulled them down gently, away from the huge cock, which now stood straight up, at least a ten-inch column, thick at the head and even wider at the base.
All caution abandoned, Simon flicked his tongue, savoring the first drops of salty precum. He bobbed his head low to catch a small rivulet of ball juice then ran his tongue up and down the shaft towards the flaring cockhead.
“Tell me if you want it, pussy boy? Do you want Daddy’s big dick up your ass?” asked David.
Simon pulled his mouth off Barron’s cock long enough to almost scream out, “Yes… please Daddy, I want to feel it in me.” Simon knew he wanted it more than anything else he’d ever wanted in his life.
He put the large, wide head of his cock at Simon’s ass, slapping back and forth against the hole, teasing him, sliding it up and down his crack. The big mushroom head gradually pushed inside his opening, he held it just inside Simon’s sphincter, wiggling it, by shaking his hips.
Even with his mouth full of cock, Simon still let out a big groan at his ass invasion stretching his mouth as wide open as he could, taking Barron’s mighty beast deep into his throat.
“That’s the way! Work that head!” growled Barron.
David began sliding his fuck piece in and out of Simon, slowly at first, but with steadily increasing power. Simon can feel every tantalizing inch of that cock throbbing inside him like steel. David’s fuck strokes are smooth and strong, churning Simon’s guts, sending waves of electric heat through him. He’s already gasping with pleasure, mouth filled with cock, and David hasn’t even switched to high gear yet. It’s an all-out blistering attack on his hole.
Seemingly endless, Simon wouldn’t miss the chance to suck Barron’s cock. He opened his throat wider than he had ever known was possible and pushed the head down further until he swallowed it to the very base. Pubic hair blanketed his face, and with two hands he raised Barron’s weighty balls and held them close against his chin.
The sweet salty taste against his tongue was delicious. After slurping each of the big balls, he buried his face in Barron’s nut sack, using the tongue to lick the underside and the tender ridge that led to Barron’s asshole.
“That’s right! Love on those motherfucking nuts!” cried Barron.
David began to push his entire shaft, slowly, inch-by-inch, into Simon’s hole, stretching it to the limit. Then pulled out . Over and over.
“Take that fucking dick for Daddy!” David purred, leaning over to whisper in Simon’s ear.
Panting wildly with moans and groans at the ride he’s getting from behind, Simon began to suck Barron’s cock in earnest. Grabbing the shaft with both hands, he pumped the silken sheath of skin up and down as his tongue and mouth licked and sucked at the head, milking.
“Love on that meat, bitch. Nurse it!” cried Barron, getting close.
Simon felt David’s massive girth as it slid into him, hard as steel, and when it hit that magic spot, he screamed out. David’s weight rested heavily on Simon’s back, his chest expanding, grabbing him around the waist for maximum pounding.
“All the way in, Daddy! All the way!” squealed Simon, squeezing down on David’s cock with his ass.
With David’s stomach and tight abs leaning on his ass cheeks and his large balls nestled between his thighs, Simon noticed the feel of pubic hair scratching the top of his crack, feeling every ridge of David’s dick, that was now completely inside him.
“You like it pushing inside you, don’t you, baby,” declared David. “Daddy shoving that great big cock up inside your hole!”
As Barron’s head rolled from side to side, his moans of pleasure almost constant, his hips began to fuck forward to thrust his cock deeper and deeper into Simon’s mouth
“Oh, my fucking God…suck that big dick…here it comes!”
Suddenly realizing that Barron was about to shoot, Simon opened his lips wide and swallowed that dick to the root, pressing his face deep into his crotch as he cups his balls with both hands. He could feel them tighten in their sack and pull toward the core of Barron’s body as the first scalding jets of semen began to fly down his throat.
David pounded Simon’s ass without mercy. In. Out. Pushing against each wall of his chute. Plowing his prostrate and plunging to the bottom of his cunt. David was almost climbing on Simon’s back to go deeper.
“You, little bitch. Take what I fucking give you!” roared David, sweat running down his muscled back.
After the first, most intense shudders had passed of Barron’s orgasm, Simon slipped his mouth back off Barron’s dick far enough to be able to taste the last few shots – still more than enough to fill his mouth and coat his tongue. Barron held Simon’s face on his still vibrating cock, making him able to pump in Simon’s mouth and provide a kind of ballast for the pounding the man was taking from behind.
“You’re a cum whore, baby. Keep that up and I’m going to blow!”
Simon’s dick throbbed and his mouth watered at the thought of taking cum in both his holes. He groaned and pushed back against David’s pistoning cock, picking up speed.
Barron stepped away, Simon’s face was covered in cum. David grabbed him, held his ass in place and fucked himself with it, forcing his butt up and down on his rod.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! I love your big dick, Daddy,” shouted Simon, shooting his first shot of cum without even touching his cock. Spurt after spurt came out of the head, drenching the floor in a cloud of white.
David continued fucking himself with Simon’s ass until he felt that sensation - the contraction and squeeze of Simon’s ass muscles - and he lost it.
“Baby, open up that cunt for me. I’m gonna fill you up!”
Simon could feel every spurt of cum that filled his ass. Wad after wad. So much that it started to leak out of Simon in dirty white pearls.
Collapsing on Simon’s back, David felt a long, drawn-out tugging sensation as he slid off and down to the floor. His bloated cock slowly slid through the sensitive walls of Simon’s tightly clenched ass. The big head caught on his inner ring, held there for a moment, and then finally slid out, leaving him empty. Juice flowed out of Simon’s ass like a river.
Leaning against the table, the three men panted. The only reason Simon was able to stand was because he leaned against David’s chest, between his legs, for support.
A deep sense of calm settled into every part of them, as they came down and focused on the present. The moment frightened Simon because it felt so good. Not reckless. Just honest. As though some locked part of him had finally been allowed to breathe. The strange thing was how natural it felt once he stopped resisting it. It was the comfort of knowing that, for a little while, nothing outside this room mattered.
“Barron, my friend, you were amazing,” said David, finally.
“Thanks, D,” Barron replied. “It was off the charts hot!”
David, slipping him a hundred, chuckled, “You don’t think I could take a chance on just anyone coming in on us, do you, chairman?
His words pulsed through Simon’s body, even the unexpected arrival of Barron, had been managed and controlled by David - searing away the last fragments of resistance. He had completely given control over someone else, but it had been someone he trusted and that had been a kind of release in itself.
Outside of this room, he knew he was totally comfortable with all the various responsibilities of running a company: strength, focus, and all aspects of being a leader who is respected rather than loved.
But inside, he had discovered a place of complete and total yielding and a gorgeous man who wanted to provide it. He expected humiliation in letting go of control. What he found instead was relief.
He had spent so much of his life believing control was strength that he never realized how exhausted it had made him. Letting go should have terrified him. Instead, it felt like finally putting down something incredibly heavy for a few hours and falling into release. It provided, he decided, the. necessary component needed to truly be successful in his work.
He also knew these realizations had forever changed him and from this point on, he would understand his life as two parts: before and after.
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