Master of the Universe Ch. 01

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Harry Brennan reached over and hit the disconnect button on his speaker phone and chortled with glee. "A cool nine million in settlement, of which we get three - not bad for an afternoon's work," he thought to himself as he rubbed his hands together quickly, stood and walked over to the clear wall of glass forming one side of his huge corner office overlooking San Diego Bay.

From fifty two floors up, the graceful sailboats were no more than little white dots moving slowly across the flat bay towards the curved Coronado Bridge. He slowly folded his arms across his chest and peered down at the small boats as they slid across the dark blue water streaked with orange from the setting sun. "It doesn't get any better than this," he said quietly, in a half whisper to himself. "I am the master of all before me."

At age forty seven, Harry Brennan was an icon in the legal profession. Practically inventing the shareholder derivative lawsuit, he had made a fortune for himself and his partners making companies pay for surprise earnings shortfalls. It was simple really. A company announces a surprise shortfall in earnings due to lower sales, higher expenses or some unforeseen event. The value of the stock drops immediately; sometimes as much as fifty percent. Harry then immediately files suit on behalf of shareholders who bought the stock at the previously higher price, alleging fraud, misrepresentation or concealment of material information.

All he has to find is one high company official who made even one overly optimistic public statement about the company's performance and bingo, the case is made. Against the largest companies with millions of shareholders, and he now doesn't bother with smaller ones, the damages would easily reach into the tens or even hundreds of millions of dollars. His firm had gotten so good at pressing and winning these types of cases that most companies just settled as soon as they heard Brennan was after them. Today's Fortune 500 software company was no different. They were glad to pay the nine million bucks just to get Brennan out of their lives. Harry pulled in forty two million for the firm last year, of which he personally kept a little more than half. After nearly twenty years of corporate shakedowns, old Harry was personally worth more than a hundred and fifty million, give or take a few million. Not bad for the son of a bartender.

"This calls for a little celebration tonight" he thought to himself. He called in two of his young associates who jumped at the chance to go drinking and clubbing with the boss and told his secretary to call his wife and tell her he had a late meeting, expected to go all night and not to wait up for him. It wasn't the first time he had his secretary call his wife Betty with that sort of news so it wouldn't come as a big surprise to her. Harry knew Betty would be pissed but fuck her, let her be pissed.

What is she going to do about it, leave? Not a chance - not with three kids, no money of her own and no prospect of making anything but minimum wage. The pre-nup was rock solid, having stood up in his two prior divorces. If she left, she got nothing, not a penny. It's not likely she would leave the plush life of a mansion in Rancho Santa Fe for a furnished, one room walk up. She's a smart cookie. She'll put up with whatever I do and shut up about it or I'll shut her up.

Harry peered down at the Bay and thought about last month when he had to remind her of that. I think she learned her lesson well. The spoiled little bitch decided she wasn't going to put out when I wanted her. I convinced her otherwise, shoving my dick deep down her throat, pulling her head down by her long, blonde hair to get it all the way in. She did nothing with her tongue so I just fucked her hard, banging the back of her throat, making her gag over and over again. I even pinched her tits hard but she still did nothing but stare at me. Then she just went limp, forcing me to hold her up on her knees by her hair. Finally, I got disgusted, flung her on the bed, tied her hands to the headboard with my necktie, put her up on her knees and fucked her hard, spreading her legs wide with my knees. She was dry as a bone and sobbing like a baby. "Go cry to your shrink bitch, cause I don't want to hear it!" She sure wailed when I slapped her on the ass a few times and forced her to spread wider. God, what a racket!

The dry bitch was starting to chaff me so I spit on my palm, slicked it over my shaft and plunged it in again. After a few pumps she was still sitting there on her knees, totally passive, sobbing and telling me to stop. I have to admit, I was a little buzzed from the four scotch and sodas I had that night and getting a little pissed myself. I'm not sure exactly what happened but I remember seeing her rosy little ass hole squeezing open and shut as I rammed her cunt and thought now that would teach her a lesson. I pulled my dick out, spit on my palm again, slicked it over my shaft, pried open her ass cheeks with my thumbs and shoved the head of my dick hard against that nice, tight little red hole.

You would have thought I had shoved a hot branding iron up her ass from the reaction. She screamed like a stuck pig - sort of a half squeal, half yell of surprise. Before she could recover, I pushed it in as hard as I could, pulling her cheeks apart with my thumbs until her ass cheeks were facing sideways. She was incredibly tight. I popped through her sphincter in short order and slowly slid my shaft in, a fraction of an inch at a time. She was screaming bloody murder at this point so I ripped off her silk nightie, quickly flipped it into a bandana of sorts and tied it around her mouth, pulling it deeply into the corners of her lips and tying it tightly behind her head.

She grunted and screamed in her throat but the noise was muffled by the nightie. I resumed the pressure, sliding my dick into her ass. It was unbelievably tight, like a fist holding my dick and trying to squeeze it to death. She tried to buck me off but I had her pinned with my shins on the back of her knees, my hands holding, ripping her cheeks apart and my 220 lb bulk pressed hard into her ass. She continued to flail away but the bucking just helped drive it in deeper. Relentlessly, inexorably, the thick shaft slid home, moving deeper and deeper into her rectum. Finally, after several minutes of bucking and flailing she stopped and went absolutely still. I finished spearing her, pushing the last inch in and pressing it home.

"Okay bitch, you don't like it your mouth or your cunt, let's see if you like getting fucked in the ass." I let go of one ass cheek , grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and yanked her head back. She let out a loud moan from deep within her throat. I slowly withdrew my dick a couple of inches and then plunged it in again hard, yanking on her hair for leverage. Again a moan but no flailing.

"Well, I guess the princess has finally given up. You should have done that a while ago bitch. Now I'm just going to have to finish this." Again. I pulled out and then plunged it in again. The tight pressure on my dick was indescribably delicious. Faster and faster I pumped her ass, pulling out almost all of the way before plunging it in hard and deep. I noticed a trickle of blood seeped out of her ass as I pulled out. The blood lubricated my dick nicely; I pumped her faster. My dick was a red blur, plunging in and out of her ass, smearing blood on her ass crack with every stroke. She was making little mewling sounds like a wounded animal but otherwise remained completely still, crying out only when I yanked hard on her hair to drive my dick hard up her ass.

It was unbelievably good. Her hot blood seeped around my cock, lubricating it as I pumped harder and harder into her tight little ass. There was blood on my hands as I held her cheeks apart and they slipped a bit as I tried to hold her tight. Finally, I exploded, screaming like a maniac as I came. I jammed it all the way up as I pumped load after load of hot cum into her tight butt. I collapsed on top of her after one final shot, burying myself into her up to the hilt, balls tight against her soft, furry, crotch. Blood, sweat and cum all mixed to together to form a sort of musky, metallic smell that covered both of us.

I think Betty must have passed out somewhere along the line because she didn't move, even after I was finished. I had a moment of panic thinking I might have killed her, but immediately saw that she was breathing. I rolled over and must have passed out myself because in the morning I awoke to find that she was still tied to the headboard. God, there was blood everywhere but the bitch asked for it. She just got a little more than what she bargained for that's all. I untied her, showered, dressed and left. She never said a word about it.

I liked it so much that I've fucked her in the ass a couple of more times since then. I guess she sort of liked it too. I had to laugh because since then she always greases her ass with KY before we go at it. Guess she didn't care for the blood and spittle lube job the first time. She still cries and mewls and lays there passive but I guess that's just her way of enjoying it.

Of course, the way I tied her up the last time, on her back, legs up and back over her shoulders, spread wide and tied to the headboard, there wasn't much she could do about it anyway. Hell, I'm sure it gives her something to talk about with her shrink. She's up to twice a week now and it's costing me a small fortune but if it gives her someone besides me to cry and complain to, it's worth it.

The scenes flashed through Harry's mind in just a few minutes as he was lost in a sort of reverie staring out of the picture window at the magnificent sunset. His two young associates, not wanting to interrupt the master, waited patiently for him to turn and recognize them.

The associates, Tim and Frank, had practically lost their own identity working for Harry. They had even lost their own names at the firm. Everybody at the firm referred to them as "Little Brennan One" and "Little Brennan Two," or in the short hand everyone use "Elby One" and "Elby Two," because of their slavish imitation of his dress, mannerisms and speech. They didn't mind it a bit. In fact, they prided themselves on the comparison and competed with each other for Harry's attention. Harry loved it. It fed his ravenous ego.

"How 'bout the Bluelight fellas," Harry said as he turned around to face his young charges, the question was purely rhetorical. "Should be jumpin' tonight. Tim, why don't we take your car. You're the light beer drinker - you drive."

Tim smiled and nodded his agreement. On his way out, Harry heard his secretary telling Betty he'd be tied up in a meeting until after midnight and not to wait up for him. It was the standard line. She knew it was a lie. He knew she knew it was a lie. He didn't care one bit. In act, it made it even more exciting, more ego enhancing.

. . .

The Bluelight Club was a hot little club in the Gaslamp district downtown that Harry loved to go to. The bartender knew him and, more importantly, knew of him and took care of his every need. The drinks flowed, the music was hot and the women were hotter. It was the "in" place for the twenty something crowd and it had the absolutely best looking women; all young, eager and hot.

Even though Harry was more than a few years west of his twenties and bit portly to boot, he had never failed to score in that place and usually with the hottest, best looking babe there. The diamond encrusted, gold Rolex, the three thousand dollar suit and thousand dollar shoes all helped.

The friendly bartender, Max, sidling over to a fair lass and whispering a short explanation of just who he was didn't hurt either. The C-note tips to Max sort of reinforced the image of power and money that exuded from every inch of him and kept Max happy and eager to please.

Harry sat at his usual corner booth with his two young charges. He replayed the day's events to them, even imitating the shaky, pleading voice of the poor female CEO begging Harry to take the nine million. As Harry talked, his eyes surveyed the club from an ideal vantage point. It was no accident. Harry planned almost everything he did. He picked this booth for its strategic girl-watching location. It had an unobstructed view of the front entrance and bar area and it was near the lady's room which allowed him to get a close look of just about every lady in the room sometime during the evening.

He watched the young things come in, some escorted by their young boyfriends, most, as was usual at this place, came in groups of two, three or four gals, all dressed in their skimpiest and raring to go. He made a mental note of where the truly ravishing young beauties went for later recall while continuing the tale to his young charges who hung on every word and laughed at every joke. After a few more war stories and lubricated by a few more drinks, Harry's sharp and always roving eye spotted an absolute stunner coming in by herself.

She headed immediately for the ladies room which took her within a few feet of Harry's table as she went by. Harry caught the slightest whiff of her perfume, jasmine scented, as she passed.

Harry was caught off guard by the sight. Practiced at nonchalant observance, Harry could size up a prospect in a fraction of a second with a rapid scan of one eye without her even knowing it, but this one caught his eye and riveted it in place. She was tall, at least five foot ten, maybe even six feet tall in her high heels, with jet black hair down to her creamy white skin shoulders and with a nicely rounded decolletage above the deep "V" of her short, black satin dress. It looked more like a nightgown or slip than a dress. Together with her very narrow waist, tight little butt and long, shapely legs, she was quite a package.

Harry looked away and then furtively glanced back, taking in the whole picture. He liked what he saw. She had the sleek, muscular legs of a dancer and moved with a dancer's grace, bearing and confidence. She had high cheekbones, a short, straight nose and full, sensuous lips, but her eyes, her eyes were her most striking feature. They were an icy blue and stood out even in the dim light of the club. She was expressionless as she went by and looked neither left nor right, not seeming to notice Harry staring as she passed.

Harry was so stunned by her appearance that he stopped his story in mid-sentence as she passed, regaining his voice only after she was well past.

"Whooowee, did you see that?!" Harry exclaimed pursing his lips to whistle.

Elby One and Elby Two echoed the sentiment and whistled their admiration in unison. "That is one hot little number," whispered Two in keeping with the fraternity boys spirit. "I don't know boss," said One, "she's a knockout but she looked a little cold to me, not too receptive if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, she may look a little cool on the outside. Most stunningly beautiful women deliberately look that way just to keep the hungry horde off of them but they're just as hot on the inside as any other woman and just waiting to be taken by the right guy," Harry advised in his most worldly tone.

One and Two nodded in agreement. They had perfected the "I agree completely" nod a long time ago and now did it without conscious effort when Harry spoke. They sipped away at their drinks, quiet for a few minutes, their conversational train broken and swept away by the gorgeous apparition in black that just went by.

Harry sensed her return first, not by sight or sound but by smell - sweet jasmine, just the slightest hint but definitely there, followed a few moments later by the short, tight, black satin sheath dress and smooth black nylon encased legs. She moved easily, hips churning, white arms and shoulders swinging freely, head erect, back straight; she had the posture of a runway model with the bored, blank expression to match. As she approached, she made a half right turn around a table and then headed for the bar.

It was early yet and there were still plenty of seats. She drew up between two vacant bar stools, pulled one out a little and gracefully seated herself, drawing her feet up to rest on the cross bar of the low backed seat. She quickly scanned the room, then turned her head to the left and motioned to the bartender, Max, who was talking to a short blonde about five seats away from her.

Max looked over at her, arched one eyebrow in appreciative recognition of a truly stunning woman, smiled broadly and ambled on over to her. Harry saw her speak a few words to Max and Max, responding with a smiling "Yes Ma'am," reached down, pulled up an open bottle of champagne, and poured it with a bit of flare.

He placed the wide champagne glass down in front of her on a small, white napkin, smiled again and nodded in acknowledgment of her short "Thanks." She had no sooner brought the glass up to her glossy red lips when a well built young man slid up beside her, leaned over and said a few words. Harry noticed he was practiced and self-assured, as if pick-up success was guaranteed.

The lady turned and, without noticeable expression said a few words to him that seemed to have the impact of a punch in the solar plexus. The young man visibly winced, sagged and retreated quickly, withdrawing to a table full of laughing friends.

Harry continued to watch the woman in fascination. She sipped her drink, crossed her right leg demurely over her left as she surveyed the room as though looking for somebody, and sipped her drink once again. A few silent minutes passed as the two facsimile Brennans knew better than to interrupt the boss when he was locked in and tracking.

Harry sipped his third scotch and soda in quiet appreciation of this remarkable lady. A second young lounge lizard made his approach, biceps bulging from a green, sleeveless tee-shirt, gold jewelry dangling and chiming as he moved in alongside of her. Harry saw him lean over and whisper a few words into her right ear.

She smiled up at him when he pulled away, the first sign of expression of any kind on her beautiful face, crooked her finger motioning him to lean back over and whispered something in his ear. Like the first would-be stud, he visibly winced and sagged, then quickly turned and retreated. A little smile creased her mouth briefly as she watched the retreat before the expressionless mask returned.

She finished her drink and set the glass back down on the bar as she again surveyed the club as though looking for somebody.

Undeterred by the two rapid rejections he had just witnessed and sensing an opening, Harry turned to his two young aides and said: "Might be back in a minute, maybe not. If I hit, don't bother waiting for me." His two young aides smiled and nodded in agreement.

Harry strode over to the bar, took the seat to the lady's left, motioned to Max and ordered a scotch and soda for himself and a glass of champagne for the lady. Turning slowly towards her, he said: "I thought you might like a refill and, I must confess, thought I'd use that as an opening to meet you.

"And just why did you want to meet me," she answered evenly. Harry laughed and said, "I just had to meet the lady who shot down those two young studs with such deadly aim - I've never seen two guys flamed with such speed and panache."

Max finished pouring the scotch, gave the glass a short blast of soda and set it down. Max was about to refill the lady's glass from the open bottle he had just used when Harry said, "c'mon Max, give her the good stuff; I'm buying." With that, Harry withdrew his wallet from his inside breast pocket and withdrew a hundred dollar bill. Folding it lengthwise, he put in on the bar and slid it to Max.