The Theft of Our Lives 06 Pt. 02

Disclaimer: This story's primary theme is non-consensual in the form of blackmail and coercion, which is why I chose to post it in this category, but I can't say this strongly enough, it also contains incest, cuckoldry, interracial sex, and various other sexual acts between adults. If any of those acts offend you, I encourage you not to read it, so reader beware. This story and all characters are fictional, and any resemblance to businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal, and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18-years-old or older. All rights reserved.

POKER PARTY AT THE MANSION

Mustering all his willpower as my voracious wife applied more suction to his throbbing cock, feverishly working to drain the spunk from his cum-laden balls, Nate managed to pull Emma's vacuuming mouth off his raging hard prick in a Herculean effort.

"Huhhh?," my surprised wife decried, almost as if disappointed at the sudden absence of his pulsing cock from between her lush lips, but she soon learned the reason for his refusal to cum in her mouth and finish the objectionable job.

"Hands and knees, babe," the smiling community benefactor instructed, abruptly standing with his long cock waving about while ushering Emma to the padded coffee table.

Nate purposefully placed my obedient wife at an angle where I got the best view of the action and the ecstatic expression on her face. He wanted to be sure Hank was satisfied with Emma's and my humiliation, of that, I was certain.

"You always look so fucking sexy in the charity's office on your volunteer days, with your huge jugs so temptingly presented mere inches from my eyes," Nate taunted lasciviously.

"I enjoy seeing you leaning over my desk, Emma, but I'm really looking forward to getting you on all fours. I think it's the natural position for a big-titted slut's use, and I think it will enhance our future work together too," he added, making his intentions perfectly clear.

Sensitive and emotionally wounded as her self-esteem suffered continuous assaults, Emma frowned at the demeaning term 'use,' and no doubt in part because it was becoming truer with each man she screwed.

"I mean, seriously, you have the most amazing set of tits, and I'm dying to see 'em swinging away while I fuck you in front of your husband," he cruelly stated for good measure.

My cock twitched at his disparaging insult, and I'm sure Emma found his objectification of her body humiliating and dehumanizing, reducing her from a respectable wife and mother to nothing more than a big set of tits and a warm place to put his cock.

More embarrassingly perhaps, she was shamefully wet from the sexual games so far tonight, making it easy for Nate to belly up to her round bottom, grab her fleshy hips, and slip the fat knob of his meaty cock into her slippery cunt.

"Uhhh," she sighed mournfully at the intrusion, bracing herself with hands pressed into the padded surface anticipating what she knew came next.

After a brief pause, the contented philanthropist sank the full 9" length of his wide shaft deep into Emma's violated pussy, fulfilling his vision of her as a compliant sex doll with a body built for only one purpose -- fucking.

"Ohhhhhhh, ohhh shit!" she gasped as her expansive sleeve accepted each inch of Nate's thick tool all too fast, unprepared for the rapid assault.

From my position nearby, Emma's beautiful green eyes popped wide, and her jaw dropped precipitously as her suddenly engorged channel stretched, and her fat labia grasped the invading pole tightly.

"Uunnnhh," her hushed voice groaned involuntarily, with her body rocking forward absorbing the motion of Nate's forceful thrust, sending her big melons rolling forward too, hanging halfway to the tabletop swaying obscenely with the movement.

Now, fully seated in Emma's overstuffed cunt, Nate retreated again beginning the inexorable rhythmic fucking, wanting to build slowly and drive her obsession for his cock to greater heights than he had in the office.

"Ooooohhh," she cooed when he bottomed out in what was to become a recurring utterance for the next half hour.

Motivated by his own need and a secret promise from Hank for more if he was successful, the wealthy bastard intended to tap my wife's submissive need for his thick meat, making her beg for it before her emasculated husband and mortified daughter, while demeaning herself and cuckolding me before an audience of happy onlookers.

Seated in their unique easy chairs, Hank and Carl remained keen observers of everything so far, but now, it was time for Hank to give his father a special, difficult to obtain gift for the night.

Turning to our awestruck daughter, still kneeling before the depleted Chuck Robertson watching with trepidation as her mother took the large cock of her admired charity director deep into her pussy, Hank invited Kerri to her next task with a suggestive tone.

"Kerri, darling, you look so cute in your pigtails and knee socks," Hank complimented with a definite purpose. "I think dad agrees. It's been so long since he was a young man and had such a pretty thing as you available to him. I'm sure he'd appreciate you taking him down memory lane, when the company of a college girl was a common occurrence."

Our unsophisticated daughter had no clue what he was talking about, but she was smart enough to sense the insinuation and furrowed her brow with disenchantment.

"Now, why don't you be a good student and go sit on his lap?" Hank suggested, saccharinely employing his twisted way with words, when in fact his sugary sweet invitation was nothing more than an order for our pure, newly-experienced daughter to fuck the 80-year-old founder of Allenby Consolidation.

Hank had promised Carl a chance to sample the delights of the 19-year-old daughter of the man who tried to steal from the company, along with the heritage of his son and grandchildren.

Kerri's unrestrained grimace indicated the thought of touching the old man's saggy body made her queasy. Still, she had enough booze in her at this point to not put up a fight, walking to the bar in all her glorious nudity.

"Daddy, can I have another drink, and one for Mr. Allenby's father?" she asked politely, her lovely tits right in front of me so tantalizingly close a mere foot away.

Kerri's unbelievable body was so near I saw the goosebumps of nervousness across her freckled skin, with her nipples set hard as diamonds. I could almost touch them, but didn't, instead pouring the drinks she requested and then watching Kerri down her cocktail before she even made it to Carl's chair.

Standing directly in front of the old geezer, our respectful coed paused, unintentionally letting him admire her youthful beauty for a moment, perhaps insightfully understanding occasions like this occurred less frequently for the aging senior as he neared the end of his life.

Sure, Carl could hire young hookers, and sometimes did, but seeing the innocent 19-year-old daughter of one of the company's management employees grudgingly standing naked before him dolled up in pigtails, bangs, and saddle shoes with knee socks was an unusual treat.

The fact she sported the willowy body of an adult woman with lithe, toned legs and an amazing set of prominently displayed D-cup tits certainly added to the rare opportunity's appeal. It was a sight the likes of which Carl hadn't seen since taking former Allenby VP of Marketing Bart Holloway's 18-year-old daughter Beth's virginity before the disloyal executive and his wife's tearful eyes decades earlier.

**********************************

Carl Allenby was grateful he had a son to procure such young pussy for his use, missing the days when he had that omnipotent power over the employee's himself as his thoughts drifted to a time over 30 years ago.

It was the late 1980's, and he was the Founder, President, CEO, and Chairman of the Board of Allenby Consolidation, the largest logistics company in the country, acquiring it as a small trucking company nearly twenty years earlier and building it up to dominate the industry.

Carl was a powerful man and ran the company as a demanding but benevolent dictator. The employees loved working at Allenby, as it paid well and offered generous benefits. Still, there was a side of Carl only his closest associates knew -- one he would ultimately imbue upon his Hank as the prize of his life, eschewing Hank's older sister Jane in favor of the younger son in a slight wounding her to this day.

Power corrupts and over time, Carl's authority went to his head. When he realized his authority within the company was almost limitless and unchallenged, the insane fringes of sexual debauchery reared its ugly head. Over the previous five years or so, Carl leveraged that omnipotence against the most vulnerable of the many attractive women he employed in the office.

Carl wasn't unattractive, but he was never particularly good with the ladies, and eventually discovered that power overcame whatever other shortcomings he had in that arena. As he was generally well-liked by his workers and maintained an 'open door' policy for them to come to him with their problems, work-related or otherwise, he soon learned many of the deep secrets troubling his staff.

He wasn't heartless, and sincerely tried to help everyone with their issues, encouraging employees to reveal even the most personal of problems by convincing them they affected their ability to do their jobs, so should be addressed.

For the particularly attractive women, his solutions began requiring his personal attention, and some of the grateful ladies, generally young, single, and insecure, satisfied his unusual 'requests' in return, since he'd been so helpful and caring and they were so dependent on his largess.

Feeding his growing aberrant sexual desires, Carl's personal 'requests' soon blossomed into coercion and outright blackmail, especially against the older, married women not so receptive to fulfilling his needs. Deceitfully, he turned their confidential admissions against them, threatening to ruin their lives and families unless they submitted to his lascivious demands.

As is the nature of power, the more he exercised it, the greater hold it had over him. Eventually, he retained a couple of 'advisors' -- confidantes in whom he placed the greatest trust. While to an outsider they appeared to be genuine business consultants, in fact, their job was to dig up dirt used to extort his next conquest.

If they couldn't find anything, they created it, as the otherwise unimposing man was only short of ethics when it came to obtaining his goal.

Carl's unassailable position of authority and the evil manner he wielded it enabled him to corral a bevy of lovely women in his office to do as he beckoned out of sheer fear he'd destroy everything they held dear. Young or old, married or single, straight or lesbian -- if they were unfortunate enough to catch Carl's fancy, they were invariably entrapped.

Unscrupulously, the corrupted corporate titan used his most attractive indentured servants as 'closers,' as he called them to his advisors, securing business deals and rewarding exceptional job performance.

Whether a weekend at the hotel of a prospective client; or as 'hostess' at a large client's party -- really just a euphemism for an orgy; or a simple blowjob on a Friday afternoon for a department manager exceeding performance standards for the quarter; Carl's closers were available, if coerced and unwilling, to perform whatever sexual task was required.

Today, Carl wanted to introduce his beloved son Hank to his inner sanctum -- teaching him to understand and appreciate the perks of power. Hank was 23 and just out of business school. The plan was for him to work at the company and eventually succeed his father.

Carl was smart though, expecting Hank to start in an entry-level position and work his way up, learning every aspect and as importantly, every person as he went. Still, he thought it wise to give his son a taste of power to incentivize him to learn well, work hard, and develop an understanding of the enriching authority held by the top dog -- both monetarily and in other less savory ways.

"Hey, son, come on in," Carl greeted, standing from his large walnut desk, and walking to Hank standing at the entrance to his office. "Ready to get started on your new career?"

"Heck dad, I've been ready since the day I turned eighteen," Hank responded as he hugged his old man.

"Well, we needed to get you some book learning," Carl replied with his fatherly advice. "It's not the most important trait of a successful manager, but school does provide the tools you'll need to run this place someday."

"Yeah, and meet pretty coeds," Hank snickered, nodding his acknowledgement of the other aspects of a good education.

"Yes, well, before we get started, I want you to know a few things about being in charge -- about the power and responsibility. I want to give you a peek at your future, and the benefits and wonderful rewards you can attain if you work hard and apply yourself."

"Yes, sir," the respectful son acknowledged.

"I'm not going to give you the keys to the company just because you're my son," the older Allenby explained didactically. "Nonetheless, I want you to see how I live and the perks that come with power."

"Son, I've built this company from nothing, and over time I've acquired the trappings of a lifestyle I hope you too will enjoy someday," Carl continued with his monologue. "I'm going to give you a glimpse of that lifestyle right now. Call it a graduation present but think of it as an insight into your potential future, if you're willing to work for it."

"Mrs. Hamilton, would you come in here please," Carl called, hitting a button on his desk intercom.

Carl had summoned his longtime personal secretary, Joyce Hamilton, into his office. Mrs. Hamilton had been with the company for 19 years; the last 10 as secretary to the president. Hank had known her for most of his life when visiting his dad at work.

In her twenties and a newlywed when she was hired, Mrs. Hamilton was now in her mid-forties, had a couple of kids, and a comfortable life in the suburbs. She was attractive, with her age adding a certain sophisticated beauty only the maturity of years can grant.

Slender and of average height at 5'6", Joyce kept her ash blonde hair in a professional style suited for the period. On this day, she was dressed in a single-piece light blue double-knit business dress with stockings and modest black pumps.

Conservative in design, the dress didn't completely hide what appeared to be a generous bust and shapely ass, despite her overall slim physique. The respectable woman's black, large-framed glasses completed her contemporary executive secretary appearance.

"Hank, you remember Mrs. Hamilton, right?" Carl inquired as a form of introduction.

"Of course, dad. I think she's been your secretary since like, well, forever," Hank replied, reaching to shake the proper secretary's hand.

"That's right, Hank. I can remember you running around here terrorizing the secretarial pool when you'd visit your dad," Joyce jokingly reminded Hank in a pleasantly teasing fashion.

"You can drop the steno pad, Joyce, you won't be needing it," Mrs. Hamilton's boss advised his modest secretary as Carl and Hank sat down.

Mrs. Hamilton tensed at the dismissal of the primary tool of her trade, unsure what to expect but with a sudden uncertainty filling her pensive blue eyes.

"You can drop the dress too, while you're at it. You won't be needing that either," Carl continued nonchalantly.

Hank's ears suddenly pricked up at his father's order to the pretty secretary. Mrs. Hamilton gently shook her head with doubt at Carl, and her face took on an uncomfortable pleading expression. Carl remained stone-faced, and Joyce Hamilton knew she was wasting her time.

With practiced hands, the cowed secretary nervously reached behind her neck, unhooked the latch, and skillfully pulled the zipper down the back. From there it was a simple matter of shucking her shoulders and the dress collapsed to the floor at her feet.

"Just leave it there and come stand over near my desk," Carl ordered decisively when she started to bend to pick it up.

"You see, Hank, I want to show you what power over people feels like. I want you to know how good it feels and how to properly exercise it," the elder Allenby instructed his wide-eyed son.

The embarrassed middle-aged secretary now stood next to the company president's desk in full view of Hank wearing only her functional white bra, a half-slip over panties, a garter belt, and sensible hose topping her modestly heeled black pumps.

"How long have you been married now, Joyce?" Carl began his inquisition, the intent of which was to demean her in front of Hank and provide his son a lesson in how humiliation can be a tool of control and pleasure.

"Twenty years, Carl," the secretary answered sheepishly, her eyes cautiously avoiding both men.

"Happily? Do you love your husband?" Carl asked innocently. "What's his name, Stu?"

"Yes, Mr. Allenby, I love Stuart very much," she replied, submissively adopting the formal name of her boss.

"You have a couple kids too, right?" Carl's questioning continued, followed by an order presented almost as an afterthought. "You can drop the slip now."

"Yes, sir, two sons," Joyce Hamilton said simply, her eyes watering as she let the half-slip fall to her feet bringing her plain white satin panties and garter belt into view.

"Yet, you just removed your dress and are standing in my office in front of my son in just your underwear -- a happily married woman! Why would you do that?" Carl shamed his secretary with the betrayal of her marital vows.

Mrs. Hamilton's shoulders slumped, her eyes now teary and her lower lip trembling slightly, unable to bring herself to answer the intrusive query.

"You see, Hank, some years ago, I discovered Joyce had an affair," Carl interjected on her behalf to his son.

"How long had you been married at the time, Joyce?" he questioned his shaken employee as her most sensitive of secrets spilled to Hank as she stood in silence.

"Four years," she whispered in shame.

"Then, why would you do that, Joyce? Didn't you love your husband?" Carl probed, purposefully cruel in forcing the poor woman to confess her misdeeds.

Mrs. Hamilton stood contritely tremoring with regret, unable to answer the brazen inquiry.

"I suppose you never told Stu, huh? He's pretty conservative. Religious too, right?" the grinning president pressed in gravitating to the punch line. "He'd probably not tolerate an illicit affair. He'd probably leave you and take the kids with him, right?"

"It wasn't an affair. It was just a one-time mistake when I was angry and stupid," Joyce mumbled defensively.

Turning to Hank, the older Allenby finished the lesson he wished to impart at his secretary's expense.

"You see, son, with the right information you can control a person. Get them to do just about anything, I suspect," Carl offered insightfully, "but you must be ruthless, and you must be willing use it if the person doesn't to as they're told."

"Mrs. Hamilton knows I'll tell her husband everything if she doesn't obey," Carl expounded summarily. "She knows I've made video recordings over the years of her performing some of the most naughty, disreputable sex acts with a few of my associates. She also knows I'm heartless enough to ruin her life to get what I want. Isn't that right, Joyce?"

"Yes, sir," Joyce barely whispered her response.

"That's why you're standing here in front of my son in just your underwear, isn't that right, Joyce?" he pressed.

"Yes, Mr. Allenby," the chastened woman responded, once again shamed, and showing her boss respect.