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Some clients thought the “Bull” in the Bull Thorne Financial Services name
related to Wall Street symbols, but those who had known Jim “Bull” Thorne the
longest knew he had that nickname because he had the longest, thickest dick in
Texas. Of course, it could just as well have been an acknowledgment that he also
had the biggest pair of balls in Houston, based on the dictatorial and ruthless
way he ran his highly successful corporation. Jim Thorne was still ruggedly
handsome at fifty, and he surrounded himself with those who were equally
ruthless, handsome, and on the make for financial success—at any cost or
personal sacrifice. It was all about control, and who controlled who, Thorne
always told his subordinates. So the gasp that went around the twenty-sixth
floor boardroom when the newest vice president, Keith Turner, challenged
Thorne’s decision on the Mason account, was audible down in the ground-floor
lobby. It meant nothing that everyone in the room knew Turner had a good point.
Thorne had closed down the meeting immediately and told Turner he wanted to see
him in his office—now.
When Turner arrived at the large, corner office of the corporation president,
with its floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, providing an eagle’s view of
Texas, Thorne made him stand in front of the mile-wide mahogany desk, while the
angry president prowled around him, working himself into a frenzy. Thorne locked
the door, came around in front of his desk, and addressed his subordinate
through clinched teeth.
“When I made you a vice president, you said you clearly understood who made the
decisions around here—who was in control. Right?”
“Right, Bull. But the Mason account . . .”
“And do you remember what, exactly, I said at the time that you were to do in
terms of loyalty?”
“Umm, no, not exactly. But the Mason . . .”
“Let me refresh your memory, then. I said, in these exact words, ‘Don’t fuck
with me or I’ll fuck you.’ Now do you remember?”
“Yes, sir,” Turner answered weakly.
“And I’ve made no secret that I fuck men, have I?”
“No, sir.” Turner was turning pale now. He knew what the original of “Bull” in
Jim Thorne’s name meant.
“And I also said at the time that my statement was a literal one. Do you
remember that part too?”
“Yes, sir, but . . .” Turner was speaking in almost a whisper now.
“Well, you have two choices, Turner. I have to have control and total submission
in this office. I’ve made no secret of that. You can either turn and leave—walk
out of your job and this office without so much as a letter of recommendation—or
you can give me total control and submission. Which is it?”
A slight pause, and then Turner whispered, “Submission. I will totally submit.”
“And you will do so in a way you’ll never forget,” Thorne said with a sneer.
The Bull was suddenly on the move. “Strip,” he commanded.
“But, sir . . .”
“Strip all the way down, move to the center of the room, and throw your clothes
over there.” While Turner was complying with a sigh of resignation, Thorne was
searching around in his drawer for that tube of lubricant he always kept there.
Then, with Turner watching him, his lips trembling and letting out a low moan at
the sight of what was between the Bull’s thighs, Thorne stripped down as well.
He walked over to the pile of Turner’s clothes and pulled out the younger man’s
expensive silk tie, and then he walked back to Turner, tie and lubricant in
hand.
“Down on your knees and open your mouth to me,” Thorne said.
With a sigh, Turner did so, and reached for that gigantic cock, already
mesmerized by it.
“No,” Thorne said. “I just said to open to me, not to show any signs of control.
Hold perfectly still. And raise your wrists to me.”
Thorne used that expensive tie to bind the younger man’s wrists behind his back.
Thorne then pushed his cock into Turner’s mouth with one hand and took his head
with both of hands.
“A lesson of control,” the company president said. “I control everything. You
control nothing. All you are is a warm, wet chamber for my cock. Just be warm
and wet and open to me. Leave the rest of the control to me.”
And although Turner couldn’t help gagging a bit, he tried to comply fully with
his boss.
“Now go tighter. Touch me closely on all sides.” That wasn’t at all hard to do,
because Thorne was so thick and long, even though he hadn’t hardened out yet.
Thorne pumped Turner’s head back and forth on his cock for a few minutes, trying
to demonstrate his obedience, which was total, and getting Thorne’s cock real
hard.
Then, pulling out of Turner’s mouth, the Bull said, “Go down on your back right
here.” Turner rolled back onto his butt and then on his back without comment or
objection. The athletic Thorne went down on his knees between Turner’s thighs
and pulled the younger man’s butt up on his thighs. He also brought Turner’s
hands over his head and back to his front.
“Now, I’m going to fuck you—unless you’ve decided you don’t want to work for me
anymore.”
Silence, filled only by the sound of lubricant slapping against tender asshole.
“Good. Now, as I work my way in, I want you to jerk yourself off. And I want you
to cum when I’m in to the hilt—and not before. Understand?”
Turner nodded, a serious look on his face. Thorne slathered his dick with lube,
guided it to Turner’s asshole, and rotated it around, working it in, while
Turner began to stroke himself and pulling at his balls with his bound hands.
Turner was concentrating hard on how he was going to ejaculate on cue. Thorne
was pleased. Turner hadn’t questioned the instruction. Turner had been a prime
pick for vice president—and, truth be known, Thorne had been planning to pork
his young associated for some time—so it was good that Turner was going to
submit and be staying with the firm.
Thorne slowly worked his monster cock into his subordinate’s ass, as the younger
man obediently pulled on his cock. The Bull closely watched the tension build in
the man he was fucking and managed to be at nine inches inside him when he
yelled “Now” in a raspy voice, and Turner shot his load up Thorne’s flat belly.
As Turner ejaculated on cue, Thorne pushed his dick in the last half inch. He
looked down at the white globs of semen running down his black belly hair and
perched on top of Turner’s golden-red pubic hairs. He liked what he saw, but
this hadn’t been enough of a turn-on for the Bull. The display of his control
was turning Thorne on, but he needed the closeness the merging of bodies, his
fully dominant over the other, before he himself could reach an orgasm.
“You realize this was just for instruction, don’t you?” Thorne spoke to Turner
as he squeezed his balls and pulled on his spent cock, his own cock still hard
and buried to the root in his subordinate’s ass. “I was the one who controlled
when you had fulfilled this task, not you. Even though you thought this was your
responsibility. It wasn’t. You realize that now, don’t you? You realize that I
held off filling you until you had cum.”
“Yes, Sir.” Turner answered meekly.
“And you know now that this isn’t all that I want, don’t you? How quickly can
you learn? Quick enough to save that vice president’s salary of yours?”
“I can learn quickly, Sir,” Turner answered quietly. “I want you inside me. And
I know that you want closeness, tightness as well as submission and control. Is
that right?”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m going to unbind you now, and I’m going to fuck your
lights out right here and in this position, and I want you to show that you can
handle the tightness and closeness without the bonds. You will know if and when
you succeed because your insides will be bathed in my cum. Do you want that?”
“Oh yes, please, Sir. Flood me with your cum.”
Thorne untied Turner then and enfolded him in his arms, belly to belly and
nipples to nipples. Turner’s curly red chest hair tickled Thorne’s hulking pecs.
The Bull wrapped his arms around the younger tightly, holding his back down on
the floor. Turner returned the hug, wrapping his arms around his boss as well
and holding him tightly, almost taking the breath out of the older man with his
strong arms. Turner’s strong, swimmers legs wrapped around Thorne below his
buttocks, pulling him in close, holding him tight and tightening his ass canal
as much as he could around Thorne’s already-buried cock. The two executives
kissed deeply, and then Turner buried his face in Thorne’s neck, trying to pull
himself into Thorne at every point as much as he could. Turner was surrendering
to Thorne entirely, and the older man felt the sexual urge flood into him. He
pumped and pumped and pumped at various levels, sometimes pulling out to give
Turner’s prostate attention. The younger man moaned and trembled at this but
continued to hang on to his boss as tightly as he could.
When the Bull came, flooding the very center of the younger man in spasms of
semen, Turner ejaculated again himself and collapsed back on the rug, arms and
legs askew.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “It was just too much. I couldn’t hang on any longer. I’ve
been royally fucked. This is the greatest.”
“Do you want me to pull out of you now?” Thorne asked.
“Whatever you want,” Turner answered quietly. “You are in total control. Do what
you want with me.”
“Good choice,” the Bull answered gruffly. “Remember, if you fuck with me again,
I’ll fuck you again. And maybe I will even if you don’t fuck with me.”
* * *
Keith Turner wasn’t all that displeased when he was released from the Bull’s
office. His ass was sore from the gigantic tool the Bull had, but this had
answered a question he’d had since he’d come on board and heard rumors that the
boss was horse hung. Yes, he could take almost ten inches of thick cock. He’d
had that extension toy in his own desk for weeks, wondering if he could get one
of his fuck buddies to try out that length, but now he wouldn’t have to
experiment with that.
He felt slightly humiliated at having had to give up control like that, though,
so he was loaded for bear when he saw the memo on his desk from his own
accounting section disallowing that bar tab he’d run up at the convention in Las
Vegas the previous month.
Who did this Craig Wilson think he was disallowing whatever tab he, a vice
president, chose to charge to the office? Sure, they’d played on the same office
football team and had playfully snapped each other with towels in the locker
room shower—and Keith had obviously been attracted to the young, studly
blond—but, as the Bull said, this office was built on the concept of control and
rank, and Craig Wilson would just have to be taught where he ranked in the
pecking order.
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