Page 9 of H Is for Hardcore

JOHN A. BURKS, JR.

CONTROL

HIS LIFE WAS ABOUT CONTROL, power…domination. It didn’t matter if it was at home, with the perfect wife and the perfect kids who worshiped him, or at work, dictating to the board of directors of a Fortune 500 company. It didn’t matter where Benjamin Friar was, control was the only issue that mattered. It was what separated man from the animals. Power was absolute.

Not that having his secretary bent over the mahogany desk, panties around her ankles, his cock in her ass, was much different than the animals.

“You like that, you dirty little bitch?” he asked, already knowing the answer. There was a reason he’d hired the voluptuous blonde and it wasn’t her typing skills.

“Yes, Mr. Friar,” she replied, gasping for breath, “more please.”

Helen didn’t really like anal sex. He knew that, but making her say it…that was control, just as having her face shoved against his day planner, mascara and sweat leaving a black stain across his Thursday ten o’clock, was control.

Benjamin thrust harder, savoring the sound of the flesh of his thighs against the fatty part of her ass. “I know you do. All my little whores like it in the ass.”

The secretary shifted, grabbing at his cock with her cheeks. “Yes, Mr. Friar, fuck me harder.”

He savored the discomfort on her face and relished the thought of her walking funny the rest of the day. He pumped harder, quicker, nearing climax, as the phone on his desk rang.

“Fuck,” he spat in disgust, pulling out and reaching for the phone. The moment had been lost, his control broken by the chirping of plastic and electronics.

“Mr. Friar?”

“Yeah, maybe later, sweets,” he told her, smacking her on the ass.

“You sure? I still have a few minutes before my break is over.”

He waved her away, picking up the phone. “Later.”

“Have you really lived?” the voice on the other end of the phone, dark and rich and most definitely female, asked him.

“I’m sorry?”

“It was a simple question, Mr. Friar.”

He started to hang up, but the woman’s voice was intriguing. “I’d like to think I have.”

“You tasted flesh of every continent on this small world, Mr. Friar, sampled every delight you’ve ever desired. You’re CEO of one of the largest telecom companies in the world, having made your first million at the ripe old age of twenty-one.” The woman paused, and Benjamin imagined her taking a deep drag on a cigarette and blowing smoke into a darkened room. “You’ve done and seen more than most men twice you age, but have you really lived?”

He squirmed uncomfortably in his leather chair. The person on the other end of the line knew more about him than he’d like. “Who is this?”

“You still haven’t answered the question, Mr. Friar. Are you fulfilled? Can you die today and be a happy man?”

“Yes,” Benjamin replied without hesitation. He was at the top of the world. What else could there be? He was master of all he saw.

“That’s too bad. I thank you for your time.”

“Wait,” he demanded, hesitating. “What’s this about?”

“This is about fantasy, Mr. Friar, and fulfillment. Possibly fulfillment of fantasies you don’t yet know you have.”

“That’s silly. How could you fulfill a fantasy I don’t have?”

Again the woman paused and his imagination ran wild. “Is it not equally silly to write off something you have no clue of?”

It was Benjamin’s turn to pause. “Okay, say I bite. What does this cost me?”

“Always to the point, right, Mr. Friar?”

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