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Letters from No-One

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CPoV

How many times do I have to tell Marketing I needed those reports yesterday? I pay the most for the best, but these entitled fat-cats think their Ivy League degrees gives them latitude to fuck me over? I'll give them one week. If they don't impress me and give me a good reason to keep them on, each one of these overpriced bastards will be fired with cause. There's a long distance between university life and the real world and they just aren't cutting it.

I'm not going to tolerate this age crap anymore either. I've made a big name for myself, but once people see me (and my youth) they lose their ever-loving minds. I heard Fat Bastard last week telling a co-worker that he wasn't going to work for a snot-nosed kid. I happily relieved him of his employment; apparently, he has standards. Who was I to pay him two-hundred thousand dollars a year, offer full benefits, provide an expense account and keep him against his will? Was it my fault he hadn't finished his probation period?

I felt a hundred years old at Harvard. Kids were playing games, partying and fucking around, but hardly any of them had cast their eyes to the future that looked to be grim as fuck. It's a dog-eat-dog world, so I knew I had to be the biggest, baddest dog around. Sorry to say, it's difficult to become the world's most dangerous predator being coddled at that nursery school for nerds and rejects. It was quite amusing to imagine these soft, lazy people graduating with their home mortgage-sized student loans, coming to work for me, hat in hand. They brag about not being put on a wait-list for Harvard, yet are forced to wait in lines long enough to wrap around a city block to be interviewed at GEH.

All of this shit is fucking depressing. I made five million dollars today, but Carrick's still on my ass about dropping out of Harvard, as if I haven't more than recouped his losses and paid him back for all four years of that overpriced daycare. It's been over two years for fuck's sake! What the hell does he want from me? It's not as if I'll need Harvard on my resume to get a job. Those fuckers routinely offer me honorary degrees, and I've only been gone two years. I suppose if I take the degrees they're trying to force-feed me, they can put me in their prospectus as one of their success stories. Amateurs. Those who can't do, teach, and they have a campus full of those ne'er-do-wells to prove it.

Grace expects me to show up to another one of her meet-and-greets cloaked as a 'family' dinner, but I know to only too well what that's code for. Operation: Get Christian Hitched. Ball-busters and debutantes as far as the eyes can see will be there, asking questions, trying to touch me, offering to fuck me, pockets full of numbers I'll never call, Grace's other friends offering up their decrepit cunts. It's ridiculous and insulting that she does this. Are there no people in the world that don't want to be part of a we? Even if I wasn't fucked up, this would be a terrible idea. I'm twenty-one years old; the only choice I want to make about pussy is 'all of the above' and not be forced to feign concern about these poor bitches' biological clocks or monitor their greedy eyes as they focus on my portfolio. I guess since she erroneously believes I'm gay, she thinks I'm not too young for a 'beard'.

Elliot's older, but she wouldn't dare try to hook him up with one of her friend's daughters because he's already fucked half of them with video to prove it, and if he got married now, he'd be starring on Divorce Court: Seattle Edition less than a year later. Instead, my mother designates me as the sacrificial goat, then she wonders why I never want to come visit. What's next: tear stains, a red nose and crumpled handkerchiefs? I'm sick of it and I'm beginning to get sick of them, too. The only reason I considered going tonight was that I had to dismiss my last submissive because, get this, the bitch had poked holes in my condoms. Gail said they looked moth-eaten.

I rarely fuck during fertile periods even if my sub is on the pill. I usually just make her swallow my cock while tethered to the fucking machine. If the sub is a good enough cum-guzzler, I usually attach the largest dildo or one that's equipped for double penetration. Finding out that Priscilla had attempted to sabotage my contraception made me wonder why we bothered with a contract in the first place. I always honor my contracts and I fully expected her to honor hers. Why did she sign on to be my sub if she wanted a baby? What does she want from me that I could give her? Hearts and flowers? I don't do that shit. I already reward her very handsomely for time she spends with me; why pay for the rest of my life when I don't want to spend it with her?

Fuck, this is tiresome; she'll be at Escala and shit will hit the fan. It's all over but the crying. And the begging. She could prostrate herself before me for all I care. This level of betrayal will never be forgiven. Or forgotten. As soon as she arrives, I'll stop payment on her university fees. She's too stupid for higher education if she thought she could get away with this. I may not care for her, but I certainly care about my dick and my bottom line. I may fuck hard but I rely on safe sex, too. I honestly don't know what pisses me off more, that she tried to trap me or that I can't fuck her one last time before I begin to search for another sub. A lot of shit is going on at GEH and I wanted to get some relief. Best laid plans weren't happening tonight. Bitch may as well have cooties.

Taylor drives me home and I wonder what awaits me. I wonder how long I should let this scene play out. I'm almost tempted to give the best scene of my life. I can't help it; I have Taylor stop at a discount jeweler to pick up a cubic zirconia ring set in silver plate. He starts laughing when I send him in for the order. He knows what's going down; Gail must've told him. I break protocol and ask Gail to prepare a 'romantic' dinner for two even though it's her day off; I even have Taylor grab a cheap bouquet. Flowers, candles, the whole nine. I gonna watch this bitch bleed a proverbial pound of flesh for my troubles.

Ah, seven o'clock and all is very well. I hear the elevator open and her heels clicking along the foyer floor. It's sad that my cock is harder now since I don't intend to fuck her. She wasn't that great, but she was dependable. Whoa, Nellie. She's been dressing sexier and sexier, wearing the most daring outfits I'd allow. However, I enjoyed making her take that shit off, shower of all her perfume and warpaint and present herself in the typical sub uniform of very sheer, virtually see-through. black lace boy shorts while kneeling with her legs open wide presenting her crack like a bull's-eye. This time, I surprised her; as she entered, I quickly got up with a smile and met her in the living area, grasping her hand in mine. I was assaulted with a curious mixture of disgust and elation as her skin made contact with mine. Her face was suffused with pleased surprise. Smile, bitch! I felt like twirling my nonexistent handlebar mustache. To the train tracks we go, my dear.

I direct her to the table, where I seat her next to me, instead of providing her with a cushion to kneel upon while she serves me. I can almost hear her heart galloping out of her chest. Wow! She's never been this excited to fuck me. Trust me, bitch, the only reason I'm raising your hopes to the stratosphere is so that I can witness you plummeting from the greatest height possible, then watching her spectacularly crash and burn. 'Splat!' go her hopes and dreams. I continue to hold her hand, caressing her fingers. I briefly wonder if treachery can rub off and resolve to shower with antibacterial soap and hot water upon her departure.

Gail enters the main residence, rolling the serving cart to the dining table, gently depositing the entrees in front of us, while I pour the wine that I had been letting breathe. I may as well have gastronomic satisfaction since I won't be receiving any sexual gratification for the foreseeable future. I haven't jacked off without a human vessel since I stopped subbing for Elena. Usually, she has some subs in a holding pattern for emergencies, but she claimed that no-one is suitable for my needs right now. She said she might be able to get someone to sub for me temporarily, but I suspect she's offering herself, and no, just no. Fucking a woman almost thirty years older than you when you're fifteen is hot. Sexing a woman looking down the unfriendly barrel of sixty when you're twenty-one, not so much. She's desperately holding on to her youth with hopes, dreams, duct tape and Botox. It would be too much like trolling the retirement home. Besides, she told me to never look back; she couldn't very well discipline me for following her sage advice, could she?

Priscilla, all but hyperventilating by my side, is beginning to sweat a little and I have to steel myself not to rip my hand from her clammy claw. I look into her eyes, which appear as if she might be about to tear up. The day that began with a tearful Grace will end with a devastated skank. Two women, disappointed for very different reasons. I consider whether Grace would commiserate with this bitch who's so desperately attempting to give her the grandchild she so desperately desires. Priscilla's really no different than the debs she keeps throwing in my face.

I encourage her to eat the sumptuous feast Gail has prepared. I squeeze her hand gently and look deeply into her muddy brown eyes at regular intervals, trying to make a deeper connection. I'd learned how to fake it with the best. Elena wasn't really my type, per se. She was just available and gagging for it until she had me holding the whip; then she wanted rules and limits. I found I couldn't blame her for her sense of self-preservation. I've always appreciated the pragmatic.

After the last morsels were consumed and the last of the wine had been drunk, I got up and pulled out her chair. Fuck! She almost touched my no-go area and screwed up the whole plan. Whew! I ever so surreptitiously rubbed my hip with the ring box against her and I could practically feel her whole body convulse. Did she just orgasm? Without permission? This arrangement has derailed more than I thought. Normally, I'd beat her ass for this type of infraction, but I need her feeling very good while Taylor and Gail pack her shit into boxes so that security can place it in her car. She'll be living in her car by the time I'm through, since a portion of the astronomical fees I pay is for room & board. A small beep alerts me that her all of her belongings have been deposited into her car and Gail and Taylor have returned via the service elevator, so now it's time for phase two. Showtime!

I escort her to the sub-room. I couldn't bear to take her to my room even to lend more authenticity to this plot. She was defiling my apartment enough by breathing. I turn her around with her back facing me, as I open the door to a fully stripped room. Her gasp of shock echoes in the corridor. Her hand goes to her throat. Too late for pearl-clutching, slut. You ain't seen nothing yet.

For the first time she speaks. She had been so shy and demure before, but I guess she was finally driven to speak up. "What's going on? Where are my things?" she squeaked, like the sewer rat she was.

"I have a surprise for you. I couldn't stop thinking about you. You were on my mind all day," I said truthfully. What I had in store for her would surprise the shit out of her, and I definitely couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of her stealing my sperm to incubate my baby, possibly for a big payday. They could probably line her pussy with platinum for a push-present with the amount I'd have to pay her in child-support alone. I was thinking about my vengeance for hours. Usually, I get hot when I'm angry, but ice has filled my veins. I want to savor this and hold this moment in my mind for posterity. I move into position for the best angle because I've made sure to have this shit immortalized on the silver screen. Maybe I'll have Gail make popcorn so I can watch it on repeat while I jack off until I get a replacement snatch. The next sub better worship at the altar of pain and be prepared to be bathed in cum from the chest up. It'd be awhile before I went bareback, too.

Making sure I pressed the fullness of my fury-driven erection into her ass, I lead her in the opposite direction towards my bedroom. When I got close, I was careful to breathe into her ear, "I have something for you, Priscilla. I picked it up just today. It represents everything I feel about you."

I reached into my pocket because I was not going to kneel for this bitch. "I have something very important to say to you," I declared, my voice choked a little with my efforts not to burst into laughter at her expectant expression.

"Yes?" she asked breathily.

I leaned in, pulling the box out of my pocket, as if to present the contents. As I open it, the stupid skank actually proceeds to jump up and down in excitement. She looked like a puppy about to piss itself and her eyes looked almost green with greed. "Priscilla, I want to make a change in our relationship for the the better."

"Yes! Yes! I'll marry you! I wasn't expecting anything like this so soon, but I love you so much. Thank you for giving me more," she chirps in glee.

"Like I said before I was so rudely interrupted, I want to make a change in our relationship," I cut in sternly, "I'd like to give you this two hundred dollar door prize and cordially invite you to remove your treacherous, skanky ass from my apartment. I already did you the favor of returning all your shit to your car which you can keep if you continue to make payments and provide your own insurance. Otherwise, it must be returned in good condition so it can be traded in."

Her jaw had steadily dropped until she resembled the drama mask. "What? Why are you doing this to us?" she asked, shouting at me. I didn't appreciate her tone, but as I grabbed her by the shoulders and slowly rotated her in the direction of the 'til now unnoticed large flat screen filled with stills of her carefully perforating least two dozen condoms, her face turned almost blue with fright. Then, when the screen filled with video of her taking my cock up her ass while she begged me to 'fuck my slut harder' as I rammed into her over and over while pulling a set of nipple reins connected to pins on her clit, she looked like a thermometer on the verge of bursting. The beauty of the camera angles was that neither my face nor any other distinguishing characteristics were visible. I knew that multiple cameras would come in handy.

"You recorded that?" she asked woodenly.

"I record everything, bitch. The devil, after all, is in the details. There's more where that came from if you require more compelling data."

"You bastard!"

"Oh, darn! You got me. That really hurts. Don't let the door hit you wherever I split you," I said as she stomped away angrily. "Have a nice life!" I called out as the elevator doors closed.

Back to the drawing board. Fuck!