Thrax

After eighteen years of being a constant target of my father’s deceit, treachery and hatred, I changed course and now work in a vineyard in France. Only one problem keeps me awake at night. I still miss my former wife and her two children.

Life is always a long chain of events, one leading to another, but this particular journey started with a visit one of the few people working for me that I trusted.

Rob Thomas, my IT and security guy, entered my office with a long face carrying his tablet.

“I’m glad you had me retrieve this information. You need to see these texts.”

By the time I read the third message the die was cast.

“My father, I suppose. Have you told the others? Thanks for doing this so quickly.”

“Not proven. You know it’s not worth trying. Just waiting for you to give the word. Always glad to help.”

I gave a quick nod and Rob left.

I had dropped my phone earlier in the day as someone jostled me and I saw a foot kick the phone into the path of a large truck. Didn’t even try to retrieve it. I had my bodyguard instruct Rob to clone a new phone and wipe out the data for my old phone just in case This type of thing happened in our business, and we backed up everyone’s encrypted phones constantly. Somehow, messages between my wife and another woman ended up in my account.

After three phone calls to set my plan in motion, I told my secretary goodbye and left the office forever. All my key people had jobs lined up and they would resign before the day was over and leave PJ Corp. devoid of its top managers. Wouldn’t hurt my father, but it might slow him down a bit.

I had known my father would never let me fully take over the company. Working for him meant I could trust few people. I had ordered a full background check on the woman as soon as we met and she expressed an interest in me. I knew about her past and her weaknesses that I wasn’t as much surprised that this happened as I was at the timing. Trust my father to set this up close to the transfer time for maximum pain.

One of the calls was to the facility that took care of my mother to warn them and personally take responsibility for her care when I got there. Another was to a friend who ran a business in Bath, England, and the third was to my wife to make sure she would be home at the regular time.

The first one to arrive at our apartment at night would select the night’s wine and start preparing our evening meal. The other person would pick up our two children, John Paul Piccard, five, and Lucille Piccard, three, from grandmama’s house and bring them home. After the meal, we’d spend time with the children, put them to bed, head for the couch and discuss our days. Often that led to sex because Sophia was the sexiest woman I’d met. The problem was that she had a weakness for women, which didn’t bother me. Normally.

Tall for a woman, with a gorgeous face and perfect curves, she reminded me of a swan when she put her hair up. She was my perfect body type. We’d been married just over a year, and I loved her fiercely. Tonight, instead of talking, I handed her my tablet. After reading several of the messages, she began to cry.

“I’m so sorry. I’m just so weak. I can’t resist Birdie. I love her.”

“I know, I know. I loved her too once upon a time. She’s hard to resist. But you know what this means. We’ve talked about this issue more than once.”

She stiffened. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? What about me? What about the children? You’re going to leave without telling them goodbye. Please make love to me one more time.”

I kissed her on the forehead and rose.

“This is the only way for us to survive. He’ll keep attacking me if I don’t leave and then you and the children will get hurt. Once I’m gone, he’ll leave you alone. Rob will monitor the situation and take action if something appears to be going wrong.

My dad wants your parent’s perfume company. Fight him off if you can for your parent’s sake, but if you have to, concede and survive. My car is waiting downstairs with my bag in it. I love you; don’t you forget that.”

I started in Spain because I took French in boarding school and college. I wanted the challenge and to learn a new language at the ground level. Spain’s wine industry was growing, and I wanted to be involved.

It was nearly winter at the time and anywhere along the Mediterranean was warmer at this time of year. I stayed there three years

During those years, I did any job that brought in enough funds for me to survive. Over the years I had hidden ample funds to stop working completely, but I considered those ill-gotten gains from my previous jobs. They were to be used only as a last resort.

I did everything required in bars and restaurants from washing dishes to being a bouncer. I helped build houses and work on vehicles. I helped during harvests and aided Basque shepherds in moving their flocks to lower elevations before winter. I stocked stores and worked as a garbage removal man. Never worked long in any of them, but long enough to learn the basics.

Vineyards were where I spent most of my time.

If I had to sleep in a farmer’s haystack, I did. If I had to sleep in a woman’s bed, I did. Not always with pleasure, at least for me, but they always got sexual satisfaction. I owed them that. Along my trail during my first three years on the road, I left a string of women, never staying too long in one place. I always invited them to travel with me. A few did but dropped away within a few days. Didn’t blame them at all. A haystack isn’t all that good a place to sleep. Itchy and the damn cows keep making noise. And the smells. Gag worthy.

My goal was to survive until my thirtieth birthday when a stupid contract I signed when I was twenty-one would terminate. At least I hoped it would. With my father, I never knew. Mostly, all I cared about was that he had left me, my ex-wife and children alone since the divorce. I had nothing that he could take from me except my life, and he didn’t want that because then he wouldn’t have me to kick around anymore.

Of course, when I signed the contract, I had not envisioned meeting Sophia Arnel at our company’s Charity Balls. She was one of the best dancers there. Considering my years of training in dance by some of the best ballroom dance teachers available, she was one of the few women who equaled me on the dance floor. She matched me in nearly every other way too, especially in bed. Her only fault was that she was too conservative for me. But I’d rather sleep with a traditional woman like Sophia than have a string of one-night stands with gold-digging women.

I was hooked the first time I held one of her children. We got married within a month.

Why did I marry her when I knew her weakness? The heart wants what the heart wants. At least my father gave me a year with her and the children. That was a welcome reprieve from the other women constantly after me.

Oh, yes, my name is Paul John Thraxton. At the time I filed for divorce I was nearly 25 and had been the president for four years of a mergers and acquisitions company called JP Corp.

I never exaggerate about my father. If anything, I understate.

Soon after my twenty-second birthday, we were riding in his limousine on the way to a Christmas party for a company he closed the deal for as we rode. At the party, he played Jolly Old St. Nick, ho-ho-hoeing and joking with the kids, his potbelly and monk-like fringe of hair making a costume unnecessary even though he wore one.

His plans eventually resulted in the total annihilation of the company with hundreds of people losing their jobs. That included the parents of the same children he heard making Christmas wishes.

I often got called a barracuda in my job as president. My father, Giovanni, was a cross between a great white shark and a man-eating tiger if that is possible.

He craves power so he can make people suffer. Money isn’t important to him. He already has so much he’s considered one of the three richest persons in the world and sometimes the richest. He plunders companies. Especially, he loves to see me suffer. Because he can, I guess.

Why did I work with such a horrible man? Simple. One thing is money. I was always one of the highest-paid executives in the world. He also knew how to exploit a person’s weak spots. I had two for a long time and marrying Sophia added a third.

My mother who was in a care facility in England, hooked on drugs. My sister died at sixteen of a drug overdose. He threatened to withdraw his support for my mother and stop me from doing anything as long as I worked for him. He told me he had proof that I supplied the drugs that killed my sister. I hadn’t. Never would. Hate the stuff. But lack of evidence never stopped him.

He seldom did anything directly so I couldn’t prove he was involved in their drug addiction, but he at least supplied the tools.

 

***

 

As I walked up the road toward my destination, I reviewed the women I ‘d slept with since my divorce. I was trying to see if any of them compared to my Sophia.

There was Zoe who gave such excellent blow jobs. Valentina loved going nude on the beach. We fucked right among hundreds of other people who were doing the same thing. There was Samantha who could almost outdance Sophia and loved anal sex, which Sophia did not.

And yes, Victoria and Oliva with whom I had a threesome. They were among my favorites for that reason alone. I had asked my ex-wife to have a threesome several times, but she always refused. That was strange because she had a weakness for women.

The two that came closest to matching my ex-wife sexually were Sorcha Coughlin, the smartest daughter of my boss at the time, and my assistant, Rosina Pardasan.

I remembered that sequence like it was yesterday.

The day after Sir Thomas Coughlin hired me to head up his publishing business in Bath, Sorcha came charging into my office, red hair a-flying.

“I don’t like being ignored. I need to see who my father put in charge of my favorite part of his business. Stand up. I want to put you to the test.”

Sorcha, who also went by Sally or Sarah, would not be denied. I was curious about her the way a visitor at the zoo looks at the wild animals. I stood up. She circled me, squeezed my butt, felt my biceps, poked my abs, ran her hand across my pecs and nipples, then felt my thickening cock.

“I’m not a piece of livestock waiting to be auctioned.” She giggled and I flinched. I was prey to a man-eating leopard.

“I know all about you. No auction, you’re mine.” She started unbuckling my belt. Of course, I objected. My divorce wasn’t final yet much less I was still in love with my wife.

“Come on. Just relax and enjoy yourself. I’m not looking for a husband or a boyfriend. I just want some no-strings sex and you look like you can supply some. So many men are such weaklings.”

By now, my pants were on the floor, and she was holding my cock.

“Ooo. Nice size. This will feel good inside me.”

Before I could say stop, she was on her knees with my cock in her mouth. I heard the door open and, in a panic, looked up at my PA.

She smiled. “Nice to see you’re keeping busy. I’ll lock the door.”

“Bye Mrs. P,” she said as rose from her knees.

She pushed me hard into my chair, unbuttoned her blouse exposing her D cup boobs, and climbed onto my lap while flipping her skirt up. She wore no panties either. Never did. Couldn’t be bothered, she told me later. She slid into the hilt in one move. I was only a quick fuck to her. Nothing more. She grabbed a free hand and placed it on her boob.

“Play,” she commanded. “The harder the better.” I squeezed. Those breasts were real, firm, and her nipples stood out like little beacons, all red and fiery. She had her hands on my chest moving around so sometimes she pinched a nipple of mine.

Or maybe it was to prevent kissing. I suspected that more than anything.

“Oooh. Aaah. So good. I like the way you feel inside me, Thrax. You fill me up so good. Push a little deeper. That’s it, right there. Oh, rath de ort,” which I later learned was Gaelic for blessings of God.

Now she was riding hard, and I slowed her down by clasping her hips as they flexed up and down. “Fuck dhomh, fuck me.” She mixed up her Gaelic with her English as she bobbed up and down.

“That’s it, right there. Oh, fuck. You go so deep I can feel you in my belly.” She sped up. She slowed. She sped up. She stopped and her pussy walls squeezed my cock so hard I thought I was channeling John Wayne Bobbitt. No kidding. I felt the blood congeal in my cock as she cut off the supply. With a shout, she came, got off me, and walked from the room with her blouse still open and without cleaning up.

I could see cum dribbling down her leg. She stopped, turned to give a devilish grin, scooped it up and stuck her tongue out and slowly licked up her finger. Watching her, I almost came as she backed out the door, sucking on her finger like it was a little cock.

She poked her head back through the door. “Thanks. I’ll be coming back whether you want me or not.”

Now, what was I to do? I was within seconds of cumming. Two strokes would complete the job. I had no place for the cum to go. Even moving too much might set me off. I heard the door open, and Mrs. P walked across to my chair.

“Left you hard and needy, did she? Often does that with men at first, especially if she likes them. Wants them to crave her. Here, let me finish you off.”

There was something wrong with that statement, but I was so far gone I didn’t care.

She dropped to her knees and began playing with my cock, first running her fingers slowly up and down the sides, dropping them to my balls, then circling my cock as tight as a cock ring as she sank her mouth over me, always careful not to touch the head too much that was so sensitive. I do not know how long she played with me, but it took much longer for me to cum than I expected.

I could tell from her raised skirt that she was playing with herself at the same time.

She started looking at me, watching my reaction, which turned me on more, nodded her head and released her hand from the base of my cock. I filled her mouth. I felt her throat moving on the head of my cock as she swallowed.

She got up, still while looking at me, opened her mouth so I could see the remnants of my cum, licked her lips, pulled her skirt up so I could see her wet pussy and finished herself off in front of me. I was already getting hard by the time she left, holding her skirt up and swinging her ass, bending over and spreading her cheeks just before she walked out the door.

I resigned myself to my fate. There was no way I could resist two women like this, even though I wasn’t divorced officially yet.

Seconds later, my phone rang. “Buzz me when you’re ready and I’ll fill you in on how things work in this office.”

In short, Sorcha ran the publishing company. She wasn’t president like I was, but she had to approve every major decision. Despite the fact I feared her at first, we actually got along well once she approved of me.

Fight. Yes, we did. This red-haired woman had a quick temper. But the makeup sex was wonderful. I was losing my way.

It was her edict that my PA had to be ready to clean up after her in every way.

“But, but….” I sputtered. I’d never heard of such a thing. What about workplace sex bans, anti-discrimination laws, etc., I asked.

“Aren’t you married?”

“Yes, I am. The money’s good enough that my husband and I have an agreement. What I do here is up to me if I stay true to him in every other way. In return, I won’t leave him if he has a fling with a young woman at the symphony. Most of those people have sex every time they turn around anyway and there’s no way I can keep him from fucking someone from time to time. I especially don’t like him fucking other men and he agreed to stop as long as I work here.”

Made sense to me and whenever Sorcha left me high and dry, here came Rose to finish me off. Blow jobs turned into more and soon we were fucking even when Sorcha wasn’t around. One day Sorcha caught us as I had Rosie bent over my desk working her ass, and I froze, expecting an outburst from my fiery boss, but she shrugged, said “Have fun,” and left. Seemed like she didn’t care, which hurt me because I hadn’t run into a woman like that before, someone who treated sex like most guys. Cum and done. No strings attached.

Rosina came into my office several weeks later with a tear-stained face.

“What’s going on Rose?” I asked.

“My husband gave me an ultimatum. Turns out he’s jealous of you. Sorcha told on us because she wants both of us to herself. I have to quit this job, or he’ll leave me. I love him and I don’t want him to leave. Also, Sorcha. I’ve turned her down multiple times and she’s tricked me into liking you in hopes she’ll get in my pants. I don’t want that.”

After she left, I realized my relationship with Sorcha had changed, at least she had changed. She started using terms like acushia, or agra (Gaelic words for love), and storeen bawn (my little man, referring to my cock) and kissing me while we had sex. She allowed me to cum in her every time.

She hadn’t been in since she caught me with Rose.

The next day we didn’t touch each other at all, acted like it all never happened. She ignored my personal questions and wanted to talk about the business.

I breathed a sigh of relief until I got home and opened my front door. My entire apartment was empty and cleaned. I called the super. He appeared a few minutes later, handing me a key card that said penthouse and shrugged like “what can I do.” I understood. The Coughlin’s owned the complex and he had to do what they wanted, just as I did. Just like I had to do when I worked with my father. The comparison hit me in the face and I didn’t like them one bit.

I stormed to the penthouse and inside. Sorcha sat there with a hard face.

“I’m sorry. I pushed too hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Ya, you badly fucked up, didn’t you? I guess I don’t have much choice where I sleep tonight, but from now on it’s nothing but business. I still love my former wife, and I’ve got a plan for getting her back and sending my father into oblivion. Unless you agree to help me, this is the end. I’ll quit, move out and go back to my father and tell him everything I know about the Coughlin companies. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

She shook her head that she didn’t, and I went to bed. All my things were perfectly placed just where I like them. On the dresser top was a key card for the storage place where everything else was being kept, free of charge to me. Despite being upset, I was impressed. She was serious. Fuck, she was always serious. I seldom saw her genuinely smile and I don’t remember ever hearing her laugh.

That night I couldn’t sleep much. This would help, not hinder, my fight because Sorcha was a smart woman and together, we were stronger as long as I didn’t lose my way and fall in love with her. I knew it wouldn’t be reciprocated. But the longer I thought, the less I liked my life.

I had hated a man for more than 18 years and done everything I could to get back at him. Why continue? Let the bastard win. Everyone dies sometime. Even he didn’t have a miracle life exender Or did he?