Barton had been treating the kid with contempt from the moment they met. And no one knew how to show contempt better than Barton. John Barton. The terror of Wall Street. Thirty-eight years old, and officially worth three billion dollars. Some people said it was more like twenty times that, that he could buy and sell Bill Gates and Warren Buffett with his spare change any time he wanted to.
And he had made every penny of it himself, by out-toughing the other tough sons of bitches on Wall Street. Hundreds of mergers he had forced down their unwilling throats. And he made them wallow in their defeats. Hundreds of former top bananas had been forced to accept Barton's deals on Barton's terms. And Barton's terms always included two things: enormous profits for John Barton, and the loser kissed John Barton's ass. Literally. And not just on the buns. The former CEO's on Barton's payroll had two things in common. They had tasted Barton's shit-lined rectum. And they had begged for the privilege. They had seen plenty of execs just like themselves go down to ruin for displeasing Barton in the slightest way.
Now John Barton was starting on his honeymoon. It was his second marriage. He had dropped his first wife, Fran, who had begun showing signs of middle age. Fran had hired one of the best known divorce lawyers in the country. Barton had toughed him out the same as he toughed out every other son of a bitch who tried to cross him. Now the lawyer was nursing his wounds, Fran was living on $30,000 a year, and Barton was enjoying his billions.
He had married a babe. An incredibly beautiful Asian girl named Kim. Just looking at her straight black hair, her incredibly soft, smooth skin, her beautiful features, her willowy body, drove him crazy. She was 22 years old, sixteen years younger than him. And it wasn't just that she was a babe. She had brains. She had graduated first in her class at a top university. She had been engaged to an Asian American boy who graduated a year ahead of her, the only boy friend she had ever had. Then she had received an internship to work one summer in the executive offices at Barton's Wall Street headquarters.
After one look and a few conversations, Barton knew he had to have this girl. He went ahead and got his divorce from Fran, something he had already decided to do anyway. He just blew away Kim's fiance, dazzling her with what he could buy for her, the places he could take her, the people he could introduce her to. What impressed her more than anything was the force of his character. She could see his strength in his every movement. And she saw that the most powerful people in the world cowered before him. John Barton always got what he wanted, and Kim loved him for that. The fiance was history, and John Barton and Kim were man and wife.
There was just one fly in Barton's ointment, one that he could never completely put out of his mind, though almost no one knew of it and no one knew how much it preyed on him. Sexually, the great John Barton was a grade A wimp. Maybe that was what drove him to outcompete everyone who crossed him, to prove that he had more balls than everyone else. Because in fact, he had less. Much less. His tiny prick could hardly be seen in his pubic hair when it was soft. When it was "hard," it was barely three inches long, was thinner than his index finger, and, in truth, was not very hard at all. His balls were tinier than marbles. He had trouble coming more than two or three times in a week, and when he came, only a few drops of thin, almost water-like cum was ejected. Whether it was Fran or Kim or any of the other women who were attracted by his money and his power, whenever he fucked them they always had to ask if it was "in" and whether he had cum.
Barton wanted an heir and Kim wanted a baby. But he had tried to get Fran pregnant for years, with no success. The best medical specialists in the world had been consulted. There was nothing wrong with Fran. It was just that Barton's undersized testicles produced such little sperm, the odds were against him. Following his doctors' advice, Barton had abstained from all sex for over a month prior to this honeymoon. The wedding had been timed so that Kim would be at the peak of her fertility cycle. And she was taking fertility drugs. The doctors told them that with these steps, Barton had a reasonable chance of making Kim pregnant. But things weren't fated to turn out that way.
So now he and Kim were on their honeymoon. The island resort in the Caribbean she had selected was probably the most exclusive and the most expensive in the world. They had the most expensive villa--$40,000 a night it would cost him. The resort consisted of the whole island. Each villa was isolated. Theirs was more than two miles from any other habitation. It was huge and breathtaking, spectacularly furnished, and located on their own private pearl of a beach. There was a whole staff of servants and cooks assigned to their villa alone, but the layout was cleverly designed so that only the Guest Services Officer assigned to them would have any contact with them. He would deal with the rest of the staff. They would have complete privacy in unparalleled luxury.
The Guest Services Officer was a twenty-year-old named Rod Powers. Rod was as perfect a specimen of the male of the human species as Kim was of the female. Short blonde hair; a face that had classic, masculine beauty; a broad, strong chest that was muscular but not muscle-bound; narrow hips; a perfectly trim ass; long, powerful legs--he had the whole package People said he had movie star looks, but no one could ever think of a movie star who looked as good as he did. And he had an enormous bulge at the crotch of his faded jeans. Barton noticed that bulge immediately, and was stung with envy. But he figured the kid must have some cloth stuffed in there. He must have!
Rod greeted them at the airport. The men who could afford to stay at this resort were the richest and most powerful in the world, and they brought with them the most stunningly beautiful and most pampered women in the world. Rod had seen hundreds of them, but he had never seen the equal of Kim. For her part, Kim didn't miss any aspect of Rod's manly attraction. When he shook her hand, she looked in his strong, clear eyes, caught a whiff of his male scent, and became dizzy with a sensation she had never felt before. But Kim had been strictly brought up as a Catholic and adhered to a strong moral code. The idea of being unfaithful to her husband could never have entered her head. She could be interested in a man as hunky as Rod, but she could not be tempted.
But to Barton, any decent-looking man was a rival and a stud like Rod was dangerous. Barton was painfully aware that his beautiful trophy of a wife was much closer in age to Rod--the "kid" was what Barton insisted on calling him--than she was to himself. Barton's reaction was instinctive. Confronted with any kind of a rival, Barton set out to humiliate him, to emasculate him. This kid was going to be the only person he and Kim would see for the next two weeks. Barton was going to show him who was boss. He'd have Rod kissing the famous Barton ass early and often--figuratively at least, and maybe even literally. Kim wouldn't be attracted to a kid, no matter how much of a stud he looked, once she saw him kowtowing to her all-powerful husband. Just the opposite. Once she saw him subjugate this handsome kid, his own god-like power would be more firmly established in her adoring eyes, the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
He looked into those eyes as they drove in the limousine to the villa. God, he loved her. He actually thought he might be able to fuck her twice today, something he had never before accomplished.
Rod was pissed. He'd dealt with assholes like this before, guys who thought they could use their money to put him down. But Rod always had his revenge. He loved this job. The most beautiful women in the world came here, and he fucked them at will.
He particularly loved honeymooners. There was nothing like seducing a woman on her honeymoon. Rod had plucked plenty of cherries, and there's no doubt about it, he thought, fucking a virgin is sweet. But that other virginity--the wife who's never given her cunt to a man other than her husband since she's been married--plucking that cherry was an even greater thrill. And the cr'me de la cr'me was getting them on their honeymoons. Especially when they were as gorgeous and sophisticated as the brides who came to this posh resort.
The job of "Guest Services Officer" at this resort was a coveted one. While the guests were on the island, the GSO arranged everything for them. He was the only human contact the guests had with the resort while they were here, unless they wanted specialized services such as a tennis coach. The reputation of the resort--and its ability to charge sky-high prices--depended on the flawless service the Guest Services Officers could provide. Their salaries started at $250,000 a year, and they made at least that much in tips.
Rod Powers had only been on the staff two years, but he was already the top-ranked assistant on the staff. He was permanently assigned to the most expensive villa, catering to the most extravagant guests. His salary was $750,000. He made many times that much in tips. He was invaluable to the management of the resort. Did they know that his enormous popularity with the guests derived from the special service he was able to provide between the outspread legs of the wives? Probably. So what? So long as the customers were happy...
.... There is more of this story ...