Chapter 1

Some men really just seem to be cut above the rest. There must be something in life—or in blood—that turns such few, lucky males so superior to the pussy boy and sissy betas around them.

Oh, I feel sorry for thinking things like that ... but at the same time not sorry at all! It’s hard, especially for us girls, to be an “equalist” when some dudes are so clearly and obviously greater than their peers—and that Alpha stud I was going to meet; that potent, world-consuming Master of the Universe I was going to interview, seemed to belong on a league of its own even among the greatest men I’ve ever known; he seemed to be a god among mortals.

Many envious looks consumed my body as I entered the elevator and patiently waited for us to arrive at the top floor. It was going to be long ride: the building was four-hundred stores high, and it all belong to Mr. Reymond. In my mind, I went through all data I had read about that guy—both the known facts and the fantastic rumors, including all the confidential (literally labeled “top secret”) information sent to me by my editors—and found it more unbelievable every time I recalled it: a 18-year-old youth with a net-worth around 7.3 billion dollars. All self-made.

I know I shouldn’t be so shallow as to measure the man by his wealth, but if that number clearly showed something, it was the quality of the stud’s genes. «If he’s got the brain and the bravado to so effortlessly make so much money at such ripe, young age, » so went the reasoning in my subconscious, «then there’s nothing in the world that this guy—this Alpha!—cannot do.» He was a protector, a provider, which is what we crave for in any big, bulking Alpha.

The fact is that the stud couldn’t have a penny for his name and I still would be falling on my knees for him. Though I couldn’t look at his picture in the middle of the lift, I honestly didn’t need to, for I had it ingrained in my mind ever since I saw him in the countless magazine covers and the few papparazzi photos of him at the beach, dating one of his latest supermodels. «Fuck!» I felt my panties growing yet. «Not so soon!» I was delicately crossing my legs so as to contain my arousal, but the pressure seemed to squish the juices harder out of me.

I couldn’t help it. The guy was a god! He was a dark-manned stud with the body of a Greek god, the charm of a Hollywood star and the wealth of an Arab prince. I was breathing loud and carrse by the time the elevator got to the 300th floor, and my companion by my side cast looks of both envy and admiration, slowly coming to terms with the fact she wasn’t nearly as pretty as I. “Mr. Reymond doesn’t do many interviews.” She said, almost in a disapproving manner, and I couldn’t help but to be reminded of my own superiority—my peak status in the social (and sexual) hierarchy.

“Guess I am a lucky woman.” I discreetly adjusted my feet, and in that slight movement my breasts defied the tight confines of my white shirt, bouncing so lusciously they made rumbling noises inside the lift. My companion, who was assigned to follow me up to Reymond’s office, couldn’t stop staring at my knockers, when she wasn’t distracted by everything else in my body.

“Do you work out?” She broke protocol and let the question slip, and at that moment I knew I had asserted myself as the dominant female of the pack—without even lifting a finger!

I’d say that sometimes it’s pretty difficult being a goddess among girls ... but I’d be lying. Ain’t no life easier and sweeter than this one I’ve been blessed with, as well as no pleasure greater than seeing all other women bow before you and recognize my greatness!

I flexed my arms slightly and felt the shirt stretching around them. “Four times a week.” I answered. “I’m Brazilian, you know. Us Brazilian Amazons pride ourselves for having big, beautiful bodies.”

“Oh, well.” She commented, eating my body up with her eyes. “You certainly succeeded.” She smiled. “You are very fit. I must congratulate you on your ass.” She gave my bottom a longer look. “Seriously, are you all natural??”

I flexed my glutes and felt the two massive mountains jump in my rear. I’d love to say that my ass was pure muscle, given its hardness and its power, but that wouldn’t be completely true, as a little fat is necessary to give it its characteristic shape and texture. Still, my ass was bloody hard, so uncommonly strong that even my fat happened to resemple a flexed muscle in terms of sheer hardness, and I had won not a few fitness competitions thanks only to that shapely beast.

My breasts bounced again, their grave, bubbly sounds echoing in the elevator. My follower was too distracted by many parts of my body at the same time to pay attention at just one for too long. I couldn’t blame her, for a beauty like mine could make even the most traditional of Christian girls turn into a raging lesbian.

I flexed my abs and felt the cloth of my tight shirt sink into the crevices of my 4-pack abs. Despite all my size, being a 6’2ft-tall goddess of a woman, I wasn’t so unbelievably ripped as most people—or even myself!—seemed to describe me. I was thick and built, yes, with strong arms that clearly showed a girl who loved fighting and pulling weights, but overall I was a lady-like figure who just so happened to be thick in all the right places.

I looked at my partner, who felt so small at her 5ft6in of height, and smiled. “In Brazil, they call women like me ‘mare-women.’

“‘Mare-women?’”

“Yes.” I flexed my entire body, and the fabric of my shirt and jeans were tested by the thickness of my hardened muscles. “When we get a little thick, we are called ‘mare-women’ because, you know, we resemble a horse in terms of muscles and, dare i say,” I flexed my right arms, “virility!” I flaunted its shape and hardness to her, showing the sleeves nearly ripping around its rippling biceps. “We’re strong and built like horses. That’s the special Brazilian way to call an Amazon, you know.”

I looked down and flexed my legs, and it was a good thing my jeans were so strong and well-made, for any fabric just a little weaker would have been torn to shreds by the gigantic slabs of pure muscle that were my swollen thighs. “Jesus!” The other lady gasped as I was literally forced to spread my feet apart to give my legs a bit a room. My thighs kept sweeling until the fabric filled the elevator with its loud, stretching noises, and the woman gasped as she noticed a single thigh was as thick as her hips. “Oh, my god!” Her eyes were beaming. “You’re, mm ... you’re very impressive.”

“Thanks, honey.” I relaxed my body, relieving my clothes of the tremendous pressure they had been put through. “You too are very beautiful.” I smiled as the doors opened before me and I saw the bevy of women who worked on that last floor. “Everyone here is, I see.” My companion gave me a knowing look, walking me over to the billionaire’s door.

“Mr. Reymond is a very ambitious man.” Her walk became flimsier as she too recalled the image of that womanizing billionaire. “One could say he’s ... hungry. Hungry for money, hungry for power, and hungry for...

“Pussy.” I nonchalantly completed for her, and she gave me a startled look as rows and rows of the tallest, most beautiful women in the world passed us by.

“You’re very forward, aren’t you?”

I gave her a humorous shrug. “I’m very Brazilian.” In front of me, a large door stood on the other side of the largest, fanciest hall in the floor. The place had windows for halls, giving me a majestic view of the city that billionaire owned. «How many souls in this city work for him?» My panties were getting so moist I felt them dripping on my legs. «How many pussies has he conquered yet?» That was supposed to be a serious interview, but I couldn’t help to let my mind wander through only the nastiest, most intimate questions possible. “This is Mr. Reymond’s room, I suppose.”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” She walked to the secretary who took guard of the room. “Please, take a seat. Mr. Reymond will be seeing you shortly.” It didn’t take long to the doors to paradise to open and beautiful woman to invite me in. “You have one hour.” She said, almost giving me a naughty smirk.

“Oh.” Not to let any sassiness unanswered, I too replied with a smile. “I think one hour won’t be nearly enough.” And then I finally entered the king’s palace, ready to meet face-to-face that guy who so quickly and absolutely had become the owner of the world.

The place was big, but fuck it. I didn’t care one damn bit for the size of the room, the expensive furniture, the rows of awards on display, or the jaw-dropping view of the city, which was laid before me by the vast windows which took over three whole sides of that place. I couldn’t give two fucks about the state-of-the-start decoration, the hip, minimalist architecture, or the expensive gadgets on display.

Fuck all that. The only thing I could care about –the only thing anyone could pay attention too—was the god standing in the very middle of the room as he turned to me with a smiled that made my pussy shower my panties and drench my legs in female nectar; a god facing me with a body so vast, shoulders so wide, and a face so perfect that immediately my legs became wobbly and I had to freeze on the ground so as not to fall. The door closed behind me, and there was a brief silence before that dark god spoke to me.

“Why do you think an hour won’t be enough, Ms. Jordani?” Jesus Christ, his voice! I swear the room rumbled once he spoke, and I sure felt, deep in my female core, every nerve shook by the power and authority that emanated from his beautiful, thick, wide lips, forged inside that thick, muscular neck of his!

“Y-you can call me Paola, if you want.” Was the first thing I answered. Damn, if I wasn’t wet ... and he knew it! Oh, he had that cocky smirk I had seem so many times before—the smirk of a guy who knew he’d already conquered his lay! What to other men it usually took hours of effort, to him it was a matter of seconds—if that long. “Y-you...” I had to clear my throat and squeeze my legs tighter so as not to completely embarrass myself. “You probably have a lot to talk about, so ... such an interesting life can hardly be summarized ... in just one hour, right?”

The giant man allowed a silent pause of a few seconds before walking over to me, making my body panic as nervous beads of sweat appeared in my forehead. “I certainly have a lot of things to do.” His body grew more gigantic as the distance between us was shortened. “I don’t care too much about the interview.” His smile grew more devilish as he walked, swinging his hips with effortless bravado. “I’m more interested on the interviewer.”

«What the fuck??» My mind exploded, a mix of offense and arousal taking over my body. «Is he doing that now?! So quick?!» The bastard hadn’t even waited for a few questions to make a move on me! I mean, I knew he was powerful, but goddamned! Was he really so god-like that he thought the could make such moves on stranger and not expect any bad repercussions?

I cleared my throat and tried to be professional. My stammering betrayed me as soon as the very first word: “M-Mr. Reymond, p-please.” Goddamn it! “L-let’s be professional.” My voice all by died out, however, when the stud stood still right in front of me, his towering height leaving me speechless.

“When I saw you on TV, Paola, I knew I had to have you.” He raised his hands to his shoulders and took off his expensive tuxedo, throwing it on the floor with absolute disregard. “Today, I’m going to see if you feel just as hot inside as you look outside.” He undid the top button of his shirt, the other ones soon to follow.

I dropped my briefcase on the ground, where it cracked open and let some sheets of paper fly around my feet. I was speechless, my quivering lips being the only response I could give for that gigantic male undoing his white shirt in front of me. I knew what I had to do ... and I knew I wouldn’t do it! No woman can act normal next to a perfect male specimen like that. «With any other man... » My mind raced as I bit and sucked my lower lip, «with any ... other man! ... I would have left and #metoo’ed his ass. But this ... this ain’t a man!» I crossed my legs while still standing. «This is a god.»

I saw his flesh beneath the shirt, and all my insides dried out with the sheer arousal, the fire that consumed me. “Fuck.” The beast was pure muscle. His shoulders and his chest seemed to go on forever, with the first muscles of his ripped abs shining before me. His dark, bronzed skin was almost shining with the health of a perfect breed ... and a perfect breeder.

I saw his biceps flexing and stretching his sleeves as he tore the rest of the shirt opened, revealing his whole torso to me. «Perfection.» My mind exploded, and so did my cunt.

“H-h-how...?” A silly question came out through my throat: “h-how big are you??” The monster smiled as he let the rays of the sun bounce on his body and make it shine.

“There are so many was I can answer that.” The monster flexed his muscles without even wanting too. I saw the ripples of his fibers flowing like waves from his crotch to his shoulders, the big, bulging veins feeding his armor of muscles with pints of blood every second. “In height, I could answer I am 8’6ft-tall.” My pussy immediately swelled to double its size at that moment, bursting with so much lube that a dark sport quickly formed in my hips. “In weight,” the monster flexed his chest and his arms, making every muscle acquire obscene volume and hardness, “I’m afraid I’m on the heavy side.” He smiled, looking at my quivering lips, my panting chest, and my trembling, wet legs. “I’m a 600-pound bull with enough muscles to tear through concrete.” He raised his arm. “See.”

He flexed his biceps. The bulging muscle tore through the sleeve of his shirt without resistance, in the blink of an eye, and then he just kept flexing his monster until that beast of a biceps grew larger than my own head, threads of the sleeves falling from his arms as his shirt was ruined. He lifted the other arm and destroyed the other sleeve with a single flex, making his chest and his abs harden along with his beautiful guns, his whole body shining with an aura of power and firmness that made me both terrified and deeply horny.