Senatorial Secrets

Brad watched the image of Anthony's Rebecca taking yet another stranger's cock into her already overly used hole. He had already watched the recorded images a half a dozen times and yet he still hadn't had enough. The sound of someone knocking on his office door brought a growl of annoyance from deep within him and he closed the window out on his laptop.

"Come in," he called out, and watched as Anthony walked in. Immediately anger rose up in him as he looked upon his young intern and lover, a man that had confessed his "love" for Brad and Brad only, but had in fact been grinding his cock into another. What made it worse for Brad was knowing the "other" was a woman. Had it been a man, Brad would have taken delight in forcing the odd man out to enjoy a bit of sport with him. He'd have reprimanded his lover for the deception and moved on, no longer trusting the young man, but still keeping him around for sport.

"Hey babe," Anthony said, after shutting and locking the door behind him. Brad watched him remove his jacket and then walk confidently toward the desk. "I got a text message saying you wanted to see me. What's up? Or do I have to get you that way?"

Brad scooted his chair back, opened his slacks, and pulled his cock free. He said nothing, still trying to reign in his anger and find a way to make Anthony suffer. He watched the young man move to his knees and he opened his legs wider, giving Anthony room to settle between them. Anthony grasped his cock in one hand, used the other to lift his balls from his boxers and then massaged them between his soft fingers while his mouth took in the ridged head.

"Fuck yeah," Brad moaned, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the touch of his lover's mouth and fingers. Anthony sucked in more of his length and Brad pushed his hips up; his fingers tangled in Anthony's hair. "Keep sucking," he muttered and then opened his eyes, moved his other hand to the lap top and double clicked the shortcut he'd created for Rebecca's video. His hand shook as Anthony began to deep-throat him, but he managed to un-click the check mark on the audio option.

When he was finished, he rested his other hand on the other side of Anthony's bobbing form. "Listen and suck, you fucker," he muttered and then began to forcefully lift and drop Anthony as he rammed his dick deeper into his young lover's mouth.

Anthony was taken back by the sudden violence in Brad's voice. He had been sucking his cock the way he knew the Senator liked it, but for some reason Brad was no longer the gentle lover he had been. He was more primal. Anthony gagged and tried to lift himself off his employer, but could not fight the strength the older man possessed. He heard the muffled sounds of a computer program running and the voice though distorted somewhat seemed familiar to him. He heard the whispered name of "Becky" and the words "Fuck me" coming across the speakers.

He felt Brad shift the seat, forcing him to move with it. His eyes locked on the laptop's screen and he felt his face pale. He watched Samuel move between his girlfriend's thighs and thrust into her. Another man, someone Anthony didn't recognize had his cock in her mouth. He felt Brad's hands grip his hair tighter and then lift him from his dick. "What the fuck?" Anthony shouted and tried to free himself.

"Get in here," Brad shouted.

Anthony's eyes grew wide as he heard Rebecca beg for more. He heard the Senator's office bathroom door open and turned to see Samuel walk out. He was naked. His cock hard and leaking with pre cum. Anthony lunged for him, but Brad hooked his leg, forcing him to trip and fall. "You were fucking a bitch. You were using me," Brad hissed and grabbed Anthony's hair again. "You like this cunt?" he asked and forced the young man to lean against the desk; his eyes glued to the laptop and the woman he loved.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded, trying to twist his way to freedom.

"I didn't do anything," Brad said. "Can't you hear her? She wants it. She's begging for it. Hours and hours of fucking. She's a slut. She's more a slut than my wife."

"You did something. She loves me. She'd never . . . " Anthony glared at Samuel and Brad.

"Yeah, she loves you," Samuel said. "With the right motivation she loves getting fucked too. An ecstasy pill later she was purring in pleasure. Begging me to come all over her slutty ass. She's tight man. Not as tight as your ass, but she's a good fuck. I may have to cream her again."

Anthony tried again to lunge toward the bodyguard but was stopped short when Brad pushed a gun into his face. "Strip," he ordered. "After today you'll no longer be welcomed here, but remember . . . I have this and if you talk about me to anyone, little Rebecca's gonna pay."

Brad released the hold he had on his young intern and watched in hunger as he stripped. When he was finished, Brad gave the gun to Samuel and removed his clothes. He then grabbed a bottle of lube from his desk drawer and coated his dick in it. "One last hurrah," he muttered and told Samuel to shoot the punk if he didn't do as he was told.

Anthony cringed, but knew he would submit to the two bullies. He wasn't going to jeopardize his life or Rebecca's. He had milked more than come from Brad. He had his money. Lots of it. He'd leave here feeling raped and dirty, but he'd go to Rebecca with a bank account that was worthy of her and her family's wealth. That was why he had started down this path. . .for Rebecca. He bent over the desk, knowing what his soon-to-be former boss wanted. He then watched Samuel move to the front of the oak furniture and shove his dick in his face. "I figured you'd want to clean the little slut's come off," he said.

"You sick fuck," Anthony muttered and knew then that Samuel hadn't bathed off the come and juice of his fuck frenzy with Rebecca.

"Take it," Brad ordered and then watched Anthony open his mouth and engulf Samuel's tool. He then aimed his cock at the young man's ass and shoved himself into the dry hole. Anthony jerked and groaned in pain as his dry cavern was invaded. Soon however he relaxed as the lube on Brad's shaft began to coat his walls.

Samuel moved his hands to Anthony's head and thrust his hip, forcing the man to take all of his dick. Anthony refused to help his boss or his boss's bodyguard use him. Instead he thought of what pleasure it would be to go to Rebecca and propose to her. He loved her and as he felt the shots of come explode into his ass and roll down his throat he told himself repeatedly . . . "It was all for her."

Brad pulled his limp tool from Anthony. He felt empty, in more ways then one. "Get out of here . . . both of you," he muttered and then left the room. He was shocked by how hurt he was and he didn't want Anthony or Samuel to see it. He'd been a fool, a reckless fool.

Turning the shower on, he climbed into the spray of water and shut his eyes. He stared there for what seemed to be an hour or more, simply letting the liquid spill over his tense muscles. Soon the water was no longer the comforting balm he needed and he found himself quickly washing away the evidence of his lust. When he stepped from the shower, pulled a robe on and then darted back into his office he was surprised to see Peter sitting there.

He toweled his hair dry and then took a seat at his desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked. "I thought you had the day off?"

Peter sat there quietly taking in his boss. He had seen Samuel escorting Anthony from the building and the look on the young intern's face had been a mixed one of both relief and despair. He admitted he was curious as to what had happened, but chose not to ask because he had his own agenda. "I wanted to talk to you. Privately."

"Well I'm sure you saw Samuel leaving as well as Anthony. The others are around, as you know, but we're alone here. Shoot," Brad said, crossing his arms and eyeing the other man he trusted with his life.

Peter reached down and lifted a manilla envelope from the floor. "Here," he said and tossed it to his boss.

Brad lifted the envelope; his face showed his curiosity and his actions showed his eagerness. "What have you here?" he asked, "new meat? I remember when your sister provided me with these same envelopes and inside were the most delectable mor. . ."

His words stopped as dozens of glossy prints fell onto his desk. They showed him in various positions with men, all legal age, but still he was supposed to be a happily, married man. He opposed gay rights, preached that the family values of America was going to shit and he was just the man to make things right. In his hands he held the proof of his secret life. His fingers curled into fists, crumbling and wrinkling some of the photos. "Where did you get these?" he asked, still not comprehending the situation.

"I have more," Peter answered. "I have videos too. Carolyn was very meticulous in her dealings with you. So was I though. We provided you with what you wanted. You provided us with what we wanted."

Brad's jaw dropped and then closed again. "You and . . . You and your sister took these? Why?"

Peter clasped his hands in front of him. "Years ago you met a young man on the road. A hitchhiker. He was in awe of you . . . until you forced him to be your fuck toy."

"So what . . . it never bothered you before. I paid my playthings." Brad shouted, pushing his chair back and growing more angry as he flicked through the photos.

"It was my brother," Peter answered.

"Your brother? I never fucked . . . " Brad stopped talking and then closed his eyes, dropping the photos to the desk. "The hitchhiker, young Jon. He was a sweet piece of ass."

Peter lunged across the table; his hands found Brad's throat and he squeezed it hard. "Listen you sick fuck. He killed himself after he told me what you did. You stole him from us. Carolyn and I raised him. He was more than a brother, but he was our friend. He slit his wrists." Peter saw Brad's eyes bugging out and released his hold. He saw him reach for a button on his desk, but laughed saying, "I disconnected the security feature, you dumb fuck."

Brad's hand moved to massage his throat. "What do you want?" he asked.

Peter smirked. "I have more, like I said. I'll send those to your wife and kids as well as the media if you don't acknowledge your preferences for the male gender as well as confess to all the blackmailing you've done in the past to get your way. Nothing too bad. I'm not asking you to kill yourself or pay me millions. I just want you to feel the humiliation my brother felt. It won't be the same I'm sure . . . but I do know how you love your image and you bask in the people's praise. I want them to see the real Senator Scholastic. The one I and your family know exists."

"You know I can't do that. I'll pay you whatever you want, but I can't go public."

"Then I will. I don't want to hurt Savannah, or the twins, but I will." Peter stood up and turned to go.

"Wait," Brad demanded, wondering for a moment if Samuel had taken his gun with him. He knew he had, and if he hadn't then Peter would have searched for one anyway. Peter knew, just like all his bodyguards did, where Brad kept his weapons. "There has to be a way to reason with you," he said.

Peter shook his head. "No, there isn't. You don't have enough money. I just want you embarrassed, humiliated, so fucked publicly that maybe . . . just maybes you'll find only one way out . . . the way my brother did. You've got a week. If you don't publicly confess, then your wife and daughters will get everything I have and then so will the public."

Brad watched Peter leave; he sat down hard at his desk and covered his head with his hands. The pictures were still there in his mind, even though his eyes were closed. The phone rang and he jumped from the sound. He picked it up and listened to Samuel. "Anthony's on a plane heading home . . . but we got problems."

"What?" Brad asked, knowing nothing could be worse than what Peter wanted him to do.

"That slut killed herself," Samuel muttered. "I just got a call from the hotel. The bitch slit her wrist. She bled to death."

Brad closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Damage control?"

"I'll try, but the maid who found her was a new hire. She called the police before she called the hotel owner. Our DNA is everywhere Brad. We're fucked up."

Brad thought to himself, "No Samuel, you're fucked up." He said nothing though, opting instead to hang up the phone and stare out the window of his office. "Bad shit comes in threes," he muttered as he wondered what card would be the next one to fall.