An arrogant but sexy banker get his due in this hot new story by Richard with lots of tickling, spanking, cum control and even a forced body shaving!
Entitled Bank Bailout Executive Tyler Prescott III Gets His Cum-uppance! - Page 1
by Richard
Tyler Prescott III hopped out of the cab he had earlier sneeringly commandeered from an elderly lady burdened with many department store shopping bags (sensibly reasoning that the time of an important AIG executive like himself was far more valuable than that of some desiccated old hag’s), and strode into his gleaming high-rise Upper East Side apartment building, admiring the fit of his designer Zegna suit and its equally awesome spiffy tie as he narcissistically checked out his reflection in the mirrored glass of the floor-to-ceiling window glass of the lobby of his building.
“You handsome devil, you” thought Tyler to himself as he proceeded into the lobby of his building, nodding dismissively at the lowly Latino doorman, clearly unworthy of any further acknowledgment, who had opened the door for him, while simultaneously speed-dialing his “babe” of the moment on his I-Phone, his “babe” being the daughter of a very senior AIG executive, making plans to meet her later at their latest chic watering hole for a drink, and, Tyler reasoned, a well-deserved good fucking later on. God knew he had busted his balls trying to woo the bitch, careful not to “go too far” on their first few dates, since she was “Daddy’s good little girl” not some low-class bimbo of the sort Tyler regularly picked up at bars, the ones who were so impressed by his Patek Phillippe watch, designer clothes and free-spending ways that they were creaming their pants for a chance in the sack with the studly Tyler Prescott III. Tyler loved to fuck those bimbos, all one-night-stands, of course, or rarely lasting longer than a few weeks, until Tyler tired of them, then painfully dumped them as they amusingly dissolved into tears and pleas for it to continue, and then put them out of his mind as he simply moved on to greener pastures.
The 29-year-old Tyler kept himself in peak physical condition at his exclusive gym and by regular workouts in the exercise room of his spectacular penthouse apartment. The darkly handsome 6’ 3” Tyler was as competitive in the sports realm as he was ruthless in business, the confident, demanding born-with-a silver-spoon-in-his-mouth Tyler arrogantly taking what he wanted in life with a well-honed sense of entitlement.
Tyler continued to admire himself in the mirrored doors of the elevator which whisked him up to his penthouse apartment, openly admiring his suntanned, handsome face and the way his beautifully tailored Zegna suit, his favorite, clearly outlined and subtly hugged the features of every inch of his gym-toned, muscular body. Tyler had, of course, pressed in a code to make it an express, so that he would not be delayed by the somewhat less affluent denizens of the lower floors of the building. Tyler smiled to himself at the prospect of getting his latest AIG bonus funded by the lowly taxpayers, the “little people” who paid their taxes, smiling at the irony of how none of the bailed-out companies had seen fit to loan any money to those same “little people”- the fuckin’ moron lower classes! Being filthy rich rocked and having been born into wealth was even better!
Anticipating a nice shower in his multi-head marble shower room, a quick change and then out on the town for a night with his “babe” (and most likely finally scoring with “Daddy’s good little girl” after the requisite period of wooing), Tyler turned the key to his penthouse apartment and entered.
He strode through the entry, disarmed the alarm, and went into the huge, modernist living room which gave onto a wrap-around terrace, always admiring the spectacular view of the city from his private, exclusive aerie.
As he headed toward the longish hallway leading to his master bedroom, however, he noticed a few items of his clothing, underwear and socks of all things it looked like, strewn along the hall, and could see through the partly opened master bedroom door that various drawers appeared to have been pulled open and riffled through. “Fuck! A break in!” thought Tyler, outraged. This building and apartment had state-of the-art security yet someone (presumably a highly tech-wise someone) had managed to infiltrate it and mess with all of Tyler’s expensive toys! Tyler fully intended to vociferously complain to the association and the security office about this unforgivable lapse! This is what Tyler paid a fortune for- to be insulated from the mundane world where theft (as opposed to justifiable corporate bailouts) was unfortunately common.
Just as Tyler began to punch 9-1-1 into his cell phone to call the cops (intending to call building security right after that) he felt and saw a black-leather-gloved hand close over his mouth and nose and was shocked to feel another strong arm knock his cellphone across the floor out of reach.
“Not so fast, bigshot! You’re mine, now!” grunted his assailant, who, using Tyler’s utter surprise to his advantage, managed to strong arm the muscular Tyler’s own arms behind his Zegna suit-coated back, Tyler feeling and then hearing the unmistakable “click” of a pair of steel handcuffs as his wrists were bound behind his back, largely immobilizing the big-shot executive stud.
Tyler managed a quick look back at his assailant who looked all the more menacing since he was wearing a knit ski mask with only his eyes and mouth partly visible, Tyler also noticing that his assailant had dropped what appeared to be Tyler’s own gym bag next to himself, whose contents, Tyler reasoned somewhere in the back of his head, had most likely been dumped out and then used to store some of the loot he must be trying to steal.
“What the fuck are you DOING!? Let me go, you low-class piece of shit! Do you have ANY idea who you’re fuckin with, asshole!? You are SO fuckin going to jail, asswipe!” shouted Tyler, taking the opportunity to spout off once the leather-gloved hand was temporarily removed by his assailant when he was handcuffing him.
But then Tyler’s eyes bugged open as his assailant’s response was to violently shove Tyler in his Zegna suit-clad back, shoving him across the chocolate-brown hardwood floor of his own impressive living room until the sputtering, outraged young AIG executive found himself bent over the arm of one of his priceless ultra-modern leather sofas as he fell face first onto one of the leather seat sectionals with his hands cuffed behind his designer-suited back, his Zegna-suited ass high in the air, the position of his body causing his suit pants to ride up and perfectly accentuate the curves of Tyler’s manly assmounds. Tyler wildly (and rather comically) began thrashing his so-far-unrestrained muscular legs in an effort to kick his assailant in the nuts, managing only to kick off both of his Ferragamo loafers in the process, leaving his feet clad in only his black calf-length sheer executive socks.
Tyler then felt his assailant straddle the small of his back and heard the intruder rummaging in the gym bag, whereupon he was shocked to feel some other metallic item being attached to his thrashing executive-sock-clad ankles, which he later learned was a “spreader bar” which effectively prevented him from kicking and kept his ankles spread wide apart, immobilized. The brash Tyler now started to panic. This fucker had his high-class bod under his complete control and for once in his life there was not a fuckin’ thing in the world that Tyler could do to change that.
As Tyler continued to struggle on the couch with his Zegna-clad ass upturned and emphasized by his position with his crotch pressed against the leather sofa end, his assailant proceeded to inform him: “Guess what fuckface? I know exactly who you are. You’re one of those FUCKIN’ asshole AIG executives, the ones who got a fuckin’ bailout at taxpayers’ expense. You’re Mr. Tyler Fuckin’ Prescott III, aren’t you, or should I say, Tyler Prescott The Turd? Written up all the time in the fuckin’ Society pages, pictured in the Hamptons or on your fuckin’ polo pony, right? Yeah, I know just who the fuck you are, shit for brains! And now you’re mine, all mine!”
Tyler, shocked that this miscreant knew exactly who he was and was not intimidated by his power but rather seemed outraged by it for some unknown reason (envy most likely Tyler reasoned), and fully aware of his totally unaccustomed vulnerability at present, Tyler decided to fall back on his tried-and-true remedy whenever having gotten himself into a jam- a bribe! “Of course, that’s it Tyler old boy!” he reasoned with himself- these lower-class heathens were always in need of money and Tyler had plenty to spare. Anyway he had his next taxpayer-funded bonus to tide him over.
Tyler therefore said “Look, whatever your name is, this is ridiculous. There is no reason to tie me up for God’s sake! You know I have plenty of money- just name your price and let me go! I have a good $10,000 in the safe which I’m sure you’ve already located behind the Klee (er that is to say the, er, Klee replica) painting in the bedroom.” (fearing the miscreant might realize that his original Klee was quite valuable in its own right). “If you let me go I will open the safe, you can take the money and just go! Wouldn’t that be more sensible than all this? I mean, look man, I’ve got a hot date lined up for tonight, know what I mean? I haven’t got all evening to deal with this shit. C’mon man, have a heart! I haven’t gotten my fuckin’ rocks off in days and tonight’s the night I’m gonna score big with my ‘babe”, you know what I mean? Let’s settle this man-to-man, eh?” pleaded the bound AIG executive, certain that his ordeal was over. Money always talks.
“Hmmm, ‘man-to-man’, eh? I like the sound of that. I had already planned to settle this ‘man-to-man’. Yeah, sure, you can open the safe eventually for me. And that Patek Phillippe is nice…” (as he unfastened the expensive watch from Tyler’s bound left wrist), and…(fishing Tyler’s fat wallet out of his suit coat) the cash in here will help, too. But what I really came here for was for YOU. Yeah, I’ve been following you around, you know, stalking you, you might say, knowing where you go and what you do- I’m good at it- you never even noticed. Luckily I’ve done security work, worked with alarms, and this place was easy as pie to get into for a guy like me. But, no, now that I have you all to myself and have your ‘undivided attention’, I think I’ll have a little fun with you first,” replied his assailant, much to Tyler’s outraged confusion.
“What? You mean 10K is not enough!? Look, OK. You’re good at security breaches, alarms that kind of thing. You want a job? I could get you a job at AIG security easy (lying through his teeth). And what the fuck do you mean by ‘fun’ anyway? Is this your idea of fun? C’mon, man, like I said, I haven’t got all fuckin’ day! I got a hot date, man. Look I can get you whatever you want. You wanna get laid, too? Look, I can get you any number of high-class call girls, the best in the business. I’ll arrange for my service to get you the best room in the best hotel where you can fuck their brains out! They’re very discreet and wouldn’t even let me know where you meet them-all strictly confidential in that business so you’d have nothing to worry about. Even guys like me strike out sometimes at a bar-trust me these ladies are worth the price and I can afford to pay. C’mon what do you want, man?” replied Tyler, totally frustrated.
Alex, the “assailant”, decided to play along a bit with Tyler, saying “call girls, eh? Hmm like what kinda shit do you get up to with them yourself, you can tell me, you know, ‘man-to-man’ like.”
Heartened that his assailant seemed to be warming to the idea of his hiring a call girl for him (not that he ever would, but just to get free) Tyler began to regale Alex, in explicit detail, with all the perverse sex acts Tyler had ordered the “call girls” to perform on him (including forced rimjobs), divulging in a “man-to-man” kind of way that he loved to restrain a “call girl” naked on his big bed and tickle her mercilessly as foreplay before banging her brains out. He further proudly elaborated that “plus it’s always a laugh to bind a bimbo’s feet up in the air to the headboard so both her pussy and ass are on full display so I can not only fuck their pussy but shove it up their ass whether they want it or not, but especially if they get on my bad side (or even if they don’t!)” He further elaborated “And, if the bitches make too big of a fuss about anything, I just shove one of the ball-gags into their loud mouths to shut them the fuck up and get on with it!”
“Yeah, I noticed those bed restraints and blindfolds in one of the drawers in the bedroom. Must come in handy” enthused Alex, winking at Tyler through one of the slits in the ski mask.
“Exactly!” chuckled Tyler salaciously, now certain that he had finally won over his assailant, and had gotten him quite keen on the fake “call girl” notion he had so masterfully planted in the low-life miscreant’s tiny brain. All of these low-class heathens were easily persuaded by the thought of free sex with a fantasy voluptuous, otherwise unobtainable, woman. “Well, now that it’s settled, let me go so I can set up the call girl visit. All this talk of ‘call girls’ just makes me realize all the more how I need to get my rocks off tonight, you know? Now let me go and I’ll open the safe as well,” directed Tyler, feeling himself a bit more back in his accustomed imperious command of the situation.
Tyler’s brief feeling of being back in command quickly waned when the hotshot AIG executive, who remained bound in his carefully tailored and favorite Zegna suit with his arms cuffed behind him as he remained face down over one padded arm of his own priceless ultra modern leather sofa, gasped as he felt Alex caress his humpy upturned ass through the expensive wool of his Zegna suit pants as Alex replied: “No way I’m letting you go, asshole, and we can open the safe later, after we’ve had a bit of fun, eh, very ‘man-to-man’ like, right?” Alex punctuated his response with a sharp slap across Tyler’s upturned suit panted ass which resulted in a startled yelp of aghast protest from a furious Tyler whose humpy over-privileged ass was not accustomed to such things, his gym-toned ass stinging painfully as if there had been no expensive material between it and his captor’s strong hand.
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scotts60143 - July 27, 2024, 12:58 pm
Great beginning and I always do love a good story by Richard! Can’t wait to get to chapter 2!!