Powerful Men: Four Scorching Stories of Alpha-Males Who Take Control

by Carla Kane

  With her hands clamped behind her back and the tight iron chafing her wrists, Clara maneuvered herself out of the car. This situation was so ridiculous it was almost like a dream.

  “Start walking,’ the sheriff said and nudged her towards the steps up to his office.

  Clara stepped up to the porch and waited for the sheriff to open the door. They walked into a cool reception area. The desk was scattered with papers but empty. Nobody else was around.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ Clara asked.

  ‘You’re talking to them. Ain’t nobody else but me…’

  Clara was silent for a moment. She wasn’t sure how comfortable she was completely alone with this huge stallion of a man. ‘Are you going to put me in a cell?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And how long will I be there for?’

  ‘For as long as it takes you to cool down and start being a nice little girl again…’

  The sheriff pushed her forward and they turned a corner towards another desk in front of a small iron-barred cell. Inside there was nothing but a wooden bench and a metal drain, which, Clara noted with disgust, probably served as the toilet.

  The sheriff pulled the bars open with a clang and bade her to enter. ‘Good girl,’ he said, as he slammed the bars shut behind her.

  As Clara stood staring at him with indignant disgust, he walked back to his desk, took off his Stetson and flung it at a rack. It landed on the hook and the sheriff laughed with delight.

  ‘Hot damn!’ he said, sitting down at his desk and putting his feet up on the table, ‘still got it…’

  Clara watched him as he rifled through some documents. Without his hat she could see that he was actually much younger than she’d originally thought, maybe even younger than she was at thirty-five. And he was handsome too – she hated to admit it but the asshole was very handsome indeed.

  She looked at his snakeskin boots with derision. ‘You’re an asshole,’ she said, ‘you know that?’

  The sheriff’s hands froze before him. Slowly he lowered the papers and peered at her over the rims of his sunglasses. His eyes were bright blue and they sparkled playfully. ‘What did you say to me?’

  Clara felt a lump of excitement in her throat. She put her hands against the cold metal of the bars and looked out at him levelly. ‘I said you’re an asshole,’ she repeated, ‘little missy? Good girl? Tantrum? Are you fucking around here, or are you really that much of stone-aged hillbilly hick?’

  ‘Girl,’ the sheriff spoke, his voice as cold and hard as steel, ‘you best watch your mouth now.’

  ‘Yeah? Or what?’

  ‘Or I’ll fill it up…’

  Clara blinked. No way had he just – he didn’t mean…

  ‘That’s better,’ the sheriff smiled and got back to sorting his papers.

  About ten minutes later he stretched his huge arms out behind his back and yawned. ‘Well I am parched,’ he said, ‘what about you little missy? You want a drink?’

  He opened his drawer and pulled out a bottle of bourbon, pouring a decent measure into a glass on his desk.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me…’ Clara whispered.

  The sheriff swirled his glass contemplatively before taking a drink. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I used to date with a girl from New York. We was engaged in fact…’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, and she was every bit as uppity as you are too.’ The sheriff laughed and then sipped his drink. His voice became serious again. ‘Found out she was cheating on me and broke it off,’ he said.

  Clara shook her head in wonder. ‘So that’s what this is about? You’ve got a personal vendetta against women from New York – that’s why you’re fucking with me?’

  The sheriff took off his shades and considered her with his deep blue eyes. ‘No ma’am,’ he said, ‘this is about you driving dangerously at the outskirts of my town. If I was fucking with you… well shoot, you’d certainly know it.’

  Clara stared for a moment. ‘Aha,’ she said, ‘outskirts. I knew we weren’t in a town…’

  ‘We was in the town-lines,’ the sheriff frowned, ‘like I said. Why you are quite the little lawyer girl, aren’t you?’

  ‘Just you wait and see,’ Clara smirked.

  ‘How’s that? You gonna make a complaint against me Clara Silverman?’

  ‘Damn right,’ Clara said and folded her arms.

  ‘You know I don’t want to let that happen…’

  ‘So what?’

  The sheriff sighed and threw his papers down on the desk. Slowly he lifted his snakeskin boots off the table and swung them down on the ground. He rose from his seat.

  ‘So I ain’t going to let that happen…’

  Clara’s heart raced for a second as she stared at the huge cowboy through the bars. Was he threatening her? Or was he joking? There was a sparkle in his eye and that infuriating half-smile was dancing around the corners of his sexy lips. Sexy lips? Get a grip Clara. She felt a tingle between her legs. The sheriff started walking towards her.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he said, ‘I’m going to ask you to do something for me.’

  Clara felt a flush across her forehead as the huge cop closed in on her. Her voice was cloudy and choked when she spoke. ‘What’s that?’

  The sheriff produced the ring of keys from his pocket and turned the lock to the cell. Before pulling the bars open he looked her directly in the eyes and smiled.

  ‘Call me Boss.’

  The doors clanged open and he stood before her, now with no partition whatsoever keeping them apart. Clara felt very small and vulnerable beneath him. But she felt hot as well. She wanted to be fucked.

  ‘Well?’ the Sheriff asked.

  ‘Well what?’ Clara asked, staring defiantly up at him.

  ‘Well are you gonna call me Boss?’

  ‘Uh, no,’ Clara smiled, ‘I don’t think I will…’

  The sheriff snatched her by the arm and drew her up towards him with such speed that she yelped from shock. And then his mouth was over hers, hot and heavy, tasting like a man, like whiskey, like hunger. He sucked her mouth with his, driving his tongue through her lips, tasting her, taking her. When he pulled away Clara gasped. Her heart pounded in her chest. The sheriff smiled down at her with that cool iron jaw and sparkling blue eyes. ‘Oh yes you will,’ he said, ‘maybe not just yet, but you will…’

  He pulled her towards him again with his hands tight on her shoulders and his face downturned over hers. She looked up at him compliantly, ready to be punished, to be used.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, ‘I knew from the get-go that you was a bad, bad girl…’

  ‘Fuck you,’ Clara whispered, her voice choked with desire and her whole body pulsing with fire.

  The sheriff spun her around roughly and then forced her over to the bench. Clara stumbled and caught herself with her palms against the wood and her body bent over against the seat. Just the way he wanted her. The sheriff put his hands around her waist and pressed his strong palms against her stomach. He stepped forward and she felt the heat of his huge cock against her ass, through the fabric of his tight black pants. Her cunt foamed and throbbed, swollen and hungry for the lawmaker.

  The Sheriff ran his hands up against her tits and groped them, squeezing tightly. Waves of pleasure rushed from the nipples down her spine and into her clamping loins. He pulled her up towards him so that her back was against his iron stomach and then bent down to wrap his mouth around the side of her throat.

  Clara moaned with pleasure as he sucked and nibbled on her sensitized flesh – his warm saliva soaking her skin and running down her back. As he kissed her neck, he teased her nipples, drawing circles around them, sometimes squeezing, sometimes brushing against them enticingly. Clara felt like she might cum already if she didn’t soon get a grip on herself.

  She screamed out, shocked and intensely turned-on, as he tore open her blouse and pulled it off of her. He drew his fingers around her back, brushing the flesh with tantalizing
care, and then slipped them beneath the strap of her plain green bra. He pulled the strap back, sending a shot of pain through Clara’s engorged nipples, and then bent forward to wrap his teeth around it.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Clara shrieked as he bit clean through the bra-strap and then pulled it roughly off her. Her tits plopped down freely against her stomach and the sheriff took them in his hands once more, kneading and pushing, while he grinded his hard dick against her ass.

  ‘Say it,’ he grunted, his voice deep and harsh, ‘call me Boss,’

  Through panting breath, Clara arched her back against him and whispered: ‘No.’

  The sheriff growled and dropped his hands to the waistline of her slacks. He slipped his thumbs underneath, unbearably close to her swollen mound, and started unbuttoning her flies. Clara’s pussy clenched and frothed for his touch as she let him work.

  He stepped back and wrenched down her pants. Underneath she wore only a pair of faded white panties. Travelling underwear. Not like it mattered to him.

  The sheriff bent down and then buried his face in her ass, his wet mouth pressed up against the thin material of her panties and his tongue relentlessly poking through them against her crack.

  Clara rocked her hips back against him, and sighed lustily as he pulled off her panties. He thrust his head forward and licked – right from the back of her labia, up over her asshole and up along the cleft of her ass. A surge of hot fire shot through her and she moaned with pleasure, as he pressed his fingers against her cheeks and squeezed tightly. He brought his mouth closer and flicked his tongue out at her ring, drawing a circle right around the hole. Clara’s whole body clenched and she shrieked with shock and pleasure at the tingling, ticklish sensation.

  The sheriff spat on her asshole and rubbed the saliva in with his tongue, slipping the tip just inside the gap. He ran his hand down underneath her loins, with his fingers brushing the flesh around her clit and his thumb pressed up against her butt. He slipped it inside her ass and held it there for a moment. Clara clenched herself around him. She wanted him to fill her every orifice, to invade her entire body, to ruin her and ravage her completely.

  ‘Baby you better call me Boss or I’m going to fuck this sweet little ass of yours…’

  It was hard for her to speak. She couldn’t even think straight, she just wanted him inside her. ‘No way,’ she panted.

  The sheriff released his grip on her crotch and stood up. ‘Well don’t say I didn’t warn you then.’

  She heard him unzip his pants and then spit on his cock. And then – grunting – he stepped back towards her. ‘Now this might hurt a little bit,’ he said, ‘so just close your eyes and think happy thoughts…’

  He pressed the throbbing helmet up to her ring and her asshole clenched against him reflexively. Concentrating, she let herself relax as the Sheriff slowly led his huge throbbing cock inside her. The flesh seared and tingled as it stretched around him and she moaned. The sheriff placed one of his hands against her head and drew his fingers softly through her hair.

  ‘Shush, shush, shush,’ he sighed as he pushed slowly up inside of her.

  His heat and flesh felt huge, filling her hole completely, pushing the walls out all around him even as she clenched herself over his cock. Slowly but surely, he continued to push his huge dick up her asshole until it was all the way inside her, the hilt pressed against her soft supple buttocks. His soft grip on her hair suddenly tightened as he pulled a handful up towards him. The pull stung her scalp and she allowed her head to be dragged back.

  ‘Say it,’ he whispered.

  Clara shook her head.

  ‘Ok then.’

  In an instant he pulled his cock almost all the way out and then rammed it again up inside her, driving through her flesh with force and fury, filling her body with an explosion of pleasure and pain. She cried out in ecstasy as he fucked in and out again, all the way to the hilt with relentless speed.

  She felt a wave of heat wash through her swollen cunt. Her lips were dripping wet and hungry to be taken.

  ‘Please,’ she panted, ‘put something in my pussy…’

  The sheriff ignored her, continuing to fuck her asshole, grunting like an animal with a handful of her hair in one hand and the other pressed tight against her ass. Finally he pulled out.

  ‘Turn around,’ he said, ‘get down on your knees…’

  Panting, Clara did as she was told. She turned around and kneeled down before the huge Texan, his massive animal cock hanging just in front of her face. His face was sweaty and red as he looked down at her. He put his hand around his dick.

  ‘Suck it,’ he said.

  Clara didn’t need to be told twice. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide over his huge head, gagging slightly as he thrust it all the way in. With her hands on his hips she bobbed her head in and out, relishing the salty, musty taste. She pulled her head back and drew her tongue around the helmet and down the shaft.

  Up above her, the sheriff grunted and groaned with pleasure, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open. Clara continued to suck on his dick until he suddenly snapped out of it. He stepped back and pulled her to her feet, clamping his mouth over hers and kissing her long and hard, before swooping her up off her feet. He turned and laid her down on the stone floor, his eyes fierce and hungry as he lowered himself over her. He kissed her mouth and throat, then moved down to her chest, cupping her breasts in his hands and sucking the nipples with passionate intensity.

  He reached underneath her thighs and hoisted her up so that her pussy faced up towards him. With a dark smile on his lips and his eyes locked in hers, he positioned himself between her legs and brought his huge dick up against her pussy. He let it grind against her freely for a moment and then used his hand to give it more control. He ran it up against her swollen lips and Clara thrust herself forward with fevered passion, her whole body tingling with ethereal fire.

  Slowly he pushed forward, parting her crevice with his cock and moving inside of her. She clamped her swollen flesh around him as she felt his heat fill her up, invading her, making her his own.

  She cried out with pleasure as he began to rock against her, fucking her, with his pubic bone pressed hard against her mound and his hot, hard body moving up and down over hers. Climax was coming. He took her hands in his and stretched her arms up over her head, pressing them against the ground. Bright light filled her mind, her cunt ached around him, swallowed him. She was about to cum.

  ‘Say it,’ he grunted, ‘call me the Boss of Breslin Springs.’

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ Clara screamed, as all her essence rushed through her, down towards their fleshy union, ‘you’re the Boss! Fuck me, Boss!’

  ‘Yes ma’am’ the Sheriff grunted and exploded a missile of cum inside her.

  Panting, he dismounted and rolled onto the floor beside her. ‘Well damn,’ he said, ‘I guess we both broke a whole lot of rules just now. You still gonna report on me, little Missy?’

  Clara sat up and placed her hand on the sheriff’s huge chest. She smiled down on him. ‘Well I was…’ she said, ‘but then I thought I might wait to see what the breakfast service was like – it wouldn’t be fair to report without going through the whole experience, after all…’

  ‘I can see the logic in that,’ the sheriff smiled, ‘but I can’t leave you here for the night. I’d best take you home and give you a proper bed, if I’m to keep you as a prisoner until tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ Clara smiled.

  ‘That I am. And boy is my wife going to be surprised when she sees you…’

  Clara’s smile disappeared. ‘What?’ she whispered.

  The sheriff sat up and brushed his fingers against her cheek. ‘Got ya,’ he grinned, ‘I ain’t got a wife – I’m a proud bachelor…’

  ‘Asshole,’ Clara admonished playfully and then smiled again. ‘And do you want to stay a bachelor?’

  The Sheriff considered her seriously for a moment. ‘Well shoot,’ he said wistfully, ‘may
be not…’

  He brought her towards him and kissed her tenderly. Then he stood up.

  ‘Well you best get dressed,’ he said, ‘I’m gonna have to cuff you again if I’m to transport you back to my place.’

  ‘Yes sir Boss,’ Clara simpered obediently and stood up to continue her night of internment.

  # # #

  Insatiable Prince

  Seduced on the Orient Express

  “Prince Rogozhin will see you this evening” the letter read, “report to his carriage at seven PM sharp.”

  It had been five whole days since Jenny Campbell boarded the train at Budapest with the intention of interviewing the temperamental Bratvarian prince for her magazine back home. The trip across Europe was supposed to be a journey of spiritual awakening – a break from the stress of the New York office where her magazine was based, as well as an opportunity to rediscover herself after a messy break-up and a five year relationship. But when war broke out in the small eastern-European provinces of Bratvaria and the darkly handsome, brooding prince just so happened to be passing through her vicinity on the Orient Express that week, Jenny’s editor Marge Donahue hadn’t been able to reel her back in quick enough. Not that Jenny minded. It was a scoop of a lifetime and – since the magazine were paying for her room onboard the train – it was sure to be an experience of equal significance.

  But after taking up her elegant (if somewhat small) cabin and joining the ranks of the aristocratic and wayfaring inhabitants of the train, Jenny had been left completely to her own devices. Every day the prince’s aides told her that she would have to wait for her conference with the enigmatic and mysterious royal and, by the sixth day, Jenny was beginning to doubt if she’d get her interview at all. And then, just before dinner was to be served in the restaurant, the small gilded note slid under her door. That evening, she would be seen by the prince in his own private carriage at the back of the train.

  She ate quickly and hurried back to her cabin to do her makeup and go over her list of questions. In no time at all, it was time to make her way back across the train for her appointment with Prince Rogozhin.