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Some people don’t deserve their authority, and one of those people was Simon. He was nearly fifty, but he still behaved like he was in a frat in college. Despite his antics, he had already failed up through most of the levels of his father’s company, and now held the title of vice president of such-and-such–what it was didn’t really matter, at this point, even his own father knew that giving Simon any more authority would be a disaster. So Simon could do pretty much whatever he wanted. It didn’t matter if he didn’t show up to work, it didn’t matter if he was hungover, if he smelled like pot, if he brought a hooker. More than once, the hookers had gotten pregnant. Abortions had been arranged in most cases, all aside from one–Simon had one son who was now of college age, but without a real role model in his life, he wasn’t going to amount to anything either. It was clear though, to the faeries, that it was time for Simon to learn some responsibility–it was time for him to learn what it was like at the bottom of the totem pole.
The day started like any other day, though. He woke up, somewhere between drunk and hungover, dismissed the whore in bed with him, and got into the shower. He didn’t really feel like going into work today–it was a Monday, and usually he just skipped them entirely, but something…told him that he needed to go in today, but he didn’t quite know why. He put on a shirt and slacks, but no tie–he hated wearing a tie–and then he went downstairs, where his slacker son was in the living room, bong on the table, playing video games. On a different sort of morning, Simon might have joined him for a hit or two and some shooter of some sort, but instead he got in one of his several cars, and drove off to the office. He had…a meeting with his dad today, one he couldn’t quite recall making, but it was…important.
His father was an older gentleman, almost seventy now, but he had staved off retirement, because even he knew that passing the reins of the company to his son Simon would be a disaster. Simon headed for his father’s office, but as soon as he passed through the door and the secretary shut it behind him…he could sense that something was off.
“There you are, late as usual, I see.”
The criticism wasn’t new, but the disgust, and disappointment–the utter contempt in his father’s voice–that was new. Simon stammered for a reply, unsure what was happening, and that’s when he noticed that his father…wasn’t wearing his slacks, sitting at his desk.
“Well, get the fuck under here boy–you know I’m the fucking boss around here, right? And what does that make you?”
“That’s right–now suck your daddy’s cock like a good boy.”
Simon tried to fight it, but he crawled under his father’s desk, and started sucking his cock. To his horror, people kept coming into the office for meetings, and Simon stayed there, his father’s cock in his mouth, while his dad went about the company business, keeping Simon under there for almost an hour before finally cumming in his mouth, and dismissing him with barely a word, Simon scrambling out of his father’s sight, confused and horrified at what he’d just done, and he hurried to the bathroom, to sort himself out.