Benjamin Forster

Everyone else is below me here in Los Angeles because I am on top of the city. That is something that can never be taken away from me. My name is Benjamin Forster, and I am the most skilled person in my field; but, the work I make is not always appealing to look at. A few years ago, when I took over the failing business that my father had left to me, I decided to give it my all in order to restore it to its former grandeur. It did. Additionally, it exceeded its previous glories by going above and beyond its expectations. Everything is my fault.

I try to go to the workplace as early as possible; the idea of having to spend another hour with that woman at home is beyond my comprehension. She always managed to get on my nerves by behaving as if she were as powerful and as intelligent as I am. She was insignificant. Simply said, all she was was a lovely face.

It was my idea to outfit the firm with marble columns, which gave off an air of quality. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the Forster Trading Corporate, it was a pleasure to watch people working hard. The company halls were lined with marble columns. I came dangerously close to breaking my back while lugging this failing business and bringing it back from the brink of death in order to ensure that those people would continue to have work.

We were responsible for the transportation of a wide variety of goods, including steel works, agricultural equipment, food, and other resources that different governments throughout the world utilize for their own nations. Because these helped the corporation bring in more money overall, the company also engaged in some illegal commercial activities known as black operations. These were nothing more than handguns and other types of weaponry that are currently in service with the armed forces of certain nations.

Back then, my father made a huge mistake, and since he was afraid that the responsibility would fall on me if the business failed, he gave it to his only son so that he could absolve himself of any responsibility for the fallout. Because I was so angry, I channeled my energy into rebuilding it and cutting him out of it completely by revealing what he had done.

Everyone found out who I am and what I am capable of doing right at that moment and location. It makes no difference to me whether they are made of blood if they are unsuccessful. Being ruthless, being calculated, and having a cold demeanor are the essential qualities that are required for a tycoon like myself to achieve my goals and become successful.

An intern greeted me with "Good morning, Mr. Forster" as I strolled through the magnificent hallways of my firm; nevertheless, I paid him no attention at all. Why should I lower myself to meet someone who isn't getting paid? They were just here because it was required for their schoolwork.

"Mr. Forster!" a lady yelled out as she raced up to me at this moment, and I stare at her. She flinched as I looked at her since it was usually a terrible idea to bother me so early in the morning because I have dismissed staff for less than that in the past.

She was out of breath as she talked to me, and I observed that she was vividly flushing as I stared at her. "These shipments to Poland require your signature before we can give them the go signal." She was probably in her early twenties, and she had brown hair that flowed in waves, both of which drew my attention to her. She was a young woman. It's possible that I'll end up sleeping with this one next. But before that, some business.

"Are those the steel beams that were sent out?" I question her in a blank manner, and she strongly nods, that a construction company had asked us to transport these to Poland for the usage of a customer, and because it was a large account, I agreed to do this. It is very likely that we could make a few of million dollars by doing so.

I take out my pen, reach inside the pocket on my chest, and sign the paper that she was holding. "Anything else?" I inquire more, and she responds by shaking her head. “Dismissed.” As soon as I started making my approach towards the office, the woman exited the building without wasting any time.

My secretary, who was also another lady with whom I had slept, was already at her desk so early. She greeted me by saying, "Mr. Forster, you will have a meeting with a possible customer after lunch." They are quite enthusiastic about conducting business with us.

This one was a woman with red hair and glasses; her freckles made me want her, and ultimately, I was successful in acquiring her. If there is enough time, I would like to sleep with her.

"Tell me about the encounter with that moronic councillor," you asked. I ask her, I hated dealing with politicians because they believe they're hotshot schemers, but in reality, they're simply dogs with a big bark but little bite. I ask her, I disliked dealing with politicians because they think they're hotshot schemers. It was a fun pleasure to see them wriggle and squirm as I bullied them into accepting my offers, but being in their presence made me feel uncomfortable and sticky.

The redhead looked over the stack of papers that had been placed in front of her desk, and then she just shook her head and said, "I don't believe that's on the agenda for today, sir."

“Great. My workplace is where you can find me. Please alert me when my presence is required. I tell her, "Only major developments," as I walk into my office, which is my own private area in which I have complete freedom to do whatever the heck I want. Who cares if I had sex with many ladies here since I did it anyway? Who cares what I do as long as I can keep the business going and give them consistent numbers? No one gives a rat's behind about what I do.

There was a pile of documents, and I heaved a sigh of exasperation at the fact that there were outstanding contracts that needed to be inspected and signed. I was under the impression that I should only conduct business with large corporations, and as a result, I would only let my own firm engage in transactions with smaller enterprises as a gesture of charity and grace. In this manner, a favorable impression of ourselves would be conveyed to the rest of the globe. Since it did not generate any income and would often cause a loss of funds for our company, I will only consent to it happening during very profitable months.

I sat down in my office chair, which was made of leather and had been well cleaned by the cleaning staff. It has always been convenient for me to be in an environment in which I can conduct my business in peace and without interference.

I just caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye, but it was enough to start getting on my nerves. On top of one of the drawers was a picture of the person.

As I stand up from the chair and move closer to the object in question, I mutter under my breath, "I thought I fucking took care of this already." It was a picture of Julia and myself taken during our wedding. Julia was my bridesmaid. Everything seemed so hopeless to me at that time. I didn't give it a second thought before grabbing it and tossing it in the trash can.

“Trash. As I was making my way back to the desk, I said to myself, "Where you deserve to be."

I had married that woman so that I might advance my social standing, but in my eyes, she was nothing more than a piece of meat. The fact that a man is successful in business also makes him a good husband and father. If I weren't married, rumors and gossip about my status and maybe even my sexual orientation would spread like wildfire.

I've never been able to wrap my head around the idea of love; why would anyone want to devote themselves to a single partner for the rest of their lives without taking into account the possibility that the partner may alter your life in ways that you could never recover from? I would just dedicate myself to the company and nothing else. I had married Julia because she was the ideal toy for me; she is naive, innocent, and believes in the idea of love. I had married Julia. To some extent, I feel that she still believes in it, which makes her an even more repulsive person. She was the type of woman who was interested in listening to tall tales and nonsense. That just is not the case. It was never the case. She was nothing more than an object of my passion, just like every other woman who has ever entered my life; they were all nothing more to me than fleshlights for me to take pleasure in. My own wife never raised an objection whenever I brought another lady into the house, even though I did it on a regular basis. She could even hear us banging and fucking away, yet she would still allow it to happen despite the fact that she could hear it. Because I would severely punish her if she spoke out, if she did. Which made me delighted since I wanted to exert some degree of control over her. to torture her whenever she acts in a disobedient manner. to make use of her when I was unable to locate anyone else to utilize.

To me, she is nothing more than that. Someone or something I despise.

Before beginning to work on the piles of material in front of me, I found myself saying, "I fucking hate you." "I fucking hate you," I said to myself.

Benjamin Forster

The day was almost over, just a minute or so before I would finally be free to do what I wanted, but somehow, in some fucked up way, some person manages to barge in at the time I least expect them to. "Fucking hell," I muttered to myself as another knock on the door brought me out of my reverie. The day was almost over, and just a minute or so away, I would finally be free to do what I wanted.

"Mister Forster?" When I had nothing else to do, I would usually distract myself with Vivian, the gorgeous redhead secretary that I had recruited.

“Yes? "This better be worth the over time I am not getting paid for," I grumpily asked her while glancing at my watch for effect. She appeared both embarrassed and sheepish as I responded to her in a rude manner, but this is what they are used to seeing from me because I am the kind of boss who is "no bullshit, no nonsense."

"There is someone here, his name is Mister Stella Sanders, and he is representing the private military corporation known as "Surge Tech," which is a company that we do business with. "According to him, the situation is critical"

As I tried to piece together what was going on in my head, my thoughts kept drifting to the underlying need of me wanting to kick back and start drinking in a pub somewhere while I tried to recover the memory of what I had to do with this Stella Sanders. My thoughts flitted past like butterflies as I tried to piece together what was going on. There are a lot of things going through my head, and that is the reason why I am the most powerful magnate in Los Angeles. It is because of these things that I was able to maintain a firm grasp on the reins of power, even as everyone else below me shook with fear.

I eventually recalled the transaction that we had been going through, so I told her, "Ah, I see." It had something to do with a shipment of weaponry to a nation in the Middle East, which his men will use to assist some men in combating a developing insurrection in the region. There were a few problems with it, and the FBI was listening in closely on the agreement. They have stated that they will not hesitate to intervene if they believe that we are putting the safety of the United States at risk. "Let him in."

Jenkins entered the room looking like he had been through a lot, stressed out and frazzled, yet despite his appearance, he exudes an air of authority.

"Mister Forster, it is fantastic to finally meet in the flesh," he informed me with an accent that seemed like it was coming from Europe. He extended his hand, and I firmly shook it. "The level of intensity that I bring to the table personally could not possible be contained in any of the video sessions that we had"

I responded with "Stella," ignoring the honorific he had previously used. "Well, if that's the case, then this must have something to do with the FBI keeping a close eye on our shipments, doesn't it?"

The man chuckled as though I had told a really good joke, and then he said, "Ah yeah, yes, your country's Bureau or whatever they want to be called." We have an agreement with them that states they are not allowed to touch us as long as we stay out of their path. This is completely unrelated to anything else, Mister Forster."

I searched my memory for the appropriate response, but I was never informed that the FBI issue had been resolved. Those employees in my "Intelligence" section are going to receive a little reprimand in due time. "Ah yes, sorry, there's been a lot on my plate recently. I haven't been able to keep up with everything that's been going on, but obviously the FBI has been taken care of by now. But what is this whole new thing? "What exactly is it?" I questioned him with the expectation that he would not notice that I had smoothed things up in order to give him the impression that I was unaware that the FBI issue had been resolved.

"There is some type of politician here that wants in on the transaction, and he will send us another shipment of weapons to give to our people over there, but he wants me to make sure that you are in on it," the person said. "I want to make sure that you are in on it." Jenkins remarked to me while I was trying to take in the information that I had just been given and he smiled at me.

I cast a cursory glance at the clock and saw that barely three minutes had passed, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. The desire, the need, and the lust for alcohol, for booze, and to live recklessly started to tighten on me, but I buckled my thoughts up and smiled sweetly at Stella Sanders. I felt as though I had lived a lifetime.

"Is this for a deal that will take place behind closed doors, or is this going to be official?" I smiled in response to his question, and he rolled his eyes in response, which was the deciding factor in the situation.

"Very well, Mister Jenkins. I will let the people below me know about the new arrangement that has been formed with "Surge Tech," as well as the fact that covered shipments are about to come, and that they will most likely be transported to the same area. Jenkins gave me a reassuring smile when I said that I had "struck the nail on the head" with that statement.

"Yes, I think that would be wonderful. Jenkins said menacingly, "Remember, Mister Forster, everyone's reputation is at stake here, and we do not wish to hit any more snags as we have heard reports of some people in your company snooping around on our 'private' shipments," and I almost flinched as he said it because it was a veiled threat, there was a rumor going around about corporate espionage going on, and I still had not managed to get on It was an issue that needed to be fixed, but I have a lot of time to do it now.

I stood up from my seat at the table, and Jenkins, interpreting it as a hint that the meeting was coming to a close, did the same thing. He shook my hand once more before leaving the room. As he tossed the fresh stack of papers onto my desk, he had a sly look in his eyes that suggested he was hungry.

After a cursory review, I discovered that it would bring in an additional three billion dollars in revenue for my organization. What a steal, right? I put my signature on the documents and then gave them to Vivian, who waited until I had left for the day before she would go anywhere else.

I instructed her to "Bring this to the correct channels, this is under the table, so quiet," and as I left the company, finally ready to get my party on, she simply nodded silently in response. "Bring this to the proper channels, this is under the table, so hush."

—- The bar that I typically went to for late-night drinks was really busy today for some unknown reason, and there were a lot of people there. As I made my way across the dance floor in search of my regular table, which was usually reserved for me, the pounding roar of the music muffled the wild and boisterous slurring that they were engaging in.

When people noticed who was strolling among them, several of them did a double take. These peons, pissants, or whatever they are definitely appreciated the attention they received from staring. The strobe lights that flooded the space were not able to disguise my identity; yet, I did not care because it was irrelevant to the situation. Who was going to give a damn if I went out partying, drank some alcohol, and had a good time? My wife? You've got to be joking.

I walked by a man who said, "Oh, Mister Forster!" as I did so. As I did so, he shamelessly prostrated himself before me while pulling at my leg. I attempted to move it away from him, but he had such a grasp on it that I thought the fabric may be ripped if I tried any further. "Please, I was let off from your company just today, and this is the only thing that's keeping me afloat in life."

Although I was able to make out these terrible remarks despite the loud music that was playing in the background, I did not feel any empathy for him as I looked down at him. He had an unremarkable appearance and did not stand out in any way, which meant that I was not familiar with him or whatever he performed. A poor grunt who was most likely let go by a boss at one of the organizations that fall under my umbrella.

"How is it any of my business?" When I responded with sarcasm, he tightened his grip on my leg, which annoyed me further. I was giving him the finger. I didn't come to this place to listen to some whimpering wretch dump snot all over my well-tailored jeans; I came here to have fun. "I do not even know you," the speaker said.

As he continued speaking, he swallowed his pride and embarrassment and said, "Please, sir, I need this job to support my family."

As others began to notice what was going on, they began to stare; thus, it was imperative that I take the appropriate action before the situation became much more precarious than it already was.

I tell him in a severe tone, "This is a pub that caters to the affluent and well-to-do. How are you here then, if you would cry about feeding your family?"

I made a move toward a bouncer, and he recognized me right away and looked over to see what was going on. Instantaneously, he moved in my direction. The man struggled violently while the bouncer held him aloft as if he weighed nothing, and the bouncer continued to hold him.

"Come along gently now," the bouncer calmly remarked, unperturbed and undisturbed by the man's attempts to free himself from his grasp. "Don't annoy the other guests," the bouncer said.

I gave the bouncer a little tap on the shoulder as they were leaving my area, and as he came around to face me, he saw that I was taking something out of my pockets.

I did not make an effort to find out his name because everyone already knew mine, and that was all that was important. "For you, Bouncer," I told him. For situations exactly like this one, I had a couple of hundred dollar dollars stashed away in my pockets, and he accepted them with gratitude. I turned to him and stuffed a handful of these hundred dollar notes, which added up to potentially hundreds of dollars, into his pocket while muttering, "For you, loser."

Since I was a regular customer, I was given my own honorary place, and because I did spend a significant amount of money at this establishment, the proprietor personally bestowed upon me the right to use this particular booth as my own. The room made way for me as I continued to walk through it, and my table was already waiting for me there. It was the ideal VIP booth in which I could have my own personal space.

She was wearing a revealing dress that cut deep into her own chests, and her cleavage was literally demanding for me to delve in, but I had to contain myself since I wanted a drink first. "Mister Forster," the hostess cooed. She was wearing a revealing dress that cut deep into her own chests. I couldn't be bothered to learn her name, so I just grinned at her instead. She had strawberry blonde hair, and the cherry red outfit that shimmered perfectly complemented her. I could already see the men around the booth almost undressing her with her gaze, but this was mine to do with as I pleased.

"It's wonderful to be back," I remark to her in a light-hearted manner as I settle into the plush velvet chair with a cushion, thinking to myself that it's been a long time since I've been this relaxed. "Well, since we're here, why don't we have my standard?"

The young lady flashed a grin as she waved her palms in front of the bartender, who was already fully aware of what I ordered as my "regular" —-

Her lips parted my mouth, and I could feel her attempting to lick every area of my mouth. Meanwhile, her hands were stroking me and rubbing at my chest, my thighs, and my dick, which was starting to become more firm. She was stroking it quite vigorously; the booth had been locked off, and no one would dare to peep into Benjamin Forster's very own private VIP chamber. I was able to get her off the couch and place her on the table with very little effort, and she chuckled the whole time, as if she found it amusing to be dominated in this manner.

She spoke to me in a lustful tone and smirked at me as I separated her legs and positioned myself in between them. "Well, someone's playing rough today," she remarked. "Well, someone's acting rough today." But the desire and the impulse to do so abruptly vanished from me as thoughts of my wife began to pour into my brain at the same time as the new agreement, which was starting to sound frenetic due of the involvement of the politician who must remain nameless.

My rage, combined with my intoxicated thoughts and the alcohol that was already in my veins, began to make my erection weaken, so I dropped myself back down on the couch, and she sat up, looking a little bit dissatisfied with what she saw.

She questioned me while gently stroking my face, "Augie, are you okay?" as I turned my head away from her.

I did not reply to her as I proceeded to consume the beverage in front of me. Once more, the booze gave me a rush, but all I could do was stare around pityingly, as if I had completely lost the desire to drink at all.

After consuming one drink after another in complete quiet for an hour, I eventually left the establishment, somewhat wobbling as I signaled to Preston, a driver whom I had on standby for times when I was having one of these drinking binges, to take me home.

I wanted a break from everything, but as soon as I remembered what a hot mess of a woman I would have to deal with when I got home, I started to feel the wrath building up again.

Julia Forster

Although the make-up did a good job of concealing the bruises, they still hurt when I touched them; nevertheless, it is just a normal part of the process. I had no choice but to put up with this because this was a very important day for us. We held out hope that he would be able to make it home in time for supper.

On the table was a steak that had been freshly prepared and grilled to his preferred level of doneness, which was medium rare. Champagne was sitting on an ice bucket, ready to be sipped when it was finally ready. I played several lulling tunes, as well as some timeless piano works by renowned musicians of the past.

But Benjamin was still not there when I checked the time; it was already past his normal bedtime. My mind started to fill up with images of him being involved with another woman, and I did my best to push those images to the back of my consciousness. I needed to preserve my composure and my sanity in order to get through this. If this means that I have to pretend I know what I'm doing, then I have no problem with that.

I have suffered, and all I wanted was to be loved; perhaps Benjamin will finally understand this when the company stops bothering him the way they always have, and then perhaps he will be able to finally kick back, relax, and acknowledge that he has always had a wife waiting for him at home. I have endured. I only wanted to be loved.

I gave the mirror another glance and saw the same reflection staring back at me; she was a beautiful woman, as if she just had not been through a whirlwind of emotions and pain recently. Even for just this day, it would be okay for me to feel even a semblance of love from him. I glanced back at the mirror again and saw the reflection staring back at me; she was a beautiful woman.

As I heard his car pull into the driveway, I tried to prepare myself for the impending hit by telling myself, "Just this day, give me just this day, and I will be okay."

I heard the door of the automobile slam shut, and when the lights went out, I shut my eyes as the front door of the mansion opened. I didn't waste any time in greeting him, even though he appeared to have had a difficult day.

I addressed him in a soothing tone, "I'm delighted you came home, sweetie," but all he did was gaze at me in confusion.

Benjamin Forster

My mind raced as Preston pulled into the driveway; the business transaction with the politician had finally dawned on me, and it exploded in my mind like a bomb. This was a high-risk transaction, and it had the ability to either make a lot of money for all of us or put all of us in danger.

Dealing with politicians was one of the aspects of it that I detested the most since they are all so self serving. However, if it is managed well, one's own greed may be turned into useful instruments and possibilities for financial gain. But this one, to the extent where even someone as dubious and as strong as Stella Sanders is unable to pronounce this person's name, must suggest that he is quite far up in the ladder. This irritated me since nobody should have any authority over me in any manner or form when it comes to activities and procedures that call for my participation.

As the gates opened, which were automated by cameras that scanned the license plates on my vehicle, I suddenly remembered that I also have to deal with this woman; it irritated me to no end, I was not able to enjoy a night out with the gorgeous blonde from the pub, I have to be hassled by Stella Sanders' sudden appearance, and now I have to deal with my stay-at-home wife who always seems to be on my ass for some reason. I was unable to enjoy a night out

I mumbled to myself, "Goddamnit," as I clenched my fists in an effort to fend off the waves of disorientation and booze that were consuming my own identity.

"Is there something wrong, your honor?" Preston inquired in a low voice as he kept his eyes on the driveway the entire time we were gently parking in front of my mansion.

I snap at him, "It's none of your concern, just park," and he immediately complies with my demand. I bolted away from the vehicle the second it stopped moving, slammed the door, and opened the front door. She was there, and when she thanked me for returning home, her face was adorned with a grin that could only be described as dumb and timid.

The question is: Shouldn't I be? This place can't even be called a house! She was wearing a very small little dress that appeared to suit her quite beautifully, but I was not up for any of that now. My thoughts began to ring as I struggled to restrain myself from instantly striking out at her.

She had on some sort of makeup and had combed through her hair for some reason.

"Are you going out?" I questioned her while attempting to control my slurring, and she appeared perplexed when I posed the topic to her.

She gave a slight shake of her head, and I slowly backed away from her, attempting to get away from her at this point, when the kitchen was already prepared, and I could hear Moonlight Sonata playing in the background.

Have you have something to eat? Julia questioned me, chasing after me like a crazy fan.

I paid her no attention and proceeded to make my way toward the bedroom, intent on getting a good night's sleep after the long day I had just finished.

I only gave the table in the dining room a quick glance, but in that little time I was able to see that it had steak and that a bucket of champagne was being chilled nearby.

That made me a little bit irritated, so I turned to talk to her, and she had suddenly frozen in her tracks, as if she was attempting to make a grab for me.

"Did you have someone with you at this time?" In an angry tone, I accused her, "In my own house, you dumb, cheating whore?! "

She immediately placed her hands up in the air while stuttering and being unable to get any words out of her lips. "No, it's not that, Benjamin; I did not have any visitors here," the man said.

"Then what the heck is this?!" he said. I questioned her fiercely while pointing at the beautifully laid table. My inebriation began to show since I began to wobble from where I stood, but this did not make a difference. It required every ounce of my might to hold myself steady, which is probably due to the fact that I drank much too much.

As I started to make my way towards the bedroom, Julia started to follow me again. She was trying to say something, but I could not make out what she was saying; was it because of her own nervousness? I muttered something under my breath that sounded like "Cheating shithead" as I began to make my way towards the bedroom. Because she knew someone was in the home, was she stumbling over her words and shaking?

When I entered the bedroom, I turned on the lights and looked about for anything that may have been out of place. When I saw that there was nothing amiss, I glared furiously at her, and she was immediately behind me once more, like some kind of demon dog or something.

I attempt to regain my composure by assuring her that whatever you do in your own time is OK. "But for you to cheat on me, to fucking have someone over in MY OWN house, have a lovely little meal while I am out working, trying to put together the best for my company!" "But for you to cheat on me, to fucking have someone over in MY OWN house!"

Julia placed her hands up in submission once more, cowed and surprised by the way I talked to her in a very calm voice and the manner in which I presented the information to her. As I attempted to decipher what was going through her mind, she made the ridiculous gesture of lowering her head. As I racked my brain for solutions, it started to go into overdrive and produce more and more errors.

"So, what the hell are you looking for, Julia?" I queried her, unable to discover an explanation or any kind of fault in the home, but she did not respond; instead, she just continued to gaze down, staring at the floor like a petulant little girl who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Are you going to talk or are you not going to speak?!" I demanded fiercely of her while getting closer to her and putting my hands on my hips; she recoiled at the sight of my hands and I had to rein myself in.

She spoke in a trembling voice as she began to shed tears as she said, "Today was our 3(rd) year anniversary, Benjamin, and I simply wanted to enjoy it with you."