Chapter One

 

Alexander Hamilton was a wealthy and contented man. If it could be said that some men faced many challenges in their lives then it could also be said that some benefited from an overabundance of good fortune. Alexander was such a man.

Born to a wealthy family, he was a handsome boy gifted with a keen intelligence and raised as a privileged member of society's elite. He went to the best schools, where he was an excellent athlete and had many friends. He never wanted for anything. His every need was met.

As he grew older that need included females, and his handsome face and smooth manner had them tumbling into his bed.

There was an old axiom that one did not value what came too easily, and Alexander was a prime example. Everything came easily to Alexander, and so he came to value little of it. He took pride in his powerful and expensive cars, his beautiful house, his fine clothing, and in the beautiful girls, and then women who hung on his arms.

But he valued none of them, for they all came as easily as breathing.

Alexander valued his successes in sports, and later in business. For those took effort, and were never entirely certain. But while he took pride in his possessions, including his wife and children, he did not particularly value them.

Alexander married a beautiful young woman, who, like himself, was a member of the elites. And insofar as her life had mirrored his own she was as arrogant, as sophisticated, as uncaring of the things which had always come so easily to her as he was.

Their children benefited from being raised to a life of luxury and privilege, as their parents were. They also benefited, to a degree, from their parents absence. For neither Alex nor his wife Deborah cared to spent very much time on squalling, smelly children. They produced them, not so much out of a desire to have children, but out of a sense of societal obligation.

One was expected to have children, after all, and continue the family blood lines.

After that, though, the raising could be left to the servants and nannies while Alex and his wife did whatever took their fancy, together or apart.

Their eldest son Roger grew to be an arrogant, intellectually lazy young man whose voice dripped condescension and smugness, and whose only accomplishment in life through university was supplying those poorer and smarter than him with money so that they could do much of his work for him.

Their second son, Peter, was a cold, haughty man who cared about little but his own particular interest; art and history. He could bore an entire room for hours droning on about renaissance painters and sculptures, and had done so. His family was both powerful and vengeful, after all, and none wished to cause offence. And certainly Peter was not a man to notice, or even consider others feelings. The thought that he was boring them to tears would not enter his mind.

Their daughter Olivia was something of an improvement over her two brothers. She had a keen intelligence, and some ambition, and though arrogant, and occasionally cruel, did have some sense of care in the welfare of others.

And so when she encountered her former nanny one fine spring day, at the home of a friend, she hugged her warmly, genuinely happy to see the woman after so many years, and inquired about how she was doing.

Of course, she soon regretted it, quickly becoming bored listening to the woman's eager recounting of her dreadfully dull life experiences. And it was for this reason, as much as any sense of charity, that she eagerly seized on the opportunity to interrupt as the woman spoke of her daughter Chloe and her difficulties in finding work.

"I haven't seen Chloe in so many years, she said. Not since I was a small girl."

"Oh she's a bright girl," her nanny said proudly. "But the economy," she shook her head. "You know how terrible it is for young people to find work now."

Olivia knew no such thing, of course, but nodded her head sympathetically. Such a thing was beyond her experience and so it was difficult to have sympathy, but she knew, at least, how to pretend, and cared enough to do so.

It emerged that Chloe had gone to university, one of those Labour Party creations no one of Olivia's circle would be caught dead in, of course. And had gotten "top marks" whatever that meant for a place like that.

In hopes of ending the conversation as quickly as possible Olivia promised to find a job for the young woman. She was pleased that her ex nanny was absolutely thrilled at the prospect. She enjoyed it when people made a fuss over her, when they thanked her and treated her with such obvious gratitude.

It was so easy to please the little folk, she mused to herself as she walked away, checking her silk blouse to see if the woman had marked it up with her grubby hands.

And that was how Alexander Hamilton came to be sitting across the desk from the young lady a week later, more than slightly annoyed at his predicament, but seeing no way around it. His daughter was a strong-willed young woman, and she had wanted him to see to it the girl got a job more than he wanted to do nothing. And so he had given in.

The interview proved to be more interesting than he had expected. The girl was quite sharp. He could see that. She was also quite good looking - and Alexander was a fine judge of horses, dogs, and females.

Her hair was a pale blonde, rich and thick and perfectly coiffed into a neat pageboy. It framed a narrow, intelligent face with bright green eyes partially hiding behind small, rimless glasses. She had a narrow, swan like neck, narrow shoulders, and a slim body clad in a businesslike blue jacket and tight, knee-length skirt. It was difficult to be sure, but her breasts looked reasonably full underneath that jacket.

The girl, however, was both earnest, and ridiculously innocent. No wonder his firm never even considered hiring from her university. What on earth did they teach their students to give them such a naive view of the world? The job of his firm was to gain money and power. This silly little chit's idea that they somehow contributed to the community was almost laughable.

Her suit was probably bought on sale at Waldens for fifty pounds or less, he thought uncharitably. And it was probably her best, for according to her resume she'd been unemployed for seven months, since her graduation. Apparently the silly girl had spent her time studying and getting high marks rather than making connections and friends who were the real source of employment success.

An intelligent girl, but not at all wise. A very pretty girl with little of the natural grace and sophistication of most he encountered - girls like his daughter. But very obviously eager to please, in her clumsy way, and that struck that part of him which very much appreciated how important he was, how powerful he was.

Just how eager to please was this little chit, he wondered, eyes flicking down to her chest. She had a small mouth, but lips which were rich and full. It had been a long time since he'd bedded anyone as, well, common as this. And he suddenly remembered how easy they were to please, and how thrilled they were when a handsome, powerful, sophisticated man like him paid them attention.

Which they should be, he thought coolly.

"As it happens, my administrative assistant is about to leave on maternity leave," he said. "It's not a permanent position, but if you do well then I will find you something when she returns."

The girl's eyes lit up in a quite delightful way, and as she inhaled sharply he was certain he could see a full bosom within that jacket.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Hamilton!" she exclaimed eagerly.

He smiled, enjoying her gratitude. That was something else he discovered he had missed in others, for showing gratitude was not something those in his circle did, whatever their age. One did not fawn over people, after all. It was degrading and demeaning. If someone did one a favour then one thanked them, and marked up a favour owed in return. That was how things went.

He had Emily prepare her well. Emily, of course, was his "girl", a much more refined version of Chloe, and about to depart on maternity leave to bare his bastard child. Not that her husband knew that, of course. But Emily had gone to the proper schools, and knew how to give and receive favours. She also enjoyed dalliances with a handsome, expert swordsman. And like others of her circle, was not about to deprive herself of anything she wanted.

 

Chloe paid quite anxious attention to everything the girl told her as she looked over her shoulders at the calendar on the computer monitor. It was an incredible stroke of fortune to get this job, and she was absolutely determined to make a good impression on Mr. Hamilton. Her entire future depended on that!

"Do you have that, miss Stevens?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I think so."

"Do you or don't you?"

"Yes, I do," she said.

"Then say so. You'll find that Mr. Hamilton heartily dislikes any effort at temporizing. Respond openly and with absolutes. Say yes, or no. He will not accept half measures."

"Is he uhm, good to work for?"

"He's quite demanding. But working for him can be quite rewarding. His family owns controlling interest in this firm, so what he says goes. You can have an excellent career here if he thinks you're a good employee. But he expects hard work."

"Oh I'm a hard worker," Chloe assured her.

"Mr. Hamilton is often in at seven and rarely departs before five. He works very long hours. He can forget what the time is, and that you're simply a salaried worker who should put in her eight hours and go home."

"I don't mind working overtime."

"We don't have overtime. This is not a big corporate entity. However, if you work extra hours your effort will be recognized one way or another. You will be spending a lot of time with Mr. Hamilton. You'll come to know his quirks and requirements yourself, but I can tell you that he is not a man used to being thwarted. When he wants something he wants it now."

Chloe nodded.

"Don't tell him something is unavailable. You'll need to pressure people at times, even threaten them. You need to get Mr. Hamilton anything he wants. People here know that. When you ask for something they know it's coming from him and there are very few who will dare to say no. Still, you have to pressure them at times. Don't take no for an answer."

"Uhm, okay."

"Mr. Hamilton can seem gruff at times. He is very strong willed, and even arrogant. Well, he has a right to arrogance, I suppose. He's so immensely wealthy, powerful, intelligent - not to mention handsome."

"Isn't he?" Chloe gasped in girlish delight. "God, he could be a movie star! He must work out regularly, too."

"He does. He was an athlete in school. Not to mention a magnet for women. Even though he's married and has threw grown children women throw themselves at him all the time. He's a very impressive man in almost every way. Just remember that you're a simple little chit of a girl barely out of school. When he says jump, you jump, whether he says it politely or not."

Chloe nodded.

"If he likes you, if he approves of you, you're made. And you'll know it not so much by what he says as by how he acts. If his voice is stiff he's annoyed. If it's soft and friendly he's pleased. He's also very old school in some ways. Don't be surprised if he gives you a hug or puts his hand on your shoulder or something. He can be condescending and patronizing towards young people, especially young girls.

"Uhm, okay."

Chloe didn't care how patronizing he was. Though she would have once. Like so many others she'd expected the world to beat a path to her door after graduating. That hadn't happened. So many of her friends were unemployed, and others worked at restaurants and car parks. It seemed it mattered more who you knew then what you knew. And her bare resume, with nothing but a few summer jobs, hadn't impressed anyone.

It had been a stunning introduction to the real world.

After long months of unemployment and ego-destroying refusals an admin assistant job to a powerful man like Mr. Hamilton was a dream come true. It was a springboard to success, and she vowed to impress the man with her competence and capability.

 

Over the following days she worked very hard indeed. Chloe was a determined and intense young woman. She went in early and left late, and spent most of the day with or near Mr. Hamilton. It was impossible not to come to appreciate his intelligence and come to see his strength and power. He was a driven man, and it was exhausting keeping up with him, at times.

She took notes at meetings, and saw how he dominated others in meeting after meeting. She saw how suave and smooth he was in persuading government officials to give him what his firm wanted, and how other men, often men of considerable power, jumped when he cracked the whip.

When he showed his approval, this immensely handsome, sophisticated and powerful man, she felt a thrill of accomplishment. When he deigned to speak with her as a person rather than a mere employee she felt warm all over.

And it was not incorrect to say that her initial awe of him was beginning to turn into a puppy-dog like devotion. Except, of course, that Chloe was no puppy, but a young woman. Working in such close proximity to a man of Hamilton's intense good looks, humour, intellect and power quickly roused feelings in her she initially tried to suppress.

He was married, after all, and twice her age. Still, he didn't look old, and certainly didn't act old. He was full of vim and vigour, power and a sleek, powerful sense of machismo. Chloe had never really been exposed to a man like Hamilton before, and found herself overawed by his personality.

The first time he stroked her back she felt a sense of delight at his approval, at his notice. She took nothing else from it but it, of course, having been warned by his previous admin assistant. But she came to appreciate his touch; when he affectionately squeezed her shoulder, or rubbed her back, or draped his arm across her shoulders, or gave her a small hug.

It took surprisingly little time, in fact, before she found herself madly in love with him. She knew it was impossible, of course, and that nothing could ever come of it. He was so high above her she really had to have her head in the clouds to even consider such silliness.

Two weeks after her interview, however, he was in his immense office one evening when she brought in some files. They had both been working since seven, and it was well after six. She was tired, and hadn't eaten. The previous two hours had been hectic, with couriers and phone calls coming fast and furious.

"Ah, my dear Chloe," he said gaily as she came in. "Come and celebrate with me."

He was by the big fireplace, at the side of his office, holding a crystal wine glass.

"What are we celebrating?" she asked, putting the files on his desk and crossing the polished hardwood floor to join him.

"We're celebrating because they caved in."

"You got the property? How smashing!" she said, eyes lighting up.

For she knew he had been working very hard that day to win a parcel of land.

He handed her a crystal wine glass and poured a rich red wine for her. Chloe was not a big fan of wine, but she never considered refusing. She sipped delicately and stared admiringly over the rim of the glass as Hamilton described how he had outbid one rival and outfoxed another, thinking all the while what an incredible man he was.

She hardly noticed finishing the glass, and was desperately flattered to join him on the big leather sofa as he refilled it, especially as he then began to turn the conversation into more personal areas, asking about her mother, about how she had found university, and what kind of music and television shows she liked.

She couldn't say, later, how it had happened. They were sitting quite close, and his hand came down on her thigh just above the knee. But she didn't really think anything of it as he stroked her leg and they talked. He kissed her. It was a small thing, a chaste kiss on the cheek, but it made her heart race.

The next kiss was on the lips, and she melted against him as his tongue danced lightly between her lips. The hand on her leg stroked higher and higher, pushing her skirt up, caressing her inner thigh. His lips were on hers, then on the nape of her neck, then his warm breath was on her earlobe, and she was moaning as his hand found her sex through her panties.

Chloe was no virgin, but she had never had a man anything like Alexander Hamilton. His fingers stroked her delicately, somehow slipping into her panties without her even noticing. It became almost impossible to keep still, then. She found herself desperate to hide her comparative innocence, to pretend to a sophistication she did not possess, but his fingers were doing amazing things to her, and she couldn't hide it.

The front of her blouse parted as if by magic, and her bra slipped down beneath her breasts. Her nipples began to throb and burn with a fire that spread through her breasts as his mouth worked them over, and her hips were soon grinding helplessly against his fingers as a climax wracked her young body.

Her mind was simply overpowered by him. She was shocked, delighted, and disbelieving that Alexander Hamilton's lips were on hers, that his body was pressed against her, that his fingers were gently caressing her sex, then sliding easily up inside her.

She didn't remember taking off her clothes, but she was soon nude, sitting astride his lap, their mouths moving sensuously together as his fingers drove her insane. She was gasping for breath, red faced, panting for breath, grinding herself against his fingers as she approached another climax.

Again she felt a desperate sense of inferiority, of wanting to show her sophistication, but it was swept away by the orgasm and she thrust herself against his fingers with raw, impassioned cries of pleasure as ecstasy carried her away.

Even then he coolly continued to kiss and caress her, finally sliding her off him, laying her back along the leather sofa, bending, licking a hot, sizzling trail up her inner thighs until he reached her moist, seeping sex. And then she could do nothing but groan and make guttural moans of pleasure as his expert tongue showed her just how amateurish had been her few previous lovers.

Her hips ground against him, bucking up in helpless spasms of wild, sensual pleasure as he drove her into orgasm again - and then again. And now he finally began to strip, removing his own suit top and shirt to expose his powerfully built chest. She ran her hands eagerly over his body, gasping at the sight of his manhood, thick, throbbing and long.

He entered her softly, but firmly, and then she was in a world of unimagined passion as his warm body crushed her into the leather and he began to drive his hips against her. His thick cock was longer than any she'd previously taken, but she allowed not the slightest hint of her pain to escape as he drove himself into her.

And it did hurt.

But her excitement and passion made the pain seem as nothing, and then even the pain seemed to turn and twist into something hot and wonderful as her fingers caressed his shoulders and back and then seized his buttocks to jerk him down even harder. She cried out again and again, climaxing repeatedly as Hamilton's big cock pummelled her insides raw.

Her small, soft buttocks were thrust down into the leather again and again as his hips slammed down against her. She was breathless, eyes wide, jaw slack as he drove himself into her with seemingly endless stamina and power. She could hardly move, much less think. And when he lifted her ankles up and thrust her legs back over her head she could only shudder and moan.

Now with his powerful hands on her ankles, her bottom turned up, her knees jammed over her shoulders, he rose above her like - like a god, she thought, and his hips really began to work, his thick, throbbing cock sliding fast and steady between the straining lips of her moist, aching sex. Again and again and again he drove himself into the depths of her heaving belly, making her grunt in dazed pleasure - and pain - and forcing another hot, steamy gush of heat through her overawed body.

He was doing her so bloody good, she thought weakly, doing her like she'd never been done before, like she had only imagined being done. He was so powerful, so commanding, so beautiful, so amazing! It embarrassed her, and made her feel utterly inadequate that she could not be the accomplished lover she knew he deserved. All she could do was lay there grunting and moaning as he turned her inside out.

 

Hamilton clenched his teeth to restrain himself. The girl had a deliciously tight, firm little body, better than he'd hoped. He was utterly delighted by her responsiveness, and excited by it as well.

For Hamilton had known many, many girls and women in his life. They were never hard to get. The joy for him was in his mastering of them, and this one was so fresh, so awed, so easily dominated! The ease with which he made her writhe and buck and cry out in passion made him feel arrogant and proud.

He felt no affection for her, however, as he looked down at her slack jawed face, her eyes slitted and glassy. He felt instead a sense of proud mastery, of conquest, of domination. And he felt contempt for her, a sly, superior contempt as he demonstrated his abilities to her and blew her tiny mind away with his proficiency. He felt a tremendous sense of machismo, of arrogant mastery as he battered the girl's body beneath him.

And in truth, that was what he was doing. He felt a sort of sadistic pleasure in it, too, as he drove his cock deep into the slender young girl's belly, as he pounded himself against the end of her sex, and hammered his hips against her thighs and upraised buttocks. He knew he was hurting her, and the fact she was so blown away by his sexual abilities she couldn't even get her mind together enough to protest excited him. He felt arrogant and haughty and superior and powerful.

She was his, this common little bitch, to do with as he chose, like the superior specimen of humanity he was, like a king of old, like a noble chief making free with the body of this insolent young peasant.

She would remember this, all right, the little slut! He knew he put to shame whatever fumbling young callow boys she'd had between her legs before. And that he was ruining her for whichever others came after them. She would know what a real lover was capable of because he was showing her.

 

But love was certainly not any part of what he felt for Chloe Stevens.