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Message-ID: <35055asstr$1012788608@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Dave E. Perelli" <dep9@swbell.net>
Reply-to: "D.E. Perelli" <dep9@swbell.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Money Won't Buy Happiness - Or Will It?
Date: Sun,  3 Feb 2002 21:10:08 -0500
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 The following story is a figment of my Budweiser soaked imagination.
If you are not of  legal age to read stories of a sexual nature close
this window now.  If stories of a sexual nature are not legal where
you live, leave now. This story is presented for your private
enjoyment.  It is copyright 2000 by Dave E. Perelli <dep9@swbell.net>.
This story may be archived at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>.  Any other
reproduction or distribution is forbidden without the author's written
consent.  No animals were harmed during the making of this story. 
This story was posted previously to ASS, but some readers wanted it
archived thus the repost.  

Now that we all understand, enjoy.



MONEY WON'T BUY HAPPINESS - OR WILL IT?

  Prologue


I sat in the conference room at the lawyer's office and looked around
at the people gathered there.  We were in place for the reading of my
Uncle Jim's will.  He had died suddenly of a heart attack two weeks
previously.  The funeral was over; now the vultures had gathered to
pick over the remains.  I didn't know most of the people there.  They
were, or at least claimed to be, relatives entitled to a share of my
uncle's billions.  

I thought back over my life with Uncle Jim.  I had spent summers with
him for as long as I could remember.  He was a big, handsome man.  He
had started making money when still a teenager and never stopped until
he controlled large corporations.  He believed in putting good people
in charge of his companies and good auditing firms to keep watch over
the good people.  Uncle Jim had long since stopped doing any work.  He
had paid his dues and afterward devoted himself to the good life he
could now afford.

My mom and dad were there, sitting right beside me.  Ours was a
strange relationship.  It had come to me in pieces over the years
until now, at eighteen, I understood.  Dad was an evangelical
preacher.  He traveled around holding week long revivals, for which he
collected quite a bit of money.  Mom stayed home and spent Dad's money
as fast as she could.  When Dad was home there was no physical
affection  between them, though they seemed to get along all right.
At some point I had realized what was wrong.  Dad was queer.  He liked
boys.  His wife and kid were simply window dressing for his ministry.
They mostly ignored me, except when Mom and I had to make an
appearance at some function with Dad.  They even slept in separate
bedrooms when he was home.  I think they were both satisfied.  Dad got
to have a showpiece family to cover his homosexuality and Mom got to
buy nice things and didn't have to perform any "wifely" duties.  I was
the only one who didn't benefit from their union.  

Uncle Jim was the closest to a parent that I had, but he was more than
that.  We were soul mates.  When I was younger he taught me to hunt
and fish on his vast estate.  As I got a little older he started
sharing his love of sex with me.  He taught me that a man could have
any thing he wanted if he was rich and that society's rules didn't
apply to people like us.  The estate was constantly inundated with
nubile young women and exquisitely dressed society ladies; all he
laughingly told me looking for their little piece of his money.  In
return they heaped sexual favors on him, and as I became a teen on me
also.  Uncle Jim gradually drew me further into his special
perversions. I took part in group sex with him and his ladies  and
learned the joys of having the submissive lasses put on shows for us.
Masturbation, lesbian sex, bestiality.  Anything Uncle Jim wanted was
possible.  Another thing we shared was his dislike of my Mom and Dad.
Dad was Uncle Jim's much younger brother. He thought Dad was a
worthless excuse for a man and mom was a self centered bitch who
couldn't even put her own son in the forefront of her thoughts.  

I glanced at Mom and Dad there beside me.  It was obvious they were
growing impatient at waiting for the lawyer.  I was sure Mom had a
huge list of things she wanted to buy and Dad was making plans to shut
down his ministry and live the good life gathering new boyfriends.  

I thought about the time Uncle Jim had decided to share his secret
place with me.  He had a group of "assistants" working for him.  They
were large, hard looking men that I later learned he had recruited
from mercenary armies around the world.  What they had in common was
their love of money and their lack of compassion.  He paid them well
and they were loyal to him to the death.  His assistants went on
scouting missions all over the United States.  They would come back
with surveillance photographs and personal information on potential
subjects.  Jim would look over the material and pick ones that pleased
him.  His assistants had come to know the type he would like.  The
subjects were kidnapped and brought to the secret place.  It was in
the basement of the estate, far underground and soundproof though
exquisitely furnished.  There Uncle Jim's victims would be forced to
perform in any way his whim took him.  When he tired of them the
assistants would take them away.  I never asked what happened to them
after they were gone.  My uncle took me to the basement to join the
fun for the first time when I was sixteen.  He had a young family
waiting for us.  A pretty blonde woman, her seven year old daughter
and her husband.  We made the woman perform for us for four days with
threats of what we would do to her family if she resisted.  Her
husband and little girl were confined to a cage in the basement and
forced to watch the action.  When we tired of her Jim invited all six
of his assistants to join us for a last party.  He  gifted me by
allowing me to be the first to take the daughter.  Damn, was her pussy
tight.  We used the basement four more times those two summers.  Now
Uncle Jim was dead.  I felt tears well up in my eyes. 

A murmur ran through the room as the lawyer came in and took his seat.
There was a shocked silence as the group gathered there realized the
few words he read were all there was.  Uncle Jim had left his
billions, his companies and his estate to me!  Not a cent for anyone
else.  Voices rose as I got up to leave.  I heard words all around me
- contesting the will, not in his right mind, lawsuit. Mom was wailing
out loud.  Dad just sat, white faced in shock.  I smiled to myself.  I
knew Uncle Jim was much too smart to have left any loopholes.  He had
taken care of me even to the grave.

I spent the next few days with my uncle's lawyer.  He took me to the
various banks and trust companies to have accounts transferred to my
name.  We visited my uncle's companies so I could be introduced to the
principals.  The last trip was to the estate, where I gathered the
servants and the "assistants" and told them that I shared their sorrow
at the loss of their employer, but those who wanted to stay had secure
employment with me at the same terms as before.  I said that with a
significant look at the six assistants.  A slight nod of their heads
indicated they understood.  The lawyer brushed off my thanks, saying
it was his pleasure and he hoped we would enjoy the same close
relationship he had with my relative.  When he left I took my uncle's,
well mine now, Mercedes and traveled to my parent's house with one of
the assistants to help me.  We picked up the few belongings that I
wanted to keep and after a perfunctory kiss on my mother's cheek and
handshake with my dad I returned to the estate to start my new life.

END OF PROLOGUE

I thought it was important that we get that out of the way.  Thanks
for wading through it.  In chapter one we'll get down to the dirty
perverted stuff.  That's what you want isn't it?  It's all I come here
for.


DAVE E. PERELLI
Associate Representative of Westminster Abby

"I find your lack of faith disturbing."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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