‘Margaret,’ the Secretary said in a distant, distracted voice. ‘I have to leave Margaret in twenty minutes flat, and then call them back.’ He was still staring out of the window. ‘Or I have to break it off with you,’ he looked at her. ‘Either way, they have to know, and they have to know now. That was Tony. A daily tabloid got the story. They’re going to run with it tonight, and the party has got to get its response ready. So, I have got to make my mind up, fast. Good thing we had such a lovely holiday together.’
Good thing indeed, Gloria thought. His cock hadn’t been out of her mouth for ten minutes, she had made certain of that. The man couldn’t see beyond her devoted head bent over his lap, let alone think straight from all the endorphins swimming around in his skull from all those blowjobs.
He had come inside her on the beach, on the balcony overlooking the beach, even in the lift up to their hotel room. She had not let him put it in her bottom yet, but she had promised to let him, if he left Margaret, that is. If he left his wife, she would get on her hands and knees on the floor and lift her skirt like a good pony girl, and he could shaft her up the butt to his heart’s content. She had not dreamed, however, that he might be collecting his prize so soon.
‘Margaret is crucial, of course,’ the Secretary was saying, his blue eyes still strangely distant. ‘She’s crucial,’ he said again, ‘to the progress of my career. The transaction of government business...’
‘What am I, chopped liver?’ Gloria snapped. ‘What sort of business have you been transacting with me this past fortnight?’ They were on their way back from Barbados, a fact-finding trip, so to speak, funded by the taxpayer and the British Council.
‘Margaret undertook,’ here his voice took on the usual air of gravity and fulsomeness it did when he was speaking into a microphone, ‘certain imperatives that the usual ministerial aides cannot be called upon to handle.’ He cleared his throat.
‘And what have I been sucking?’ Gloria asked sarcastically.
‘Don’t be vulgar.’ He looked out of the window again. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘I can do anything she can.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked the scenery.
‘Absolutely. I can do anything she can, and I can do it better, too. Haven’t I been better for you, love?’
‘It will be over between us the moment you fail me,’ he warned mysteriously.
‘Just try asking me to do something I can’t do,’ she said. ‘If you can find something, then you can go back to her.’
‘I can’t go back to her. That’s the point. If we make this official, you are the designated second in my ministerial work.’
‘I can’t wait,’ she said breathlessly, flushed with success.
‘All right,’ he said, looking at her again, ‘you asked for it. It’s the street if you refuse to do anything I tell you to. We get divorced, and I’m finished with you.’
‘What could I possibly refuse?’ Gloria felt as though her entire body was grinning. She could taste victory like a bottle of sparkling wine poured directly over her naked skin.
‘Let me speak to Tony,’ he said into his mobile phone. ‘It’s the Secretary of Defence.’
She followed the Secretary, Derek, into his private flat in Bayswater. She had the run of his ministerial digs, and of course of his private member’s accommodations. She had handled his dry-cleaning, his laundry, his late night hand-jobs, etc. etc., but she had never seen his private flat. It was a basement one-bedroom off a side-street at the bottom of a flight of leaf-strewn steps, with a thick, dark curtain drawn over the one iron-barred window.
He switched on the overhead light, and she was overwhelmed by the smell of perfume. It was as if gallons of it had been spilled across the carpet. It was a small but plush pad very much like his ministerial residence, only here the bedroom was almost puritanically plain. The sheets on the wide double mattress were white, and only one pillow was propped up against the black iron bedstead. Hooks dangled from the four bedposts, and the only other furniture in the room was a tall dark wardrobe.
‘What are those hooks for?’ she asked.
‘No time for that now,’ he replied. ‘We’ve got a briefing with the Chinese ambassador in twenty minutes and you have to prepare.’
‘Prepare for what?’ She was wearing a mini-skirt and a tight sweater with no bra. She couldn’t imagine what a Chinese diplomat would want that she couldn’t flaunt before him in this attire while fetching Derek’s documents. That’s all briefings were, rustling folders and clinking glasses.
‘We’re having that dinner with him later this evening to announce the arms sale. We don’t have time for this,’ he snapped. ‘Get out the drinks.’
Gloria left the bedroom and found the drinks cabinet in the sweet-smelling living room. She opened the small built-in fridge, and snapped some ice cubes out of their trays into a small bowl before reaching for the bottle of vodka. Maybe Derek would calm down a little after he had a drink. Surely this briefing was nothing special, just the usual exchange of boring information and intoxicating fluids.
There was a knock at the door.
Gloria looked up.
‘I’ll get it!’ Derek hissed. ‘You get into the bedroom. And remember,’ he added, ‘I haven’t divorced Margaret yet. There’s still time for a reconciliation if you don’t perform.’
‘Perform what? I’ll flash my boobs as I pass the glasses, like I always do. What more do you want me to do?’
‘Just wait in the bedroom and open the wardrobe.’
Gloria went back into the bedroom, and opened the black wardrobe while out in the living room she heard the front door being opened, followed by a hushed exchange during which she imagined the two men bowing to each other in the Oriental fashion. But something seemed strange... she did not hear a third voice. No interpreter had been brought to the briefing. What matter could they possibly be discussing that was so clear to both of them that there was no need for an interpreter?
She was not sure what she expected to find when she opened the cupboard, perhaps some fetish clothing, perhaps some lacy lingerie Derek wanted to see her in after the diplomat left and he felt like celebrating. He always celebrated a bit of business by looking at her bare bottom. He loved to admire it and pat it and kiss it, although she had not let him enter it, not yet, not before she signed on the dotted line.
What she found inside the narrow black cupboard were scarves; black scarves, yellow scarves, red scarves; the wardrobe was full of multi-coloured scarves hanging from hooks. There was also a small pair of slippers lying in the corner that appeared to be made of black leather. She turned when she suddenly heard the two men step into the room behind her.
‘Ambassador, may I present my wife, Gloria Pryde.’ He held out his hand as if showing him a particularly fine car at a dealership.
The small, sleek-haired gentleman in a grey Mao suit bowed deeply in her direction.
Derek said in an undertone, ‘Bow!’
Gloria blushed as she bent forward at the waist, flashing some cleavage at the ambassador in the process, but as she straightened up she saw that he wasn’t interested in that. He was alternately staring behind her at the scarves in the cupboard and down at her hips. Obviously, another arse man, she thought.
Derek then began showing Ambassador Loo the wardrobe he was admiring. He ran his hand through the scarves hanging on the left side, and the visiting diplomat looked delighted. He also reached out to caress the scarves with both hands, feeling the silky cloth.
‘Get us some drinks, Gloria,’ Derek said through a fixed grin. ‘I’ve said you’re my wife, and you’ll have to act like you are now.’
‘Right.’ She slipped out of the room, and tipped vodka into two tall glasses filled with ice. There was a lime in the fridge drawer. She cut a slice and slipped it in Derek’s drink. He loved the tang of citrus in his vodka.
‘Nothing for me,’ Derek said when he stepped back out into the living room with the ambassador in tow and she turned towards them with their drinks. Ambassador Loo was holding four scarves in his two small hands, a yellow one and three black ones. They all appeared to be made of silk, and the black ones were embroidered with golden dragons. She had not noticed them in the cupboard and she wondered if they might have been in his pockets as he too shook his head at her offer of a drink.
‘I thought so,’ Derek said. ‘Just as I expected. The drinks are for you, Gloria. Down one, now.’
‘What?’ He knew perfectly well she was not a drinker, not like his wife, whom she had heard liked the sauce.
‘Get that drink down your throat, petal,’ he said. ‘It’s expected of my wives that they drink. Anyway, Margaret always drank during the performance of her duties, and I’m sure she had a right to do so.’
‘I can do anything she can,’ Gloria retorted hotly.
‘Prove it. Ambassador Loo is waiting to be briefed by my wife.’
‘Fine!’ Smiling stiffly, she tipped the glass with the green lime slice in it against her lips, and drained it straight off. The Vodka landed inside her like a wave of cold fire that felt very much like a punch in the stomach.
‘And the other one.’ The Minister smiled. ‘My wife is known for being able to handle her liquor.’
Her head already spinning, Gloria Pryde drank the second vodka, and then, as if from very far away, she heard the dull thud of glasses hitting the carpet. The room was moving, and the last thing she saw was the floor coming up to meet her as she lost her balance and fell face down on the perfume-drenched shag.
Gloria awoke to a feeling of cold around her midriff. If she had not known better, she would have sworn her bottom was bare. She opened her eyes...
The black of the bedstead met her gaze. How odd. She could not remember the ambassador leaving, and surely she had not been out for more than a few minutes. Then she tried to push herself up, and discovered the scarves around her wrists, and the ones around her ankles.
She was trussed, a scarf at each wrist and each ankle, to the brass loops on the bedposts. Beneath her tummy there was a pillow, the one pillow she had noticed resting against the bedstead, so her face was pressed into the mattress. Now she could feel that the pillow was bent double under her, which had the effect of pushing her bottom up into the air. She also realised now why she had felt that sensation of cold about her middle when she awoke, because between her sweater and her high-heeled black shoes, she was completely naked. Someone had taken off her black mini-skirt before tying her face down on the bed. She was completely exposed below the waist, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Derek and the Chinese Ambassador standing at the foot of the bed behind her spread-eagled legs.
She blushed to the roots of her hair to suddenly see them looking straight down at her body’s most intimate recesses. ‘Derek, what’s happening?’ she asked anxiously. ‘Cover me up.’
‘Nothing is happening, my pet,’ the Minister answered gravely, ‘just the usual wifely rounds. And I can’t cover you up before the deal is done. Don’t you want to make a contribution to international trade?’
‘I don’t want him to see up my bottom!’ she wailed. ‘And why are you holding those slippers?’ Each man was holding one of the black slippers she had seen lying in the cupboard. They were both gazing appreciatively at her bottom while bending the flexible leather soles. ‘You’re not...’ she said weakly.
‘We are,’ the Minister replied suavely.
The Ambassador bowed, and swished his slipper through the air.
Gloria winced, and instinctively clenched her buttocks.
‘Don’t do that,’ Derek said sharply. ‘We’ll want those relaxed. It hurts more if you clench them.’
‘You can’t do this to me,’ she whimpered. ‘I’m your wife!’
‘That’s what you want to be, my sweet. Well, this is what my wife Margaret has done for the British balance of trade these many years.’
‘I’m not a slag!’ she sobbed. ‘I’m your lover!’
‘Of course you are, Gloria.’ Derek waved Ambassador Loo forward with a gesture that said ‘after you’. ‘But now you want to be my wife, and with such dreams come responsibilities. Relax your buttocks... there’s a dear. And hold your bum up, it saves pain on your thighs, believe me.’
‘Please be gentle,’ she moaned, closing her eyes. She felt hands on her bottom, she didn’t know whose, and added breathlessly, ‘I’m feeling delicate,’ as a finger traced the intimate line between her soft yet firm white cheeks.
‘Not as delicate as you’ll feel in a moment,’ Derek assured her, and the first of the slipper’s searing hot blows fell on her left buttock with a resounding smack.
‘Oh!’ she gasped, surprised by how much it stung.
‘Not too bad, is it?’ Derek asked. ‘Ambassador Loo is clearly a man of refinement. He won’t start you off cold. Sixty blows I believe is traditional in China.’
‘Sixty?’ She could not believe she had heard him right, and she looked up in time to catch an exchange of hand signals between the two diplomats. Derek was holding up his fingers and Ambassador Loo was holding some up in turn.
‘Good news, Gloria,’ Derek said, ‘it’s only going to be forty-five paddles with the slipper, but in exchange for the reduction, he wants to fuck your dear bottom.’
‘No! Oh Derek, no! Please don’t let him bugger me! Please!’
‘All right, my petal, as you wish.’ He nodded at the Ambassador and held up the finger of one hand plus five on the other. ‘Sixty it is, and then we shall have to see.’
Gloria’s bottom was glowing by the time the twentieth blow fell across her left cheek. Ambassador Loo considerately alternated between them, giving each one of her cheeks a moment’s respite. Or, looked at another way, it gave the pain time to peak so she suffered the full effect of each blow. By the time the slipper fell for the fortieth time, across her left cheek again, she was weeping in agony, and with a terrible excitement.
‘Care to renegotiate?’ Derek asked.
‘No! Yes... no more, please, no more!’ She was panting with misery and lust. ‘I’ll do what you want, just don’t give him my bum. But please, no more pain!’
‘There has to be more,’ Derek said calmly, ‘but we’ll see what we can do for you. After all, you are new at this wifely duty thing and you need practice.’ On his signal, the slipper came down hard on her right cheek, and again on her left cheek, and then there was a blessed pause. She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.
The Chinese Ambassador was unzipping his fly, and she saw at once that he wasn’t wearing any briefs. His stiff cock leaned out of his grey trousers at a rakish angle.
‘Not my bum,’ she squealed. ‘Not my bum, Derek, please!’ But the Ambassador was already intent on parting her cheeks. Then one of his agile hands reached between her glowing buttocks, and his finger caressed her most intimate slot on its way down to her pussy, readily accessible between her widespread thighs. She struggled against the scarves around her ankles, but she could not help it, his finger was exciting her. It astonished her how wet being spanked had gotten her, and her arousal was rising to a crescendo of desire as he dipped his digit in and out of her drenched slot. To her horror, she found her hips writhing up to meet his finger as it twirled casually around and around in her quim.
‘Derek,’ she gasped, ‘how can you stand this? He’s doing this to me, in the same room, in front of you! Oh, I’m going to come...’
But Derek wasn’t listening. When she opened her eyes again she found his cock beside her mouth as he leaned back against the bedstead with his trousers around his ankles, and she knew he expected her to suck it. ‘Where’s Ambassador Loo?’ she asked, because the exquisite teasing had ceased between her legs. She had been maddeningly close to an orgasm,
but he stopped just before pushing her over the edge with just one finger. Then she realised where Ambassador Loo was as the finger that had been in her pussy pushed into the tight little rosebud between the cheeks of her bottom, lubricating it with her own warm juices and opening it up like a flower bud.
‘No...’ she moaned softly as the Chinese ambassador entered her slowly but inexorably, his helmet forcing open her virgin hole and filling her up. He seemed to keep sinking into her so she felt he entered not just her sex but her belly as well. And Derek took advantage of her gaping mouth as she cried out to press his cock down along her tongue, pulling her face towards him, and suddenly she found herself bucking helplessly between two officers of state as one came quickly in her tight-squeezing anus, and the other one shot his seed down her throat while she too climaxed despite herself.
The Chinese Ambassador gave her obliging bottom a pat as he slipped his cock out of her burning hole. And then Derek saw him out, zipping himself up on the way. He returned a moment later and untied her arms, and then her legs. ‘Better have a bath,’ he said. ‘The Swedish Ambassador is coming to the same dinner. He’ll be here in an hour with his two interpreters, who like to watch. Of course, then they want their own turn. Better spray some perfume on your bum. Margaret always found it covered up a multitude of sins.’
Border Wedding
Janilla was a tall, slender girl, and she was wearing white silk stockings that set off her coffee-dark skin and slim thighs. If you followed her long legs up and up, you would eventually encounter a skirt, a very short skirt as white as her stockings, and over the skirt you would be pleased to see a tight, low-cut short-sleeved white sweater whose soft, clinging fabric set off her magnificent 34D breasts, displaying the creamy chocolate fullness of her cleavage to delicious advantage. Her taut nipples just peeked through the thin material, for her sweater was semi-transparent in sunshine or under bright lights. Her large eyes were jet-black and usually as bright as polished wet pebbles, but today she was worried so they were slightly dimmed by anxiety. Her lips was beautifully full, although her mouth was almost too wide beneath her high Latin cheekbones, and today it was being nibbled on nervously by her startling white teeth. Her hands were tightly clutching her little white handbag against the front of her skirt as if it could protect her from the immigration officer before whose desk she was standing in the custom’s office on the US and Canadian border. The officer wore a name tag that read Superintendent. He was an older man with a full head of white hair surrounding a hawk-like nose and a tight, unsmiling mouth.
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