Body Politic – 4

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bdsm

Political party conferences in the UK serve four purposes: posing, plotting, partying and procreation (or at least the semblance of it). I hate them usually. Here I was, the Prime Minister’s deputy chief of staff herding the cats who were her ‘colleagues.’ They were, in fact, a duplicitous bunch of self-seekers mostly, with a few rare exceptions such as Libby Manning. I’d grown even more fond of her since the election and we spent a fair bit of time together when circumstances allowed which wasn’t often. The conference made that possible. My duties required that I spent most of my time with the PM or other members of her staff and Tenant did not spend much time at the various parties. She would drop in, glad hand a bit, then retire to her suite to deal with running the country. She cut me some slack though and I was able to get away from her office and spend a bit more time working the different parties, supporting her and straightening some of the useless bastards out. “So, you’re Tenant’s woman.” This was Hilary Goose, an aspiring but so far lowly MP who had her eyes set on greater things. “I’m the Prime Minister’s deputy chief of staff,” I said this rather prissily and she smiled. “I stand corrected. I’ve heard a lot about you.” I thought that I hadn’t heard much about her and probably never would but I remained silent. “They say you’re good.” “Well, ‘they’ are very kind. Was there something you wanted?” The party held every year by the party chairman was a big bash. He hired the hotel’s largest ballroom and, being exceedingly wealthy, spared no expense to cement his own position and win a few friends. It was a dress-up affair, long frocks, dinner jackets and plenty of champagne along with great food if, that is, you enjoy eating standing up which I don’t. I tend not to drink much at these functions. It pays to keep my wits about me. Hilary Goose was a relative youngster, about thirty-five. She was undeniably attractive and had made an effort with a striking printed dress that shimmered in cream and green that did something to her red hair, wavy and long, and her green eyes. Her naturally pale complexion meant that the dark makeup on her eyes made them even more dramatic. Her chin was too long, she had uneven teeth but her tits were firm and full and she’d made the best of them. I confess I felt a little dowdy by comparison. My all-purpose LBD was neat and professional but by no means glamorous. “Tell me, Sam, are you married?” She obviously hadn’t heard that much about me. “No, why?” “My husband is over there,” she pointed without looking. “He’s the one trying desperately to get that bitch Lorna MacDonald into bed.” MacDonald etlik escort was another backbencher who had something of a reputation. I guessed Goose had had a lot more champagne than I had. “Oh, I don’t care, not remotely. I only married him to get selected. He ticks the boxes, you see. Good school, university and job; rich family. He’s a politician’s dream husband.” She touched my hand. “I’m not really the marrying kind. But then, nor are you, are you?” I excused myself. Drunks can be so boring. I navigated my way through the throng, cursing a new pair of heels that hurt the balls of my feet and rubbed my ankles. I also cursed the fact that one suspender had come undone on my right thigh and I needed to get to a loo and fix it. A hand rested on my shoulder from behind. I turned to see Libby Manning. Her short hair shone in the light of the chandeliers. “Libby! I didn’t think you were coming.” “Nor did I but about an hour ago I thought, fuck it, why not? I haven’t been to a good party for ages, not since you got me the job.” Her hand ran discreetly up my thigh. “You got it all by yourself.” “I doubt that. I’ve got a fair bit of schmoozing to do. I also happen to have a particularly nice bottle of scotch in my room. Care to have a drop with me later?” I smiled. “I’d love to.” “Well you’d better go and fix that suspender, hadn’t you? You know I don’t want you less than properly dressed.” She leaned very close. “I saw you talking to the Goose. I fucked her last year. She was quite good so, if you don’t make an effort I might have to kick you out.” Her tongue licked my ear and she squeezed my hand affectionately. “I’m going to enjoy you, you know. 1207, about midnight.” Before I could reply she was gone. I watched her trousered arse as she pushed her way through the crowd. Nice. The MP for one of our fine old county constituencies, a former vicar and still a paragon of the church and staunch upholder of family values put his hand on my arse as we discussed something banal. “I’ve heard you’re a lesbian. I’m sure I can lead you to the path of truth if you come to my room later.” “If you don’t move your hand, Lionel,” I said smiling tightly, “I will kick you in your ecclesiastical testicles.” I finally got to the toilet, went into a stall and as I sat and peed I tidied up my stockings. I stroked my cunt and found I was wet. No surprise there, I was hot for Libby, I was sober and she was going to ‘enjoy me.’ I wondered what that meant. I knew she liked rough sometimes and I knew she had been the boss in her relationship with Delphine just as Babs had been in ours. When I left the cubicle I met Layla keçiören escort Matthews, one of the more ‘enthusiastic’ members who was doing her face. “Tommy Goldman has invited me to his party,” she told me without preamble. “I think it’s just the two of us. Why don’t you join us, Sam? Might as well enjoy the ‘fucking’ conference, no?” She laughed at her own joke and I could see she was as high as a kite, probably on the coke again. I made a mental note, declined her invitation and slipped back out into the ballroom. About an hour later I went up to my room (also on the twelfth floor) and had a shower and changed into a clean pair of my best silk French knickers, black and transparent and incredibly expensive, black suspenders and stockings and a long, silk nightdress also black. I pulled a long, light coat on over it all and made my way along the corridor. I tapped at the door of 1207. Libby opened it. She was wearing a pair of dark blue silk pyjamas and her dildo was poking out the front. She held a glass of scotch out to me as I entered. She closed the door and turned the deadlock with a firm click. I put the scotch down and slipped my coat off. “Well done, you,” she said with a grin. “Are we playing widows tonight?” “I like black.” “So do I.” Putting down her own glass, she came to me and kissed me, hard, her tongue pushing into my mouth. She tasted of smoky whisky but I could tell she was no less sober than I. Her hand went behind my neck and she held me tightly as her tongue explored me. Then she stepped back, indicated a chair and we sat facing each other, nursing our whiskies. “I’m glad you’ve come.” She stroked her dildo as it poked out of the silk trousers. “I’ve missed you.” “I’ve missed you too.” “How’s the conference going for you and the boss?” “Pretty well, so far. She’s done her big speech and all the usual creeps told her how good she is. She knows what they’re like so she takes no notice.” “She’s doing well, really well. It’s a bit annoying really. Stand up.” I stood. She remained sitting. “Why annoying?” She grinned. “Because there’s no way I could make a challenge while she’s doing so well.” Sipping her scotch she indicated with her hand that I should turn around so I did. I wanted her to be in charge. Truth to tell, I wanted her to be rough with me, maybe very rough. Please don’t ask me why. It’s something I have never understood myself but it is a part of me and that’s that. Why agonise about what we are? “Lift your nightdress.” I lifted it and I hear the sound of her placing her glass down and standing. Then I felt her hand on my arse. She caressed my cheeks, her hand kızılay escort firm on the silk of my knickers. Through the material, she pressed a finger against my arsehole. “Has anyone ever fucked you here?” “Yes, Babs.” “Anyone else?” “No.” “Often?” “Once.” “Turn around.” I turned, letting the dress fall back down. “I will too.” She lifted a questioning eyebrow. I simply nodded. I was going to be her bitch. I knew that. Libby went to a drawer and pulled out a thin belt, bright red patent leather. She looped it around my neck and pulled the end through the buckle so it closed like a leash around me. As if she had read my mind, she said, “My bitch, aren’t you?” I nodded. “Say it.” “I’m your bitch.” She nodded as if satisfied. Returning to the drawer she extracted a steel butt plug. It wasn’t huge but it looked heavy as she weighed it in the palm of her hand. She came very close to me and put it in my mouth. “Pretty. That will stretch you for me soon. I don’t want to hurt you, well, not that way. But my bitch has to feel, she has to experience. You’ll find some lube in the bathroom, go and get it.” I went to remove the plug from my mouth but she said to leave it there. I could see from her pupils and the burgeoning nipples under her pyjama top that she was aroused. I fetched the lubricant and handed it to her. She directed me to put my hands on the bed and bend forward so I did. I felt her lift my nightdress and pull my knickers down. She spread lube all over my hole before gently working some into me, first with one then with two fingers. She took the plug from my mouth. Her fingers slithered out to be replaced by the tip of the plug. The pressure increased and slowly, so slowly I opened and stretched, feeling that burning sensation until suddenly I felt myself close around the plug’s stem. I must have made a noise of some sort because she patted my arse and whispered, “Good girl.” She pulled my knickers back up and told me to sit again. The plug felt big, filled me and as I sat I felt it move and shift in me. It was amazingly sexy. She talked to me as if nothing unusual was going on. She didn’t talk about work but about life after Babs and Delphine; how much she missed the great sex they had enjoyed, the shared attitudes, the complete understanding. “Do you think we could have all that?” she asked. “Yes, I do.” “So do I. I think we should give it a chance.” If I looked ridiculous with a bright red belt around my neck I did not feel it. “Lift your dress and spread your legs.” I did so. “Better. When we are alone I want you to sit like that with your knees apart. Do you understand?” “Yes, Libby.” She stroked her dildo. “Show me your left breast.” I pulled the silk of my nightdress away from it and she smiled. “Lovely. Have you ever been caned?” “No.” “Pull your knickers aside. I want to see your cunt.” I did that too. “You may be caned. I like it, enjoy it.” Her eyebrow did that questioning lift again.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın