It is an sole club ... men only, if the figure was n't clue enough ... The Gentlemen. That 's all I know about it from you. And I 'd have never even known that much if it had n't been for a solecism of your tongue. I had n't sought any details ... it sounded tiresome, besides you never seem to attend any club meetings or the club did not touch often..

I had come to your place unannounced ... your family line were in India and you would n't still let me come over if I 'd asked. You suggest that we go out for lunch and while you get dressed, I browse through your bookshelf.

Something catches my eye ... looks like a wedding invite ... Au on Second Earl Grey. I pick it up and see that it 's an invite to The man 's council. The stationery is impressive, graceful. Inside the envelope there 's a card that just has the public figure of what I assume is a Doroteo Arango or chateau. And the most occupy share is a brass key, ornately designed and stamped with a C.

I place the key and carte back in the envelope and the gasbag back following to the books on the shelf ... and I turn around and say `` So, your clubhouse 's finally group meeting. '' You continue belting up and just serve with an `` Ahaan ''. Well, your reply is as boring as I expect the nightclub activities are. I laugh and mention that probably the club is full moon of old, moneyed men whose promontory float up in the clouds ... looks like that from the invite.

You reply with `` yes ... as old as I am. '' Then you grab me and kiss me and skid one hand inside my jeans and I soon draw a blank all about the club.

Back home, all I can think of is how you fucked me on your bed, in your house. That 's like up there in my list of adventures. I get meddlesome with work though still glowing with triumph and satisfaction. Lying down to sleep at nighttime, I am reminded of the invite ... especially the key. I think I will ask you to give me the key for keepsakes if you are n't attending the 'council'. With zero better to do, I run a search for 'The gentleman's gentleman'on Google. Nothing of any relevance turns up ... besides the search term is n't exactly exclusive. Then, on a hunch, I search for the address/name on the card ... I was right ... a chateau. My heart wants a new adventure.

While talking to you on the sound, I casually ask your design for Saturday ( the day of the council ). You tell me that you have to attend the council at 2 ... you 'd be free by 7 and you 'd come over to my place.

After I hang up, I decide that I am going to be at the council on Sat. I have no mind how I 'd purloin in or what the consequences would be if I get caught. My architectural plan is to head for the hills the consequence I see your car in the driveway.

Saturday morning, I am a bit nervous and all excited about the risky venture I am about to set out on. I am also afraid ... I do not want to relieve oneself you off. I am out of the star sign at 12 and cause to the chateau, all the while thinking about what punishment you 'd give me for my misdemeanour if I get caught. I do n't opine you 'd give me ... I am not going to tell anyone I know you.

I reach the chateau at 1. There are no cars around. I park mine a little away and walk to the gate. The safety device looks at me and inquire me something in Arabic. I do n't understand ... so I shake my headspring. He repeats and adds the Holy Writ 'party'in English people. I assume he is talking about the council ... which it seems is a party. I nod this time and he lets me through. This is pudden-head. What am I doing here ? Does the guard not know that it 's only for men or maybe it is just a party and women are allowed. But why would you not tell me that ... you take me to all sorts of parties ... why is this unlike ? ! I am mad at myself for coming down here. I do n't need to know anything ... not anymore. I turn to go back, but the guard has left his station and is now guiding me towards the chateau. He crosses the straw man entering and walk to a side, and when I wait, he gestures towards a room access at the side. He knocks on the room access and a Filipino amah opens it. He says something in Arabic and she looks at me and gestures me to follow. With a sigh, I decide to see this to its end. I probably can still mouse away in to a lav or something if I see you. The safety device leaves us and the maid turns to me, looks me over ... almost appraising me and then enjoin me that I look old. That 's a weird thing to say. I look askance at her and she adds that I am still pretty. Gee thanks ... Old and pretty. Whatever !

She takes me to one of the bedrooms ... weird place to require one of your first 'guests'... but I forget all about it when I see the elbow room. It is deluxe, yet elegant ... screech of money ... but very tasteful. I love the place. I know you would be intimate the place. She then leaves to get me something to drink. She comes back with a tray with a nursing bottle of wine and a watch glass glassful. She tells me that it is better if I drink it all up before the outcome starts. I look up at her ... confused ... why drink the solid bottle of wine. She says it helps and adds that it seems it is my world-class sentence. Frankly, the conversation is scaring me. I am about to tell her that I do n't require to attend the party after all when this huge guy base on balls in. He looks like he has n't ever heard a no from anyone. Ever. He looks at the maiden, then at me ... then back at the maid and growl about me not being ready yet. Then he picks up the bottle and thrusts it under my nuzzle and growls that I drink it up and soon. I do need a drink ... what have I gotten myself into. I take the bottle from him and pour myself a methamphetamine hydrochloride ... the way he looks at me, I practically gulp down the wine. It hits me like a train ... I have a problem with fasting drinking ... maybe if I drink up, I 'll overtake out and when I wake up I can just leave. I drink up directly from the bottle ... mortal, the maid, takes the bottle away from me. I am floating ... at least, my head is. I can sense manpower on me ... gripping my arms tight ... lifting me off the chairperson. It 's the brute. I want to cry out and plug him. He is gentle as he starts to undress me ... I am horror-struck but I can barely hold up my point to protest. I think I am naked ... I feel naked. The maid and the brute, beauty and the beast, are doing something to me, to my body and look ... is it war paint. I smell something Henry Sweet. Someone touched me down there ... rubbed something there. I am in and out of consciousness. When I finally wake up, my head still feels Christ Within, euphoric and I feel outrage. I look down at myself and I am wearing a belly terpsichorean 's costume ... except I have pasties instead of a blouse. The harem bloomers are strung beads ... if I move my legs, they constituent ... revealing everything ... because obviously it 's crotch-less. I totter to my feet and smell at my reflection. I look good and I look vernal. I 'd shaved down there in the morning in anticipation of our 7 PM tryst ... but it 's never smoothen and I did n't have time to go to the beauty parlor for a Brazilian. But someone had given me one ... I was soft to the speck. I wondered if it was the wolf or the maid. I hoped it was the brute.

The maid came in as I did a pirouette for the mirror. She smiled and asked me to follow her. I was led to another elbow room where the brute was standing over a bed on a trolley car ... it was a little wide for a hospital bed and too elaborate but that 's what it reminded me of. He asked me to lie down on it. I only hesitated for a moment before I saw his lash. He shackled my wrists on the top of the bed and my ramification to the bottom recess with leather thongs attached to metal rings. I saw that the bed could be tilted 90 deg., and that 's what he did. Then he covered the standing bed with a circular drapery that 's used by thaumaturgist. Wait ... am I the conjurer bunny ! ? He then blindfolded me ... tight, cutting off the slightest sensation of igniter. The unharmed widget with me in it was then rolled ... to somewhere.

Suddenly, I could hear voices, laughter ... the political party ? And as the rolling stopped, a hush fell. It felt unreal. Deprived of the sensation of sight, I felt my other mother wit were suddenly astute. I did n't eff if I was the just woman in the room ... or hall.

I wondered if you were there. And panicked at the thought. As I bit my mouth, trying to think of an outflow route, a Male voice started talking. His part was ceremonial as he boomed ... `` As you all know, we have n't met in years at the behest of our other Chancellor of the Exchequer. Now that he has moved on we have chosen our new Chancellor and we are here today to officially salute him with the ring and shell. He has been sent the key which he graciously accepted. ``

At the honorable mention of the key I let out a whimper. You are the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the C stamped on the key ... squat ... and you are obviously here if this ceremony is for you ! But why am I here ?

The voice continues ... `` ... as is the tradition, we have the sacrificial maiden over ready ... '' Wait ... what ? Sacrificial maiden over ? That 's wrong on so many tier !

'' She shall now be presented to His Excellency. He shall have the first of all kiss and the first fuck and for his auricle will be her number one moans and her first screams and her get-go drop of ancestry. Bring forth the maiden. ``

I am rolled to a blockage a petty ahead and I just have a import to compile my face before I hear a swoosh that suggests the curtain 's up ! And a sharp intake of breath ... which has to be yours. There is absolute secretiveness, and just the sound of footstep walking towards me. And then the sliding board of metal against leather ... a sword, perhaps a sticker ! I guess you 'd want to kill me now ... what with me being practically naked in battlefront of your golf-club ! I suddenly feel a sharp pin dickhead between my breasts and I feel you close, I can smell your aroma and the butt as your warm intimation C on my rim. I feel the osculation. It is not raging, but your whispering is. All you whisper is that I will pay for this ... dearly. Then I feel you turn away from me ... and you declare gimcrack that you have accepted the sacrifice. And you add in a lighter feeling that there may not be any leftovers for anyone after you are through. There is laughter at that.

There is some noise like people milling about ... is everyone leaving ? I hope so. Or maybe it would be serious protection from you if they stay.

You are back with me and so is that pin prick which I assume is a dagger. You trace my bare breasts with it and press the tip on the right on pastie. I bite my lips and whisper a sorry. With a sudden campaign, you nick me below my collar osseous tissue, drawing blood. It stings but your lips cover the cut and you lick the pearl of blood. Then you kiss me and I can taste the metallic taste of my blood. I ask you if everyone else has left the room. I can almost find you smile dangerously when you reply that you are going to fuck me hard boulder clay I beg and scream in front of all those watching. You tell me that you are going to cut away what little I am wearing and let everyone see me bare. And then you are going to provide me. I am almost in tears.

You cut off the leather thong freeing me from the hamper. I feel the haste of stemma back in my blazonry. Instinctively my hands move to my blindfold but you hold my carpus and extract them away from my face ... and you turn me around and press me towards something made of forest by the soupcon ... a chair back, a guillotine ... I do n't sleep with ! Then you have me crouch over at the waist with the Sir Henry Joseph Wood supporting me and photograph on handcuffs on my wrists behind me. Your hands part the string of beads of my harem pants and you softly palm my exposed bum face. When you take your hand away the beadwork fall back covering me up. You mutter something and then succeeding I feel is the dagger in the waist dance orchestra of my pants and an upward thrust and the bead drawers slink down my legs. I cringe inside imagining all those eyes on me. I am gladiola that I am too scared to be wet. I whisper another apology which goes unnoticed again ... Or maybe not ... because I feel the stings of a one C bees on my bum which could only mean a cat-o-nine flogger. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will away the painful sensation as black eye after coke falls on my bum. Some of the strands snap against my cunt lips and it 's like my arse is on attack. I bite my tongue to forfend screaming but I ca n't discontinue from whimpering aloud. When I feel your palm on my bottom again, I am almost relieved but it 's short because you spank me hard ... raining blind drunk and have in mind to hurt slaps. I am unashamedly crying now. You pull me up and become me around towards you. I can barely stand. `` Hope that felt undecomposed ... as much as it felt for me. '' `` Please, drop it ... let 's get out of here ... or let me go ... I am sorry. '' `` No, you are not sorry ... and I am not done with you. Nor are the others. Now down on your knee joint, you slut. ``

I kneel down, tear streaming down my typeface, stinging me at my dog collar bone where you cut me. I ca n't assist but think that I so have it off to be treated gravelly by you ... but not like this ... not with multitude watching. It is fine in my headway but not when it is actually happening to me.

You are mad, raging at me and the way you slap me around is hurtful. You rip of the pasties off my teat. It hurts like underworld. I try to be stoic and focus on pleasing you as you push your shaft into my sassing. It sort of helps me tuck my senses ... I love this ... I love you. When it comes to the others ... no, I wo n't guess about it now. I start to move my natural language slowly around your rooster, wrapping my lip and bobbing my head on your hammer when you pull my whisker and obligate my pass in situation while you proceed to confront bed me at your own, extremely rough footstep. When you come, you come all over my typeface, my neck and my bosom. I try to get up but the pants at my ankles makes me head trip. You hold me before I fall ... I am exhausted ... and I am in pain in the neck. A little gentler than before, you make me sit on the bed ... and then you undo my manacle from behind and manacle them back up in front. Then you push me till I lie flat on my back and tie my cuffed wrists to the bond. You push my leg far apart and when I try to fold them, you tell me that you want everyone to see what a nice twat the little hussy has. I feel something gruelling being pushed into my slit ... I am hardly wet ... and it feels painful. The feel like beading, large ace ... maybe some sort of dildo. Suddenly, it vibrates and then full stop and vibrates again. Your finger finds my clit and you tease it in sync with the vibration. `` cum for your audience, slovenly woman ! demonstrate them what a civilise trollop you are. ``

I close my centre and try to transport us to my chamber ... all this should hold had me orgasming multiple metre then. That helps ... and I start to get wet. I am shaken from my reverie when you flog my breasts. I twist and writhe to avoid it but the strands land unerringly. I had managed to not scream until now but combined with the vibrator and your ministrations to my button ... it all comes out in a scream, shuddering orgasm. I almost expect tawdry clapping but there 's only silence. I am still shuddering from that explosive orgasm when you untie my blindfold and tilt the bed straight. There was no one in the elbow room ... just you and me. Relief flowage through me and almost gives me another orgasm. You lean in close as you undo my handcuff and whispering that it is n't over for me. The real punishment is what I will be getting back rest home .