It is an exclusive nightspot ... men only, if the public figure was n't clue enough ... The valet de chambre. 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 gaucherie of your tongue. I had n't sought any item ... it sounded dull, besides you never seem to hang any club coming together or the ball club did not cope with often..

I had come to your place unannounced ... your phratry were in India and you would n't still let me come in 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 ceremony invite ... gold on grey. I pick it up and see that it 's an invite to The Gentlemen 's council. The stationery is impressive, elegant. Inside the envelope there 's a menu that just has the epithet of what I assume is a Villa or chateau. And the most interesting region is a brass key, ornately designed and stamped with a C.

I place the key and scorecard back in the gasbag and the envelope back next to the books on the shelf ... and I turn around and say `` So, your club 's finally group meeting. '' You continue belting up and just serve with an `` Ahaan ''. Well, your reaction is as irksome as I expect the golf-club natural action are. I laugh and citation that probably the baseball club is broad of old, moneyed men whose point float up in the swarm ... 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.

backrest plate, all I can think of is how you fucked me on your bed, in your house. That 's like up there in my lean of escapade. I get fussy with work though still glowing with triumph and satisfaction. Lying down to sleep at night, I am reminded of the invite ... especially the key. I think I will ask you to give way me the key for keepsakes if you are n't attending the 'council'. With aught wagerer to do, I run a search for 'The Gentlemen'on Google. Nothing of any relevance turns up ... besides the look terminus is n't exactly exclusive. Then, on a hunch, I search for the address/name on the card ... I was right ... a chateau. My core wants a new adventure.

While talking to you on the phone, I casually ask your programme for Saturday ( the day of the council ). You tell me that you have to hang the council at 2 ... you 'd be exempt by 7 and you 'd do over to my place.

After I hang up, I decide that I am going to be at the council on Saturday. I have no musical theme how I 'd sneak in or what the event would be if I get caught. My plan is to get off the moment I see your car in the driveway.

Saturday sunrise, I am a bit flighty and all excited about the adventure I am about to set out on. I am also afraid ... I do not want to piddle you off. I am out of the house at 12 and drive to the chateau, all the while thinking about what penalty you 'd give me for my infringement if I get caught. I do n't think you 'd allow for me ... I am not going to tell apart anyone I know you.

I reach the chateau at 1. There are no cars around. I park mine a short away and take the air to the logic gate. The precaution looks at me and require me something in Arabic. I do n't understand ... so I shake my head. He repeats and adds the word 'party'in English language. I assume he is talking about the council ... which it seems is a political party. I nod this metre and he lets me through. This is stupid. What am I doing here ? Does the guard duty not know that it 's only for men or maybe it is just a party and cleaning woman are allowed. But why would you not tell me that ... you take me to all sorts of party ... why is this dissimilar ? ! I am mad at myself for coming down here. I do n't need to recognise 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 front entering and walks to a side, and when I wait, he gestures towards a door at the side. He knocks on the door and a Philippine maid opens it. He says something in Arabic language and she looks at me and gestures me to follow. With a suspire, I decide to see this to its end. I probably can still sneak away in to a bathroom or something if I see you. The safeguard leaves us and the maid turns to me, looks me over ... almost appraising me and then distinguish me that I look old. That 's a weird matter 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 bedchamber ... weird berth to consume one of your first 'guests'... but I forget all about it when I see the way. It is opulent, yet graceful ... wow of money ... but very tasteful. I love the piazza. I know you would hump the piazza. She then leaves to get me something to drink. She comes back with a tray with a feeding bottle of wine and a crystal glass. She tells me that it is better if I drink it all up before the event starts. I look up at her ... confused ... why drink the entirely nursing bottle of wine. She says it helps and adds that it seems it is my offset time. Frankly, the conversation is scaring me. I am about to tell her that I do n't want to serve the party after all when this huge guy walks in. He looks like he has n't ever heard a no from anyone. Ever. He looks at the housemaid, then at me ... then back at the maid and growling about me not being set yet. Then he picks up the bottleful and thrusts it under my pry 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 decant myself a drinking glass ... the way he looks at me, I practically gulp down the wine-colored. It hits me like a train ... I have a problem with fast drunkenness ... maybe if I drink up, I 'll pass out and when I wake up I can just leave. I drink up directly from the bottleful ... Someone, the maid, takes the bottle away from me. I am floating ... at least, my head teacher is. I can feel men on me ... gripping my sleeve tight ... lifting me off the chair. It 's the animate being. I want to shout and plug him. He is gentle as he starts to peel me ... I am dismay but I can barely hold up up my head to protest. I think I am bare ... I feel au naturel. The maidservant and the wolf, beauty and the creature, are doing something to me, to my body and human face ... is it composition. I smell something 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 light, euphoric and I feel break. I look down at myself and I am wearing a belly dancer 's costume ... except I have pasties instead of a blouse. The seraglio pants are strung beadwork ... if I move my peg, they part ... revealing everything ... because obviously it 's crotch-less. I totter to my metrical foot and look at my expression. I look good and I look younger. I 'd shaved down there in the morning in prediction of our 7 PM tryst ... but it 's never smooth and I did n't consume meter to go to the beauty parlor for a Brazilian. But soul had given me one ... I was easy to the touch. I wondered if it was the creature or the maidservant. I hoped it was the brute.

The maid came in as I did a pirouette for the mirror. She smiled and asked me to come after her. I was led to another elbow room where the brute was standing over a bed on a tramcar ... it was a lilliputian widely for a infirmary 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 second before I saw his lash. He shackled my radiocarpal joint on the top of the bed and my legs to the backside street corner with leather lash attached to metal tintinnabulation. I saw that the bed could be tilted 90 deg., and that 's what he did. Then he covered the standing bed with a bill curtain that 's used by magicians. Wait ... am I the thaumaturgist bunny ! ? He then blindfolded me ... tight, cutting off the slightest mavin of light. The whole gadget with me in it was then rolled ... to somewhere.

Suddenly, I could hear vox, laugh ... the political party ? And as the pealing stopped, a stillness fell. It felt unreal. Deprived of the mother wit of sight, I felt my early locoweed were suddenly card shark. I did n't get laid if I was the only char in the room ... or hall.

I wondered if you were there. And panicked at the thought. As I bit my rim, trying to think of an escape cock route, a male person voice started talking. His vocalism was ceremonial as he boomed ... `` As you all know, we have n't met in years at the behest of our former Chancellor. Now that he has moved on we have chosen our new prime minister and we are here today to officially deliver him with the ring and shield. He has been sent the key which he graciously accepted. ``

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

The part continues ... `` ... as is the custom, we have the sacrificial maiden ready ... '' Wait ... what ? Sacrificial maiden ? That 's wrong on so many levels !

'' She shall now be presented to His excellence. He shall have the first candy kiss and the commencement screw and for his spike will be her initiatory moans and her first screeching and her first drop of profligate. Bring forth the maiden over. ``

I am rolled to a stop a little ahead and I just have a moment to write my face before I hear a whoosh that suggests the curtain 's up ! And a needlelike intake of breath ... which has to be yours. There is absolute secrecy, and just the sound of footfall walking towards me. And then the slide of metal against leather ... a sword, perhaps a obelisk ! I guess you 'd want to vote out me now ... what with me being practically naked in front of your lodge ! I suddenly feel a piercing pin prick between my boob and I feel you close, I can smell your perfume and the coffin nail as your warm intimation blows on my rim. I feel the kiss. It is not wild, but your whisper is. All you whisper is that I will pay for this ... dearly. Then I feel you turn away from me ... and you declare loud that you have accepted the forfeiture. And you add in a lighter tone that there may not be any leftovers for anyone after you are through. There is laughter at that.

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

You are back with me and so is that pin asshole which I assume is a obelisk. You trace my bare breasts with it and crusade the tip on the proper pastie. I bite my back talk and whisper a sorry. With a sudden movement, you nick me below my collar os, drawing blood. It stings but your lips cover the cut and you lick the drop cloth of origin. Then you kiss me and I can taste the metallic taste of my blood. I ask you if everyone else has left the way. I can almost feel you smile dangerously when you reply that you are going to fuck me hard till 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 leave me. I am almost in tears.

You cut off the leather thongs freeing me from the shackles. I feel the rush of stock back in my weapons system. Instinctively my manpower move to my blindfold but you hold my wrist joint and pull them away from my grimace ... and you turn me around and push me towards something made of wood by the soupcon ... a chair back, a guillotine ... I do n't bang ! Then you have me bend over at the waist with the Mrs. Henry Wood supporting me and snap on handcuffs on my wrists behind me. Your men part the string of beads of my seraglio trouser and you softly palm my expose bum cheek. When you take your handwriting away the beads fall back covering me up. You mutter something and then next I feel is the dagger in the waist band of my bloomers and an upward thrust and the beaded pants slink down my legs. I cringe inside imagining all those oculus on me. I am glad 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 hundred bees on my bum which could only mean a cat-o-nine scourger. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will away the pain as blow after blow falls on my bum. Some of the strands snap against my snatch back talk and it 's like my fanny is on fire. I bite my knife to avoid screaming but I ca n't end from whimpering aloud. When I feel your palm on my bottom again, I am almost relieved but it 's short because you spank me concentrated ... raining miserly and signify to hurt slaps. I am unashamedly crying now. You pull me up and turn me around towards you. I can barely support. `` Hope that felt good ... as much as it felt for me. '' `` Please, bead it ... let 's get out of here ... or let me go ... I am good-for-nothing. '' `` 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, tears streaming down my brass, stinging me at my collar pearl where you cut me. I ca n't help but think that I so love to be treated rough by you ... but not like this ... not with people watching. It is fine in my head 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 hell on earth. I try to be stoic and focus on pleasing you as you push your peter into my back talk. It sort of supporter me gather my gage ... I love this ... I love you. When it comes to the others ... no, I wo n't think about it now. I start to motivate my natural language slowly around your peter, wrapping my lips and bobbing my headspring on your cock when you pull my hair and hold my head in place while you proceed to face bed me at your own, extremely rough tread. When you come, you come all over my grimace, my cervix and my knocker. I try to get up but the drawers at my articulatio talocruralis makes me trip. You hold me before I fall ... I am dog-tired ... and I am in botheration. A little gentler than before, you make me sit on the bed ... and then you undo my cuff from behind and cuff them back up in strawman. Then you push me till I lie flat on my spine and tie my cuffed wrists to the shackle. You push my legs far apart and when I try to close them, you tell me that you want everyone to see what a nice snatch the little strumpet has. I feel something severe being pushed into my puss ... I am hardly wet ... and it feels sore. The feel like beads, great ones ... maybe some sorting of dildo. Suddenly, it vibrates and then stops and vibrates again. Your finger's breadth finds my clit and you tease it in sync with the vibrations. `` Come for your audience, loose woman ! Show them what a trained jade you are. ``

I close my eyes and try to transport us to my bedroom ... all this should ingest had me orgasming multiple times then. That helps ... and I start to get wet. I am shaken from my castle in Spain 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 clit ... it all comes out in a screaming, shuddering orgasm. I almost expect loud applause but there 's only secrecy. I am still shuddering from that volatile orgasm when you untie my blindfold and tilt the bed straight. There was no one in the room ... just you and me. Relief rising tide through me and almost gives me another orgasm. You lean in close as you undo my manacle and whisper that it is n't over for me. The real punishment is what I will be getting back household .