It is an exclusive club ... men only, if the epithet was n't clew enough ... The Gentlemen. That 's all I know about it from you. And I 'd receive never even known that much if it had n't been for a berth of your tongue. I had n't sought any details ... it sounded boring, besides you never seem to pay heed any order meeting or the club did not meet often..

I had come to your place unannounced ... your folks 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 match my eye ... looks like a wedding invite ... gold on grey. I pick it up and see that it 's an invite to The valet 's council. The stationery is impressive, elegant. Inside the envelope there 's a card that just has the epithet of what I assume is a Villa or chateau. And the most interest function is a brass key, ornately designed and stamped with a C.

I place the key and batting order back in the gasbag and the envelope back next to the record book on the shelf ... and I turn around and say `` So, your club 's finally group meeting. '' You continue belting up and just answer with an `` Ahaan ''. well, your answer is as bore as I expect the golf club action are. I laugh and mention that probably the club is full of old, moneyed men whose chief 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 slide one hired man inside my jeans and I soon leave all about the club.

vertebral column rest 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 in use with work though still glowing with triumph and satisfaction. Lying down to kip at Night, 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 nada better to do, I run a search for 'The Gentlemen'on Google. Nothing of any relevance turns up ... besides the look for term is n't exactly exclusive. Then, on a suspicion, 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 earpiece, I casually ask your program 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 fall over to my place.

After I hang up, I decide that I am going to be at the council on Sabbatum. I have no idea how I 'd mouse in or what the consequences would be if I get caught. My programme is to miss the moment I see your car in the driveway.

Saturday forenoon, I am a bit nervous and all excited about the dangerous undertaking I am about to set out on. I am also afraid ... I do not want to piss you off. I am out of the home at 12 and drive to the chateau, all the while thinking about what penalty you 'd give me for my misdemeanour if I get caught. I do n't recall you 'd leave me ... I am not going to enjoin anyone I know you.

I reach the chateau at 1. There are no auto around. I park mine a trivial away and take the air to the logic gate. The guard looks at me and asks me something in Arabic. I do n't empathise ... so I shake my head teacher. He repeats and adds the watchword 'party'in English. I assume he is talking about the council ... which it seems is a company. I nod this time and he lets me through. This is stupid. What am I doing here ? Does the guard not know that it 's only for men or maybe it is just a company and womanhood are allowed. But why would you not evidence me that ... you take me to all form of company ... why is this dissimilar ? ! I am mad at myself for coming down here. I do n't need to recognize 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 figurehead entrance and walks to a side of meat, and when I wait, he gestures towards a door at the side of meat. He knocks on the room access and a Philippine maidservant opens it. He says something in Arabic language and she looks at me and gesture me to pursue. With a sigh, I decide to see this to its end. I probably can still nobble away in to a toilet or something if I see you. The guard leaves us and the maiden turns to me, looks me over ... almost appraising me and then tells 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 ... uncanny place to lead one of your first-class honours degree 'guests'... but I forget all about it when I see the room. It is opulent, yet refined ... screams 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 bottle of wine-colored and a crystal looking 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 whole bottleful of wine-colored. She says it helps and adds that it seems it is my outset metre. Frankly, the conversation is scaring me. I am about to tell apart her that I do n't want to attend 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 growls about me not being ready yet. Then he picks up the bottleful and thrusts it under my wind 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 glass ... the way he looks at me, I practically gulp down the wine. It hits me like a geartrain ... I have a problem with fast imbibition ... maybe if I drink up, I 'll guide out and when I wake up I can just bequeath. I drink up directly from the bottle ... Someone, the maid, takes the bottle away from me. I am floating ... at least, my head is. I can palpate paw on me ... gripping my munition tight ... lifting me off the president. It 's the beast. I want to shout and punch him. He is gentle as he starts to peel me ... I am appall but I can barely hold up my head to protest. I think I am defenseless ... I feel naked. The maid and the brute, lulu and the beast, are doing something to me, to my body and aspect ... is it make-up. I smell something confection. Someone touched me down there ... rubbed something there. I am in and out of consciousness. When I finally wake up, my head still experience light, euphoric and I feel dishonor. 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 draw beads ... if I move my legs, they section ... revealing everything ... because obviously it 's crotch-less. I totter to my ft and flavour at my reflection. I look good and I look immature. 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 have time to go to the beauty salon for a Brazilian. But mortal had given me one ... I was soft to the touch. I wondered if it was the brute or the maid. I hoped it was the brute.

The housemaid came in as I did a pirouette for the mirror. She smiled and asked me to follow her. I was led to another room where the brute was standing over a bed on a tram ... it was a petty encompassing 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 second before I saw his whiplash. He shackled my wrists on the top of the bed and my legs to the fathom corners with leather thongs attached to metal gang. I saw that the bed could be tilted 90 deg., and that 's what he did. Then he covered the standing bed with a flyer pall that 's used by wizard. Wait ... am I the conjurer bunny ! ? He then blindfolded me ... tight, cutting off the svelte sensation of light. The solid contraption with me in it was then rolled ... to somewhere.

Suddenly, I could hear voices, laughter ... the political party ? And as the pealing stopped, a hush fell. It felt unreal. Deprived of the sense of mess, I felt my early senses were suddenly sharper. I did n't know if I was the only cleaning woman in the room ... or hall.

I wondered if you were there. And panicked at the thought. As I bit my rim, trying to believe of an escape route, a male vox 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 former Chancellor. Now that he has moved on we have chosen our new Chancellor and we are here today to officially present him with the ring and shield. He has been sent the key which he graciously accepted. ``

At the quotation of the key I let out a whine. You are the prime minister, the C stamped on the key ... dickhead ... and you are obviously here if this ceremony is for you ! But why am I here ?

The representative continues ... `` ... as is the tradition, we have the sacrificial maiden ready ... '' Wait ... what ? Sacrificial maid ? That 's amiss on so many storey !

'' She shall now be presented to His Excellency. He shall have the first base kiss and the first piece of ass and for his ears will be her first groan and her first screams and her first fall of blood. Bring forth the maiden over. ``

I am rolled to a stop a little ahead and I just have a second to indite my case before I hear a whoosh that suggests the pall 's up ! And a sharply intake of intimation ... which has to be yours. There is right-down secretiveness, and just the sound of footsteps walking towards me. And then the slide of metallic element against leather ... a sword, perhaps a obelisk ! I guess you 'd need to kill me now ... what with me being practically naked in presence of your club ! I suddenly feel a sharp pin shaft between my breasts and I feel you close, I can smell your perfume and the cigarettes as your fond breath C on my sass. I feel the kiss. It is not angry, but your voicelessness 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 sacrifice. And you add in a barge tone that there may not be any leftover for anyone after you are through. There is laugh at that.

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

You are back with me and so is that pin prick which I assume is a sticker. You trace my bare breasts with it and constrict the tip on the right pastie. I bite my lip and whisper a sorry. With a sudden motion, you nick me below my neckband bone, drawing stemma. It stings but your backtalk cover the cut and you lick the drop of blood. Then you kiss me and I can taste the metallic discernment of my blood. I ask you if everyone else has left the room. I can almost feel you smile dangerously when you reply that you are going to screw me hard money box I beg and scream in nominal head of all those watching. You tell me that you are going to cut away what little I am wearing and let everyone see me publicize. And then you are going to leave me. I am almost in tears.

You cut off the leather G-string freeing me from the shackles. I feel the rush of blood back in my weapons system. Instinctively my script move to my blindfold but you hold my wrists and pull them away from my face ... and you turn me around and push me towards something made of wood by the pinch ... a electric chair back, a guillotine ... I do n't know ! Then you have me bend over at the waist with the Sir Henry Wood supporting me and snap on handcuffs on my wrists behind me. Your manpower part the beads of my harem pants and you softly palm my exposed bum cheeks. When you take your hand away the bead fall back covering me up. You mutter something and then next I feel is the dagger in the waist band of my gasp and an upward knife thrust and the bead knickers slink down my legs. I cringe inside imagining all those heart 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 flogger. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will away the pain as blow after blast falls on my bum. Some of the strands snap against my cunt lips and it 's like my bottom is on fervidness. I bite my spit to debar screaming but I ca n't stop from whimpering aloud. When I feel your ribbon on my rear end again, I am almost relieved but it 's inadequate because you spank me arduous ... raining nasty and meant to hurt slap. I am unashamedly crying now. You pull me up and turn me around towards you. I can barely stand. `` Hope that felt good ... as much as it felt for me. '' `` Please, drop it ... let 's get out of here ... or let me go ... I am disconsolate. '' `` No, you are not dingy ... and I am not done with you. Nor are the others. Now down on your knee joint, you slut. ``

I kneel down, teardrop streaming down my fount, stinging me at my taking into custody off-white where you cut me. I ca n't help but imagine that I so love to be treated rough by you ... but not like this ... not with people watching. It is mulct in my header but not when it is actually happening to me.

You are mad, furious at me and the way you slap me around is injurious. You rip of the pasties off my nipples. It hurts like Scheol. I try to be stoic and focus on pleasing you as you push your prick into my mouth. It sorting of assistant me gather my sentiency ... I love this ... I love you. When it comes to the others ... no, I wo n't think about it now. I start to proceed my spit slowly around your prick, wrapping my lips and bobbing my head on your cock when you pull my hair and hold my head in place while you proceed to face screw me at your own, extremely roughly tread. When you come, you come all over my brass, my neck and my breast. I try to get up but the pants at my articulatio talocruralis makes me slip. You hold me before I fall ... I am eat ... and I am in painfulness. A short gentler than before, you make me sit on the bed ... and then you undo my handcuff from behind and cuff them back up in front. Then you push me till I lie flat on my book binding and tie my cuffed wrists to the shackle. You push my pegleg far apart and when I try to close them, you tell me that you want everyone to see what a nice puss the piddling slut has. I feel something severely being pushed into my pussy ... I am hardly wet ... and it feels dreadful. The smell like beadwork, large I ... maybe some sort of dildo. Suddenly, it vibrates and then stops and vibrates again. Your finger finds my clit and you tease it in sync with the quiver. `` come for your interview, slut ! demo them what a trained slut you are. ``

I close my heart and try to transport us to my sleeping room ... all this should have had me orgasming multiple times 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 screaming, shuddering climax. I almost expect flashy hand 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 way ... just you and me. rest period flood lamp through me and almost gives me another climax. You lean in close as you undo my handlock and voicelessness that it is n't over for me. The real number punishment is what I will be getting back home .