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AMBITION camera the bar Robert had


An entertainment for Adults only. By James Anderton.

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and
contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading
sex stories upset you, do not read any further.

Previous stories in the POWER BROKER Series are:

A Crude Business The Ambassador's wife Vengeance


Smoke drifted lazily into the air from the end of Gerald Knebworthy's
huge Cigar. Before him, a select group of his brightest students, all
mellowed by several glasses of good brandy, eager to share with him the
conclusions of their private project. It had started as a post-grad joke,
three years ago- "Write a business plan to create an organisation which
will be the most powerful organisation in the world within 30 years".

Paul Hegarty rose to his feet.

"As Managing Director Designate", he started with a big grin, "I will
introduce you to The GODS Corporation, Global Organisation for the
Destruction of Society, bringer of pestilence to the world's major powers".

His audience chuckled, as he launched into his presentation.

"First, what sort of enterprise? Political?, Industrial?, Financial?

Knebworthy sat forward in his seat. The guys had delivered ....

"... only criminal certain enough, .......need a real business plan

Knebworthy's mouth fell open. The plan being proposed was exactly the
proposition he had come up with, but in a level of detail he had only
dreamed about.

"....need seed capital, Rashchid's father could........ operating cash
from drugs? prostitution?..."

Knebworthy smiled to himself. This was going to work if they all bought
into it.

"...all-pervasive power is essential ... political .... financial
..... violence .... coercion ...."

"What about the competition? You don't think people like the Mafia will
just let you take over their path do you?" Knebworthy smiled to himself.
Typical of Dan Hegarty to put his brother on the spot.

"No, of course not bro. We need new suppliers, new customers, niches,
like these......"

Two hours later, Knebworthy, the newly elected CEO of GDS Ltd (GODS had
sounded too pretentious when they discussed going "legit") dismissed his
board and set them loose on the world.


"I don't care, Charles, we have to get rid of him. this is the third
vote this month we've lost because of his bloody principles. If he's
re-elected in May, I will probably resign myself."

"Stop worrying, Gregory, I've asked Dan here to do a little research."

Dan Hegarty looked up from his seat on the small sofa.

"I'd keep worrying, Gregory, if I were you. We've been over every
aspect of his life, private, public, everythings clean. He, and indeed his
wife Marion, have strong beliefs, go to church, and are totally principled
about everything they do. Furthermore, they're well respected, loved even
by their constituency members. These are no Neal and whatsit Hamiltons.
Even if we fitted them up, the voters would support them. I don't know
what we can do short of a car crash."

"OK," Sir Gerald boomed, I get the picture, but he has to go. Set Steve
on him."

"What do you expect Steve to do. He can't kill him."

"No he can't, but Steve is creative, he'll think of a way".


"I'm sorry Julia, the committee has decided that Mr Collingham will
stand for this constituency in the by-election. The committee wish you to
know that they have the highest regard for the excellent work you have put
in to helping this party over the past ten years, and they hope you will be
able to continue. They also wish you to know that they would be willing to
reconsider you in the future."

Julia Roberts gave the Chairman a long, hard, look. Nodding to him
knowingly, she slowly stood up and headed for the door. Anger boiled
within her. She had invested all her Post-grad life to this constituency
and now she could have to wait for the rest of her life. Something else
must be done. She turned back into the room.

"Look, Bill, if Mr Collingham gets elected, it could be years, or never
before I get another chance here, so I have to look elsewhere. I know you
have been one of my biggest supporters, so I really need some advice."

"You need a sponsor, in a word. Someone who can mentor you, and look
after your future. There are very few such people around, and the ones
there are are not easy to get to. You also need to know that they are
often VERY demanding."

"So where do I go?"

"Regretfully, Julia, I really don't know but I'll keep my ear to the
ground. If you need a reference call me, but otherwise, I don't know how I
can help you.


Steve Washington sat back in the lounger by his pool, wearing nothing
but a white towel draped across his midriff and a big white smile which
almost split his handsome black face in two.

"I just love it when a plan comes together," he mused, unable to
remember the film where he had first heard it. He had been thinking about
Sir Geralds problem for several days and he now knew how to deal with it.
He tapped a stream of numbers into the phone.

"Samuel? Steve! How you doing?"

On the other end of the phone, President Samuel Mwamba of Gujanga was
delighted to hear from Steve. They had been friends for years at
University, and were now partners in one of the most lucrative businesses
in the world. Samuel provided the drugs which fuelled a string of highly
profitable businesses across the world. GDS (Formally GODS - but that had
sounded too pretentious when they went "legit") had been created as an
umbrella company for activities in entertainment, leisure, manufacture, and
services: all euphemisms for vice. Indeed it had been so successful that
it was now a global conglomerate in it's own right. As head of Marketing,
Steve Washington had provided access to Customers and Markets alike.

"I need a favour, Samuel, I was hoping to borrow Tembo for a couple of
months, only I don't want anyone to know he is in England. Is he
available? and if so, do you reckon we can smuggle him in as diplomatic

"I'm sure he will be OK, let me know your arrangements, and I'll sort it
all out".

Steve Washington outlined his plan ...........


"For Gods sake, Robert, how many times do I have to say it. I've made
my decision. I must apply, it's my last shot."

"I know, but I still think you're wasting your time. The chairman has
no idea, he's as useless as a chocolate teapot."

Julian knew her husband was right, but she had a consuming ambition, and
determination was something she was not short of.

"Maybe so, but he says Sir Gerald Knebworthy is looking for a
researcher, and he says that he has recommended me, so I am going to apply
......... and that's final. At worst a couple of years in London will be
an experience, and with our sex life, let's face it we might as well be
separated anyway."

"Look, you're my wife damn it! I should have something to say about

"OK, but we both have to face up to this. If I am ever going to become
an MP, I will have to take this chance. It's ten years since I left
University, and this is too good an opportunity to miss. If you want to
stay married to me, you're going to have to accept the reality of a move to
London. I don't want to leave you, but if I must, then I will. Why don't
you take up Interbank's offer and move with me."

Robert Stewart looked morosely into his cup of coffee. He hated
himself. He had married Julia because he could. Stunningly handsome,
gifted, reasonably well off, he had the pick of the crop at Uni, and Julia
had been his female equivalent. Whilst he, however, had been a quiet,
laid-back student, she was much more focussed. A predator. When they met,
it had been Julia who had made all the running, and though it was Robert
who proposed marriage, he could never get rid of the suspicion that he had
been led into it like a lamb to the slaughter. Over the years he had
become dependent on her emotionally, but had found it impossible to satisfy
her sexual needs. It wasn't because she was too demanding, it was
something inside him that he didn't understand. She was supremely
attractive, but making love was difficult for him, an effort requiring a
level of concentration that he found uncomfortable. As a result their
lovemaking was becoming increasingly sporadic.

"Sod it! I will then!"

His instant decision was uncharacteristic. He was an accomplished
accountant, with all the natural caution that such a profession requires,
so jumping off the deep end in this manner took both of them by surprise.
Nevertheless, it was final, he was sure of that. He would do anything and
everything to avoid losing her. For Julia, the decision also came as a
great relief. In her case, however, it stemmed from her belief that
marriage gave her the sort of dependable image that all politicians craved.
As long as Robert was prepared to put up with the vagaries of being a
politician's spouse, she would be free to get on with her career.

That evening they sat, side-by-side, filling out the forms that would
shape the rest of their lives.

=================================== It was really dark as Marion Scott
left the Church Hall. She always felt needed after her weekly visit to the
single mothers club. The girls were all far too young to be looking after
chidren, but their lack of experience had landed them in trouble, and
Marion knew how to help them. It was simply a matter of gaining control
over their life. After all, others could deal with it, why not them.

Her heels click-clacked across the empty carpark as she hurried towards
her car. As she passed the concrete pillar next to her destination she
never noticed the tall black man step out behind her. As she approached
her car, he struck.

His hand came round her face and slapped a towel-like cloth across her
mouth, making screaming impossible. At the same time, he pushed her
violently face down onto the bonnet of her car. As she began to struggle,
a knife, fully 9 inches long appeared in front of her face.

"If yer struggle, ah'll cut lumps out of you. Do you understand?" a
voice hissed in her ear.

She nodded furiously, scared to death of what was about to happen.

"Whats yo name, bitch?"

"Marion" she sobbed

"Well Marion, were goin' to party."

"Please, I'm a good christian wife, I've never known a man other than my
husband. Please leave me alone."

He could hardly hear what she was saying through the rudimentary gag.
Not that it mattered much. He ignored her and pressed the knife
none-too-gently against her neck, holding her tight to prevent her avoiding
the pressure from the blade.

"Lift yer skirt like a good girl...."

Almost paralysed with fear she lay dormant across the car hood.

"I won't tell you again. lift it, and drop de tights."

Marion switched into autopilot. Her hands reached behind her and
wriggled her pencil skirt up around her hips. She stared across the bonnet
of the car at the concrete wall as she grasped the waistband of her tights
and lowered them as far as her restricted arm movements would allow.
Curiously detatched, she waited for the inevitable rape, murmuring an
almost silent prayer for salvation. It was not about to come.

"Nice arse. Spread dem cheeks for me."

Marion genuinely had no idea what he wanted. She reached back and
spread the lips of her labia, tears of embarrassment pouring down her face.

"Arse, bitch, not Cunt"

As she realised what he meant, Marion was paralysed with fear. She
sprung to life as he delivered a mighty slap to her arse cheek, making her
scream into her gag. Squeezing her eyes tight shut, she held her nether
cheeks apart so that he could see her arsehole.

"Dat's better, now, let's see......."

Tears streamed down her face as his finger screwed itself into her
rectum. He lowered his face to hers and whispered.

"Tell me you want me to fuck your arse, bitch."

Marion gritted her teeth and shook her head.

"Do it!" His knife pressed into the side of her breast as she felt it
cut through her bra and pierce her flesh.

"Please! Stop!"

"Do it." The knife twisted again and pain shot through her.

"OK! ok. Please don't hurt me anymore."

"OK What? Say it!"

"Please, please, fuck my arse..................."

=================================== "Mrs Stewart. Sir,"

"Ah, come in, my dear, sit."

The welcome was warm enough, she thought to herself, but the instruction
to sit had been issued in a way that brooked no argument. She complied,
smoothing down her skirt and crossing her ankles to reflect an ease which
she did not feel. She smiled nervously in response to Sir Gerald
Knebworthy's frank stare.

"Bill tell's me I should take your application seriously. Suppose you
tell me why I should."

Julia began to talk, describing her education, upbringing, political
experience and finally her ambition in an increasingly fluent manner as her
nervousness wore off. She could see he was impressed, but as the interview
wore on, it was clear to her that it was not just her ability that was
firing his interest. His gaze would drift slowly down over her breasts,
pause there before moving slowly on until, without embarrassment he would
study her knees and legs with obvious admiration in his eyes. This man exuded the sort of power she yearned for. She would do anything to land
this post. She made up her mind. Slowly, without breaking her speech, she
uncrossed her ankles and deliberately recrossed her legs at the knee,
making absolutely sure that he was unable to see between her legs, but
causing her skirt to ride up, showing him an expanse of thigh with just a
hint of stocking top. At the same time she leaned forward as she
emphasised a point, giving him an enticing view of her cleavage. Sir
Gerald, she knew, had picked up on the signal.

"And can you tell me what your long-term goal is?"

"I want to get into Parliament. I believe I can serve the community and
want to make a difference."

Sir Gerald smiled quietly to himself. Recognising bullshit is all part
of leadership, he thought to himself. This young woman wants power, and I
might as well see how far she will go. For another twenty minutes or so,
he slowly turned the conversation onto more personal issues. He led her
into describing her frustration at her failure to get a nomination, her
difficulties with her husband Robert, and finally to her attitude to the
research job if he were to offer it to her. He liked what he heard, so
moved in to test her resolve.

He pushed a small button under the desk, surreptitiously locking the
office door.

"How important to you are your own opinions, Julia?"

Smelling a rat, Julia thought she was too careful to be caught by a
question like that.

"I think your own opinions are important, but its also vital that you
support the views expressed by your party and the people who make the

"So, you know you will have to follow instructions?"

"Of course."

"Do you submit easily to discipline?"

Julia didn't like the way this was going, but had no option but to play
his game if she were to succeed.

"I see it as essential that politicians reflect the policies of their
parties. Political parties cannot operate without it."

"That's not quite what I asked. How readily will you submit to the will
of your leaders?"

Julia was trapped. She knew it, he knew it. Now, it was clearly just a
matter of time before he would test her compliance.

"IF I were to be elected as an MP," she stressed the IF in an attempt to
make her answer conditional, "I would be prepared to do anything the party
required of me."

"It's hot in here isn't it." he said, changing the subject. "Give me
your jacket."

Julia didn't even hesitate. The jacket was in her hand, being offered
to him before she realised she had responded to a direct order. This was
proving more difficult than she imagined. She sat still, feeling the
pressure of his gaze as he surveyed the swell of her breast under her white
blouse. She felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

"Why do you keep avoiding the subject of discipline. Either you will
submit to the party whip or you won't. Stand up!"

Julia got to her feet as Sir Gerald walked in front of her and leaned
against the desk.

"You've got nice legs. Show them to me!"

Julia looked into his eyes, placed the palms of her hands on her thighs
and began to slide her skirt up her legs. If the bastard wanted a show,
she would give him one. Her skirt reached her stocking tops, at which
point she paused. Sir Gerald said nothing, but flicked his eyes upwards
urging her to continue. The skirt cleared the pale beige stocking tops,
and revealed the flushed pink of her thighs. Still he wasn't satisfied.
The skirt continued it's journey revealing a glimpse of her white silk

"I'm glad to see you came dressed for the occasion" Sir Gerald offered
as she followed his signal to raise the skirt still higher. She was now
holding it rolled in a band around her waist, waiting for his next move.
When it came it worried her even more. A riding crop appeared as if by
magic in his hand.

"I know the whip is a formal name for falling under party discipline in
Parliament, but in this office I take it a little more literally. Spread
you legs Mrs Stewart."

Julia did as she was told. She knew there was no way back. His use of
her married name simply reinforced his power over her and the mixture of
fear and excitement were beginning to have their impact on her response.
She felt her pelvic area begin to flush, and her juices begin to flow. Sir
Gerald leaned forward and inserted the crop into one leg of her knickers.
She gasped as the end made contact with her lubricated slit. He leaned
forward and pulled the her underwear down to her knees. As the cool office
air played around her cunt, he waved the crop upwards. The small, flexible
end flicked her clit sending shards of pain shooting through her body.
Julia yelped and took a step backwards and her knickers fell to her ankles.
Sir Gerald was unmoved.

"Get back here! Legs apart"

She shuffled forwards, into the ungainly position she had previously
occupied, tears of embarrassment and pain sliding down her cheeks.

"Behave like that again, and I will give the job to someone more in

Julia couldn't believe it. How could someone possibly take that without
flinching. She found out. He waved the crop again. She gritted her
teeth, closed her eyes and gave a whimper as the same pain coursed through
her body, but this time, she did not step back. Sir Gerald raised the crop
and stroked it gently down her cheek.

"You see! You will soon learn what it takes to get on with me. Now!
Hands on your head please."

Julia did as bidden. On his next command she leaned forwards until her
forehead rested on the edge of the desk. She waited in trepidation for the
crop to fall. It didn't.

"Nice arse, Mrs Stewart," he commented. His hand caressed each buttock
in turn, pausing as it passed over the intervening anal crease. She
waited, holding her position for the invasion she was now sure would come.

A knock on the office door broke the tension.

"Come in!"

Julia was astonished. He couldn't surely allow visitors to see her like
this, bent over the desk, knickers round her knees.

"It's locked Sir" called his secretary from beyond the door.

"Sorry" Sir Gerald stepped behind the desk, pushed the concealed button
and called her in. Julia stayed glued to the desk, her face crimson with
embarrassment as the secretary close the door and walked across the floor
towards her.

"What do you think of Mrs Stewart?" he asked to Julia's consternation.
The secretary's hand caressed the cheeks of her arse where a few moments
before her boss had done the same.

"Very nice Sir," she said as she slowly screwed her finger into Julia's
anal orifice. "Do you think she will cope with the pressure?"

"I'm willing to take the risk, Gloria, What do you think?"

"I think you're right sir, as always....."

"Excellent! Thats OK then. Thank you Mrs Stewart, we will be in

Julia couldn't believe her ears. She stood up and looked across to
where Gloria and her boss were deep in conversation, ostentatiously
ignoring her. She bent down to pick up her knickers.

"Leave those, I will keep them for now"

Julia lowered her skirt, gathered up her jacket, and backed out of the
room. Totally shocked and humiliated, she was nevertheless sure that her
career had just taken a step change for the better.

Behind her, Sir Gerald smiled at his secretary. "Better type up the
offer letter, Gloria, Oh and get Dan to do a full security check on her


Justin Scott was a very worried man. Whatever it was that was worrying
Marion, it was having a serious impact on their relationship. She had,
over the past few weeks turned decidedly cool. She never smiled, and her
visits to Church had become much more frequent and intense. Any attempt on
his part to help was simply dismissed. It was already dark as he waved to
his wife, loped off down the drive, climbed into his car and set off for
his constituency meeting, leaving Marion to drive herself to yet another
church meeting.

Behind him, Marion Scott nervously checked around her as she dashed to
her car. Since the attack, she never went out alone apart from her Church
visits. Her reluctance to discuss it with Justin gave her a constant
feeling of guilt. Could she trust him? What would he say? She knew it
hadn't been her fault, but she felt unclean, and unable to talk to anyone
about her feelings. She climbed in the car and closed the door.

"Good Evenin' Marion"

She stopped. Rigid with fear and shock, she stared in the mirror at the
black face over her shoulder.

"What do you want" she screamed.

"Quiet, bitch, you knows what I want. And I knows what you want as

"Leave me alone, you're sick. If you leave now I won't tell anyone."

"If I stay you won't tell anyone either."

She sat still, knowing that what he said was true. She was scared, and
knew what was about to happen. There was nothing she could do about it.
He reached over and pressed the seat recline button on the console. The
whirr of the electric motor temporarily drowned out the thumping heartbeat
in her chest as it slid the seat down and backwards, leaving her
horizontal, on her back, looking up at her assailant. He absent mindedly
ran a hand inside the neck of her blouse, down beneath her bra, and
squeezed her breast. The other casually flipped the safety belt release,
freeing her from it's constraint.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" she sobbed, "Why me?"

"You know what we both want. Ask me!"

He made a small rotating motion with his hand. She did as she was told
and rolled over onto her front.

"She did, but couldn't bring herself to say it."

"Look bitch! get on your knees, lift your skirt, drop your pants and
ask me to fuck your arse! NOW!"

All resistance left her. Like an automaton she followed his
instructions to the letter. The blank look of shock on her face full
testimony to her complete subservience. She gasped as the cold evening air
wafted round her bare arse.

"I won't tell you again! ASK ME!"

"PLEASE ........ f f fuck me "

"Try again"

"Please fuck my arse"

"Good girl, you really are learning."

She heard the swish of his zip and felt him struggle over the seat and,
in the confined space to take position, kneeling between her legs, forcing
her knees apart and rubbing his hand up and down her crack. To her horror,
she realised that she was aroused enough to provide lubrication for his
massive dick. Despite his difficulty coping with the small space around
him, he coated his tool in her juice, and with some squeezing and pushing,
lodged it in her rectum. Her resistance folded and his dick slid
effortlessly into the depths of her bowels.

"Ohhh Ohhh Ohh." She moaned involuntarily as he began to thrust his hips
rhythmically against her rear. Last time, the act was all pain. This time
she began to feel the glow of arousal on her cheeks. The thought of
offering herself in this way offended all her beliefs, but there was no
doubt in her mind this time, that the whole experience was changing her
view of life completely. To her complete surprise, she orgasmed at the
same time as her attacker, falling on to her face, her hands gripping the
sides of the seat beneath her. He pulled himself out, moved awkwardly back
to her head, and presented his dick to her face.

"Now, Bitch, clean me up."

She looked up at him quizzically, but any thoughts of refusal were now
far from her mind. She opened her lips and took his length between them.

When he left ten minutes later, vanishing into the darkness, Marion lay
still, face down in her car, tears of humiliation wetting the fabric
beneath her. She struggled to her knees, opened the door, and staggered
half clothed back across the drive to her front door.

When Justin returned, 3 hours later, she was still in the bath, weeping
silently to herself in emotional turmoil.


Robert Stewart was confused. The pounding beat of the dance music -
garage? - drummed into his head as he peered through the clouds of fake
smoke at the dancing throng. He'd been at the Bank for three months now,
commuting in and out, setting off at 6.00am and not getting home until 9.
Julia and he hardly ever got time together these days, and whilst they
still enjoyed each other's company, he was surprised that he didn't miss
the fact that they hadn't made love since they moved to the city. The guys at work were a nice bunch, especially young Jeremy, who had been a great
help showing him the ropes. Tonight, Julia was working late, so Jeremy had
offered to help him sample the night life.

This was the third club they had been to, and Robert was beginning to
feel the pressure. A steady flow of fruit flavoured vodka had made him
light headed, but he was still aware enough of his surroundings to
recognise that most of the couples dancing were young men. Strangely, he
was quietly amused rather than shocked, and he found himself thinking about
joining in. Jeremy appeared through the crowd, towing a striking young hispanic-looking man in his wake.

"ROBERT" he shouted above the din. "THIS IS MANOLO."

Minutes later, Robert was in the thick of things, head shaking, body
twitching, with Manolo doing a passable impression of a half pissed
girlfriend on a night out with her mates. His languid movements were
performed with particular elegance, and Robert began to sway along in
tandem. Justin appeared at his shoulder with another round of drinks,
shouting loudly to make himself heard. As Robert drank, and danced, the
noise seemed to get further away, and it wasn't long before he clutched
Manolo's arm and lurched towards the small alcoved seating area. Manolo
put a protective arm around Roberts shoulder just as he slumped into the
seat and fell over, his face in Manolo's lap.

How long he stayed there he didn't know, but he opened his eyes to see
the most surreal of sights. Only inches away from his face, Robert cold
make out the shape of a massive dick. Staring at the thing as it slowly
came into focus, he tried to raise himself. Something pressing on his head
held him close to the huge organ, and for some reason - he had no ideas why
- he felt an uncontrollable urge to kiss it. He leaned forward, placed his
lips over the bell-end, and drew almost the whole length of it into his
mouth. Above him, Manolo stroked the back of his head with one hand, and
made the diver's sign for OK, a circle formed by thumb and first finger, to
a young man with a camera at the bar. Robert had solved the mystery of his
low sex drive. He never noticed the flash.


Julia was beginning to get fractious when the call came. Fourteen
months she had worked for Sir Gerald. Instead of being at the centre of
politics, she had found herself assigned to a small research team of
pseudo-librarians, soulless, with no imagination, and dumped in an office
eight miles from Westminster. The only saving grace was that she had only
met Sir Gerald a couple of times, both in public places with no opportunity
for him to repeat his treatment of her. Her report, questions posed by
recent computer secrecy legislation, was as dry as all the other subjects
she had worked on. The door to her office opened, and the tousled head of
Miss Pringle, her boss, appeared round the woodwork.

"Sir Gerald needs your report urgently, please get it to him."

"I'll call a courier."

"No! he wants you to take it yourself."

Julia looked at her, brain in overdrive. Minutes later - it was
actually half an hour, but it felt like minutes - she was standing in front
of "Wonderbra" Gloria, clutching her report like a naughty schoolgirl. She
offered it to the glamorous secretary, embarrassed by her casual attire of
Jeans and Polo-necked jumper.

"Thank you". Gloria took the report, and very deliberately placed it in
the bottom drawer of her desk.

"Please go in."

Julia looked at her quizically, knocked on the heavy oak door and
responed to the command to "enter".

Sir Gerald sat behind his huge desk, legs splayed, a big cigar in his
lips. Only when she entered the room did she notice the two other men.
One of them, a tall, handsome man in his late thirties/early forties seated
on the small sofa to one side of the office, she recognised from previous
deliveries to Westminster. The other stood at the drinks cabinet pouring
three large brandies into crystal baloons.

"Welcome, my dear." It's been a long time. I hope you have not been too
disappointed by our lack of contact."

"Of course not Sir Gerald. It has been a very valuable experience," she

"Forgive my lack of manners, please, let me introduce my guests. This
is, as you know Mr Henry Jeavons MP. Apart from his parliamentary duties,
he is also Chairman of our Candidate selection committee."

The importance of the role, and the likelyhood of the reason for her
being summoned brought a sudden flush of hope.

"And this," is our Chief Whip, Mr Gregory Carstairs."

The reality of her position began to sink in as she shook hands with a
man who looked more like a Lizard than a person. He was of indeterminate
age, probably his early sixties. Long, thin, pale complexion, and a long
tongue which he used to constantly lick his lips as he leered at her from
almost lidless eye slits.

Her dislike of him was immediate, but if she were to achieve what she
wanted, he was highly important. She could clearly not upset him.

Carstairs sounded even more like a Lizard when he spoke.

"Knebworthy tells me you want to be an MP." he hissed.

"Indeed I do, sir. It has been an ambition ever since I left
university." She hoped deferential use of "Sir" would strike the right
note, and was rewarded by a smile of appreciation from the lizard.

"The fact is, young Lady, that with a General Election in the offing, we
are reviewing all of our candidates and selecting new ones in some very key
seats. We need to know if you are the right stuff." Henry Jeavons came
straight to the point. Out of the same mould as Sir Gerald, assured
authority coupled with natural class oozed from every pore. Having a man like this on one's side would be a huge advantage.

"Knebworthy also tells me that you promise to respond well to the whip."
the lizard hissed again. This time the innuendo was unmistakable and all
doubt left Julia when he reached out stroked her cheek, and allowed his
hand to drift down her neck to her breast. He squeezed it gently without
letting his eyes waver from hers. "I will expect you to be suitably

Julia made one last effort to divert the flow of the conversation by
responding that she would work tirelessly to repay the trust of the party.

"I'm talking of personal gratitude, my girl." As he spoke he pointed
dramatically to the floor in front of him, leaving her in no doubt of his
intentions. She knelt, shuffled across the two feet of floor between them
and pulled down the zip of his trousers. A couple of deft twists of her
fingers, and his prick sprang from it's cloth prison. Like him, his dick
was long, thin, and cold. It hung like a giant leek against his trousers,
strangely narrow at the base, with a curious bulb-like bell end. All that
was missing were the tendrils. Julia chuckled at the thought before
getting down to the serious business.

She extended her tongue, and licked gently around the hole. She felt
him pull back slightly at whatever sensation she had created, but when she
started to open her lips around the end, he thrust his hips forward,
ramming his tool into the back of her throat. His grip on her hair
tightened, bringing unnecessary pain to the activity, but he seemed to be
getting off on it. He made Julia cry out, twisting her hair as she gagged
on his prick. With a sibilant hiss he came, squirting watery semen into
her throat. As she swallowed his come, a pair of hands slid under her
shoulders, grabbed her breasts from behind, and lifted her bodily from her
knees to a standing position.

Henry Jeavons manoevered her across the carpet towards the desk, his
hands now releasing their grip only long enough to slide down and free her
jumper from the waisband of her jeans. When they returned to her breasts,
under her jumper, he pushed her bra upwards, freeing her tits, but
crumpling her bra above them in a most uncomfortable way.

Knebworthy sat looking at her with a knowing look on her face. The
riding crop tapping with a regular rhythm against his leg. Behind her,
Jeavons pressed his bulging manhood against the small of her back, as his
hands slid back down to the fastener at the top of her jeans. He popped
the button, slid down the zip fastener, and allowed the garment together
with her panties to drop on to the floor round her feet. She stepped out
of them as Jeavons completed undressing her, pulling the jumper over her
head, and detatching her bra. Knebworthy moved around the desk and stood
before her, in the same position as last time, only now, with Henry Jeavons
standing behind her preventing any movement.

The riding crop stroked her cheek.

"I'm glad you understand the requirements of such an important post, Mrs
Stewart, but it falls to us to make sure that you understand the
consequences of any failure to perform. You are already familiar with my
chosen instrument." As he spoke, the riding crop stroked gently across her
top lip, making her head move involuntarily backwards as if expecting it to
hurt. Insistent pressure forced her lips apart, as the crop slowly
mimicked an invading penis. Behind her, she felt Jeavons divest himself of
his trousers, and it was no surprise to her when she felt his cudgel of a
weapon push between her legs. Her thighs parted to allow him access as
Knebworthy withdrew the crop and gave her a smart crack across the breast.
At the same time, Jeavons thrust his dick into her sopping cunt in a
single, smooth thrust, lifting her almost off the ground.

"AAggh," her cry of pain died in her throat as Jeavons stood stock
still. He filled her completely, holding her arms by her side. Knebworthy
started to strike her breasts with the riding crop, first the left, then
the right. The blows were not hard, but the small whip was designed to
sting a horse into action, and its effect on Julia's chest was exactly the
same. The initial pain was slowly replaced by a warm glow which spread
over her upper body, making her nipples stand out like hat pegs. She began
breathing more shallowly, sexual arousal slowly building in her. When
Jeavons began to saw back and forth in her quim she began to experience the
same feelings in her lower half. She was now out of control. Sex with
Robert had never had any of this intensity and she began to moan as passion
overtook her. Knebworthy put down the crop and sprung his dick free from
his trousers.

Leaning forward without prompting, she took him into her mouth, rolling
her tongue around its full length and sucked on it like a vacuum cleaner.
All her pent up sexual frustration was now released. With a mouthful of
Knebworthy, and a cuntfull of Jeavons she was in paradise, bouncing between
their coordinated thrusts like a ball in a Newtons cradle. Breathing was
difficult but she managed to keep up with both of them as their climaxes

"Nnnngh, Nnngh, OOOooophhh!" She came first, her whole body freezing in
a spasm of delight she hadn't felt for years. Pleasure coursed through her
body rolling in waves from her head to her fanny and back. Jeavons and
Knebworthy continued the action, showing no sign of slowing, and she came
again. This time it was low key. Everything just seized up as she hung
between them.

"uh! uh! uh! uh! uh!" Julia's rhythmic grunts puctuated the silence
in the office as Knebworthy and Jeavons pounded into her. Their pace
quickened, and both dicks seemed to Julia to be growing in size as they
sandwiched her between them. Suddenly, as if on cue, she felt both men tense, Jeavons stuck a finger deep into her arsehole, and all three
climaxed in unison. Julia almost passed out as the waves of her coming
literally took her breath away. Knebworthy pulled away, a smug grin on his
face, but Jeavons simply collapsed in exhaustion across Julia's back,
forcing both of them down into a heap on the carpet.

Gasping for air, Julia looked up to see the Lizard standing over her.
As she struggled out from beneath the panting Henry Jeavons, he gave her a
push with his foot, rolling her onto her front.

"Get your arse in the air!" he hissed. "No fuss, just do it!"

Julia struggled to her knees,elbows on the floor, arse in the required
position. She was shattered and thought she had done enough. Clearly the
Lizard thought otherwise. Without preamble he pressed his knob against her
little brown orifice and pushed. Julia tried to ease his progress, but her
natural defensive reaction was to clench her buttocks. She could not avoid
it. Carstairs was not pleased. Leaning across to the desk he picked up
the riding crop and delivered a fearful blow to the cheek of her arse.
Outside the office, Gloria smiled to herself as she heard the scream of
pain through the closed door.

Inside, the crop had done it's work. Julia's sphinctre gave way and the
Lizards long prong burst through her resistance, burying itself up to the
hilt. Unprepared for this assault, Julias dry back passage was soon rubbed
raw by Carstairs dick. She bit her lip and stoicly waited for him to
finish. Stamina was clearly not the Lizard's strong suit and his orgasm
didn't take long. Julia sighed as he released her, triumph, of a sort in
her eyes. The sex with Knebworthy and Jeavons had been almost unmitigated
pleasure, but this was undoubtedly the pain that might see her get the


"What's up pal? You've gone as white as a sheet."

Jeremy's jovial greeting snapped him out of his trance. The anonymous
e-mail on his screen had scared the shit out of him. All around him, the
clatter of keyboards and the agitated conversation of the Bank Transfers
Room went on, but he was oblivious to it all. His total attention was
focussed on a small square icon at the bottom of the screen innocuously
labelled 1.jpg.

When he had clicked on it a couple of minutes earlier, the innocent
little icon suddenly exploded into a full portrait of himself. It was
clearly him, no one could mistake it. The dick was what scared
him......The dick filling his face, pushed between his lips, glossy and
shining with spittle in the reflected light of the camera flash. He had
immediately shut the picture down, but it now sat there, a malevolent
reminder of his indescretion and his newly discovered sexual preference.

The message was clear, simple. "La Parisienne - 2.30pm today". The
consequences of not attending, unstated, but equally clear.

Robert gathered up his coat. Stuffing his mobile phone and Palm Pilot
into his coat pocket he shut down his terminal and left his desk.

"Sorry Jeremy," he called across the room, "I'm all right, I just don't
feel well. Some fresh air will help."

"La Parisienne" was a coffee shop, some 5 minutes brisk walk from his
office. Although busy, the lunchtime rush had abated and a quiet corner
table was vacant. He bought himself a coffee and croissant, fought his way
between the crowded tables and sat down to wait.

A tall, elegant lady entered the coffee shop. She walked straight to
the counter and purchased a pot of herbal tea. Balancing her small tray in
one hand, she looked aroung the room before struggling along the same route
Robert had taken to the rear corner. As she made to sit down in the vacant
chair next to him, Robert interjected.

"I'm sorry, I'm expecting someone..."

"I know you are. Mr Stewart isn't it?"

Robert was stunned. this was not what he had expected. Cheap blackmail
for a few quid yes, but not by such an obviously wealthy woman. She was
wearing more designer gear than the models in the shop window opposite.

"What do you want" he asked rapidly, unable to mask his anxiety.

"Please, don't get excited." The woman spoke with a calm assurance and
clearly was not going to be rushed.

"Mr Stewart. I represent a group of people with a particular interest
in your line of work." We are looking for a partner to help us in our
business, but because of it's nature, such a partnership will need to
remain confidential. The photograph we sent you is simple insurance - for
you, turning us down is an option , turning us in is not. What we want to
know is whether you are prepared, for a fee, to help us."

Robert sat back in his chair, still trying to come to terms with what
was being said. Had he understood?

"Whatever it is, it's illegal right?"

"Well, I certainly would not like it to be discussed on the front page
of the newspapers, but thats why we will make it worth your while."

"So what's the offer"

"Simple. As part of our business, we require occasional undeclared
transfers of significant amounts of money to and from various countries
around the world. We need someone to manage those transaction and make
them happen."

"Money Laundering?"

"We prefer the term Asset Transference. Are you interested, or not?"

"What's it worth to me?"

"I assume that means you have no objection in principle."

"It means, what's it worth."

"Mr Stewart, I need a yes or no before I discuss terms."

"Ok, Yes!"

"Thank you. I'll be in touch."

With that, she stood up and headed for the door, leaving an expectant
but bemused Robert Stewart behind her. Once clear of the door, Joanna
Jeavons punched a string of numbers into her mobile.

"Dan? Joanna. He's in. Yes. Like a baby. No, no trouble, but he
will need a decent offer. OK, bye.". She hung up. Life had never been
the same since her introduction to Sir Gerald. She thought the bastard had
ruined her life, but it was not to be. Both her, and her husband had, it
seemed passed the test. They were rich, and meant to stay that way.


Marion Scott woke with a start. It was pitch black. She peered at the
faint glow of the alarm clock which told her it was two thirty in the
morning. Reaching out, she realised that Justin wasn't beside her.

"Justin?" No answer.

"Justin, love? where are you?" Still no answer.

She stretched and rolled over to feel his side of the bed. Although it
was still warm, it was cold enough to suggest he had been gone a few
minutes. Assuming he had probably gone downstairs for a glass of water,
she settled back to wait. Some muffled noise downstairs made her get up to
investigate. Slipping on her heavy dressing gown over her pyjama suit, she
slid her feet into her slippers and shuffled off down the stairs.
Everwhere was dark except for the light glowing under the door of Justin's


Her enquiry was met by a muffled grunt.

"Justin? don't be silly."

She pushed open the door and gasped in astonishment. Her husband sat
facing her, broad silver coloured tape across his mouth, his wrists and
ankles tied firmly to the arms and legs of the dining chair he was sitting
on. His eyes, wide with panic, darted around the room, as if trying to
tell her something. She moved slowly towards him, her slippers sliding
across the carpet as if drawn by an invisible thread. Justin started to
shake his head ever more vigorously.

"Dat's far enough!"

Marion froze in her tracks. The deep, familiar African voice beside her
head instantly recognisable. She stood, staring at Justin, not daring to
turn her head.

"What do you want?" she managed to force out through her shock.

"It's not what I want, bitch. Its what you want, eh?"

Marion thought she was going to be sick. Terrible thoughts swirled
around her brain as she realised the import of his words. Surely he wasn't
going to fuck her here, in front of her husband? No, worse than that, he
was going to make her ask for it, like he had before. Sweat broke out on
her brow as she tried furiously to think through her options. There were
none. Justin was helpless, and she knew enough about the African to know
that pity was not one of his attributes. He could do terrible things to
Justin. Only she could protect him.

"Please, don't make me do this."

His silence confirmed her worst fears. She slipped the housecoat from
her shoulders and let it fall.

"Please, I'll do anything, don't hurt us."

Still no response. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

"Alright, I'll do it, please fuck me."

Across the room, Justin sat in shock. Surely he couldn't have heard her
properly. Marion, HIS Marion would never use words like that. He looked
on, rigid with apprehension as the bizarre events infront of him unfolded.
The silence hung like a lead weight in the room.

"Please, Please, fuck me, get it over with."

Justin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Realisation hit him. -
Marion knew this intruder. They had met before. Still the African made no

"OK! You win, My arse, please, fuck my arse."

Tears of frustration and bewilderment welled up in Justin's eyes. What
was going on. He and Marion had never done that. Why should she be saying
these things? who was this animal? In front of him, the tall African
towered over his own wife, and he was unable to do anything about it. He
watched as her assailant slowly drew down the zip of his trousers. When
his penis sprang free, Justin nearly had a heart attack. A full ten
inches, it dwarfed his own excuse for a tool. Marion would never take it
normally, never mind anally. He struggled as much as he could but no
amount of vigour could loosen his bonds. He could feel his pulse rate
quicken, his heart pounding in his chest, the tightness causing him to gasp
in anguish at his helplessness.

Marion waited, her head bowed in submission, her eyes squinting up at
the sight of her husband furiously fighting with the ropes that held him in
the chair. Tembo placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her through
90 degrees. He pressed down on the back of her neck, forcing her to lean
forward and support herself on the low cofee table in front of her.
Running his hands down her front, pausing to roughly squeeze her breat on
the way, he slid both hands into the elasticated waistband of her Pyjama
bottoms. A quick pull and they settled around her knees, leaving her bare
behind to it's fate.

She heard her tormenter chuckle before feeling his spittle dribble down
her lower back and settle in the hollow of her arse.

"Hold still bitch!"

He made no attempt to soften the blow. Placing his massive knob against
her chute he shoved hard and persistently until her sphinctre gave way.
From where Justin sat, it was difficult to tell whether her groan was from
pain or pleasure, One thing was clear. From the way she reacted this was
not the first time he had taken her like this. As he began to pump in and
out her rhythmical gasps got louder and louder. Justin stopped struggling.
His mind blank, he stared unseeingly across the room, blocking out all but
the hands on the clock face above the spot where his wife was being
buggered by her assailant. When they finished, Marions cry of anguish did
nothing to disturb his detachment. She was no longer his wife. she had no
place in his life. He sat, staring ahead, rivulets of sweat pouring down
his face.

=================================== Julia Stewart sat patiently outside
the interview room. Her newly appointed agent, Charles Stokesley, sat next
to her. A small mousey looking woman opponent opposite.

"I hope Sir Gerald knows what he's doing." she whispered." He assured me
that I would get a seat,and now he has me fighting for one against one of
the best respected and longest serving MPs in Parliament. Re-selection
will be a formality."

"Julia, my girl, stop worrying. All you can do is your best. Just be
natural, and tell them what they want to hear."

Julia muttered under her breath. She was feeling particularly let down
at the moment. She had put out for this seat, and now, faced with the
final interview, she found she would be up against Justin Scott, twenty
years an MP, regularly elected to one of the safest seats in the country,
with a massive majority. It was his local commitee who would be sitting in
judgement of her in a few minutes. She was supposed to be interviewed
after Scott, but he hadn't turned up yet.

The door burst open, and Justin Scott made his grand entrance, three
local party grandees in attendance. Walking straight up to the door to the
interview room, he paused, glanced over at Julia, muttered a brief "May the
best man win" and pushed through to meet the committee. Julia's nose
wrinkled in distaste at the "best Man" remark as Scott's entourage parked
themselves on the chairs opposite.

As he strode into the interview room the selection committee looked up
from their notes. Scott stopped and stared at the chair in front of him.
It was almost a copy of his own dining room chair. Pausing, he shook his
head to clear it of the image of his wife that immediately sprang into it
and settled in the chair ready for the questioning to begin.

"Good afternoon Justin, I trust you are well?"

The good wishes of the chairwoman fell on deaf ears. Justin Scott was a
man in a trance. His arms lay along the arms of the chair, his mind full
of the giant African taking posession of his own Marion. Cold sweat
gathered on his brow, .........he couldn't get the picture out of his mind.

"Im sorry?......." his response tailed off. The words wouldn't come.


Robert Stewart sat back in his chair with a smug grin all over his face.
He was still filling his lowly position on the transfer desk, but he now
had his sideline. Twice since his "exposure" he had engineered large
movements of money from and to anonymous accounts. Both had been followed
by significant deposits in his own bank accounts. Life was indeed rosy.
His third transaction was now complete, another chunk of money would be
winging it's way to him across the networks. On top of all that, with a
bit of luck Julia would succeed at the adoption meeting. Suddenly the
possibility of become a rich and powerful couple seemed a lot nearer.


The door re-opened and Justin Scott came out. He was a completely
different person. Eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, he shuffled
rather than strode across the room and left without even acknowledging her

Julia got up and headed for her interview, not believing what she had
witnessed. What on earth had the committee said to have that effect. In
trepidation she pushed the door open, gathered herself, and stepped in.
Twenty minutes later, she stepped out having acquitted herself rather well,
she thought.

The mousey woman was in for less than ten.

After what appeared to be an age, the little grey old lady Chairman of
the local party broke the news. Justin Scott, apparently, had chosen to
withdraw, and accordingly Julia Stewart was adopted as the perty candidate
at the next election.

Julia fought the feeling of elation with difficulty. She had no idea
what had gone on, but she was ure she knew who was responsible. Whatever
he had done, she thought to herself, Knebworthy had delivered. All she had
to do now was win the election

and express her gratitude to Sir Gerald.......


More to come .............

The stories of James Anderton can be found at and
on the ASSTR website.

Copyright James Anderton 2002

Please don't post on paid websites, and please make appropriate
attribution on free ones. Thanks James


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