Paris. The National Council’s mahogany-paneled chamber gleams under crystal chandeliers. Polished leather seats cradle us like thrones. I sink into mine, the scent of aged oak and Nathalie’s perfume invading. She slides beside me, green eyes flashing ambition. Her mini green skirt hugs thighs sheathed in silk stockings. No time for jetlag from Italy; the old guard drones, eyes lusting her curves.
Her hand creeps to my crotch, teasing. But Meg’s ghost steels me. I stay limp. ‘Sick, Fred?’ she whispers, panicked. Her career rides on pussy power. I counter: fingers trace her thigh, up past stocking tops. No panties. Coarse curls brush my skin. She freezes, breath hitching as I stroke her slick folds.
The Privilege
Power shifts. Her emerald eyes harden, chest heaving. I circle her clit, slow torture. She scribbles threats on her notepad. Clock ticks: 15 minutes. I plunge fingers deep. She jolts, neighbor glances. Wet suction echoes softly. Highlighter drops; I dive under the table. Her swollen clit stares. I ram it in her dripping cunt, resume seat.
She writhes, defiant tears. President concludes. I twist a finger in her ass—explosion. ‘Ahhhhh!’ She slumps, soaked chair gleaming. ‘Mademoiselle?’ President asks. She stammers apology, humiliated. I seize control: my investiture passes unanimously. She mimes decapitation. Enemies now. Exhilarating.
Province. Back in my fiefdom, victory nears. Door-to-door with my team: Gladys and Sonia, flirt bombs; Florian, hung stud. Last house: Élisa’s countryside villa, marble floors, panoramic views over vineyards. Champagne flows, crisp bubbles on tongue. She eyes me hungrily, average but eager.
The Excess
Spilled martini sparks it. Sonia strips her jogging pants, kisses deep. Gladys kneels, hair tickling my balls, then swallows me whole. Élisa watches, then devours. Tight throat milks me dry; she gulps every drop.
Sonia preps Élisa’s virgin-tight pussy. She impales, narrow walls grip like vice. Doggy: she cums hard, I paint her back. She licks it greedily.
Gladys and Sonia 69, fingers plunging asses. Florian’s monster cock throbs. Sonia mounts it, grimacing stretch. I lube her ass with spit, thrust in. Double-stuffed, she screams, holes gaping. We pump clumsily, her body quakes. He blasts Élisa’s mouth; I glaze Gladys’s blue eyes.
The Discretion. Dawn filters through floor-to-ceiling glass. Élisa sleeps sated, begging party membership. Victory seals: Minister whispers on TV. Journalist from student days awaits dinner—promises in her smile. Secrets locked in luxury vaults. Power tastes sweetest post-climax.
