Ha ha ha ha, cucked!
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Sexpionage III
- Thread starter Fossy
- Start date
Bag of flour? I’m slowly catching up and enjoying this immensely, but this line stopped me cold. That’s an interesting simile.
twonines
LIMERICUS
Well, in earlier times, they did sometimes refer to them as "dumplings" so there is a tenuous connection.
Yep.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
A similie designed, Barb, to express the fact that Maria's assessment of Grace's body was objective, like she was giving the gift her husband had brought her the nod of approval. This as opposed to the touch being sensual or erotic ... hope that makes sense
twonines
LIMERICUS
That remains to be proved!Yes, and the result can very well be self-raising.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Breakfast in America (6)
The Washington home of Joseph J Whiley II, US Secretary of State
Just when things had become weird enough, the whole experience took an even more humiliating turn for Grace.
Maria led the young girl to a tall window and had her climb up onto the ledge seat. She turned her so that she was facing into the house with her firm ass pressed up against the glass pane, and once in that position, Mrs Whiley lifted Grace’s arms above her head, took hold of one side of the curtains, and wrapped the rope tie-back tightly around her raised wrist. Then she did the same with her other wrist.
Fuck. It was tight, and suddenly Special Agent Miller was bound … fucking hell!
Maria then proceeded to lick the entire front of Grace’s body, beginning from just above her ankles all the way to her shoulders, taking extra time to suck any residual juice from the younger girl’s pussy, before, then also stepping onto the window seat, pressing her own naked body tightly against Grace’s nudity. By the time she had finished the bound girl was shaking with desire once more.
Mrs Whiley held out her hand and her husband handed his wife a razor-sharp hunting knife.
“Oh God,” Grace whispered to herself as she felt the blade flick at her nipples before heading further down and over her abdomen. Images of Ekaterina’s mutilated body from that Soho basement flashed through her mind and caused the young Special Agent to whimper.
The edge of the blade parted Grace’s labia as an invading finger rubbed furiously at her distended clit. As the knife was carefully extracted from between her plaint pussy lips, and the rubbing fingers massaged her even more feverishly, the MI6 Officer came again with a shuddering cry before Mrs Whiley dropped the blade and kissed her young victim hard on the mouth.
This is just fucking crazy. How much does the US President know about Whiley’s outrageous behaviour, Grace found herself wondering somewhat bizarrely?
Maria thwarted any attempt Grace made to talk directly to her husband. The Special Agent was instantly shushed and redirected to focus her attention where it was needed. There was no question about this man’s obsession to be entirely cuck-held!
Twice that evening the telephone rang. The phone was downstairs, and the Secretary left the two females to carry on whatever they were doing while he answered the call. Grace tried desperately to listen to what he was saying. Could it be about his work? Might she hear him speak of anything that could become contrived evidence? Unfortunately, they were too far away to make out the conversations. It was difficult enough to pick out the words when the person was in the same room. A flight of stairs between them turned spoken words into muffled sounds that resembled no language at all.
If Maria wasn’t with her, Grace might have been able to sneak out of the bedroom and get close enough to eavesdrop. However, as she stood by the window bound by the expensive drapes, wincing as Maria placed heavy clamps onto each of her already aching nipples, the MI6 Agent knew that there’d be no opportunity to get away.
******
It was close to 11:00pm when the Secretary’s wife finally had her fill of Miss Grace Johnstone. The last thing she had them both do was to walk nude down the hallway to a bathroom, whereupon she filled the bathtub with warm, soapy water and invited Grace to step into it with her, whereupon they offered one another a relaxing wash like lesbian lovers do.
They were drying themselves with towels when Secretary Whiley entered the room to announce that the driver would be here with the car in about a half-hour. Then he suggested they all have a nightcap as soon as everyone was dressed. That didn’t sound like a bad idea to Grace given how the evening had gone, and she put her clothes on as rapidly as she could, and descended the stairs to the front room. The Secretary already had three glasses of whiskey poured. “Cheers!” He lifted his glass and waited for the girls to respond.
“Cheers!” said his wife.
“Cheers!” Grace echoed and took a sip. Maria said something to her husband and he turned to the Special Agent.
“Maria is very pleased with you. You will be welcome back.”
Hur … fucking … rah Grace thought to herself. “Th … thank you,” she replied.
“Of course …” He put a finger to his chin and his expression turned sombre. “… It is very, very important there is no talk of what tonight outside of this room. You understand me, Miss Johnstone?”
“I understand,” she replied.
“What we do here … that is for us to enjoy and no one else to know.”
“I understand. I’ll be discrete.”
“A girl who talks … who says things … Who would believe her? And she would make an enemy of me.” Whiley’s tone became threatening. “I carry a lot of power, you know, the kind of man you said you liked.”
Grace nodded her head but inside said, ‘Yes, and the sort of man that I got nowhere near to this evening!’
The Secretary spoke quietly and confidentially to his wife, whose expression turned sour and she shook her head.
Grace frowned which prompted Maria to share.
“He wants to fuck my ass once you have gone,” Maria explained with a disarming candour. “He always wants to fuck my ass, but I won’t let him.” Maria stood up and walked away with a haughty huff.
All was momentarily quiet, and more than a little awkward following Mrs Whiley’s very personal revalation. Having her target alone for pretty much the first time tonight, Grace decided it was time to attempt a new strategy.
“Mister Secretary, it’s obvious that you love your wife very much. So, I must say I’m a little surprised she doesn’t let you … do it …where you really want to do it.”
The Secretary looked down at the ground.
“In her ass,” I continued. “That’s where you really want to put it. Am I right?”
Secretary Whiley suppressed a smirk as best he could, and looked up at the young Special Agent.
“Has she ever let you put it in there?” Grace asked.
Like a naughty schoolboy being asked to answer some very embarrassing questions, he shook his head.
“That’s too bad,” Grace added with the calm of someone discussing the weather. “I’d be very, very happy to have you in my ass. Would that be something you’d like?”
The Secretary rubbed his jaw and Grace could tell that he was thinking it over.
“That is something you would do for me Miss Johnstone?” he asked, maintaining his own brand of matter-of-fact calm.
“Yes. I told you that I would do anything for a man like you, and I know you like my ass, don’t you?” Grace felt and sounded like a porn star.
He swallowed hard. “But we couldn’t do it here, we would need someplace where we can be a little more discreetly alone.” He refilled his glass. Then he refilled Grace’s.
“I can’t just go anyplace, and at a hotel I would be recognised.” The pupils of his eyes drifted upwards.
“Tomorrow is Sunday. No one will be in my office tomorrow.” the Secretary finally said.
Yes!!! Grace fist-pumped inside her mind.
“In the White House?” Grace could not believe that she was being invited to the White House to be sodomised by the US Secretary of State. Her parents would be so proud … then she reminded herself of why she must go through with whatever she was invited to do.
“No, it’s the Harry S Truman Building, which is just a short distance from your hotel.”
“Oh, okay,” Grace replied, with the wide-eyed ignorance of the simple, multi-millionairess socialite she was masquerading as.
“If I am seen there,” Whiley continued, “… it will not be considered strange. There will be some people, but not many. Not on a Sunday. I could get you in. But we would have to be very careful. I could not send a car. Not to bring you to my office.”
“I can walk the short distance,” Grace replied, “It will be no problem.”
To Be Continued …
The Washington home of Joseph J Whiley II, US Secretary of State
Just when things had become weird enough, the whole experience took an even more humiliating turn for Grace.
Maria led the young girl to a tall window and had her climb up onto the ledge seat. She turned her so that she was facing into the house with her firm ass pressed up against the glass pane, and once in that position, Mrs Whiley lifted Grace’s arms above her head, took hold of one side of the curtains, and wrapped the rope tie-back tightly around her raised wrist. Then she did the same with her other wrist.
Fuck. It was tight, and suddenly Special Agent Miller was bound … fucking hell!
Maria then proceeded to lick the entire front of Grace’s body, beginning from just above her ankles all the way to her shoulders, taking extra time to suck any residual juice from the younger girl’s pussy, before, then also stepping onto the window seat, pressing her own naked body tightly against Grace’s nudity. By the time she had finished the bound girl was shaking with desire once more.
Mrs Whiley held out her hand and her husband handed his wife a razor-sharp hunting knife.
“Oh God,” Grace whispered to herself as she felt the blade flick at her nipples before heading further down and over her abdomen. Images of Ekaterina’s mutilated body from that Soho basement flashed through her mind and caused the young Special Agent to whimper.
The edge of the blade parted Grace’s labia as an invading finger rubbed furiously at her distended clit. As the knife was carefully extracted from between her plaint pussy lips, and the rubbing fingers massaged her even more feverishly, the MI6 Officer came again with a shuddering cry before Mrs Whiley dropped the blade and kissed her young victim hard on the mouth.
This is just fucking crazy. How much does the US President know about Whiley’s outrageous behaviour, Grace found herself wondering somewhat bizarrely?
Maria thwarted any attempt Grace made to talk directly to her husband. The Special Agent was instantly shushed and redirected to focus her attention where it was needed. There was no question about this man’s obsession to be entirely cuck-held!
Twice that evening the telephone rang. The phone was downstairs, and the Secretary left the two females to carry on whatever they were doing while he answered the call. Grace tried desperately to listen to what he was saying. Could it be about his work? Might she hear him speak of anything that could become contrived evidence? Unfortunately, they were too far away to make out the conversations. It was difficult enough to pick out the words when the person was in the same room. A flight of stairs between them turned spoken words into muffled sounds that resembled no language at all.
If Maria wasn’t with her, Grace might have been able to sneak out of the bedroom and get close enough to eavesdrop. However, as she stood by the window bound by the expensive drapes, wincing as Maria placed heavy clamps onto each of her already aching nipples, the MI6 Agent knew that there’d be no opportunity to get away.
******
It was close to 11:00pm when the Secretary’s wife finally had her fill of Miss Grace Johnstone. The last thing she had them both do was to walk nude down the hallway to a bathroom, whereupon she filled the bathtub with warm, soapy water and invited Grace to step into it with her, whereupon they offered one another a relaxing wash like lesbian lovers do.
They were drying themselves with towels when Secretary Whiley entered the room to announce that the driver would be here with the car in about a half-hour. Then he suggested they all have a nightcap as soon as everyone was dressed. That didn’t sound like a bad idea to Grace given how the evening had gone, and she put her clothes on as rapidly as she could, and descended the stairs to the front room. The Secretary already had three glasses of whiskey poured. “Cheers!” He lifted his glass and waited for the girls to respond.
“Cheers!” said his wife.
“Cheers!” Grace echoed and took a sip. Maria said something to her husband and he turned to the Special Agent.
“Maria is very pleased with you. You will be welcome back.”
Hur … fucking … rah Grace thought to herself. “Th … thank you,” she replied.
“Of course …” He put a finger to his chin and his expression turned sombre. “… It is very, very important there is no talk of what tonight outside of this room. You understand me, Miss Johnstone?”
“I understand,” she replied.
“What we do here … that is for us to enjoy and no one else to know.”
“I understand. I’ll be discrete.”
“A girl who talks … who says things … Who would believe her? And she would make an enemy of me.” Whiley’s tone became threatening. “I carry a lot of power, you know, the kind of man you said you liked.”
Grace nodded her head but inside said, ‘Yes, and the sort of man that I got nowhere near to this evening!’
The Secretary spoke quietly and confidentially to his wife, whose expression turned sour and she shook her head.
Grace frowned which prompted Maria to share.
“He wants to fuck my ass once you have gone,” Maria explained with a disarming candour. “He always wants to fuck my ass, but I won’t let him.” Maria stood up and walked away with a haughty huff.
All was momentarily quiet, and more than a little awkward following Mrs Whiley’s very personal revalation. Having her target alone for pretty much the first time tonight, Grace decided it was time to attempt a new strategy.
“Mister Secretary, it’s obvious that you love your wife very much. So, I must say I’m a little surprised she doesn’t let you … do it …where you really want to do it.”
The Secretary looked down at the ground.
“In her ass,” I continued. “That’s where you really want to put it. Am I right?”
Secretary Whiley suppressed a smirk as best he could, and looked up at the young Special Agent.
“Has she ever let you put it in there?” Grace asked.
Like a naughty schoolboy being asked to answer some very embarrassing questions, he shook his head.
“That’s too bad,” Grace added with the calm of someone discussing the weather. “I’d be very, very happy to have you in my ass. Would that be something you’d like?”
The Secretary rubbed his jaw and Grace could tell that he was thinking it over.
“That is something you would do for me Miss Johnstone?” he asked, maintaining his own brand of matter-of-fact calm.
“Yes. I told you that I would do anything for a man like you, and I know you like my ass, don’t you?” Grace felt and sounded like a porn star.
He swallowed hard. “But we couldn’t do it here, we would need someplace where we can be a little more discreetly alone.” He refilled his glass. Then he refilled Grace’s.
“I can’t just go anyplace, and at a hotel I would be recognised.” The pupils of his eyes drifted upwards.
“Tomorrow is Sunday. No one will be in my office tomorrow.” the Secretary finally said.
Yes!!! Grace fist-pumped inside her mind.
“In the White House?” Grace could not believe that she was being invited to the White House to be sodomised by the US Secretary of State. Her parents would be so proud … then she reminded herself of why she must go through with whatever she was invited to do.
“No, it’s the Harry S Truman Building, which is just a short distance from your hotel.”
“Oh, okay,” Grace replied, with the wide-eyed ignorance of the simple, multi-millionairess socialite she was masquerading as.
“If I am seen there,” Whiley continued, “… it will not be considered strange. There will be some people, but not many. Not on a Sunday. I could get you in. But we would have to be very careful. I could not send a car. Not to bring you to my office.”
“I can walk the short distance,” Grace replied, “It will be no problem.”
To Be Continued …
Last edited by a moderator:
I wonder what Harry would say about this?
twonines
LIMERICUS
"He didn`t resign, I sacked the bastard." As he was alleged to have said about MacArthur.
I read somewhere that MacArthur was pressing hard for “just 10 nukes” to get the Chinese to back off in the Korean War. Extraordinary escalation!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Breakfast in America (7)
Harry S Truman Building, 2201 C St NW, Washington, DC
It was around 4:45pm the following day when Grace, having walked for about seven minutes from her hotel, looked up at rows of office windows facing her. Pulling out her phone she texted the number which the US Secretary of State had given to her. Access to the building would be via the South Elevation Lobby. Whiley himself would come down to meet her, having chosen the time of the meeting to be late enough in the afternoon to ensure that most people, even if they had been working on a Sunday, would probably be gone for the day.
Sodomy. The one and only thing that Grace could offer Whiley that he couldn’t get at home. She had no choice but to offer up her ass for the sake of her family ... she shook her head at the appallingly bizarre nature of that statement.
Leading Grace through a maze of corridors, Secretary Whiley pushed open the smoked glass door that led from the small ante-office, where his PA worked, into his environment beyond. In the centre of the carpeted floor was a large cherry wood desk with a plush leather chair behind it. Smaller, but still tasteful, upholstered chairs sat around a long conference table.
A portrait of Abraham Lincoln hung on the wall nearest that table, a map of the US graced a second wall, and mounted behind the big desk was the Stars and Stripes flag. In all honesty Grace felt a little awed by her surroundings.
“We are safe here,” Joseph J. Whiley II said, as he closed and locked the smoked glass door. The Secretary placed his hands on Grace’s shoulders, giving her an approving smile before he turned her around so that Grace was facing away from him. He inched her forward towards the long table, and, once she was adjacent to the edge, he pressed on her shoulder blades to bend the Special Agent over at the waist. She braced herself with her forearms resting on the tabletop.
‘It looks like we’re getting straight down to business’, Grace’s inner voice commented.
The Special Agent heard nothing but she felt her short skirt raised and bunched by indelicate fingers. The hemline rose up beyond her newly exposed ass, cheeks split only by the thin strap of a black lace thong.
“Hold.” The Secretary shoved her gathered skirt forward so she could grip it with her own hands, and as she held the fabric, he took hold of her thong and tugged it down in one quick motion.
With her skirt bunched up and her panties laying around her ankles, Grace was now bare-ass and ready to accommodate the Secretary. She had been in his presence less than five minutes. He started by fondling her buttocks, his hands cold and dry on her smooth cheeks. Long, probing fingers slid between them and brushed her anus, which Grace supposed was intended to be stimulating and arousing, but all it did was cause her asshole to clench in unwelcome anticipation.
“Fucking hell!” Grace could not stop the expletive as the US Secretary of State leaned in and buried his face in the dark shadowy crack. She felt his tongue licking, his lips kissing, his jowls wiggling between her cheeks. The combination of his hot breath and his wet saliva made for a peculiar sensation on her ass, and it went on for some time until she was appropriately ‘lubricated’. Whiley then stood up straight and Grace heard the metallic sound of a zipper opening. This was it and in a mere second or two she felt a persistent prodding between her ass cheeks which eventually settled at the small puckered opening. Then the prodding turned into an insistent drilling, and she felt the unnatural expansion of her small, tight hole accompanied by a bolt of pain.
“Ugh!” she was unable to keep from emitting a quiet whimper, although Grace did her best to muffle it. The driving torment stung more as each thrust plunged his erect weapon a little further inside her exposed body until he burst past the biologically ringed sentinel of her sphincter muscle. The Secretary was only halfway in when he grabbed the Special Agent by the hips and pulled her hard against his body, determined to sink his cock as deep as it would go.
“Uggghhh!” Grace bit her fist as she could feel his balls slapping against her ass.
“Fucking hell. Owwwwww!” He was in all the way. His hardness filled and stretched Grace to her limits. She prayed the Secretary would climax soon and bring this ordeal to a quick end!
But it was not to be.
Grace had no idea how long her ass fucking lasted, but there were tears in her eyes throughout. At one stage she moved her hands to her breasts in an attempt to provide herself with at least a little pleasure, which sadly, was not forthcoming.
Then finally … as he rode her like a stallion, gripping her hair in his fist and pulling Grace’s head back, stretching his neck … he came!
“Ooooooooooooyaaaaaaaaaaaah, yessssssssirrrreeeeee!” The Secretary expressed his orgasmic exultation as if he had won a Texan Rodeo, and there was no mistaking that the big man had cum ... hard. Grace hoped he would withdraw immediately, but he held his position and stroked her ass with his hands. Apparently, he wanted to savour the moment.
At last, his penis softened, and it afforded her a slight relief to the painful consistency of anal stretching. After another minute or so, he pulled out and the Special Agent groaned as she felt her sore, distended and now well-used, asshole retract and sperm trickle down into her pussy.
Grace stood as best she could, leaning against the table, awaiting the moment when she would again feel steady enough to pull up her panties and lower her skirt … and try to figure out the next step. The Secretary got what he wanted. But, so far, all that Grace had received from this whole episode with him, and his wife, was a lot of unwanted, weird sexual experiences.
“Okay Grace Johnstone, we should do this again sometime, but now you have to go.”
The exit plan was simple. They would once again enter his PA’s office. The Secretary would leave the room first. If anyone happened to be there to see him coming out of his own office, that wouldn’t generate the least bit of suspicion. He’d proceed down the hall, and duck into an office further down the corridor. If it was clear in all directions, he’d telephone from that office to the office in which Grace waited, and let it ring once, thus, alerting Grace to that fact that it was safe to exit.
She would go back to the stairs and down to the rear door where she had first entered the building. Whiley would return to lock up after she had left. Job done.
Secretary of State Whiley gave her ass one final pat and then exited into the corridor. Now to wait for the phone to ring. Grace sat down on the slightly less plush leather chair, but felt the need to immediately shuffle, given how sore her ass was.
So far, she had nothing to show for her time with the US Secretary of State. Inside that big office, just a few feet away, plans were hatched, discussed, and plotted, all the top secrets that the USA built its foreign policy around were talked about and documented in that room. Yet Grace hadn’t had access to anything that could stimulate her creative thought to dream up evidence as to why the US State Department was involved in the murder of an ex-MI6 Agent, and of course, there was nothing left lying around as the weekend approached … everything was locked away.
That’s when Grace caught sight of something in plain sight. Shallow wooden bins, filled with paper. Travel itineraries for the Secretary. A whole month’s worth printed from his online calendar.
And there it was … the date of her torture and Kat’s death … and Secretary Joseph J. Whiley II was off site at a secret location and the hand written scribble in the box for that day said simply. “End it”. It mattered not that the scribbled note and the Calendar entry had absolutely nothing to do with the tragic events in the Soho restaurant basement, Grace could contrive the words on that crumpled page however she required.
The telephone rang once. Grace was out of time. Stuffing the paper trash into her purse … she headed out.
At the last seconds Grace had discovered the ‘evidence’ that everyone needed.
The British because it would be presented as hard proof that gave the UK the righteous high ground, enabling them to open discussions with the US, who would of course, quite rightly deny everything.
The Russians because she could make this appear like proof of US involvement in the murder of a former MI6 Agent, and their plan to have the UK and the US at loggerheads could be put into motion.
Grace Miller, because it kept her and her family safe, at least for now.
This brings to a close ‘Breakfast in America’, Part II of the ‘New Beginnings’ series. I am going away for a short break over the long weekend, and so there will be ample time for us to reflect on the story so far, and to catch up, for those that need to. The concluding Part III, ‘Agent Provocateur’, will begin on Tuesday, so make sure you join us for that. Your support, as always, is very much appreciated …
Harry S Truman Building, 2201 C St NW, Washington, DC
It was around 4:45pm the following day when Grace, having walked for about seven minutes from her hotel, looked up at rows of office windows facing her. Pulling out her phone she texted the number which the US Secretary of State had given to her. Access to the building would be via the South Elevation Lobby. Whiley himself would come down to meet her, having chosen the time of the meeting to be late enough in the afternoon to ensure that most people, even if they had been working on a Sunday, would probably be gone for the day.
Sodomy. The one and only thing that Grace could offer Whiley that he couldn’t get at home. She had no choice but to offer up her ass for the sake of her family ... she shook her head at the appallingly bizarre nature of that statement.
Leading Grace through a maze of corridors, Secretary Whiley pushed open the smoked glass door that led from the small ante-office, where his PA worked, into his environment beyond. In the centre of the carpeted floor was a large cherry wood desk with a plush leather chair behind it. Smaller, but still tasteful, upholstered chairs sat around a long conference table.
A portrait of Abraham Lincoln hung on the wall nearest that table, a map of the US graced a second wall, and mounted behind the big desk was the Stars and Stripes flag. In all honesty Grace felt a little awed by her surroundings.
“We are safe here,” Joseph J. Whiley II said, as he closed and locked the smoked glass door. The Secretary placed his hands on Grace’s shoulders, giving her an approving smile before he turned her around so that Grace was facing away from him. He inched her forward towards the long table, and, once she was adjacent to the edge, he pressed on her shoulder blades to bend the Special Agent over at the waist. She braced herself with her forearms resting on the tabletop.
‘It looks like we’re getting straight down to business’, Grace’s inner voice commented.
The Special Agent heard nothing but she felt her short skirt raised and bunched by indelicate fingers. The hemline rose up beyond her newly exposed ass, cheeks split only by the thin strap of a black lace thong.
“Hold.” The Secretary shoved her gathered skirt forward so she could grip it with her own hands, and as she held the fabric, he took hold of her thong and tugged it down in one quick motion.
With her skirt bunched up and her panties laying around her ankles, Grace was now bare-ass and ready to accommodate the Secretary. She had been in his presence less than five minutes. He started by fondling her buttocks, his hands cold and dry on her smooth cheeks. Long, probing fingers slid between them and brushed her anus, which Grace supposed was intended to be stimulating and arousing, but all it did was cause her asshole to clench in unwelcome anticipation.
“Fucking hell!” Grace could not stop the expletive as the US Secretary of State leaned in and buried his face in the dark shadowy crack. She felt his tongue licking, his lips kissing, his jowls wiggling between her cheeks. The combination of his hot breath and his wet saliva made for a peculiar sensation on her ass, and it went on for some time until she was appropriately ‘lubricated’. Whiley then stood up straight and Grace heard the metallic sound of a zipper opening. This was it and in a mere second or two she felt a persistent prodding between her ass cheeks which eventually settled at the small puckered opening. Then the prodding turned into an insistent drilling, and she felt the unnatural expansion of her small, tight hole accompanied by a bolt of pain.
“Ugh!” she was unable to keep from emitting a quiet whimper, although Grace did her best to muffle it. The driving torment stung more as each thrust plunged his erect weapon a little further inside her exposed body until he burst past the biologically ringed sentinel of her sphincter muscle. The Secretary was only halfway in when he grabbed the Special Agent by the hips and pulled her hard against his body, determined to sink his cock as deep as it would go.
“Uggghhh!” Grace bit her fist as she could feel his balls slapping against her ass.
“Fucking hell. Owwwwww!” He was in all the way. His hardness filled and stretched Grace to her limits. She prayed the Secretary would climax soon and bring this ordeal to a quick end!
But it was not to be.
Grace had no idea how long her ass fucking lasted, but there were tears in her eyes throughout. At one stage she moved her hands to her breasts in an attempt to provide herself with at least a little pleasure, which sadly, was not forthcoming.
Then finally … as he rode her like a stallion, gripping her hair in his fist and pulling Grace’s head back, stretching his neck … he came!
“Ooooooooooooyaaaaaaaaaaaah, yessssssssirrrreeeeee!” The Secretary expressed his orgasmic exultation as if he had won a Texan Rodeo, and there was no mistaking that the big man had cum ... hard. Grace hoped he would withdraw immediately, but he held his position and stroked her ass with his hands. Apparently, he wanted to savour the moment.
At last, his penis softened, and it afforded her a slight relief to the painful consistency of anal stretching. After another minute or so, he pulled out and the Special Agent groaned as she felt her sore, distended and now well-used, asshole retract and sperm trickle down into her pussy.
Grace stood as best she could, leaning against the table, awaiting the moment when she would again feel steady enough to pull up her panties and lower her skirt … and try to figure out the next step. The Secretary got what he wanted. But, so far, all that Grace had received from this whole episode with him, and his wife, was a lot of unwanted, weird sexual experiences.
“Okay Grace Johnstone, we should do this again sometime, but now you have to go.”
The exit plan was simple. They would once again enter his PA’s office. The Secretary would leave the room first. If anyone happened to be there to see him coming out of his own office, that wouldn’t generate the least bit of suspicion. He’d proceed down the hall, and duck into an office further down the corridor. If it was clear in all directions, he’d telephone from that office to the office in which Grace waited, and let it ring once, thus, alerting Grace to that fact that it was safe to exit.
She would go back to the stairs and down to the rear door where she had first entered the building. Whiley would return to lock up after she had left. Job done.
Secretary of State Whiley gave her ass one final pat and then exited into the corridor. Now to wait for the phone to ring. Grace sat down on the slightly less plush leather chair, but felt the need to immediately shuffle, given how sore her ass was.
So far, she had nothing to show for her time with the US Secretary of State. Inside that big office, just a few feet away, plans were hatched, discussed, and plotted, all the top secrets that the USA built its foreign policy around were talked about and documented in that room. Yet Grace hadn’t had access to anything that could stimulate her creative thought to dream up evidence as to why the US State Department was involved in the murder of an ex-MI6 Agent, and of course, there was nothing left lying around as the weekend approached … everything was locked away.
That’s when Grace caught sight of something in plain sight. Shallow wooden bins, filled with paper. Travel itineraries for the Secretary. A whole month’s worth printed from his online calendar.
And there it was … the date of her torture and Kat’s death … and Secretary Joseph J. Whiley II was off site at a secret location and the hand written scribble in the box for that day said simply. “End it”. It mattered not that the scribbled note and the Calendar entry had absolutely nothing to do with the tragic events in the Soho restaurant basement, Grace could contrive the words on that crumpled page however she required.
The telephone rang once. Grace was out of time. Stuffing the paper trash into her purse … she headed out.
At the last seconds Grace had discovered the ‘evidence’ that everyone needed.
The British because it would be presented as hard proof that gave the UK the righteous high ground, enabling them to open discussions with the US, who would of course, quite rightly deny everything.
The Russians because she could make this appear like proof of US involvement in the murder of a former MI6 Agent, and their plan to have the UK and the US at loggerheads could be put into motion.
Grace Miller, because it kept her and her family safe, at least for now.
This brings to a close ‘Breakfast in America’, Part II of the ‘New Beginnings’ series. I am going away for a short break over the long weekend, and so there will be ample time for us to reflect on the story so far, and to catch up, for those that need to. The concluding Part III, ‘Agent Provocateur’, will begin on Tuesday, so make sure you join us for that. Your support, as always, is very much appreciated …
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Inarticulate, one might say, but that about says it all. The Secretary is an absolute pig! Where’s my loathometer? Hope he gets what’s coming to him!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thanks Wraggster, I'll be back refreshed and raring to go next week ...You have a good break, Fossy!
And one old sod maybe gets his comeuppance!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Privately educated, Oxford University Language Grad (with Hons), raised in a British upper-class environment, but when a pig of a man three times her age is filling her ass with his repulsive hard-on, Grace found it really difficult to hold onto her eloquence ...
One might say the U.S. Secretary of State can be a real pain in the ass.And one old sod maybe gets his comeuppance!
ENJOY YOUR BREAK FOSSY!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
I will thanks BarbOne might say the U.S. Secretary of State can be a real pain in the ass.
ENJOY YOUR BREAK FOSSY!