A Power Broker Story

Chapter 1 - At The Palace

The Girl screamed!... Her hands bound behind her back, she lay, face down, bent at the waist across the wide Iroko table. A rope, tied around her neck, and passed through a hole in the table top was tied to the rail underneath to provide her only restraint. Not that it was doing her any good. She had almost lost all of her skimpy servants uniform, and the way the brute behind her was wielding the whip, it wouldn't be long before she lost the rest. No amount of waving her butt would bring relief, and she knew it now!

Sitting in his raised chair, Major Ibo Ngoro smiled softly to himself as he watched the girl pay for her refusal to fuck him on-demand. He would not put up with refusal, particularly since he now ran Gujanga's secret police. No- one other than President Mwanda himself had as much unconditional power.

"I see you have not lost your touch Ibo!", a deep brown voice intoned behind him, bringing him swiftly to attention.

"I assume you can afford this little diversion because all the necessary arrangements have been made for the Annual Ball. I don't want any screw-ups". This is the social highlight of the year.

"Indeed sir!, All is prepared."

Then maybe I should sample your entertainment myself, Mwanda chuckled as he advanced on the hapless girl.

Chapter 2 - At the Embassy

Mireille Sisterre eased her stocking up he long, elegant leg, admiring her figure in the long bedroom mirror as she did so.

"Do we have to, darling? I never enjoy these things, you know that!" "I know I have to play the diplomat's wife, but these arrogant black bastards are difficult to take to. Why could we not have been sent to Mauritius or Guadeloupe. Somewhere warm but civilised?"

"Stop worrying! You are young, beautiful, and bound to be a big hit with the General. They say he loves to play host to guests of stature and class. It's part of his thing."

"OK, OK, how do I look? Good enough for a General?"

Luc Sisterre looked longingly at his young wife, 26 twenty years his junior, and wondered fleetingly whether he had time to spread those pretty legs of hers before they left. A quick glance at his watch persuaded him. He still had time, even though it wouldn't do for the French ambassador to be late for the Annual National Ball. He moved slowly behind Mireille, slid his hands around her waist and nibbled the lobe of her ear.

" Why don't we treat ourselves before we go?"

Mireille leaned back against him, and allowed the warm glow of arousal to flood over her. She was always ready, and she knew that Luc wouldn't take too long. Sometimes she was grateful that his inability to make it last was perfectly matched to her own ease of arousal.

His left hand eased it's way up to caress her silk-covered breasts, and she emitted a sharp gasp as his other slid up under her slip and gently stroked her already liquid slit. Leaning forward against the mirror, she watched as his grimace of pleasure reflected back at her.

He slowly eased his penis into her, and began to thrust long, and slow. Mireille felt the first streaks of pleasure as he teased her clitoris. Feeling her respond, Luc's breath quickened, the thrusts became shorter, and within a few minutes both he and his lovely wife came in a gentle climax.

They leaned together, supporting each other as the flow of passion ebbed, before Luc glanced at his watch.

"Merde" he muttered, "if we don't get a move on we will be late".

Mireille grabbed her robe and headed for the shower.

"We don't have time for that, my love" he muttered. " Give yourself a quick wipe and lets go!" The Ambassador and his wife left the front door of the embassy, and climbed into the Limousine. As she slid into the back of the car, Mireille's skirt rode up a little higher than was appropriate, giving a flash of pale grey stocking top to the giant African chauffeur. I wish I'd put on something a little longer she thought as she saw him stare at her crotch hoping to see more.

"Why can't we hire our own Driver", she asked. "I hate the way that animal looks at me. I don't trust him one bit. They are all the same here!"

"Please be careful, lower you voice", Luc cautioned. "All the embassies have drivers assigned to them by the Ministry of the Interior. We are all sure that they work for the Gujangan Secret Service."

The rest of the journey was completed in silence, the driver never taking his eyes off the rear-view mirror, concentrating on Mireille's hemline, whilst Mireille kept up a constant smoothing motion to ensure there was nothing for him to see. Nevertheless, when they alighted at the Palace, she could not avoid giving the African an eyeful of cleavage, and was rewarded by a grin of such pure unadulterated lust, that she felt an icy ripple down her spine. She was glad to enter the glittering confines of the Palace hallway.

Chapter 3: The Ball

The inside of the Palace was magnificent - total contrast to the poverty and squalor elsewhere in the country. Mireille, in keeping with convention, bobbed slightly as she was introduced, and offered the hand of her host. Ibo Ngoro looked down from his six foot two at the demure Frenchwoman before him. The scarlet cocktail dress contrasted starkly with the soft brown hair, and even more so with the creamy pink of her breasts. He peered down into her cleavage and began to reassess his priorities for the evening. This was one desirable woman.

Mireille was ready to leave. She was hot, sticky, and for more hours than she cared to remember, she had wandered around making polite conversation with people she found difficult to like. Africans are promiscuous, she decided after being groped for the umpteenth time by black hands. On the other hand, their womenfolk seemed subservient, without a thought in their heads, only interested in their Man's ability to provide gold jewellery. The whites at the Ball didn't seem much different. All were privileged, and all were very guarded with their conversation. It had not been an enjoyable evening!

"Please, dance with me!"

It sounded more like a command than a request, and Mireille was in no doubt that she could not refuse. They drifted out on to the dance floor as the band played a slow, romantic number. Mireille was not amused, but Major Ngoro was smiling to himself as the band followed orders. He was not naturally a patient man, but tonight he knew he was on to a good thing.

"Are you enjoying your stay in Gujanga? He asked, as he slid his hand down her back to rest loosely on her buttock. Mireille felt the hand move, and cast around looking for Luc. She did not like the way this was going.

"It's quiet and peaceful" she replied, sounding calmer than she felt as he gently forced his leg between her knees.

"What you need is a bit of excitement" he offered, "get yourself an African lover to add some spice to your love life". His hand had now drifted lower and was cupping the cheek of her arse. This was getting out of control, she thought, desperately looking for a way out.

"Major" she retorted, " I can assure you that my love life is perfectly adequate, and I have no need of a way to spice it up Thank You!"

At that, Ngoro slid his hand up her skirt, wiped his finger along the length of her slit, and raised it in front of her face.

"Smell that, and then tell me you don't have the hots for me. What you need is a good fucking, and I'm just the man to give it to you!"

A look of horror crossed Mireille's face as his words struck home. Leaving the Embassy without showering had been a bigger mistake than she could have dreamed. The smell was unmistakable and Ngoro had drawn the wrong conclusion. Before she had time to think, she stepped back, swung her arm, and slapped him across the face.

"How Dare You!! She screamed, spun on her heels and headed for the door.

Luc stared in horror as the sound reverberated around the room, and he saw the sheer malevolence on Ngoro's face, glaring across the room following Mireille;s exit. That, he thought as he ran to meet her, was a bad move.

"Feisty little bitch isn't she?" whispered President Mwamba, enjoying the look of embarrassment on Ngoro's face. "I never thought I would see the day that you were put in your place by a woman".

"She will learn just how stupid that was. Never fear"

"I'm sure she will, I'm sure she will" chuckled the President. "Oh, and when she does, save some for me eh?"

Chapter 4: Arrest

Mireille was frantic. Luc had vanished. One moment he was leaving for work as usual, the next he had disappeared, like magic.

"He can't have just left, He has an important job to do, and we have resolved the tension we felt after the Ball last month" Mireille explained to the French Envoy, newly arrived from Paris.

"We believe he has been arrested. Something to do with State secrets. We are doing what we can, but the only person who really knows anything is Major Ngoro, and he's not saying anything. Rumour has it that he is pretty pissed off with you and Luc. Maybe he is waiting for an apology".

"Well he's not going to get one from me, that's for sure". "If I were you, I wouldn't be too hasty, these charges carry a Death sentence in this country, and Ngoro has a reputation for playing hard ball."

"So you think I should just be a good girl, put my tail between my legs and offer that black bastard an apology?" "That's about all we can do. Our diplomatic relations are not so strong that we can force any other solution. We don't even know for certain that Ngoro is holding him".

"Well I suppose if that's what it takes, that's what I will have to do!", but I am no happy about doing it.

Chapter 5: The Deal

"The French Ambassador's wife is here to see you, sir. She says she has no appointment. " The young lieutenant could hardly conceal a smirk as he made the announcement.

"Show her in, Jacob. If all goes to plan, you know what to do?"

"Yes sir"

"Madame Sisterre, I did not expect to see you so soon, please come in".

Mireille strode forward, attempting to demonstrate more confidence than she felt. She had prepared herself for this moment, wearing her most severe business suit, rehearsing what she would say, second-guessing any foreseeable outcome. She was still not sure whether she was doing the right thing. " I wish to offer an apology for the events at the Ball, and to ask you to release my Husband, who I am led to believe you have arrested."

"I see!" scoffed Major Ngoro "you think a simple apology will suffice?" I don't think you quite realise the stakes. Your Husband has indeed been arrested, and will stand trial in four weeks for spying. If things go against him, he will be shot, so you had better put your mind to how you can open negotiations quickly. There is no time to lose. " "Look, I am really sorry if I offended you, but I will do anything to help free my husband".

"Accepted!"

"Pardon?" a puzzled look crept over Mireille's face. She didn't understand what he meant.

"I said I accept your offer! You will do anything I ask to ensure release of your husband"... An evil smile crossed his face as he said it.

"That's not what I meant", you are deliberately twisting my meaning, Mireille cried as the full weight of HIS meaning dawned on her.

"It seems to me that you never say what you mean. But in this case, the time for games is over. " His hand drifted down the front of his trousers, and he absent- mindedly began to rub his groin. "Your hand and mouth got you into this problem, so you now have the opportunity to use them to get you out of it".

Mireille slowly began to understand her predicament. This was a development she had not forseen. He intended to make her suck his dick, right here in his office. Humiliated and disgusted, her mind went into overdrive. How could he do this to her, and think he could get away with it. She felt the pink flush of embarrassment rising up her neck. Turning on her heels, she headed for the door.

"You are disgusting! She offered as her parting shot.

"And you are a stupid bitch who will learn that there is a price to pay for embarrassing me in front of my people"

She stopped in her tracks, unable to see a way out. "Look!, this is silly. I'm sure we can come to some accommodation over this little misunderstanding"

"You may call it a little misunderstanding, but if you close that door behind you, I will not be responsible for the consequences".

Mireille was trapped. There was no alternative she could see, other than allowing this Pig to humiliate her. Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself, walked over to him, knelt down and began to unzip his uniform.

"What do you think you are doing?" he barked. Mireille looked up with a start.

"You have not asked permission! You will ask me to allow you to blow me, you will then do it properly, swallowing everything. Any stain on my uniform, and you will be punished. Now! Ask!"

Shame and humiliation flooded through Mireille as the situation finally got out of her control. With tears in her eyes she stammered "Please? May I suck your cock"

"Sir"

"Please may I suck your cock sir?"

He nodded his assent, and Mireille got to work. The zip opened easily enough, but she got the shock of her young life when his cock sprang free. She did not know such weapons existed. Ten inches long, and as thick as her wrist, it was already erect with anticipation. She had no idea how she was going to get that monster in her mouth.

"Come on Bitch, get a move on" Ngoro croaked. "Open Wide"

A single tear splashed from her cheek as she opened her mouth, extended her tongue, and licked the end of his dick. Almost instantly, Ngoro grasped a handful of her hair, and thrust his weapon between her lips and half way down her throat. "Nnggg!" she grunted at the shock of the movement. She gagged as his dick hit the back of her throat, and only just managed to avoid throwing up as the smell of him filled her nose. He began to thrust, slowly at first, but soon he developed a rhythm pushing into her face, then pulling her head off by the hair. She was lost in concentration now, knowing that at any moment he would ejaculate into her mouth, and that she would have to swallow it all. She failed to hear the office door open.

The flash of the camera bulb took her by surprise. Being unable to turn her head, she had to wait for several more photographs to be taken before she could determine that it was Jacob wielding the camera. As she did so, Ibo Ngoro exploded in her mouth, filling it with warm viscous fluid. She nearly choked but managed to swallow enough to prevent leakage. Feeling curiously pleased, she completed her task, licking him clean, zipping him up, and raising herself to a standing position before him.

"Not bad" Ngoro chuckled. "You have a natural talent. All you need is practice. Do the same for Jacob on your way out, and your Husband will be released on bail.

Chapter 6: Summoned to Dinner

Two weeks had elapsed. Luc had been released under House arrest the day following his wife's encounter with Ngoro. Somehow, she had managed to reconcile her feelings with her behaviour, helped in part, by the knowledge that she had taken the only action possible. If Luc suspected her involvement, he never said so.

"RRRingg". Luc glanced at his watch, wondering who could be at the door. It was 9. 30, and there were no appointments in the calendar. "RRRRRingggg".

"Hold on!, I'm coming" he shouted as he responded to the impatient ringing of the doorbell. He pulled the door open to face the Chauffeur in full uniform.

"What are you doing dressed up like that at this time of night" he demanded.

"I have been instructed by Major Ngoro to bring you and your good lady to the Palace for dinner."

"We have already eaten, thank you," he lied, "so please tell the Major that we graciously decline his kind invitation".

"He anticipated such a response, and asked me to tell you that the other dinner guests include members of the Military tribunal trying your case. Tonight would be an opportunity for you to aid your defence". As he spoke, Mireille came to see what the fuss was about, and the Chauffeur's eyes followed her closely. " additionally, he continued, it will give your lovely wife chance to charm your Judges before your trial.

Faced with no alternative, Luc and Mireille accepted and went to get changed. Dark thoughts clouded her mind as she pondered on his words, and the way in which they were delivered. She was sure that Ngoro was up to something, but nevertheless by 10. 30 they were dismounting from the limousine in front of the Palace.

The meal!

"So far, so good" Mireille thought to herself as she surveyed the small group. The Eight dinner guests were seated at a large round table. To her left, General Chakka. Six foot plus of hardened soldier, rough manners, and a brutish attitude to foreigners, women, and life in general. To her right, Colonel Schmidt, reputably a mercenary military adviser, thrown out of East Germany when the wall came down. A little slug of a man, she knew him by reputation as a cold-blooded killer, and a well-known Francophobe. The Envoy had been right. Things did not look good for Luc. Still, the conversation had at least been polite, if a little stilted.

This had not been helped by the fact that the ladies accompanying the three Gujangan soldiers were no more than teenagers. "Specially selected for their acquiescence I shouldn't wonder" she mused to herself, as the last course was served.

Suddenly, the conversation took a more disturbing turn.

"You may wish to know that we have set a date for your trial Mr Ambassador" General Chakka announced. You have four weeks to prepare a defence."

Luc stiffened in his chair, and the two young girls flanking him became noticeably nervous, unsure of what was about to happen.

"I assume I will be given full diplomatic protection, and therefore have no need to answer these trumped up charges".

"Not so", interrupted Schmidt. "Diplomatic relations were broken off this morning. Everything will depend on your willingness to co-operate. If I were you, I would be trying to find ways of helping us get what we want."

As he spoke, Mireille felt a hand brush gently against her thigh. She stole a swift sideways glance at Schmidt, who was staring fixedly across the table at Luc. A second hand, Chakka's, fell lightly on her knee. No pretence at accidental contact this time. Mireille realised immediately what was going on. It was HER co-operation they required. SHE was what they wanted. Poor Luc, he was simply a victim of his wife's stupidity. Why on earth had she slapped Ngoro.

"My spies tell me you are familiar with Jenga the tailor and his wife. Is that so?" As Chakka spoke, his hand slipped between Mireille's knees, forcing her thighs apart. Hidden by the tablecloth, Schmidt also moved his hand into the space created, sliding it up until it cleared her stocking top. Mireille felt her own sharp intake of breath and hoped poor Luc wouldn't notice.

"Of course" Luc replied, clearly puzzled by the question. " He makes my suits, he is the best tailor in town."

"He is also a French spy. He has confessed, and has implicated you!" Mireille heard Chakkas words, but none of it registered. His hand had now reached their goal, and his finger was rubbing slowly up and down the outside of her panties. To her horror, she felt a familiar tingle as the silk became moistened by her own juices. "Please don't let this happen to me, she cried inwardly, to no avail. She was becoming aroused, despite her best efforts to prevent it.

"I don't believe it" she heard Luc say in the background. "It's a conspiracy". He could have been a million miles away as the Generals finger began sliding in and out of her channel.

"I've had enough of this!" shouted Ngoro. "Guards! Take him away, Lock him up, Get him out of my sight!"

A protesting Luc was dragged away, and as he was, Mireille started to stand to follow him. Schmidt's hand on her shoulder stopped her before she had the chance. Ngoro muttered to the three girls, who slowly got up and departed, leaving Mireille to face her husbands jailers alone.

Chapter 7 - And after...

"Stand up!" Ngoro demanded, all pretence at civility now stripped away. "Put your hands on the table."

She stood up, her dress high on her thighs, held there by her tormentors, and leaned forward as instructed. She knew she should be protesting, but there was clearly no point, and the fact that she was becoming sexually stimulated was not helping.

"She's a willing little slut, chuckled Chakka, "but she needs to learn a thing or two before she can free her husband. Beats me why she bothers. He has such a little dick he hasn't even broken her in properly."

"Aaarrgh" Screamed Mireille. Schmidt had decided it was time for indulging some of his tastes and had forcefully pinched her clitoris. The spear of pain shot up and down her spine, causing her knees to buckle, and making her fall forward on to the table.

"Save that for later, if we need to", said Ngoro, raising himself out of his seat, and standing beside the quaking girl. "Come on Bitch, show my colleagues what you have learned already".

As the pain in her crotch subsided, Mireille Sisterre, wife of the French ambassador, leaned over and sucked the cock of the giant African like a common whore. Her mouth gaped as the fearsome weapon sprung to attention, and, just like a professional she began to inch more and more of it down her throat. Chakka gripped the back of her dress, and tore it from her body, leaving her naked except for bra, panties shoes and stockings. Within seconds he bra joined her ripped up dress on the floor, giving Schmidt the opportunity to inflict more pain by tweaking her prominent nipples. Tears welled up in her eyes and she would have felt sorry for herself but for the awful realisation that she was beginning to enjoy it.