Butler's Delights
Chapter 4: Paris

Copyright© 2010 by Charm Brights

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 4: Paris - When his nine year old son suggested it, the Emir decided that an English butler, a Jeeves, would be a nice touch in his Golden Palace. For Robinson, it meant big changes from his English life. Most of the duties were similar to those in the household in England, but some of the perks were better. And then the Princesses came to visit him. For Robinson's wife, who had never been spanked even as a child, it meant bigger changes, and ones she came to love.

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Consensual   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Slavery   Heterosexual   Historical   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Spanking   Rough   Humiliation   Torture   Harem   Interracial   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Caution   Violence  

When the time came to go to Paris, the Emir's plans had changed and Robinson was booked on a scheduled flight, where he was treated as a VIP passenger and given a secluded cabin within the first class area of the Air Kobekistan jumbo jet. Shortly after take-off a stewardess joined him in the cabin and calmly stripped herself of all her uniform except her shoes and cap.

"I am here for the Master's pleasure, to serve all his wants," she said, "I understand you have not flown with us before, and I am privileged to be the first to serve you."

"What if I ask for food, or drink?" he inquired, not correcting her misapprehension.

"I will call for it and it will be served by one of the others, Master," said the girl, kneeling before his chair and reaching for his penis, "They will not be perturbed in the least by anything they see in here."


At the Robinsons' home the following day, Caroline was surprised when a courier on a motor-cycle drew up outside and came to their door.

"Mrs. Robinson?" he asked when she went to the door.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Caroline Robinson?"

"Yes?"

"A package for you. Sign here," said the courier.

"Where from?"

"Search me. I only deliver them. Please sign the form."

Caroline signed and took the package inside. It was a brown A5 envelope with her name and address on the label but no indication of where it was from or who had sent it. Shrugging her shoulders, she opened it and found a letter and some airline tickets in a pouch.

The letter was from the Kobekistani embassy in London and explained that her husband had asked for her journey to be arranged so that they could meet in Paris the following day. A car would collect her at 7:30am and take her to Heathrow for the flight. Caroline wondered why her husband had not telephoned, but thought that perhaps he was too busy. The tickets indicated a stay of two nights so she packed a week-end bag and found her passport and the Euro cash they had left over from the previous year's holiday. Any more that she needed she would get at the airport, she decided.

Prompt at half past seven a Rolls-Royce drew up outside the house and she was whisked in luxury to the airport, where the chauffeur conducted her through a small door into the terminal building. From there a lift took her to a small lounge where she was treated like Royalty. Soon her aircraft was ready and she was escorted to the gate.

"Just a minute," she said as the ground hostess waved her through, "Don't I have to check in and show my passport and so on?"

"Oh no, Madame. All that is taken care of already. Please board now; the aircraft is ready to leave."

The flight was a normal Air France shuttle but Caroline was taken forward and seated in the small First Class area.

"Champagne, Madame?" asked the personable French steward.

"I think there's some mistake. Why am I in First Class?"

"No mistake, Madame. Mme. Robinson booked as VIP to Paris. Air France have taken care of all the formalities."

At Charles de Gaulle there was a car waiting on the tarmac which took her to a terminal building where another small lounge held only a few important looking passengers. As she sat at a table marked with her name, Robinson arrived and greeted her.

"Hello, darling. How did you wangle to get in here?" Caroline asked, "I haven't gone through customs or passports yet."

"No need for any of that," her husband replied, "My new boss has influence."

For two idyllic nights Caroline was reunited with her husband, and they made full use of the comfortable double bed provided in the small apartment on the top floor of the Kobekistani Embassy. During the day she shopped in Paris, using a credit card which seemed to have endless credit and which caused the shop assistants to be extremely polite, while her husband attended to the business of selecting wines for the Emir's cellar.

 
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