Ambassador's Delights
Chapter 17: Party Time

Copyright© 2010 by Charm Brights

BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 17: Party Time - It is a great honour to be appointed Ambassador of the United States. When President Maria Suarez appoints Professor Klein as her Ambassador to Kobekistan the objectives of US policy are to help that country out of the feudal age of being ruled by the Emir, and to sell them US products. How will Professor Klein fare in a country which is ruled largely by the whip? Will the Professor resist the sexual temptations, and the dominance/submission culture so prevalent in such a society?

Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Rape   Coercion   Slavery   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Historical   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Spanking   Rough   Humiliation   Sadistic   Group Sex   Harem   Interracial   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism   Teacher/Student   Caution   Violence   School  

Sharon stood just inside the Embassy gates and took over the task of escorting the Emir and his two wives in to the party from the embarrassed Marine.

"Good evening Your Magnificence, may you live for ever and have many sons," she said, wondering how angry he was.

The Emir was charm itself as he said, "I believe you have met my two wives, in strictly alphabetical order, Her Highness the Princess Alima and her mother, Her Highness the Princess Ayda."

The two Princesses each gave the Ambassador a deep and formal curtsey as she was introduced, revealing every detail of their shaved private parts as they did so.

Sharon managed to bluster, "Yes. Yes, quite. We met in the ... ahem ... palace."

The Marine acting as doorman for the party was about to say something when he saw Sharon who passed him the Emir's invitation on which she had scribbled the names of the two women.

"His Magnificence Mahmoud Abdullah, may he live for ever and have many sons, Emir of Kobekistan, with Her Highness the Princess Alima and Her Highness the Princess Ayda," the Marine intoned, desperately trying to avoid looking at the curved flesh close to his side.

All conversation stopped and all eyes turned to the door. As the Emir entered, closely followed by the two princesses a collective gasp could be heard as the men realised that the Emir was dressed very informally, in contrast to the immaculate dinner jackets they all wore. This was immediately followed by a louder gasp as all those present took in the sight of two women walking regally in to the room wearing nothing but very short silk gowns which buttoned only at the throat. This meant that as they walked their nudity beneath these gowns was very obvious. Some of the men there had never seen an adult woman who shaved her pudenda, and none had seen such a sexually exciting display at a public event before, except in theatre productions.

The reactions of the women ranged from outraged shock to outraged envy. All of them felt over-dressed, yet few would have dared to dress like that, even among their most intimate friends at the most private dinner party. Some would not have dressed like that even for an evening alone with their husbands.

The Emir held one hand up and there was silence.

"To save a lot of time, may I introduce my companions, Princess Alima in blue and Princess Ayda in green. For those of you whom I have not had the pleasure of meeting, I am the Emir, but on occasions such as this there need be no formality whatever. If you feel the need to address me with any style or title, my name is actually David. Similarly Alima and Ayda can be addressed by name. I'm sure that is what Sharon meant when the invitation said 'Informal'."

For a while the three circulated slowly, talking only to those diplomats whom the Emir judged not to be on the brink of heart attacks.

"Ah, I see the new British Ambassador over there. Let's go and meet him," said the Emir, taking Ayda's hand.

The greetings were not at all what either the Emir or the Ambassador expected. As she was introduced, Ayda suddenly realised that she had known both the Ambassador and his wife in her school days.

"It is Twaddles, isn't it?" she said to His Excellency, Sir George Frobisher, KCMG, the surprised Ambassador, who had not been addressed by that particular nickname for many years.

"Don't you recognise me? It's Diana from Stapleford Hall. You were chasing after my sister when you came to visit us," she explained and, turning to His Excellency's wife, added, "And you were Penelope James, in Veronica's year at Cheltenham Ladies' College, two years above me. And now you are Lady Twaddles."

In over thirty years as a diplomatic couple on many postings, neither of the Frobishers had ever been addressed in such a fashion, and most certainly not in public at a gathering of diplomats, however 'informal' it might have been. The pool of silence surrounding the Emir's party grew as more people bent their ears to hear more of this chatter.

"But, Princess," said Lady Penelope, curtseying as was proper to royal personages, "How kind of you to remember me."

 
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