“Alright, alright. What happened?” Badiha cleared the air, adding a healthy dosage of whiskey to Clementine’s morning coffee.
“Did you get breast implants since I last saw you?” Clementine asked, even when asking a favour she felt the need to do her strange power play of controlling the conversation, making sure Badiha was reacting to what she was saying.
“Yup, lost a bet and now I have these mammoth E-cup tits. So what happened?” Badiha curtly replied hoping a blunt response would keep the conversation from being derailed. Clementine took a big swig from her mug, burning her mouth with the heat of the coffee and her throat with the concentration of whiskey.
“That’s actually about the size of mine, and mine are natural.”
“Clementine!” Badiha sternly yelled, actually breaking through the calm coldness with which Clementine carried herself.
“Fine, I misjudged John Dobson, the father of the woman who’s movie trailer you produced and distributed.”
“The MP?”
“And now junior treasury minister. I saw him as a perennial backbencher, chronically unimpressive so never successful enough to rise especially high where he would have additional scrutiny and security, but clued in enough to be useful. Regrettably I didn’t know his position had been purposefully cultivated. He’s getting a considerable amount of money from a variety of interested parties, often embedded in foreign governments, to be their eyes and ears in parliament. So when I used his daughter’s indiscretions to try and get some inside information on currency markets, he laughed at me. He told me that as a backbencher in a safe seat he was pretty much scandal proof, it would ruin his daughter’s life but he had prepared to come out of it unscathed ever since you sent her video to the conservatives.”
“Callous motherfucker, willing to toss his daughter to the wolves like that.”
“I don’t sympathize but It makes sense, he can publically be there for her and none of the stink will stick to him. But even though he doesn’t care for her, he was remarkably insulted about being blackmailed and already had a bee in his bonnet about some of my Westminster activities. He set about destroying me with resources I certainly couldn’t match.” Clementine explained between sips of her coffee.
“So when your daughter called looking for you, you were in hiding?” Badiha asked.
“Growing up wealthy, a lot of these kids don’t realise that their sociopathic parents constany confuse paying for a child with actually raising one. I made no such mistake with Bella. She was raised to have talent and succeed without nepotism, and I loved her enough and kept her in the loop enough that I knew I could cut her off for her own safety and she would understand and thrive on her own.” Clementine sighed, her concern for her daughter remained the only warm crack in her cold calculating veneer. “I’ve been calling in a lot of favours to stay ahead of the people who want to harm me, but at every turn someone involved always ends up betraying me. I’ve had so many close calls, but when I had a moment to think, I realised you’re not the betraying type, you may not be best placed to help me, lord knows I’m not asking for some cheap sexual gratification, but you are my safest pair of hands.”
Badiha was reeling, she was a drug dealer turned pervert, this was all much higher stakes than she was used to.
“How much do these guys know about me?” Badiha asked.
“I burned the connection to your laptop so they don’t have your clients, but they know the kind of service you provide, it’s probably why they don’t see you as a threat.” Clementine answered, blossoming an idea in Badiha’s mind.
“I think I have a way to get you to safety, but you’re going to have to trust me and you’re going to have to leave your ego at the door.”
…
John Dobson hated this part of his role in life, gathering dirt on other MPs meant going to their most hedonistic parties and having to once again cheat on his wife to keep his cover as someone as morally bankrupt as the rest of the MPs.
Tonight’s party was billed as a ‘party like no other’ by some up and coming special advisor called Monique. Loads of ambitious young-uns try and organise the most memorable evenings of debauchery to stamp their claims on being future leaders. The only indication this party would be any different is that Monique was a special advisor to an MP with the reputation of a sexual appetite far higher than average and maybe this might unlock some new avenues for him.
He drove to a stately home on the outskirts of Kings Lynn, the proximity to the Sandringham Royal Estate either meant a member of the royal family was going to be present, or someone at least wanted everyone to think a royal was going to be there. It was reassuring to have armed security checking his ID at a gate far from the house, and valet parking so people couldn’t identify whose cars were parked out front. He stepped out of his car and through the large Pendik Escort oak doors.
The foyer was a similar mixture of mahogany, marble, and gold gilding that seemed commonplace for John, a level of extravagance that he had grown accustomed to. The gathered men in ubiquitous suits, only differentiated by their ties and shirts, mulled as they were served drinks and canapés by women wearing nothing but black PVC head masks. This was unusual, but still not the first occasion John had been to with naked waitresses. What made the situation interesting for John was the diverse range of body types on display. Usually these sort of affairs would have hired a smattering of amateur models and high end prostitutes that ran the gambit from skinny white girls in their late teens to skinny white girls in their early 20s. However he was handed a glass of champagne from a busty woman who had hit upper middle age well but was clearly of older stock, then given canapés by a taller and more statuesque character than would usually be hired, before finally being offered a bump of cocaine from a tray held by an Asian lady with huge fake tits.
The attendees were more sparce than usual, showing Monique’s inexperience at hosting these parties. In the fullness of time she will understand that allowing the guests to wear masks (rather than just the help), often boosted attendance by swaying those on the fence for the sake of performative propriety. At least it helped John keep an eye on if any new faces were among the rotation of the parliamentary perverts.
He did his usual circulation, chatting shit about golf and upcoming votes, letting his hands wander around the waitresses to fit in with the others, all the while wondering if the party would be going anywhere or if naked staff was the peak of Monique’s innovation. As a conversation about immigrants got tiresomely predictable, John let his ears wander, hoping to pick up a snippet of gossip or something worthwhile.
“Alright, Badiha says we go to the next stage in five minutes.” John heard Monique informing an unseen accomplice. His mind took but a moment to figure out where he’d heard that name before. He remembered within the ugliness with Clementine Maximus, the strange side hustle of a woman offering extreme sexual fantasy fulfilment for connected women, who counted his daughter a client and Clementine a boss.
Suddenly the diverse body types made sense, this party was not for the benefit of the guests, but for the clutch of deviant women to experience being naked waitresses for the night. He eyed up each in passing, desperately trying to figure out if he could recognise them by body type, surely part of the appeal would be serving people you know without their knowledge. Maybe the guest list was sparce because each waitress had a list of people they wanted to secretly flaunt their body to and he was on it. Just as he began to wonder about what ‘the next stage’ could mean, Monique took a position at one end of a room where she could yell and gather everyone’s attention.
“Good evening gentlemen, thank you for joining me, we have a little special treat for this evening, some of our waitresses have been paid a little extra to take part in a raffle of sorts. All of your names are in this hat, I will be picking them out one at a time and if you are lucky, you will get to take a waitress to a private room and do literally anything you want to them as long as you do not remove the mask.” Monique announced to widespread murmurs of approval.
Monique picked out the first name, a moderately attractive Labour whip with a dark reputation, he was immediately paired with a woman John could imagine was the MP Monique worked for, her body seemed the right age and proportions. This was when he became certain the name draw was rigged to the women’s fantasies and pretended to text so he could make notes of each name being pulled for later investigation. Which is why he was startled silent when he heard his own name called.
“Go on John, you lucky prick, go claim your prize and give her hell.” One of his friends encouraged, making it crystal clear that staying to take notes was no longer an option beyond suspicion for him. He walked to the front and was joined arm in arm by a naked woman he recognised as the one who had handed him champagne at the start. As a show for the audience he gave her ample bottom a loud swat as she guided him towards a private room, locking the door behind herself.
The room had clearly been set up for the purpose, there was a four poster bed in the middle, with cabinets covered in condoms and deviant sex toys for John to use. The woman looked at him pleadingly, clearly awaiting orders from the master who had won her in a rigged upper-class perverted take on tombola. John tried his best to figure out who had taken the effort to be in this position, there were only a handful of women it could be but he wasn’t getting any clues. He picked up some handcuffs and ordered his Kurtköy Escort new property to lie on the bed while he cuffed her wrists and ankles to the 4 corners. As he was doing so he surreptitiously examined her mask, marveling at Badiha’s forethought in locking the mask on with a small padlock so none of the guests could remove it while alone with her clients.
He then pulled down his trousers, climbed onto the bed, and started easing his cock in and out of the open mouth of his slave. He adjusted his position so the padlock was in view, and his captive couldn’t see anything but his balls bouncing off her face while he thrust himself down her throat. As he did so he got a specially bent paperclip out of his shirt pocket.
‘Badiha needs to do her homework better’ he thought to himself as he began to pick the lock. ‘Then again if Clementine didn’t know I was a foreign asset, I doubt her kinky side business associate would know that picking a lock is one of the first things they teach you when they bring you onboard.’
He climbed off the woman’s face, looked deep into her eyes, and then in one swift motion yanked the PVC mask off of her face.
Clementine let out a scream as an evil grin crossed over John’s face.
“Clementine Maximus, if you wanted to meet you could have just asked.” He chuckled as he dropped the mask to the ground. “I didn’t realise you got so hands on with Badiha’s work. Unless…” John took the opportunity to do a more thorough search of the room and eventually spotted the hidden camera he suspected.
“Trying to blackmail your way out of a problem, just like you. Unfortunately now I have you alone and…” John’s monologue was interrupted by the door being unlocked from the outside, suddenly Badiha barged in with a taser in her hand.
“Alright John, you figured it out, so let’s make a deal.” Badiha announced.
“Why would I make a deal with you?” John asked.
“Because someone’s going to fill the vacuum left by Clementine’s demise, and now her plan has failed it’s time for me to move in and look after number one.”
“What?” Clementine cried.
“Shut up whore, you’re done for, the only thing keeping you out of an Uzbek black site is that your pussy is worth something to me.” Badiha snarled before turning back to John. “Clementine has been working as a prostitute for some time now, I have all the proof and can use it to keep her in place, I’ll move in on her operation, promise to stay out of your way, and in return you get to fuck her whenever and however you want.”
“Why was Clementine working as a prostitute for you?” John calmly asked.
“Did you ever wonder how I managed to operate without taking a penny from my clients?”
“It was a curiosity when I read your file.” John admitted.
“I have been slowly building the most exclusive stable of whores in the world, wealthy influential women who get off so much on having their bodies sold, that they let me keep all the cash. I imagine with all the enemies she has made Clementine is going to make me a fortune when I start selling her ass.”
“Badiha, what are you doing?” Clementine begged.
“I’m cashing in on you, you old has-been. What do you say, she’s no longer a threat to you and you can do whatever you want to her.” Badiha offered, her hand seductively stroking the helpless naked body of her former overseer.
“I want proof, who else do you have in your stable?” John demanded.
“I know you’re an asset, I’m not giving you the keys to my empire. How about I meet you halfway, I’ll confirm any suspicions you have? You get three guesses.”
“Alright, everyone knows you were involved in that whole Aeris PLC debacle, shortly afterwards Grace is suddenly persona non grata with her family.” He deduced. Badiha pressed some buttons on her phone and soon Grace entered the room, taking off her mask.
“What can I do for you master?” She announced, standing to attention.
“This one’s a long shot, but my contacts have been concerned that out of nowhere Suriya Al-Harani stepped back from running one of the largest investment portfolios in the world, one that benefitted them greatly. They were pulling their hair out trying to figure out if it was related to her husband’s loss in desire for prostitutes.” A few more taps on her phone and sure enough Suriya entered the room, taking off her mask.
“What can I do for you master?” She announced taking her place next to Grace. Despite the intensity of the situation, Badiha couldn’t help but notice there were a few more flowers tattooed on her hip since the last time she had seen her.
“You definitely got a tip-off when the police raided your house, about the same time Deputy Commissioner Phillips took some annual leave.” He guessed.
“‘fraid you struck out on that third one. Shame because the woman who tipped me off is probably the kinkiest of the lot.” Badiha gloated.
“Alright then. I think we can make this work.” John agreed, shaking Badiha’s Ümraniye Escort hand, “now as for this former powerhouse, may I have her for the evening?”
“As long as you hand her back to me by midnight she’s all yours.” Badiha informed as John came up with a malevolent plan to stamp his victory on his defeated rival.
…
John relished the guffaws coming from the gathered men he was talking with, he knew each and every one he had expertly cajoled into a single group conversation, and he knew they had one major thing in common, they all hated Clementine.
“More Champagne?” A naked waitress offered, John paused and signaled for quiet in his group.
“Hold on, say that again.” He ordered, an evil grin crossing his mouth.
“More… more Champagne.” The waitress stuttered.
“Holy shit guys I know that voice, is that you Clementine Maximus?” He announced to gathered gasps.
“No, you’re mistaken.” The waitress countered, the panic spreading across her face clear enough to be noticeable even under the PVC mask. Quick as a flash John grabbed her mask and ripped it off to unveil her to his friends.
“Clementine, you’re one of our naked waitresses?”
“I… am” she mumbled looking at her feet.
“Oh my god, I never knew Clementine was such a slut.” One of John’s friends announced to more guffaws from the group.
“She must be. Why would someone forcing her to do this allow her to wear a mask? I bet she does it for fun.” John deduced to much chuckling commentary. “Is that true?”
“Yes sir. You’ve figured out my secret. Deep down I love nothing more than to be humiliated.” She agreed.
“Well we are going to make this a night to remember for you.” John cheered, gathering everyone over to Clementine’s exposed body. Immediately the cameraphones came out and Clementine winced with each flash that confirmed another record of her naked humiliation had been captured. “Christian, remember when Clementine threatened to show your wife videos that would end your marriage if you didn’t remove legislation at committee? I think you would feel better if you got revenge on her tits don’t you?”
“Oh absolutely.” An older man agreed, stepping forward to roughly grasp Clementine’s breasts, kneading and squeezing them without a care for Clementine’s painful disapproval.
“And Giles, remember how she released footage of you doing drugs just as the Prime Minister was considering you for the cabinet? I think maybe giving her a nice red bottom should go some way towards compensation.”
“It would be a start.” An even older man chimed in, giving Clementine the first of many hearty spanks on her bare behind, her screams of painful humiliation drawn out by Christian’s decision to painfully squeeze and twist her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
“You know I genuinely think she is enjoying this.” John announced, relishing his place puppeteering powerful people through the indulgence of naked sadism. “Henry, go spread her labia, let’s open up her pussy so everyone can see how wet she is.”
Clementine remained stunned still, screaming with each swat on her butt and manhandle of her breasts, while another elderly white man opened up her pussy for all the guests to laugh at.
“Now I know she’s a bit old and flabby, but who here would like to fuck Clementine Maximus?” John asked the crowd, to which there was some sporadic cheering. “Well we’re not going to give her any privacy tonight. So how about anybody who wants a piece, write your phone number on her body and she’ll call you to arrange a little date.”
There was some immediate commotion as men scrambled to find a pen to follow John’s instructions. After a bit of time he saw the first few men approaching with markers and ill intent.
“Welcome to your new life as a whore.” He whispered in Clementine’s ear before pushing her towards the crowd. He gestured to Badiha to follow him into a private room.
They entered a room that had been set aside as one of the sex rooms from earlier, a similar four poster bed and a selection of used sex toys undermining the high stakes negotiation John had in mind.
“That was fun. I’m riding that high so it’s probably ill advised for me to be discussing terms, but you’ve impressed me with your cutthroat attitude. So what does starting where Clementine left off mean for you?”
“She’s given me her contact lists and information. Hopefully you have heard my reputation, my aversion to blackmail and more mutually beneficial approach.” Badiha explained.
“Sounds like the sort of thing small timers tell themselves to rationalise not being big timers but I’ll let it slide. So this isn’t going to be a clean break, you’re moving up in the world but I want constant communication so I can tell you if you’re stepping on my toes.” John explained.
“Alright, how about I lend you Clementine once a fortnight, afterwards I come to pick her up and we talk business.”
“With your reputation I’m not having you visit my house. How about we meet once a month at a neutral location to discuss which 4 days I get Clementine for, and so you can transfer 50% of her fee into my account, after all it is my threat that’s going to keep her in line for you.” John negotiated.