Capitol Conspiracy

17

“Have you been a bad girl?”

“I’ve been a bad girl. I’ve been a very, very bad girl.”

“Have you been naughty?”

“Very naughty.”

“What happens to naughty girls?”

“They should be…punished.”

“I agree. Pull down your knickers.”

Underneath her clothing, Belinda DeMouy was wearing a pink bustier with a garter strap linking it to matching pink fishnet hose. Her pumps were pink and silver with little fluff balls over the toe.

She slithered over the side of the bed, rubbing up against the covers like a kitten. “You won’t hurt me very bad, will you?”

“I’m sorry, but you’ve been naughty, and naughty girls must be seriously punished.”

“Are you going to take your great big hand and spank me?”

“No. I think this calls for something that will make more of an impression.” Jason Simic reached under the bed and withdrew a long mahogany paddle with a small hole drilled through the center.

Belinda shuddered when she saw the menacing implement. “Oh, God,” she murmured. “Oh, Goddddddd…”

“Pull down your panties, dear.”

Belinda complied.

He pulled her across his lap. “I just hope you remember this the next time you think about being bad.” He swung the paddle five times in rapid succession.

She screamed with an ecstasy born of some potent combination of pain and pleasure. He spanked her again and again and she gasped and screamed. Soon he established a rhythm, pounding at her with an increasingly accelerated pace, as if Ravel’s Bolero were playing somewhere in his mind.

“Oh,” she screamed out. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” But she did not ask him to stop.

When her bottom was properly pinked, Jason pulled her upright. “Now go stand in the corner. With your panties dangling around your ankles.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you’re going to be a naughty girl, then I’ll have to punish you like a naughty girl.”

Her breasts heaved. Her lips parted.

“Now get in that corner before I start paddling you again!”

She obeyed.

He left her there for a good ten minutes, her panties around her ankles, her flaming buttocks lit like a Christmas ornament. Finally, he led her back to the bed, laid her down, and snapped the cuffs around her wrists.

“Oh my God, they’re so tight,” she said breathlessly. “So tight.”

“It’s going to hurt,” he informed her. “But a naughty girl has no right to complain.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to spank you some more, then I’m going to take you, very fast and very hard.”

“Oh, Goddddd…”

“I’m going to use you for my own personal pleasure.”

“Oh, use me. Use me!”

“You won’t get any pleasure out of this, and frankly I don’t care. A naughty girl doesn’t get to choose what she wants.”

“Yes…yes…”

“You’re a naughty girl, and I’m going to punish you with my brush hog.”

“Oh, Goddddd…”

“But first I want that ass of yours nice and hot.”

“Oh, yes. God, yes.”

He spanked her until he could see bruised blood vessels appear on her buttocks; then he flipped her around and went about his business. He pounded away at her, judging his rhythm by the frequency of her cries of tortured delight.

“I’ve been bad,” she cried out, rocking her hips back and forth, gasping with passion. “Punish me, master. Punish me!”

Despite what he said about her not getting any pleasure out it, she climaxed before he did.

Half an hour later, Jason and Belinda lay in a heap on the brass bed, their feet intertwined, her face glowing. He was reading some work materials; she was gazing at him with watery eyes.

“God, you really get into the subjugation/domination stuff, don’t you?” she asked.

Jason did not look up from the papers he was reading. “Uhh, I’m pretty sure that was you.”

She shoved his shoulder. “Don’t give me that. You loved it.”

“I love making use of your body.”

“You sweet-talker.”

“But the corporal punishment fetish is all yours.”

She curled up closer and purred. “You’re indulging your naughty girl?”

“I’m doing what needs to be done so I can screw her brains out. Several times a night.”

“You’re so romantic.”

What would her mother think about this? Belinda wondered. Her mother had always taught her to be proper. To behave with decorum. This was about as far from proper as it was possible to get. Bad enough to be having an affair. But she was having an extremely kinky affair, and with her husband’s chief of staff, no less.

And loving every minute of it.

Could she help herself? It’s not as if she had ever been in love with the great and distinguished Senator Jeffrey DeMouy. She married him because everyone thought she should. Seemed like a good idea at the time. But it wasn’t. It was an empty marriage. Not that it was loveless, exactly. She knew he loved her, in his own dry perfunctory missionary-position way. But where was the passion? He was so much older than she; he was well into his forties when they married. He didn’t have the stamina for much. If it weren’t for those magic little blue pills, they might not have had a sex life at all.

It would be better if he were around more. If he were one of those doting spouses who was always buying her flowers or giving her presents or other tokens of his affection. She could live with knowing he’d lost interest in sex, but she couldn’t live with knowing he’d lost interest in her. She was a tool to him and she always had been, the hostess with the mostest, never anything more. She increased his electability, increased his visibility, made him more socially desirable. She wasn’t a wife; she was an asset. At least-as long as she remained proper.

The hell with Mother. Who cared what she might or might not think? Belinda had been proper all her life. She was ready for something different. She wanted to be loved passionately, to be taken forcibly in parking garages and chained down with handcuffs and taken from behind. She had never once had an orgasm with Jeffrey. Never once. At some point, Belinda had decided she just wasn’t a very sexual person, that whatever gene it was that caused people to be swept away in paroxysms of passion wasn’t included in her DNA strand.

Then she met Jason.

The whole thing had started at an office Christmas party, trite but true. They’d both had too much eggnog, and since Jeffrey was planning to stay at the office all night, the dutiful chief of staff offered to walk her to her car and somehow he went from opening her car door to squeezing her right breast, and the next thing she knew they were humping like rabbits in the backseat of the Jaguar. She had an orgasm that night, the first time in her life. It was so explosive, so unaccustomed, at first she thought she’d had some sort of stroke. Jason laughed at her, and then, just to prove what had really happened-he made it happen again. Two O’s in half an hour, in the backseat of a small foreign car. She was hooked. It wasn’t at all proper. But she liked it.

Tonight, when he took her forcefully after making her stand in the corner, she had her forty-second orgasm. Yes, she counted. And it was quite possibly the best one yet. She didn’t care about social functions or politics or visiting the White House. She just wanted to have sex with Jason, over and over again. She wanted this to go on forever.

“It could, you know.”

She looked up at his handsome face. “Excuse me?”

“Go on forever.”

Had she actually said that out loud? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you do.” Jason put down his papers. “We have a terrific sex life. And I like to think we love each other, but as long as the sex is so hot, who really cares? The problem is”-he glanced at his watch-“in about fifteen minutes, I’m going to have to leave. And tonight, your husband is going to lie down right where I am now. And he’ll be naked and hairy and even if he can’t actually have intercourse, he’ll fumble and grope and paw you until you want to vomit.”

Belinda shuddered. “Don’t. You know I cringe every time that man touches me. Every time I even think about him touching me.”

“You could divorce him.”

“And live how?”

“Family money?”

“You know there isn’t any.”

“Property settlement?”

“All the loot is in trusts. Plus, I signed a prenup. I won’t get a penny.”

“Well, if it’s not too radical a notion…you could work.”

“No, thank you. Tried it once. Didn’t care for it.”

Jason reached across and cradled her in his arms. “Well, then. That makes it more complicated.”

“Try impossible.”

“Oh, nothing is impossible. If you’re sufficiently creative. And…adventurous.”

She arched an eyebrow. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

He smiled. “See all these papers in my lap?”

“I do. And just for the record, I don’t think bringing your work to my bed is sexy. Especially when you work for my husband. And we’re fornicating in his bed.”

Jason ignored her. “All these papers relate to the various contingency plans being tossed around in the event of further attacks like the one in Oklahoma City or the one on Senator Hammond. Everyone expects another attack-it’s a question of when, not if. That’s why we’re still at DEFCON-Three.”

“It’s so sexy when you talk politics.”

“Make fun if you want. But I think this presents us with a perfect opportunity.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Then let me spell it out for you.” He reached over and slid his finger under the cup of her bustier, pulling it away from her breast. “Someone already killed the Senate minority leader. Would it really be unusual if the majority leader got offed, too?”

Belinda stared at him. “I’m-not sure what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I think you are. Doesn’t matter how it happens. Anyone important dies in the next few weeks, people are going to assume it was terrorists.” He leaned over and began slowly stroking her nipple with his tongue. She closed her eyes and moaned.

“You can’t divorce him, darling, and sadly, he’s in excellent health.”

“Yes. Ohhhh, yesssss…”

He reached inside her panties and went to work. “So what do you say? Let’s kill the son of a bitch.”