Former Prime Minister Stephen Thompson was hardly recognisable as he stood on the chewing gum covered pavement outside a large block of flats stretching up into the skyline of London. Rain was absolutely pouring from the gray cloudy skies and he had long since given up on trying to keep himself dry. On his long walk across London the blustery winds had turned his Pasotti umbrella inside out, forcing him to discard it in a nearby rubbish bin. Stephen couldn't help but think that the extremely expensive umbrella was just like his public image over the past several months, broken and battered. He chuckled to himself at his own joke as he threw the broken brolly away, at least his sense of humor wasn't among the things he had lost since his marital indiscretion had become public knowledge. He hadn't shaved in days, a scraggly, unkempt beard growing in on his face that gave him a wild, crazed appearance. His eyes looked sunken and hollow, lips dry, a byproduct of the insomnia that had been plaguing him over the past few weeks. His normally immaculate suit was tattered and stained with food, dirt and other unidentified substances and he took a deep breath before ringing the buzzer at the building's entryway.

The digital display beeped to indicate the occupant was home and a crackly female voice came through over the speaker. “Hello, who’s there?”

Stephen smiled widely as soon as heard Rosie's thick Yorkshire accent, the first time he'd smiled in days. He hadn't seen her or spoken to her since the news broke and he couldn't deny that he had missed her. “H..hi Rosie, erm, it's Stephen, Stephen Thompson,” he stammered out as he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. It had taken a lot for him to come here. If he hadn't been at his lowest point, he wouldn't have even considered it, but needs must, especially for a man in his position.

“What do you want?” came Rosie's reply in a cold and suspicious tone. Her hostility could hardly come as a surprise, her life had been torn apart just as much as his had, raked over the coals by the UK tabloids, accused of being a homewrecker, a slut, a cheap whore and much, much worse.

“Please can you let me in so we can talk?” he replied pitifully, “it's hammering it down out here, I'm absolutely soaking and I have nowhere else to go.” There was no response for a few seconds, presumably while she decided whether to turn him away or not and he waited on tenterhooks for her answer.

“Okay, come up,” she sighed, “I'm on the twenty second floor, straight ahead when you get out of the lift” she explained with a little bit more warmth in her voice as an electronic buzz signaled the door being opened. Stephen pulled it open and stepped inside, finally out of the wind and rain as he shivered from the sudden change in temperature. He shook himself, much like a dog would to try and remove some of the water that was still covering him. While brushing more rainwater off his clothes, he scanned the entryway which had walls lined with small post boxes for all of the flats, half of which had been smashed in. There was graffiti scrawled over the walls and empty cans and takeaway boxes strewn on the ground, hardly the luxurious surroundings that he had known when he was the leader of the country. As he approached them, the lift doors at the end of the hall opened and three young lads made their way out of it, hoods up, bandanas on their faces, talking and laughing loudly as the pungent smell of marijuana hung in the air in their wake.

As the youths got closer to Stephen they all stared intensely at him, doing their best to seem intimidating and dangerous as they swaggered past. His eyes immediately dropped to the floor and he cowered away from them, now wanting any trouble. This was how far he had fallen, from one of the most powerful men in the country to someone scared by literal children. He really was pathetic. Once the three wannabe hoodlums had made their way out of the front of the building he walked over to the now vacant lift, stepping inside and selecting the button for the right floor. On his journey up the huge building the lift made various clunking and whirring noises that put Stephen on edge, it was clearly very old and he pictured the cables snapping and sending him plummeting towards the ground at any moment. He wondered if maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing before considering how he was going to handle talking to Rosie once he reached her flat. This wasn't going to be easy.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside her door and he felt completely unprepared. He gave himself a quick once over, straightening out his jacket and trying to smooth out his hair, but his efforts made little difference to his raggedy appearance. Taking a deep breath, he put on the biggest smile he could before knocking on the door with as much authority as he could muster. ‘Here we go,’ he thought to himself as he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. The entrance to the flat swung open and there she was, standing in the doorway. The woman that he had thrown everything away for. His career, public perception, his marriage and worst of all, his self-respect.

She greeted him with a half-hearted smile. “Hi Stephen, how have you been?” she asked coldly. It occurred to him that he had only ever seen her with make-up on and dressed to the nines despite having known her for several years. It made sense of course, you had to dress the part when you were in the job that she had, but it still came as a surprise. She was still a very pretty woman of course, long blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail, wearing a tatty old t-shirt and a pair of tights fitting black leggings that showed off her curves. She'd clearly been doing her best to enjoy a quiet night in and as if he hadn't already caused her enough hardship, now here he was interrupting it, dripping wet and standing in her hallway.

“Been better to be honest,” Stephen replied wryly, “you?”

“Same,” she replied as they both stood looking at each other awkwardly. “Do you want to come in?” she asked, a little begrudgingly, stepping aside so he could step inside.

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks Rosie,” he replied, stepping inside the warmth of her flat, rubbing his hands together to try and get some warmth flowing to his fingers. “It's horrible out there,” he commented as Rosie led him into the living room, “nice to be out of the cold.”

“I'm sure it is, can I get you a towel?” she asked, looking up and down his sopping wet hair and clothes.

“That would be amazing, thank you so much,” Stephen said, giving her a warm smile, hoping she would have enough kindness left in her heart to hear him out.

“Just wait here then,” she instructed before making her way along the corridor, opening what was presumably the bathroom door. Stephen couldn’t help but look at her ass as she walked away. Rosie was an extremely curvy woman with large breasts, curvy hips and a beautiful smile, all of which had contributed to his foolish decision to cheat on his wife and tear his entire life apart. She still looked good though, there was no denying that.

Now that he was left alone in the living room, he removed his soaking suit jacket and hung it over the back of a wooden chair that Rosie had set up in front of her desk, upon which sat her computer and some papers. Ironically, some of his business cards that read “Prime Minister” were strewn amongst them. She must not have gotten around to throwing them out. She could probably make a few quid selling them online, the least she deserved after what he'd put her through.

Looking around the living room stroke kitchen, it was cozy and comforting with various candles burning and framed photos on the wall, including one of her with her parents at her graduation, dressed in cap and gown, a beaming smile on all their faces as she held her degree. He had actually met Rosie’s mother back when he was just a local MP. She had been so nice and thanked him profusely for giving her daughter a job and ensuring she was well looked after. He imagined that if they were to meet again now, his reception would be much more frosty than it had been back then.

“Here you go,” Rosie said, making Stephen jump as he spun around to look at her. He hadn’t heard her come into the room, probably because she was walking barefoot on the carpeted floor and as they looked at each other, Rosie holding out the large fluffy towel, her eyes were drawn to his torso. As his eyes darted down, Stephen realized why she was looking. The rain had soaked through all the way to his light blue shirt and it was partly see through and clinging to his body, making his chest and flat stomach completely visible. As he looked back up at her, he caught her very subtly biting her lip, a flash of attraction behind her eyes. Even after what he had done to her, there were still clearly some base, carnal feelings that she held for him, which could well be used to his advantage.

Noticing that she had been caught staring, Rosie looked away as Stephen took the towel and started drying off his hair and upper body, thanking her to try and alleviate some of the tension that was now hanging in the air. “Thanks so much Rosie, that feels much better.” He offered to hand her the towel back, but she had a frown on her face.

“That won’t do,” she mused, “you can’t sit around in wet clothes, you’ll catch your death.” She thought for a second before continuing. “I think Dave left some of his clothes here, let me go and see, then you can get changed into something dry.”

“You’re too kind Rosie,” Stephen gushed as she left the room to go and check the wardrobe in her bedroom.

“I really am,” she muttered to herself as she made her way down the hall. Opening the wardrobe she found an old t-shirt and pair of gray joggers that would most likely do the trick. Her mind wandered to what he would look like in the loose fitting sportswear she had chosen and whether she would be able to see his outline through the thin material. She shook her head, annoyed with herself, “what the fuck are you doing Rosie? Keep it together for god's sake,” she whispered before returning to the living room with the clothes. She handed her former boss the items she had chosen and he quickly looked them over. “They might be a little big for you, but better than staying in those wet things at least,” she reasoned.

“Yes, definitely,” Stephen answered, wondering whether he should ask the question that was on his mind or not, eventually deciding to bite the bullet. “So, did things not work out with you and David?” he asked in as gentle a tone as he could. He instantly regretted asking as Rosie’s usually kind and sweet face contorted into an angry scowl, pain in her soulful brown eyes.

“No, it didn’t. He left me once the headlines started coming out. Can’t exactly expect someone to stay when their partner cheats on them AND they’re being called a slut all over the country,” she replied, matter of fact, holding back the anger building inside her. Her body language had changed, arms crossed, head down and refusing to look at him. She was clearly still hurt over everything that had happened, once again reminding Stephen of how much damage his actions had caused. He was considering what to say but she spoke again before he had a chance to reply. “You can go and get changed in the bathroom and I’ll make us both a coffee to help warm you up.” Before he could say anything else she had already gone into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room, clutching her ex-partners clothes in his hands and feeling wretched. He deserved it, and more.

Once Stephen got to the bathroom he spent a few minutes stripping out of his clothes and drying himself off before pulling on the joggers and tee that he had been given. The shirt was a little loose, but the joggers actually fit remarkably well. His underwear and socks were just as wet as the rest of his outfit and so he decided to take them off. It looked like he would be going commando, just another detail to make this entire encounter even more awkward and uncomfortable. He made his way back to the living room, finding Rosie sitting on her small sofa, cup of coffee in hand, steam billowing from it and rising into the air. “You still take milk and sugar?” she asked as she looked Stephen up and down, giving an approving nod at the outfit as she waited for an answer.

“Yeah, I do,” Stephen replied, “I’m not surprised you remember, you were always such a great assistant.” He was attempting flattery in hopes that it would make the conversation a little easier. To his surprise, it seemed to work.

“Thanks Stephen, but those days are long gone now aren't they?” she asked, blowing on her piping hot drink before taking a cautious sip. Stephen put his wet clothes on the chair along with his jacket and shoes, turning around and realizing that the only other available seat was beside Rosie. He hesitated for a moment, causing Rosie to chuckle. “Come and sit down, I won’t bite you, I promise,” she teased, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. Stephen took a seat next to her, wary of making physical contact with her and picking up the mug of hot java she had prepared for him. The warmth on his hands that radiated from the mug felt wonderful and they both sat in silence for a few moments as they sipped their drinks, unsure how to proceed.

“So you wanted to talk about something?” Rosie asked, looking over at him as she wondered why he had turned up at her home completely unannounced.

“Yes, I did.” Stephen sighed. Here came the hard bit. “First of all, I need to apologize to you. This is all my fault. I’m older than you, I'm in a position of power and I should have known better. It was bad enough that I cheated on Diane and ruined my life, but I hurt you too.” He looked up at her, a sincere look in his eyes as he continued to talk. “I know how much you've been through, your name dragged through the mud, losing your job, David leaving you and I know it's my fault. I don't expect you to accept my apology, but I want you to know that I really, truly am sorry for what I did.”

Silence once again hung in the air as Rosie and Stephen stared at each other intensely. He could see her processing what he had said, considering how to reply. “I appreciate you apologizing Stephen, but it's not entirely your fault.” She looked down at her legs as she spoke, feeling ashamed of herself and the decisions she had made in the past. “I'm an adult too. I cheated on my partner too. I knew what I was doing when we went to that hotel and I have to take responsibility for it. We both fucked up massively and we are both facing the consequences. I won't lie, when it first happened, I was really angry with you.”

Stephen winced at her words, he knew she would be angry with him, that she maybe even had hated him, but hearing her say it out loud felt different to just thinking it. “After taking some time to think, I knew I was to blame just as much as you were and so those feelings towards you subsided. You were always a good boss and you always took care of me. So I accept your apology Stephen.” She reached out and took his hand as their eyes met, two damaged souls, reconnecting for the first time in a very long time. They both came to the revelation that they were probably now with the only other person in the world who understood what they had been through and that felt oddly comforting.

“Would you take it back, if you could?” Stephen asked as he held her hand, enjoying the first physical intimacy he'd had in months.

“Probably,” Rosie replied sullenly, before adding, “although we did have a lot of fun that night, didn't we?” Her cheeks flushed at her admission.

“Yeah, we did,” Stephen replied, smiling back at her, his own cheeks reddening as he flashed back to that night of drunken infidelity. Images of her sweet face, flashes of her naked body, the sound of her moaning his name. It was far from the first time he'd thought about that night. “There is something I need to ask you though,” he explained. This had gone better than he expected, but he still had to ask the big question, the one he had come here to ask.

“Go on,” Rosie replied, gently stroking the back of his palm with her thumb without even thinking about it.

“Could I stay here for a couple of days?” He saw the look of shock on Rosie's face and quickly scrambled to explain further. “Obviously I had to leave Number 10, me and Diane tried to work through things, but eventually she kicked me out of the house in Shackleford. She wants to divorce me and I've run out of the last bit of money I have left. First I stayed at hotels but I've been sofa surfing with friends for a while. You're the last person I can ask, otherwise I'm going to be on the street.” He took her other hand on his, turning to face his former assistant, imploring her for help. “You know I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't desperate Rosie. I know I hurt you, but please, will you help me? I just need some time to get back in my feet and then I'll be gone, I promise. Please?”

Rosie couldn't look him in the eye as she considered his request. He was clearly desperate and she didn't know if she had the heart to send him back onto the street. The rain was hammering against her window and it wouldn't be a good night for him to be sleeping rough. There had been days where she had wished she could hurt him like he had hurt her, but now that he sat before her, broken and pathetic, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. “You'll have to sleep on the sofa,” she said cautiously, “and it'll only be for a few days, I can't have my landlord finding out,” she explained. Before she could carry on talking, Stephen was on his knees in front of her, squeezing her hands firmly as tears ran down his cheeks.

“Thank you Rosie, thank you, thank you, thank you…,” he whined in between sobs as he groveled in front of her, relieved to know he had somewhere warm to sleep for the night. She didn't know how to respond, he was holding on to her like his life depended on it and ultimately she decided to let him shed his tears. He had obviously been through a lot, it made sense that he would be so emotional. Seeing him like this made her think about how much she had lost and soon her own eyes were damp from the remorse and pain she had experienced.

“Look at us both,” she giggled as Stephen finally released his grip, “what a pair of losers eh?” She helped him back up onto the sofa, taking a couple of tissues from a box beside her, passing one to him and keeping one for herself.

“Yeah, a right couple of losers,” Stephen replied, smiling as he laughed softly along with her. Reaching out and placing his hand on her thigh he admitted, “it's really good to see you Rosie, I missed you y'know?”

“I missed you too,” she replied, smiling back at him, “it's been really lonely since Dave left and with my family all being in Yorkshire, I've been alone a lot.”

“Yeah, I have too. You're the first woman I've touched since Diane kicked me out,” he admitted before he could stop himself. Immediately he realized that he'd said too much, trying to backpedal as quickly as he could. “I'm sorry, that probably sounded really weird.” He tried to pull his hands away, but Rosie held onto them.

“No, it's not weird, I get it Stephen, I do. I've had some very lonely nights since Dave left. Maybe it would be okay for us to give each other a little comfort while you're here.”

“What do you mean…,” he responded, baffled by her comment before she leant forwards and pressed her lips against his. Primal instincts took over and Stephen kissed her hungrily, pawing at her body like a wild animal as Rosie pulled the bobble from her hair so her blonde locks could cascade around her shoulders. Her hands reached for his crotch, finding his soft member through the jogger pants as they continued to make out, tongues grappling with each other. Their loneliness fueled their lust and Rosie was quick to move from the sofa and between Stephens legs as she continued to rub him through his pants.

“Stand up,” she whispered and Stephen did as he was told, not quite believing that this was actually happening, but dear god it felt good. To finally have that closeness and intimacy with a woman again. The last time he had seen Diane in a sexual setting, Terrence, his bitter political rival had been fucking her silly as he gloated and revelled in his position of power. When he had read in the paper that Diane had started seeing him romantically, his heart was totally broken, shattered into a thousand pieces. Losing her had been painful enough, but losing her to him? That was completely unbearable. Maybe in this mad, crazy world, Rosie could be the person to help fix his wounds and maybe he could help her too.

Rosie bit her lip appreciatively as she pressed the gray cloth against Stephens member, the outline of his cock making her drool in anticipation. Pulling his trousers down hurriedly Stephen quickly pulled off his shirt and threw it across the room, eagerly anticipating what would come next. With his prick revealed, she saw he was still soft, but this didn't put her off as she pulled off her top to expose her large breasts to give him something to look at, pinching her nipples teasingly before sucking him into her mouth. Stephen's eyes rolled back as he felt her warmth wrapped around him, staring down at her boobs lustfully, wishing he was able to grope them, but he wasn't close enough to reach her. Despite Rosie's best efforts, he was still flaccid in her mouth and he felt embarrassment starting to creep in. “I'm sorry Rosie,” he whispered sadly, “I haven't been able to get hard lately,” he admitted as the voices in his head screamed at him.

‘You're pathetic!’

‘You can't even get a boner!’

‘Has Terrence really beaten you this badly?’

‘Would you be hard if Rosie was sucking his cock instead?’

He was ready to pull up his trousers and just leave to spare himself the shame, but before he could Rosie removed her mouth from his cock and spoke in an authoritative tone. “Don't you worry Mister Prime Minister, sit down and I'll get you nice and hard for me like a good assistant should.” Her dirty talk had an instant effect as his cock throbbed, starting to harden a little, giving Stephen some confidence as he sat back on the sofa. Rosie finished pulling down his joggers, releasing them from around his ankles and grabbing each of his calves in a firm grip. She lifted them upwards, forcing him to lay back and presenting his tight little puckered asshole to her, his still mostly limp cock and heavy, unloved balls resting above his opening.

Pressing her face between his cheeks, Rosie's lithe tongue licked against his cute little hole as she cupped his balls with her hand, sending a rush of pleasure coursing through his body. He wasn't used to being submissive like this and he'd never been rimmed before, but dear god did it feel incredible. She continued to lap against his backdoor, occasionally moving upwards to suck on his balls and it didn't take long for his cock to be fully erect, pre-cum leaking from the tip and down his shaft as he moaned like a wanton whore. He'd never made noises like this when he was with Diane, but he could tell that this was something Rosie had done multiple times before and absolutely relished in. Her eyes were smiling up at him as she hummed with satisfaction, sliding her tongue inside him, making Stephen gasp with surprised euphoria as he clutched onto the arm of the sofa, back arching from the hitherto unknown sensations.

“Oh Rosie, that feels amazing,” he gasped between moans as he tried to process what he was feeling. If someone had ever suggested eating his ass, he would have responded with a resounding no, but right now, he didn't want Rosie to stop and would do anything to keep her going.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me Stephen?” Rosie asked as she came up for air, chin covered in spit, hand stroking his rock hard, twitching cock as she reveled in the powerful position she was in.

“Yes Rosie… I'll be good,” he stammered before yelping out in pain as she gripped his testicles in her palm, squeezing hard.

“Call me Mistress,” Rosie snarled, pressing her face to his, “you understand me you little slut?”

Stephen was taken aback. This was getting out of hand, but as she continued to stroke him, asshole flexing and desperate for more attention he knew he was in too deep. He was too lonely, too desperate. He couldn't go back now. “Yes Mistress, I'm sorry, I understand,” Stephen whimpered pathetically. “Please keep licking my ass, please,” he begged. Satisfied that she was in control, Rosie smiled wickedly before spitting on his tight, virgin ass and rubbing it with her fingers.

“Your ass belongs to me now, understood?” she barked at him as she wrapped her hand around his throat, squeezing lightly as she pushed a finger inside of her former boss and the man that had ruined her life. Stephen spasmed as he felt her enter him, eyes rolling back as he gritted his teeth in euphoria. He had never felt anything like this in his life, it was strange and unknown, but as his cock throbbed, veins popping out, juices spilling from his tip, his body was winning out over his mind.

“Yes Mistress… my ass belongs to you,” he whined in a soft, submissive voice. He was falling into this role far too easily, but at this point, he was no longer surprised by it. He'd already gone much further than he would have ever expected. She added a second finger and Stephens' eyes clamped shut as he howled in a mixture of pain and pleasure, Rosie was stretching him out like he had never been before and just thinking about it was so incredibly erotic. He was gasping for air, clawing at the sofa for some kind of reprieve as she roughly fingered his ass, occasionally spitting onto them for some lubrication, but it was clear from the look on her face that his pain was not a concern to her. She looked so different to how she had that night in the hotel. She had seemed shy, uncertain even at times, but now here she was, calling the shots, controlling him, dominating him. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized he liked this feeling. Having his power stripped away, being helpless and at another's mercy. Had this all started because of Terrence? Because of his blackmail, making Stephen watch his wife be fucked by another man?

He couldn't think about it for long as Rosie pulled her fingers from his right hole, pressing them against his lips and instructing, “suck,” in a firm, authoritative voice. Stephen hesitated and Rosie punished his disobedience by slapping his cock, hard. A white flash of pain ran through Stephen's body and he immediately parted his lips, allowing her fingers to enter his mouth, sucking them hungrily, eager to please her and avoid any further pain. “Good boy,” she cooed softly, “you like the taste of your own ass?” He nodded enthusiastically as he moaned against her fingers. Satisfied that they were clean, she offered Stephen her hand, pulling him up from the sofa and leading him to the bedroom.

Once they were inside, she roughly shoved Stephen onto the bed and pulled off her leggings, finally totally naked in front of him. Stephen reached forwards to try and touch her, but she shot him a look which made it very clear that he was not to move without permission. Grabbing him by the ankles, she folded him in half, ass sticking up in the air, hard cock standing strong as she positioned herself on top of him. She sat down on his thighs, taking his cock in her hand and guiding it to her slit. “This is called the Amazon position,” she explained as she slid his cock inside her, “I'm going to ride you until you make me cum, I'm going to use you like my own personal sex toy, understood?”

Stephen was in heaven. She was just as tight as he remembered, her wet walls massaging him exquisitely and he already felt like he could explode at any second while buried deep inside her. “Yes Mistress, I understand,” he groaned as she started to ride him, bouncing up and down on his prick as she started to moan, eyes not leaving his, the position of power she was in being the biggest turn on possible.

“Don't you dare cum little slut, you don't matter, only your Mistresses pleasure matters, isn't that right?”

“Y… yes Mistress,” Stephen moaned gutturally, fighting off the urge to cum as she rode him mercilessly, her pussy getting wetter and wetter by the second. The sounds her pussy was making nearly pushed him over the edge, but he clamped his eyes closed, breathing heavily and trying to think of anything else other than the pleasure he was experiencing. He hadn't cum since Diane left him and he desperately needed this, but in the back of his mind he knew that if he didn't behave, it may have more severe repercussions. Now that he was in this position, Rosie had all the power. She could decide whether he would have a roof over his head or would be sleeping on the street tonight. There was nothing he could do but obey.

This was absolute torture for Stephen, constantly on the edge of the climax he so desperately needed but unable to allow himself that relief. He grit his teeth and did his best to withstand Rosie's onslaught. He cracked his eyes open for a second and saw her huge breasts bouncing up and down, her head lolled back as she moaned in pleasure and it nearly pushed him over the edge. He had to fight with every fiber of his being to retain control and he couldn't have been more relieved to hear Rosie's moans and squeals getting louder. “I'm going to cum… little slut…,” she gasped as she fucked him like a woman possessed.

“Cum for me, please Mistress,” he begged, the obvious desperation in his voice being the final thing Rosie needed to climax. Her hips bucked upwards, sliding off of his cock, her hand immediately moving to her clit, rubbing it hard and fast as she came, a torrent of her juices shooting from her pussy and covering Stephen as he tried to catch his breath. He felt the warm wetness of her ejaculate hitting his chest and chin, before a second squirt landed on his face. Without even thinking he started licking up every drop he could reach to taste her, cracking open his eyes as he watched her quiver and shake as she continued the assault on her sensitive little clit. She was screaming so loud that the whole floor would be able to hear her and the look of bliss on her face quickly subsided, replaced with an evil glare as she opened her eyes to look at her prey.

Climbing off him and allowing him to lay flat on the bed she moaned, “Mmm, I needed that,” legs still quivering in post-orgasmic bliss as she straddled her toys thighs and admired the mess she had made, Stephens body now slick and shiny with her juices. He was writhing uncomfortably on the bed, cock bouncing up and down slowly, pre-cum leaking from his tip as his shaft shone with her arousal.

“Please Mistress, can I cum now?” he begged pitifully, eyes wide with need as he continued to squirm, desperate for release.

“Do you think you deserve to?” she asked in a stern voice as she teased him by gently massaging around his crotch, starting with his upper thighs, then his stomach and pelvis.

“I was a good boy wasn't I?” he asked, hoping she would agree and give him what he needed.

“I suppose you were,” she replied and Stephen cried out in ecstasy as he felt her fingers slide around his shaft. She stroked slowly, continuing to tease him despite how much he had already been through. “Tell me when you're ready to cum, okay?” she whispered into his ear, her voice softer than it had been, seemingly dropping the dominant role she had been inhabiting thus far. Stephen relaxed as he enjoyed the sensation of her nimble fingers pumping up and down his shaft, but he knew he wasn't going to last very long and within a few seconds he was moaning and grunting with desire.

“I'm g… going to c… cum…” he whispered through gritted teeth and no sooner than he had uttered the final word, Rosie pulled her hand away, leaving his prick throbbing with need. Stephen's eyes shot open, looking at her to see a malicious smile on her face as she watched his now ruined orgasm play out. He desperately needed to be touched, but she pinned his arms down at his side to make sure he couldn't finish himself off and he whined in frustration as his cum tickled out of his tip pathetically. Rosie laughed loudly at him as he twitched beneath her, still not achieving the release he so desperately needed as his pitiful climax continued, his cum running down his shaft and pooling around the base.

“Oh no, did the poor little boy think I was going to let him cum properly?” Rosie asked, a look of pure venom on her face. “Not a chance in hell,” she spat out as she chuckled at his misery, cock still hard and pumping out drop after feeble drop of seed. Scooping up his cum with her fingers she smeared it over his chest, adding another layer on top of her now drying ejaculate. He could feel the sticky, hot jizz on his chest and in this moment, he had never felt more useless and broken. Rimmed, fingered, rode and dominated like a pathetic submissive slut. She had used him for her own pleasure and worst of all, he had actually enjoyed it. She finally released his arms, climbing off the bed and grabbing a towel to wipe herself down.

As she turned back to him, Stephen reached out for it, but she just laughed at him. “Oh no, you don't get to clean yourself up, you little whore. Everyone needs to see the kind of man you are. Now. GET OUT!”

Stephen was shocked and bewildered. Was this just part of the act, or was she serious? “R…really?,” he stammered, confused and wide eyed.

“Really,” Rosie replied firmly. “Did you really think I'd forgive you, just like that?” she asked, laughing at him again, reveling in his misery. “After everything you've done to me, I needed some revenge, but considering how much fun I had using you, I guess we’re even now. So like I said, get out.”

Stephen climbed off the bed, strings of his own cum dripping from his crotch and onto the carpeted floor. He stank of sex, skin sticky and unpleasant from the drying secretions and he did his best to try and cover himself up with his hands, but it was ultimately useless. His cock had shriveled up and Rosie couldn't resist pointing and laughing at it. “I can't believe you thought I enjoyed that night. You were an awful lay, if I hadn't been drunk, there's no way I would have ever slept with you. I had to fake everything so I didn't hurt my boss's feelings. It wouldn't surprise me if Diane had to do the same before she ditched you,” she laughed wickedly.

She followed him towards the living room as he gathered up his damp clothes, forced to put them back on as she watched. The wet clothing clung to his skin and made him shiver and tremble. He didn't know what to say, what to think, he just blindly did as he was told and before he knew it he was standing outside the flat, Rosie standing in the doorway, back in her comfortable evening attire. “Don't ever come back here, you understand? I don't ever want to see you again,” she growled before slamming the door in his face, leaving him alone once again.

He was in a state of shock and not knowing what to do, he made his way to the lift, pressing the button to call it. Mercifully, it was empty when he got inside and started his downward journey, but after a couple of floors, it stopped. A kindly looking black lady, probably in her early thirties, stepped inside while holding her young daughter's hand. She instantly looked at him with revulsion, pulling her child close to her and covering her eyes to shield her from this strange, possibly dangerous man. Stephen's face was red and sweaty, hair sticking up at crazy angles, some of Rosie's cum still in his beard as a foul stench filled the lift. Once the lift opened on the ground floor, the mother scooped her daughter up into her arms and ran towards the front door of the building. She didn't even realize she had just shared a lift with a former leader of the country, she was just glad to be away from him and that her child was safe.

Stephen walked out of the building like a zombie. He was no longer processing anything. Any sense of pride and self respect had been totally stripped from him. As he walked down the steps at the front of the block of flats and started pacing along the pavement a large black SUV with tinted windows pulled up next to him and two hulking, muscular men in suits got out of the back seats, walking over to him and grabbing him by the arm. “Mr Thompson?” they asked, to which he slowly nodded in response. “You need to get in the car and come with us.” Fear overtook him. Who were these men? MI5? Private hitmen? Some kind of gangsters that had a score to settle? He struggled as best he could against their grip as he sensed his life was in danger, trying to swing at one of them but quickly being dragged down to the ground. “DON'T RESIST, DON’T MAKE A SCENE,” one of the two men bellowed at him as he lay face down against the hard concrete pavement.

From this position, he could see the driver's side window and with a smooth mechanical motion it rolled down and Stephen's eyes went wide with shock as he recognised the man at the wheel. “Don't make a fuss old chap,” Terrence said dryly as he leaned out of the window, arm resting against the door, “just hop in and let's not make this more difficult than it needs to be. We need to have a little chat.”