Colin Young was the future of British politics. Or so he thought, but with some justification as it was the description given to him by one of the leading broadsheet newspapers less than a year ago. He had been an elected member of parliament for six years and was into his second term with a healthy majority and still only 31 years old. He was starting to develop quite the celebrity reputation as well, a burgeoning romance with a famous model got him plenty of publicity while his work in Parliament was starting to get him mentions when talk of future cabinet openings were mentioned. Yes he was a young man going places. Tall, handsome and very sharply dressed he was getting noticed by all the right people and he, himself believed he could well be a Conservative Prime Minister within the next decade.
So with all this confidence and his natural bravado, why was he apprehensive about this meeting he was about to have? He couldn't quite put his finger on why there was just something about being invited to Cyril Fletcher's office that did not bode well. Fletcher had been an important figure himself not so long ago, a member of the Labour Party's old guard and a Minister in the last Government. That is until he was forced to resign after a Sunday paper ran an expose of his liking for 'rent boys'. He managed to keep his seat but lost his power and position and was now a toothless debater in The House as all the younger pups knew exactly the buttons to push to either embarrass him or anger him. Colin had made a few comments himself but no more than anyone else and doubted the old fool would hold a grudge.
Fletcher's phonecall had been suitably cryptic.
"Important information that should help your career. Come up to my offices this afternoon. Can't discuss on the phone, you never know who may be listening".
That was all Colin recalled of the conversation and now he went over the words one last time before he knocked on the door and Fletcher's ageing secretary admitted him while exiting herself.
Fletcher resembled a bullfrog. All puffed up, fat and pompous and slightly silly looking. He was in his fifties but looked older and really was not in great shape considering, a few too many pies and pints. He formed quite the contrast to the ultra fit, ultra slim dark haired go getter that had come to see him.
Colin didn't wait to be asked and just sat himself in the leather chair across from Fletcher's desk.
"Cyril. Trust you are well? So what's this about? What's so important we can't speak on the telephone?"
Cyril stared at him. What a cocky little shit, he thought. So full of himself and his self importance. So sure, so confident as if nothing could stop him. Somehow he managed a smile and handed over a brown envelope to his guest. He waited until Colin had taken it and looked inside before continuing.
"You'll find there some information that I have come into possession of. I think you'll agree that between the pictures, the copies of signed forms and the statements that there would be enough evidence to hand over to the Parliamentary Committee set up to investigate the expenses frauds, wouldn't you?"
Colin was frozen in the chair as he looked at the papers before him.
In recent weeks several current and former MP's had been found guilty of defrauding the public purse over their expenses claims and some had even received jail sentences. The media and public were out for blood over these expenses cheats and Colin had thought he had covered his tracks well enough and early enough when the scandal broke. Evidently not. Cyril sat staring at the young man's face as the full realisation hit home. He could imagine the thoughts racing through his mind. The initial scandal, his 'friends' deserting him, selling their stories to the papers, his ostricisation then expulsion from the party, the end of his career and possibly even a small jail sentence. It was not fanciful, you just had to read the papers and watch the news to see it happen time and time again and bigger fish than Colin had been hit so he had nowhere to hide.
Regaining a modicum of composure Colin focused his eyes on the papers and re-read then, checked them and came to the same conclusion - he was fucked. Acknowledging such he looked up at the old, fat, slimy bastard and tried to keep the disdain from his voice.
"This is blackmail I take it? And what is it you want from me? Money no doubt? Well name your price you scoundrel, I would have thought at least we fellow members would not stoop to these levels."
Fletcher listened to the bitter, upper class twerp's words before dropping his real bombshell. He stood up from behind his desk to reveal that his trousers and pants were around his ankles and in amongst a thick bush of greying pubic hair a fat dick was stirring. Colin gaped and stammered as Cyril explained.
"I don't need your money you little fool, nor anything else from you other than your lips around my dick. I seem to remember you found it particularly funny when my own scandal broke well this is your penance Colin, take off your clothes, get on your knees and suck my cock!"
There followed five minutes of bluster and pleading from the younger MP, all met with a stony refusal from the older man.
"Stop wasting our time man" demanded Cyril, cock in hand, " either get out of my office so I can forward this evidence to the proper people or started stripping so I can see that slim, supple young body of yours. There are no other choices, now decide!"
In the end there was no decision for Colin, he could not afford to throw away his career and could not take the chance of calling this old bastard's bluff. So, reluctantly, he began to pull off his expensive silk tie, the first admission of his submission to this blackmail.
He half threw it at Fletcher in disgust as he started to tug off his shirt to reveal his, smooth, bare chest. He paused then, hoping against hope for some kind of reprieve but there was none. Fletcher just sat in his chair, fingering the tie and stroking his erection as the younger MP disrobed down to a pair of tight, white underpants.
"And those boy, I want you naked as the day you were born when you beg for my leniency."
The old goat could hardly keep the smugness from his voice or face and even chuckled as Colin reluctantly pulled down his pants and stepped out of them to stand stark naked in Fletcher's office.
"Oh yes., I like that! Not quite so cocky sure now, are you boy?"
Colin made no reply so Fletcher repeated his question again, a little louder. Worried of discovery Colin glanced nervously back at the door and meekly replied.
"No, I'm not" then added "Sir" without prompting.
"That's right. Now come over here. Tentatively the younger man stepped around the desk between them and stood next to the older man's chair. Fletcher lifted up the tie and wrapped it around one of Colin's wrists and tied it in place.
"Turn around."
Colin really did not want to turn his back on this pervert. He was naked and Fletcher had his dick out. It was horrible. But Colin eventually relented and turned his back on him. Fletcher reached up, grabbed his other wrist and tied the other end of the tie around that so that Colin had his hands tied tightly behind his back. Before Colin could react the old man had reached his hand between Colin's thighs from behind and cupped his right hand around Colin's hanging balls. He gave them a hard squeeze.
"On your knees boy, let's see how sorry you really are."
Colin sunk to his knees, giving a grunt as the pain from his balls being squeezed hit home. Fletcher released them and scraped his chair back and lumbered to his feet and moved around the desk to stand right in front of the kneeling younger man. His crotch was nearly perfectly in line with Colin's mouth and his stiff member seemed to be pointing at it mockingly.
"Beg me to let you suck it!"
Colin gritted his teeth. He knew there was no escaping from this but at the same time struggled to fully accept that fact and couldn't find the words the lecherous old bastard clearly wanted to hear. Fletcher encouraged him somewhat by leaning forward and prodding him in the cheek with his dick and rubbing it u against his face.
"Come on boy, beg me. Let me here how pathetic you are."
"Please Cyril. Please may I suck your penis."
"Call it what it is wimp -- a cock. Beg to suck my cock! And call me Master, because right now that is what I am to you, is it not?"
"P-Please Master. Please may I suck your cock?"
"Very well boy, open up then, let me see the target."
