A Date with the Premier

The Premier put his pen down, pushed his chair back from his massive desk, and gestured to the attendant waiting in the corner. "Have the car brought up, I feel like going out on a date." The attendant, having heard this statement a hundred times, knew what was needed and left to see to it. The premier stood up and, looking at the stack of laws, executive orders and proclamations he had authored and signed this afternoon, congratulated himself on how hard he worked for the people. He had earned some relaxation time. Waving his hand at the stack of papers, he ordered another man standing off to the side of the desk, "Colonel, take these and have them prepared for announcement and dissemination." Checking his appearance in the full length mirror, he touched his moustache, adjusted his jacket and glanced at his polished shoes. "Still sharp enough to catch the eyes of the ladies, do you think, Colonel?"

"Of course, excellency. They will fight for your attention, as usual. You will have your pick."

Grinning, the Premier turned to the officer. "I shall choose carefully, my friend. My attention must be given only to the most deserving." A third attendant appeared with a black overcoat, and helped the Premier into it. All three then headed for the door, the Premier, of course, allowed to go first.

#

The cars pulled up in front of an elegant restaurant and stopped at the door, blocking access to the parking lot. The doors to the SUV in front opened first, and a number of serious looking men emerged, wearing long overcoats and the cap of the Premier's personal police force, looking this way and that and spreading out to several spots around the front of the place, as well as to the second car, the limousine. The doors of that vehicle then opened, and three more police got out, followed by the Premier, to whom one of the guards offered a hand. After a few moments, two more SUVs pulled up behind.

A thin man dressed as a maître d' came out of the front door, where one of the Premier's escorts put a hand to the man's chest to prevent a closer approach. The restaurant man quickly bowed and touched his forehead, then straightened and raised his hands above his head, gesturing for entry with one. He shifted and fidgeted, as though both eager and nervous. The Premier approached with a big smile, which did not seem to disarm the anxious man.

The Premier threw out his arms and said, "Relax, my good fellow. I love your establishment, and I look forward to enjoying your hospitality. You are a friend of the people." The Premier then favored the man with a bear hug, followed by a slap on the shoulder. The slender man nearly fell over, recovered, bowed, and assured the Premier that all would be to His Excellency's satisfaction. Then the man led the entourage into the restaurant.

The Premier shrugged off his overcoat, which was caught by a guard, and rubbed his hands as though anticipating a divine meal.

Towards the back, along the window overlooking the bay, there was a flurry of activity. People with napkins tucked into their shirts were standing and gradually accepting the shoves that led them away from their seats, while staff hurriedly cleared all dishes away, finished or untouched. Before the Premier's party had made much progress following the maître d' in that direction, a couple approached from the right, and would have crossed their path except that, at a nod from the Premier, a guard stepped into their way. The couple halted abruptly. The man wore an elegant jacket and tie and an irritated expression, the woman a low-cut evening gown that showed a lot of cleavage, made of soft fabric that lay close against her body, especially her shapely breasts. Her glimmering black hair was fixed up beautifully, with one strand curling down along the left side of her face, and her dark eyes asked who was responsible for this rudeness. The Premier stepped forward, smiling, and the guard stepped back. Without a word, the Premier raised his hands and softly clutched the woman's breasts.

The shock of this prevented either of the assaulted guests from moving for a moment. The Premier fondled, and gently squeezed, and pulled a little. The woman's escort took a step forward, but a guard grabbed him and the other two slipped their hands into their coats. The Premier, still massaging, said "Ah ah, no, sir, don't think of that. I am the Premier, therefore I am the nation. Everything I do is for the good of the nation. To interfere is to be disloyal to her." With these last words, his expression hardened and his eyes became weapons. The man understood, and slumped a little in the grasp of the guard. The woman, though, leaned back away from the contact, but the Premier crooked his arm and slipped a reversed hand down the front of the dress, and squeezed her left breast, rubbing a finger against the nipple now and again. The woman clearly would have liked to say something, but literally bit her lip, and began to cry a little.

Everyone else in the restaurant was frozen in place, and completely silent, fixated on the Premier's activities.

Now the Premier pulled his hand back out, and placed it on her hip, while closing in to kiss her cheek, her neck, her throat. From the hip to the rear his hand moved, and now it resumed the massaging it so enjoyed.

The guard who was restraining the young gentleman pressured the man's shoulder, guiding him into an empty seat. This was not going to be over with in a minute or two.

The Premier lavished loving kisses on the exposed slopes of the woman's breasts, while grabbing her lovely ass now with both hands. The hands began to pull her long dress upward, inch by inch. The woman still struggled, fitfully, but she realized even more clearly than her beau what was good for the nation.

Suddenly the Premier had let go, and the woman thought maybe that was it. The Premier just liked to grope and maul women, as an appetizer to his meal. Well, she could get over that. It was embarrassing and demeaning, but did no lasting harm. Not like angering him could.

The Premier gestured to one of the guards, who lined up a couple of empty chairs. Well, we're not done, thought the woman. Now he thinks he'll sit and chat with me, as though sincere wooing was possible after what had gone on. But the Premier was not a man to offer options, and she sat in the nearest chair. Making the Premier walk around her to sit was maybe one small victory she could safely claim here.

The Premier did indeed walk around her and sit. But a moment later he had pulled her shoulders around and laid her back across his lap, looking up at his chin. She was again unsure of his intentions. He resolved this mystery quickly. Grasping the top of the front of her dress, he pulled it back, exposing her magnificent breasts to the air. The sudden relative chill caused the nipples to stiffen somewhat, though not as much as the rest of her body had in her shock at this new outrage. The Premier's eyes alit on these delightful mounds, and as his hands resumed their fondling, he lowered his mouth to a nipple and partook as if savoring a seasoned mussel. He sucked and kissed and lightly tugged with his lips. He was concerned for the growth of her pleasure, and he was really quite gentle throughout his advances – this was not the all-out assault of one of his tank divisions; this was the quiet but implacable investigation of his secret police. The Premier wanted her to know how he loved her.

He let go of the now-wet nipple and blew on it, pleased that it stiffened. How he loved women's bodies, and how glad he was that they always obliged him. Looking down along the woman's stunning form, his gaze fell upon her thighs, which he had a tantalizing glimpse of through a high cut in the long dress. He reached over with his left hand and pulled the dress farther apart, revealing the inner half of both thighs, and the fact that her underwear was a minimal red stringy thing.

"Oh ho," he chortled, "a thong, you wicked girl. You were anticipating that your man here would be viewing your intimate regions tonight, weren't you? But you saved it instead for me. Well, I am pleased. You are gorgeous, and this little triangle just begs for the attention you deserve." He pawed along an inner thigh, and rubbed along one side of the triangle of fabric, then the other. But he went no farther. Instead he surprised her by gesturing to a guard, who then helped him to roll her over in his lap, face down now, and then the guard pulled her dress up to reveal her ass, which being clad only in a thong was essentially nude. The Premier began to rub and squeeze each cheek in turn, and occasionally give a little slap. Every third or fourth pass he would let his hand slide down between her thighs, pressing the side of the hand into her crotch, which caused the woman to twitch and, perhaps involuntarily, to try to wriggle free.

He enjoyed this for a short while, the woman panicking but unable to think of anything to do. The Premier gestured again to a guard, who wrapped his arms around her and stood her up, her naked glorious breasts visible to all, nipples at attention. Then the guard had her move up against a table seated with a party of six, paused now in their repast and gaping in various degrees of shock, except for the man seated nearest on the left, a short fellow with a large moustache, who was openly leering. The guard bent her forward over the table, onto her elbows, so that her breasts lay on a platter of cheeses and her fantastic rump stuck out for all to see. Her face showed her misery, but no one was looking there.

As the guard maneuvered the woman, the Premier went to the next table and, with several fingers, scooped up a large dollop of butter. Moving then behind the woman, he pulled out a short knife with his empty hand, which caused the woman's lover to bristle again and start to rise. But the Premier turned partway towards him and waved him off with a generous not-to-worry smile. He used the knife to cut the thong on both sides, then put the knife back in a pocket, and pulled the thong down and away, still holding the butter in the other hand. This he now began to apply to the groove between the woman's ass cheeks with care and flair as though buttering fresh hot bread. Once she was quite greasy there, he wiped his hand on the napkin of the man seated nearest him at the table. Then he began to undo his pants. Once more, the lover tried to stand, but this time the guard shoved him forcibly back down, and, reaching into his coat, pulled out a gun, just far enough for it to be seen by the man and those nearby, while speaking quietly to the man. The message was heard clearly.

The Premier's cock had sprung free during this business, and it stood like an arm saluting the flag of the regime. He stepped up against the woman's ass, lay the underside of his cock in the buttery groove she presented, and began to stroke, forward and backward. He did not penetrate, but slid and sawed away in her crack. After a few strokes, he reached around with his still somewhat greasy hand and groped her cunt, roughly massaging the lips and then starting to poke a fingertip inside. Steadily he humped her fine behind, and molested her unwilling pussy with an unheeding paw.

As this went on, the little man on the woman's left, his expression like a leering devil's, surreptitiously reached forward and grabbed the nearest breast, and began to squeeze it. The humiliated woman hardly noticed. Her eyes were closed, and she was trying hard to imagine it was all a dream, and she was really on her couch at home, her lover making advances that she welcomed.

She could not quite manage this, but she tried with all she had.

The Premier was thoroughly enjoying his woman's charms, and the delightful feeling of her cheeks cradling his thrusting sword. But there were other treats to sample from this menu. He disengaged and pulled her upright by one of her shoulders, and gently turned her around. Her eyes remained closed. "Look at me, my dear. Look into my eyes. That's it, my love." Each of his hands grabbed a breast and fondled while he spoke. "The night is young, and so are we. I want you to have a night to remember."

Leaving off of her breasts, he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her downward, until she took to her knees. His cock was now alongside her face, and he dragged it along her cheek as she closed her eyes again. She knew what was coming, but could not acknowledge it until it was forced upon her. "Kiss me now, my dear. It is a lucky woman who has the chance to show me her devotion this way. Here is a buttery breadstick for you now, my lovely." With that, he pressed the head of his cock against her lips, insistently, and she had no choice but to allow it in. She wasn't actually very knowledgeable about this act, and certainly was not very enthused about it, but it didn't matter to the Premier. The feeling of absolute power gratified him more than the physical sensations. Each thrust was the insertion of his will into another corner of his universe. The rise of his pleasure was the spreading fulfillment of his will. He slid his cock over her tongue as he had over her ass, and she clasped it between her lips and sucked occasionally, hoping to end this soon if possible.

The moustached little man was up off of his seat, practically standing up, trying to see all he could.

The pleasure began to muddle the Premier's thoughts and he let it ride, in and out, higher and higher. He looked upwards and thought about how he was unquestioned ruler in all four directions of the compass, but he'd never thought about turning his will upward, and this feeling, generated by his upright cock and the love of one of his women, was the key to upward progress. On some level he admitted to himself that not all of those affected by his amorous adventures were unhurt, but he was so benevolent to the people as a whole that he earned it, and everyone must sacrifice for the country. Look at his own sacrifices, after all.

He got lost in these musings and the rising pleasure in his groin and spine and brain.

While the Premier was looking up at the ceiling with lidded eyes, the little moustached man took the risk of his life, but he could not help himself. He knelt behind the sucking woman and reached around her, and groped her large breasts, being careful not to nudge the Premier. With one hand he let go and loosened his pants and got his cock out, and he pulled the dress up in back and thrust himself against the woman's still-buttery ass crack. He thrust with urgency. He desperately needed to come, but if he didn't come before the Premier did, it might be the least of his worries.

The Premier began to feel the tickle behind the pleasure, then the tickle became the pleasure, then it burst, his come pulsing out into the woman's mouth, which tried to depart but he put a hand behind her head and forced it to stay right there, submissive to his will.

The little moustached man got lucky just then. Clutching her breasts, he came in great spurts all over the woman's ass and dress and back and thighs. He came for five more strokes and then decided to cut his risks and got himself put together again, without trying to clean up at all. Before the Premier came back down to earth, the little man was back in his seat at the table, where he was immediately slapped by the heavy woman sitting next to him. It did not knock the smile from his face.

"I thank you and the nation thanks you, my love," said the Premier to the woman. "But my iron will remains as hard as ever. Rub my balls underneath just a bit, and then bend over the table again, please. Always eager to please me, what a darling you are. There you go."

He again stepped near, and began to paw at her crotch from behind, just for a few impatient moments, and then he made clear to the privates what his orders were, and thrust home his cock. She was not fully ready and there was a rough moment, and a cry, but presently he was charging ahead and unstoppable. This went on for a while, since he had come already once. The woman began to go limp on the table, her breasts in the food, her cheek down on the table, her eyes closed, her face blank. The Premier took her and took her and took her, until his cock started to feel a bit raw, if he were to be honest with himself. So he picked up the pace to a frenzy, and came again, deep in the folds of her cunt. Oh, the exquisite feeling of the love between his people and himself! He had to pause and catch his breath before pulling out - his will now, if he were to admit it, a bit flaccid.

Finally he pulled up his pants and stepped away. He turned and buckled up, and gestured to a guard for his coat. As he did so, the little man grabbed one last feel of a breast, and the woman backhanded him violently across the face as she stood back up, holding the remains of her dress against her breasts. The premier didn't notice any of what happened behind him. He was sweeping his eyes around the room but didn't see another beautiful target, perhaps partly because the women were ducking or turning away to avoid notice. At last he gave a wave of his hand, and he and his party left the restaurant. Just before they were quite out the door, the Premier grabbed a chop off a plate and ate it with his hands as he headed for the car.