Image Nine Point Four

Mike's simply loving it. I've never been an exhibitionist for non-kinky strangers, always refused to fuck in the local woods, wouldn't even suck him off on a plane under a blanket. But now he's had his fantasy come true -- me, and an embarrassing lack of clothes, in public. In the House of fucking Lords, of all places...

"Come on," I tell him, now wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

We nearly sprint to the door to the robing room. My breasts bounce up and down.

Mike shuts the door behind us. I collapse on the one remaining chair.

My husband gathers me up under my arms and pulls me into a fierce, demanding kiss. One hand slithers over my corset and squeezes my beaten bottom, beautifully.

"Fuck! Your arse is so hot, literally!"

"Mm-hm!" I just lie my head on his shoulder, inhaling his skin. His crisp shirt smells great, too.

"I swear, you strutting across in front of the fucking Law Lords, Supreme Court judges, showing off your tits and arse -- that, I swear down, that is the hottest thing I've seen in my entire life!"

"Yeah. I'm not planning on making a habit of it..." I'm suddenly exhausted, shaking from it all.

"Yeah, but!" His voice goes quiet and silky. "We're in private, right here..." In my ear, he adds, "I need to fuck you..."

"Oh, god!" I realise I need him to, too. "Yes! Do it. Quick!"

My eager husband has me pushed over the side table, with his substantial cock ploughing deep into my dripping throbbing cunt,, before you can say 'uncodified constitution'.

"Oh, man! Yeah! Fucking in the fucking House of fucking Lords!" Thankfully, his unrestrained shouts are directly into my ear.

He hammers me inside, groping my butt cheeks which are all swollen and sensitive. Every nerve below my waist is celebrating. It's the best thing I've ever felt in my life.

"Yeah, babe. The hottest wife in England! Squirming and desperate for the good of the nation. I saw you, fucking yourself on John's fingers. He can't put his cock in you, but! I can!" The last three words are punctuated by him coming inside me.

He flops forward, grabbing my breasts which are resting on the smooth wood. "Yeah. My amazing hot slutty wife. Desperate and dirty..."

It's the pinch on my red nipples that does it. I'm having a wild orgasm, in an unlocked room in the Palace of Westminster, with three barristers and a trio of judges just outside. One could walk in at any moment. Would he want to join in, or just jizz over my face because I'm that sort of slut...?

I picture Nigel's posh smile if he ejaculated on me. I stifle my resulting screams. Mike shoves a hand over my mouth, more for effect than necessity. After raising kids, we're used to having our sex quietly when necessary.

I collapse on that chair again, cum oozing out of my pussy onto its red upholstery. Probably not its first time. Mike shrugs his shirt back to neatness and tucks his cock away. He smiles. This is so much of his fantasy life coming true.

"Here's your previous black pants. I think John's got the others."

"Leave the corset on," I tell him when he comes to unlace it. "It'll save time. I'll just throw my other clothes over it." You can't see the corset through my blouse, once I have my jacket back on.

He helps me with my skirt, and I comb my hair.

"There. You're back to being the perfect civil servant. One might say, you served admirably."

"That was very much not work! Work is for next week." I'm not thinking about work. I'm not telling any colleagues the truth about my time off, for sure.

We return to the main room. I suspect I'm blushing scarlet. I aim a smug grin at the CW guy, to distract myself from thinking about what everyone's seen me do. Who knows when he last got fucked? I'd lay money his sex life isn't good.

He tries to look superior at me. He fails.

Nigel gets everyone's attention. "Well, that was an educational afternoon, adding to our evidence pack. Thank you very much, Mr and Mrs Jones, Professor. If there's no further questions, then I suggest we adjourn until tomorrow morning, when I hope we can simply discuss any outstanding points and enable my learned friends and I to produce a report over the weekend. Thank you, everyone."

Mike and I don't quite run out of the building, but we do get ourselves home as fast as possible.

Mike carefully puts the Polaroids in a drawer. "Don't want those falling out of my pocket in the pub!"

Then we fuck like bunnies for the rest of the night. Slightly tired, middle-aged rabbits, but when there's a will, there's a way. Copious use of a Rabbit vibrator and a magic wand, for example.

Mike murmurs his new fantasies in my ear. What if the judges had hammered down the door while he was ploughing me, like Black Rod before the Queen's Speech?

"Mm! That actual Black Rod must be useful for something, right?"

"You dirty girl! Bet you'd let him do you with it. Over the Woolsack..."

"I've sat on it. It's very comfortable." The Woolsack is a huge red square cushioned seat, which the Speaker of the House of Lords sits on.

"And did you daydream of being bent over it? My beautiful Parliamentary slut?"

I have to admit, I did. The only difference in our fantasies is I dreamt of doing it at night, when the building was deserted. He'd happily imagine packed benches, all watching me. Now I'm visualising the Lord Speaker standing over us, watching, seeing as it's his seat...

The next morning, I trot along to meet Kash, in preparation for our last chance to make any points before Kash sums up for our side. He's having a chat with John. We've been through all the Government arguments. The only evidence we haven't discussed so far is a few other items which they say couldn't be used consensually, but given our demo yesterday, Kash thinks that shouldn't be an issue.

"Right, then," Nigel kicks off. "Any final points or questions, before we let my learned friends acting on behalf of His Majesty's Government do their summing up?"

Timpson raises her hand. "I don't want to waste time, my lord, but there were a range of other items in nine point two. We had doubts that certain of them could possibly be used in a consensual way."

So much for Kash's bet.

"Go on." Nigel tries not to sound too weary.

"Well. I know the demonstration yesterday showed implements being used gently, not like one can find online. But given a tool like nine point two A, I don't see how that's possible."

Image 9.2a is a flogger with knots at the end. Possibly metal tips. Hard to tell. The woman has a point.

I've seen such things being used. Always men on men, across the back, and definitely getting off from it, but God knows if we can convince her. I'm certainly not offering.

She goes on, "And other implements. I understand this is called a male chastity device." John, beside me, perks up. "Such things could, I imagine, be comfortable enough. But this one -- image nine point two C -- has spikes inside. Clearly only made for inflicting pain. And this similar item with internal studs, for surrounding the scrotum." She gets shrill. "I cannot make it more plain: the Government is as concerned about men becoming victims of slavery, blackmail, and whatever might drive people to appear in such imagery, as when women are the victims."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kash says. The man hasn't said much to Timpson directly.

"Thank you, Mr Singh. As for item nine point two F, I don't think I need to explain. There is no way that could go inside someone's body without injury."

Item 9.2f is a dildo, the size of an arm.

I'm not some size queen, but I have been fisted. Vaginally. It was quite fun. Possibly more to the point, I've seen guys taking an arm up the arse. John, even. I'm not going to comment. I can tell why Kash is looking politely amused.

"Excuse me?" John has put his hand up.

"Yes, Professor Phillips?" John's probably been called Prof more in the last two days than the entire rest of his life.

"I hate to suggest a repeat of yesterday, but if it were to be helpful, I could be a model for the use of those implements, though I'd need to invite in an expert for the flogger. Or, to save time, I could simply share a few private images of myself? Assuming the judges do confirm I'd be exempt from sending obscene communications, of course."

"You just happen to have a collection of such images?" Judge Cooper is sarcastic. I can't blame her.

"I happened to attend a rather good party a few weeks ago. It's not the sort of thing one indulges in regularly, so my partner wanted to record it for posterity. The flogging, that is. The rest of it is a normal evening."

CW man is going purple and nearly choking. Judge Jenks offers him some water.

Timpson copes better. "A normal evening? I apologise, I don't believe you."

"At the risk of repeating Ms Jones's line, I don't appreciate being called a liar, either. My learned friend has brought copies of both items, and I'm very happy to demonstrate. Though perhaps it would be best in the room next door, for those who don't want to watch half an hour of slow progress of anal insertion. What do you think?"

John being obsequious is a new one on me; I'm struggling not to laugh. Melons doesn't even try. He and Magenta cackle away. Magenta offers to assist with flogging images, too.

Nigel makes a decision. "I really don't think we need a demonstration, if you can provide your own images. How do you propose to do so?"

"I gave Mr Singh a secure key, for decrypting an email, earlier. So if I send them to him, with another key for you, then he can forward to you. If that's acceptable, I'll get my phone out and send them across."

Five minutes later, Kash has forwarded the image collection link to the judges. "There's an image like nine point six, too."

I look over John's shoulder at his phone. It's him, all right. His back is a right mess. Not my idea of fun, but in any case I'm distracted by his impressive ability to engulf a rather large object. You can make out metal on his front, too.

Timpson struggles to equate these pictures, which anyone would consider 'extreme porn', with the confident professional chap in a suit before her, who's as far from a victim as she can imagine. "You can't clearly see the restraining device as in nine point two F," she objects, but it's weak, and she knows it.

John picks up his phone. "If you say so. I've got plenty more of those. Though, to be on the safe side, perhaps I should just drop my trousers now and add to your Polaroid collection?"

Magenta loses it. The artist lady has a coughing fit. Timpson's throat has dried up.

Thompson comes to her rescue. "Do you mean to say, you are currently wearing a device -- I believe it's known as a cock cage -- locked around your penis, with spikes on the inside of it?"

"That's correct. As long as one remains flaccid -- soft," he clarifies, -- "it's almost unnoticeable. Not a problem at all."

"And you just 'happened' to be wearing this when the subject was due to come up in this courtroom?" Thompson has discovered sarcasm, too. "We're not here to assist you in getting your jollies."

"No. I just 'happen' to wear it most of the time, outside home. It helps me concentrate on work, without intrusive sexual thoughts. My partner will unlock it tonight."

"You can't remove it yourself?"

"Obviously I have a spare key for emergencies! I'm not stupid. It's in a sealed envelope, in my bag. Here." He waves a brown envelope at the judges.

"And Security have no problem with such items?" Judge Jenks is curious.

Kash answers. "Such persons will be subject to a wand search and possibly a pat-down. For reference, I asked how often such a situation arises. They said a handful of visitors, perhaps two to five a day, have attached metal in the genital area. Many more have other body piercings on the chest, of course. One interesting observation was how many people with Parliamentary passes have genital metal. Piercings, cages, et cetera..."

"And how many is that?"

"At least one in a hundred, the lead security guard informed me. Assuming the MPs and Lords have such items at the same rate as civil servants and staff, we're talking at least half a dozen MPs, maybe eight Lords?" Kash is doing the innocent polite voice, too, now.

Judge Cooper looks about to choke as she assimilates this info, speculating which of her colleagues have Prince Alberts or more. The CW man looks at risk of vomiting.

"Would the court like a clearer photo, for the evidence trail?"

"Yes," Nigel decides. "Could someone pop next door with you and do the honours? Demonstrate the effects or lack thereof from the inside of the cage. How is your back now, by the way?"

"It healed up within a fortnight," John assures him. "You can have a picture to prove that, too."

Melons gets up, but Kash insists on taking the photos himself. I think he might be attracted to John's clear, confident self-expression. I suppose once this hearing is over, there's nothing stopping them getting it on! It then occurs to me, if Kash knew in advance what evidence was going to be presented, was John's party arranged for the purpose? Hmmm...

"Anyone else joining us?"

"I'll pass on the dick pics, thanks," Magenta says. Judge Connor makes an agreeing sound.

"You, sir? You've been very interested in this entire case. I'd hate for you to miss anything," John tells the CW chap.

"Certainly not!" The weedy man splutters.

"No? Not into it? Or, rather, are you worried you would enjoy it?" John's being his most persuasive.

More fury from the man, who is restraining his language with an effort.

John's undeterred. "God made my nervous system, surely? Tell you what, mate, I'll give you a tip. You try scratching with your fingernails along your cock, next time you jerk off. See how it feels." He gives the man a cheeky wink.

Kash ushers John into the robing room before the 'Christian' can explode further. They emerge ten minutes later: images 11.1 to 11.3 are entered into evidence. I'm quite fascinated by them; I've known John over 20 years, pretty damn intimately, but never seen his cock before.

"Now can we finally proceed to summing-up, please?" Nigel quells potential contradiction.

Thompson hasn't been asleep all week; he makes a valiant job of arguing why this legislation may not be that helpful, but will protect some people against some abuse, and will do no harm, so it should be put to our democratically-elected Parliament to decide. He makes a token effort to argue porn and kink aren't social goods and should be deterred, but you can tell his heart's not in it. He sits back and returns to contemplating the ceiling.

Kash sits up. He explains the role of this Committee, as created by said democratically-empowered Parliament. Then the lack of connection between the abuses the Government claims to be concerned about, and this legislation. If the concern were sincere, then obvious routes to tackle them would include... none of which appear to be in train.

Then there's the 'woefully poor' evidence of harm from the images Government want to ban, and 'frankly careless' inaccurate statements, such as assuming a number of implements and images must be other than freely consensual. He thanks us and Mike for our clarification on these matters.

He adds a bit about freedom of expression including freedom to offend, expresses concern that there's an element of homophobia involved, not to mention lack of acceptance of neurodiversity, giving statistics on the prevalence of kinky interests among both autistic and disabled people.

He ends by pointing out that, even without everything he has just said, the lack of sexuality nor disability being even mentioned in the Equality Impact Assessment which accompanied the legislation, means it should be rejected immediately.

I'm probably the only one who knows what an EIA is. I remember mentioning its inadequacy in some responses I helped draft, during the initial consultation. And the Government lawyers still didn't make improvements happen? Well, well. Sounds like an error of process to me.

Nigel says the judges will consider over the weekend, but his tone of voice is warm to Kash.

Thompson doesn't care; he's done his job. Timpson's world has gone topsy-turvy. I hope she doesn't cry. She does at least take John's business card, with trembling fingers, and lets me add details for Jan 'Jones'. I try to reassure her that she and I are both civil servants, providing evidence and opinions relating to what our political masters want us to do. Now, they have a much better evidence base, whether the new Home Secretary likes it or not.

Come Monday, I'm busy in the office, but I get a flurry of beeps on my personal phone.

Kash has forwarded the judgement.

If you like perfectly-applied legal words combined with lots of impeccably polite snark, it's beautiful. I like some headings which are rhetorical questions: 'Is the Government's plan to protect women just a slogan?' 'Can we really become a computing superpower when there's so little understanding of how the internet works?'

The procedural failing of an inadequate EIA is sufficient grounds for the draft Order to be rejected, but 'seeing as these matters have repeatedly appeared before us', the Committee 'are taking the opportunity' to clarify much of the evidence provided, especially as they are concerned successive Governments have been tempted to act ultra vires, i.e. beyond their legal powers provided by SOA 2003. Meow!

My favourite bit reads, "Ms J (a mid-level career civil servant), her husband Mr J, and the aforementioned Mr P re-enacted the production of image 9.4. It is our unanimous opinion that Ms J in particular gained distinct satisfaction from the process and its results, and therefore the Government assertion, that no sane person would consent to such treatment, is unsupported."

I guess we've won. For now.

Next day, the 'Triumph against censorship!' headlines outnumber the 'Failure to clamp down on video nasties' ones. A new Government may try again in a few years, but we've set a precedent.

A week later, Kash forwards me a message from the court artist. Apparently no newspaper nor weekly magazine will publish the drawings she did of me, despite covering the story, so she's offering them to me.

I'm always amazed how courtroom sketch artists remember what they see and draw it once outside, but these are particularly good. As souvenirs of the hottest sex I've had this decade, they're wonderful!

It's a shame we can't put these unique pieces of history on the wall at home. Still, Mike and John continue to provide me with 'distinct satisfaction'.

*

If you liked this, please vote, and look at some of my other stories. John appeared in a couple previous ones including Tell Me What You Want and Switching at KinkCon.