Olwen the First

"Yes, Ma'am, of course," replied Mary, addressing a point about four inches to the left of where Olwen stood, "but we both wanted to satisfy ourselves that the new SLAG and her SLAG Consort didn't require pleasuring or if you wanted two sluts to fuck and punish."

Tina blushed.

"Please, Ma'am," she began in her thick-as-molasses Tennessee accent, "don't blame Mary. I insisted that we hang back to see that y'all weren't needing us to bend over for you or if you needed our tongues and fingers."

"That's very considerate of you, Tina," acknowledged Olwen warmly. "But now I'm going to take my Consort up to my bed chamber, I'm going to put a dozen or so stripes on her arse, warm her tits up with my flogger, and then we are going to fuck one another to kingdom come. Did my toy box arrive?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I took the liberty of putting it on your bedside cabinet," Mary answered. I've restocked everything with new batteries and wiped all your dildos and butt plugs down. There was a new double headed dildo in the box. I've taken it out and disinfected it before it is used for the first time."

"And your pipes and tobacco pouches are up in your bed chamber too, Ma'am," added Tina. "We know that our new SLAG likes a pipe when she's playing."

Olwen beamed. She looked at Cumilla and then back at the two body servants.

"Betsy and Sadie have proved themselves faithful and loyal members of my household," she told them. "I've given them my permission to marry. But you two surpass even their best efforts. You both deserve a reward too. Ask me for anything, and if it is in my power to grant it, you shall have it."

Mary and Tina looked at one another uncertainly. Then Mary spoke.

"Anything, Ma'am?"

Olwen nodded.

"May I have Well-hung Willie and Eric Eight Inch for the afternoon when I'm next off duty? I've only ever been man fucked by one of your fuck boys before and I've heard that double penetration is lovely. And if I am to be cunt and arse fucked at the same time, I want to be stretched and filled as much as possible."

"Good choice!" grinned Olwen. "Of course you can have them both. And keep notes. I'l be required to produce an heiress soon. I want to know who is the better fuck, ok?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am," gushed Mary, hugging herself with delight at the thought of two monster cocks fucking her and filling her holes at the same time.

"Tina?" asked Olwen, with raised eyebrows.

"Well, Ma'am, if I may, I'd love to have my nipples pierced and wear rings like my Mistress," Tina replied, nodding at Cumilla's tits.

"Mistress Cumilla... I beg your pardon, Ma'am, the SLAG Consort's nipples always look so perky and hard since you had her ringed. I'd love my own nipples to look like that."

Tina had huge, thick, chocolate brown nipples, and Cumilla knew for a fact that she could make Tina cum simply by sucking and biting them. She looked at Olwen, who winked at her.

"Granted," she smiled, "on one condition."

"Of course, Ma'am," replied Tina. "You are my SLAG, and I am duty bound to obey all your commands."

"Get your cunt ringed as well," Olwen instructed. "Inner and outer lips, and a nice little barbel through your clit. That should give the SLAG Consort some sport the next time she fucks you!"

"Oh, thank you, SLAG Olwen," squealed Tina. "I'll be down at the tattoo parlour first thing tomorrow morning."

"You most certainly will not," retorted Olwen sternly. "You pair will be on duty first thing tomorrow morning. We will require early morning tea at our normal time, and you know neither my Consort nor I can move out of bed in the morning until we've both emptied our bladders. So you'll both be on toilet duty too."

She started to walk away, tugging Cumilla with her.

"Now bugger off, the pair of you. My Consort and I want to play, even if you two don't!"

History will show that the first weeks of SLAG Olwen the First's reign were unique. She took to the national television channel on her first full day as SLAG to inform citizens that as a mark of respect to her late SLAG and mother, the first one hundred days of SLAG Olwen's reign would be marked by an extension of the weekend, and a subsequent reduction in the working week, which would now be from Tuesday to Thursday. Any drop in production levels that resulted from these changes could be made up by increasing the work hours of the male drones.

This announcement on the FUK TV channel ( First U K TV channel) was greeted with delight everywhere, except in Number Sixty Nine Upping Street.

"That fucking bitch!" snarled Les Struts as she wriggled on the face of her official government lover whilst her cuckold husband watched and tugged on his cock.

"How the fuck did she get to hear of my plan? I need public support, and that's exactly what I had planned to announce in the Lower House once I've been confirmed as Prime Minister. Who the fuck is leaking our policies? When I find out, I'll rip the lips off her cunt!"

She half raised herself off the face of the civil servant she was queening, and then hesitated.

"Sorry. Need a pee," she muttered, sinking back down and opening her bladder.

When she'd finished, her cuckold was still furiously wanking in his chair.

"Haven't you cum yet?" snapped Les. "It's no wonder I had to have an affair with backbencher Field. Her clit is bigger than your pathetic cock. Oh, for fuck's sake! Come here! I'll do that!"

She strode over to where her cuckold sat and slapped his hand away from his cock. With a few rapid strokes she wanked him to completion, and he sprayed a decent amount of thin cum all over his trousers.

Les proffered her cum coated fingers, and they were duly licked clean by the panting, relieved cuckold.

"Thank you, dear," he gasped. "I'll get back to work then. Are you home for tea?"

"Don't be stupid," replied Les impatiently. "I'm on a charm offensive, remember? I have a scheduled interview with Sarah Vain of the Daily Wail scheduled for this evening. She's promised to let me watch her pathetic male as he services the two fuck boys she's lied up for us. It seems that's about all Michael Grovel is fit for - sucking her lover's cock until it is sufficiently hard to fuck her with. I'll bring you a cream pie home."

The phone on her desk buzzed, ad her civil servant sprang to his feet and picked up the receiver.

"Yes?"

His eyes sparkled with delight,ad he gave the thumbs up sign to the Prime Minister in waiting. He replaced the receiver.

"That was the Palace," he grinned."You are summoned there immediately. SLAG Olwen is ready to confirm you as Prime Minister. You must now go and kiss the cunt."

"About fucking time!" growled Les Struts. "It's only been six weeks since her sainted fucking mother kicked the bucket, and a month since she was crowned SLAG. What the fuck has she been doing, apart from stealing my ideas?"

" Have FUK TV been informed? Tell them that I want that Sapphy Rayworth to introduce the programme. I love her well-bred, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth persona, even though everyone knows she's a screaming lesbian. She's got such lovely tits. I want to fuck her one of these days. She'll be honoured that the Prime Minister has the hots for her."

A car was already in place by the time Les exited through the famous black door of Upping Street.

"Business or pleasure, Prime Minister?" called one of the reporters who were constantly camped out on the pavement opposite the official residence.

Struts paused, smiled and thrust her tits out proudly. Her nipples stiffened in the crisp breeze which accompanied the pale sunlight.

"Business, of course," she answered. "This Cuntservative Government is working hard to better the lives of all women of this great nation of ours. I'm just off to an audience with the SLAG. She's going to confirm me as Prime Minister. I have to formally kiss the cunt, and then it's back here to carry on with the work of Government."

She got into the back of the car, and it pulled away smoothly.

"Fuck that nonsense about getting back to work once I've kissed the cunt," she thought to herself. "I wonder if Sarah Vain will be available early? I've heard she's got an impressive array of strap-on cocks."

The car swept into Fuckingham Palace, past the two armed soldiers, who this month were members of the Cuntstream Guards. They snapped to attention as the Prime Minister drove past, resplendent in their huge black bearskin helmets and their shiny knee length boots. They wore nothing else.

The car was met by Betsy, in one of her last official duties before she was elevated to the House of Ladies. Following the SLAG's precise instructions, Betsy gave the Prime Minister-in-waiting a very obvious visual inspection.

Les Struts tutted impatiently.

"What the fuck, Betsy?" she whined. "I'm the Prime Minister for fuck's sake. I haven't got a bomb in my cunt or a pistol up my arse. I'm here to kiss the cunt, not to assassinate the SLAG."

Betsy smirked.

"Begging your pardon, madam," she said sweetly, "you are not yet officially the Prime Minister. Others may address you as such, but in my eyes, until you have kissed the cunt, you are merely the Right Honourable Les Struts, leader of the Cuntservative Party."

Betsy turned on her heel.

"If you will follow me, please," she called out over her shoulder,and Les Struts hurried to catch her up. She'd been in Fuck House before, of course, but never through this entrance. She was well aware that the official residence of the SLAG contained over seven hundred and fifty rooms, and it was quite easy to get lost. That would never do on her visit to kiss the cunt and be invited to lead the SLAG's Government!

They walked down what seemed to Les like miles of wide corridors, decorated with huge portraits and landscapes. Betsy never faltered and Les felt a sneaking admiration for her guide's sense of direction.

Eventually Betsy stopped in front of a pair of very ornate French doors. On either side of these doors stood a bewigged, naked footwoman. Betsy turned to face Les Struts.

"Now as this is your first audience with the SLAG, I'll just run through the protocol with you, " she said softly.

"You will be announced, and you approach SLAG Olwen and curtsey. Make it deep, and hold the position for at least five seconds. When, and only when the SLAG offers you her hand, you take it, brush the back of it with your lips and release it. Do not under any circumstances leave any trace of saliva on the SLAG's hand."

"You will be addressed by your name, not the title of the office you have come here to be offered. Your reply to that address will be 'Your SLAGness'. After that, you will address the SLAG as 'Ma'am', which rhymes with 'palm' not 'ham'. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear, thank you," recited Les, rolling her eyes and sighing.

Betsy looked at her in distaste, and then at the ornate ormolu clock on the table off to one side of the wide corridor. The minute hand ticked over to show that it was two o'clock precisely. Betsy nodded to the footwomen.

Working in perfect harmony, the two women opened the doors, allowing Betsy to enter and announce the visitor.

"The Right Honourable Leader of the Cuntservative Party, your SLAGness," Betsy began.

"And about fucking time too," muttered Les under her breath, but Betsy had heard. She tutted softly as Stuts passed her, curtsied, and turned to make her way out.

"You're in for a fucking shock, you self-important cunt," she thought to herself with a grin as the two footwomen closed the doors softly and resumed their positions on guard on either side of the entrance.

Les Struts made her way into the large drawing room. SLAG Olwen was sitting on a single, hard backed chair, and... fucking hell! She was smoking! Les paused,unsure of what to do next. She dropped into a deep curtsey and slowly counted to five in her head before straightening up again

The SLAG put her pipe down, blew a stream of what Les considered to be disgusting smelling smoke out of her mouth and nostrils, and stood up. The two women were the same height, although the SLAG had bigger tits. She smiled and offered her hand.

"Mrs. Struts, welcome," Olwen began, and Les should have realised that this was a deliberate provocation. She preferred to be addressed as 'Ms', rather than the out-dated and archaic 'Mrs.' But she was so excited that she missed it.

Taking the proffered hand,she kissed it briefly and released it.

"Thank you, your SLAGness," she responded.

Olwen sat back down, and picked up her pipe again. She puffed on it wih obvious enjoyment. Les tried not to shudder. She looked around for somewhere to sit.

"There's very little point in you sitting down," Olwen said through another cloud of creamy pipe smoke. "You're here to kiss the cunt and be offered the post of Prime Minister. We'll just wait until the FUK TV people are ready. Sapphy Rayworth is here to do the voiceover. Do you know her? She's got the most educated tongue it has been my pleasure to sample in a long while, and her tits are to die for."

A door at the far end of the room opened, and Sapphy Rayworth glided into the room, with a very butch looking camerawoman in tow.

"All set," she smiled. "We're ready when you are, Ma'am."

Les smiled at the FUK TV presenter.

"Hello, Sapphy, I'm Les Struts. It's good to meet you at last. I expect we'll be seeing a lot of each other when I'm confirmed as Prime Minister."

"Would you prefer to be standing or sitting, Ma'am? Sapphy asked, totally ignoring Les.

"Oh, standing, I think," replied Olwen, giving Sapphy a wink that was totally missed by Les.

"Standing it is then," smiled the tall, voluptuous journalist. She looked at the camerawoman.

"Stand wherever you can get the best wide angled shot," she instructed. "We want our viewers to have the best possible sight of the first ever kissing the cunt ritual of Olwen the First."

"It's my first as well, Sapphy," said Les in a 'don't forget about me' tone of voice. "Where would you like me?"

Sapphy looked at the camerawoman again and raised her eyebrows.

"On your knees in front of the SLAG," replied the camerawoman gruffly, adding, "and don't look at the camera. This is all about the transfer of power, from one Prime Minister to the next. Our viewers don't want to see you hamming it up in order to try and win a few votes next time there's an election."

Les blushed. Damn the pair of them! Still, she had yet to form her Cabinet of Ministers. She'd make sure that her new Chancellor of the Exchequer took an early look at the financing of FUK TV. The licence fee was up for renewal soon. She'd make sure these arrogant fuckers in the media knew exactly who was in charge!

Sapphy Rayworth was now fiddling with her earpiece. She looked into the middle distance and began to count.

"One, two, three, Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled pepper," she recited, and then nodded and smiled. She was obviously getting instructions from a director somewhere.

She smiled at Olwen.

"We're good to go, Ma'am," she said. "We'll film you sitting down first, and then when Mrs. Struts enters, you rise, she kisses your hand, sinks to her knees and kisses the cunt. You then invite her to become Prime Minister. We'll do one technical run through first, so that Judy here can get her lighting levels and then we'll be straight into the live broadcast. Any questions, Ma'am?"

Olwen shook her head. Les was about to ask how long she should stay on her knees after being invited to become Prime Minister, but Sapphy had already turned away and was speaking to camerawoman Judy in a low tone.

Then, all businesslike once again, she turned back to the two women. She nodded at Olwen, who sat down in her chair. Les Struts moved out of shot, and Judy spoke in her gruff voice.

"Testing shot in three, two, one, go!"

"The new SLAG awaits the arrival of her first ever candidate for Prime Minister, newly elected Leader of the Cuntservative Party, Les Struts," Sapphy said in her mellifluous voice.

Olwen rose and offered her hand as Les walked briskly into shot. Les took it and brushed her lips across the back of the SLAG's hand before releasing it and sinking to her knees. Olwen opened her legs.

The camera zoomed in and focussed on her smooth cunt with its unmistakable mouse tail string dangling down in full view.

"Ew! Fucking hell! You're bleeding!" Les exclaimed. "Am I expected to kiss your menstruating cunt?"

"Cut!" yelled Sapphy, in an exasperated tone. "Thank fuck we did a run through! Just imagine what our viewers would have thought if they'd seen that. What the fuck's the matter with you, woman? A little bit of blood never harmed anyone!"

Olwen smirked at Les.

"I'm sorry," she said insincerely. "I thought you'd realised. I've only just come on, and I want my new Prime Minister in place today. If you're too squeamish, I can always ask another member of my Government to become Prime Minister. It won't affect your position. You'll still be Leader of the Cuntservative Party. You just won't be Prime Minister."

Les Struts flinched. She was about to protest when Olwen continued.

"I'm reliably informed that one of the candidates you defeated in the recent Leadership election is ready to step in," she smiled. "Penny Morecunt has indicated that she'd serve as my first Prime Minister!"

"Oh, she's hot as fuck!" breathed Sapphy Rayworth, her eyes misting over as she recalled the Juno-esque figure of the woman who had been in the Royal Navy Reserve before being elected to Parliament. "She could have me any day of the week!"

"Penny Fucking Morecunt?" hissed Les Struts disdainfully. "I beat her in the Leadership contest, and I'll beat her again. Get that fucking camera rolling. I've got a cunt to kiss and a job to do thereafter!"

They set up again.

"We're live this time," Sapphy warned. "So no fuck-ups please. Just think what it will do to your ratings if you don't kiss the cunt properly!"

Les glared at her, but remained silent.

The hand had been kissed, released, and the Prime Minister-to-be was on her knees in front of SLAG Olwen. She gripped the trailing cotton string between her teeth and pulled gently.

The blood soaked tampon emerged from Olwen's cunt and landed on Les Struts's tits. A trickle of blood ran down between them. Les looked directly at the camera, holding the bloody tampon by the string in her teeth. She lowered it carefully into a wastepaper bin that had been discretely placed at her side. Then she turned back to face the SLAG.

With her tongue out, she shuffled closer and licked all along Olwen's slit, from front to back. She thought she'd done a half decent job, but Olwen gripped the back of her head and pulled the politician's face right in between her thighs. She rubbed herself all over Les's face before releasing her.

Smears of blood adorned the new Prime Minister's face as Sapphy Rayworth began her summing up of what had just happened. The picture faded to black, and a continuity announced said in a bright voice,

"And now for something completely different on FUK TV. It's time for Minnie Pile-on's Fucking Circus."

The Bloody Kissing, as it became known, was viewed by millions of citizens. It not only signalled the beginning of the Struts Premiership, it signalled the beginning of the end of it as well.

Following her return to Upping Street, the new Prime Minister announced the make-up of her new Cabinet. It consisted of all of the members who had supportedher in the Leadership Contest, without any detractors to provide balance. Extravagant promises were made about pie-in-the-sky policies, which benefitted the super rich whilst ignoring the less fortunate.

Six months after having kissed the cunt, Les Struts announced there was to be a General Election. SLAG Olwen was by that time already five months pregnant. Mary had confirmed that Well Hung Willie was the better lover, and he had done the deed whilst Cumilla watched, anxious that her wife be properly fucked and inseminated.