Yes, Prime Minister

Forward:

Firstly, I had to take a break from my current project, Demons Within, due to the amount of work I have had recently, and hopefully by the time you read this I will be back on track with that.

Secondly, to help me with some aspects of my work I have needed to take an interest in British Politics for reasons that will remain nameless, and it was during one of this time I had the idea for this story, which is based within the House of Commons, the main part of the UK parliament.

Thirdly, as a crash course introduction for anyone of my readers that aren't familiar with UK politics, parliament is divided in to two sections, the House of Lords and the House of Commons. The Commons is where new laws are debated until they are passed to the Lords where they are discussed further before being passed (or referred back to the commons for amendment). The Commons is governed by the Speaker of the House, an impartial figure who is supposed to keep order within the house. To the right of the Speaker sits the government, to the left the opposition. The front benches are for the leader of the party and the holders of the highest offices, Home Sectary, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Foreign Minister, Leader of the House, and their opposite figures, usually holding similar roles just with the word 'Shadow' as a prefix. The Home Sectary and the Chancellor are more often than not the next highest-level politicians after the Prime Minster. The benches behind them are for the lesser figures, and the rearmost are for the junior ministers and newcomers, these are the backbenches.

Fourthly, this is a total work of fiction. It isn't based on reality or any public figures, past, present or future. Everything that happens in this story is a product of my imagination.

*****

"Excuse me Miss McKay. I was wondering if we could arrange a meeting to discuss some of your suggestions?"

That was how it had all started. Those innocent words spoken after a cross party meeting. I was just a junior minister. She, the Home Secretary.

Now two years later, here I was, stark naked on her desk, my legs parted, and my thighs wrapped around her clothed hips, as she pressed her hand against my clit whilst her fingers touched the parts of my insides that sent jolts through my entire body. Her raven black hair lay softly across my chest as her lovely white teeth gently nibbled on one of my very erect nipples.

"I love how you gasp when I tease you." She tells me as she flicks my G, bringing forth a little moan from my mouth.

"And I love how you pant when you climax." She says this as her teasing stepped up a notch, lifting me a little near that point when I would begin to pant.

I know she knows exactly how easily I climax under her touch, and I know she knows that I am absolutely under her control while she is steering me towards that point.

Yes, I am putty in her hands. It wasn't exactly what I had planned two years ago, when I politely knocked on her office door. I heard a muffled 'come in' and I opened the door. To say I was shocked to see her standing next to her desk wearing nothing but scarlet silk underwear. She had one foot, encased in a stylish Italian shoe resting on her desk as she carefully eased a sheer stocking up the length of her smooth mocha thigh before fastening it to the red lace suspender belt.

"Excellent timing Miss McKay." She told me as I hurriedly shut the door behind me. "I needed a hand changing." She nodded towards a fairly conventional blue dress. One I had seen her wearing several times before. The thought wandered through my mind that she may possibly have been wearing something sexy as what she was currently wearing when I had seen her before.

I have no idea how long I stood there, my eyes savouring every perfect curve of her body. She had her hair up that day, which in my opinion complimented her shoulders and neck and I was half dreaming about how it would feel to nuzzle in to the silken skin that shaped that graceful joining of her body.

"Miss McKay?" Her voice tinged with humour nudged its way in to my short-lived fantasy and I rapidly averted my eyes back to the dress. I managed to regain a little control of my body and collected the dress for where it lay then passed it to her, my gaze taking in the subtle pattern on the rug under her elegant black shoes.

I think it was that there was no hint of apology for her inviting me in while she was in a state of undress that warmed my face. It was as if it was an everyday occurrence... or done by design.

After I had zipped her dress up, we sat down and talked over the suggestions I hade made to implement changes in how the government worked with the Security Service. As an ex-member of Her Majesties Armed Forces, particularly my tenure with the Intelligence Corps, I had experience working with GCHQ and MI5. As she was the Home Secretary, those sections fell directly under the control of her office.

After the meeting concluded, she sat back in her chair, those deep brown eyes weighing me up.

"You're a lesbian aren't you." The words were factual, not questioning or insulting, just a statement of fact.

"I am." I replied, although with my hair cut in to a short pixie style and wearing a trouser suit and white shirt, I thought I looked typically stereotypical dyke, which to be fair was my intention.

"Was that why you left the army?" That had been a direct question. One that had made me shift in my chair a little.

"I left because I felt my future lay on a different path." I replied trying to keep my face as deadpan as possible.

The corner of her mouth curled up in to a smirk that unleashed a gazillion butterflies in my stomach. "Good answer." She complimented. "I think you are destined for far bigger things Miss McKay."

I felt the tip of my tongue run around my very dry lips. "I just want to serve my country as best as I can."

That same smirk hit me again, aggravating the butterflies so they whirled round and round generating a heat that made me cross my legs. Either she had known exactly how to press my buttons or my grip on reality was loose, and I was getting turned on by the Home Secretary smiling. I managed a weak smile in return, whilst hoping my face wasn't too flushed.

I suppose if anyone had found out about our slightly illicit relationship, they would say I slept my way up the ladder. Truth be told, I suppose I had in a way, but after that first meeting, she had offered to teach me the finer points of being a successful politician. A tiny part had wanted to refuse, wanting to prove I could succeed on my own merits, but I had been in politics long enough to know that advice was like gold and should be accepted graciously when offered. Obviously, I asked what she wanted in return, but the only reply I got to that was; "I'm sure I will think of something."

The something became fairly apparent a few weeks later. I was due to make a small address to the House and had asked for advice on the content. She read my draft speech carefully from behind her desk, her black rimmed glasses made her eyes look even more beautiful, and I had been fantasising that she was nude from the waist down, but I couldn't tell as I could only see her upper body. A polite cough dragged me from that make-believe office to the real one, where she was looking at me intently, that smirk on her lips again.

"This is very good." She indicated the sheaf of papers that now lay on the green inlaid leather of her desk. "The question is, can you deliver it?"

In my defence, I was a little off balance from my slightly over active mind daydreaming, followed by her admittance that my address was good. So instead of replying I sat and gaped for far too long.

"Why don't you read it to me as you intend to deliver it to the House." She prompted, indicating the carved wooden lectern to one side of her office.

When I look back at it, I am unsure why I was so nervous, but I do recall that my hands shook as I took the papers and walked to the spot where she had rehearsed some of her speeches. It may have been the nerves, or maybe my mouth was far too dry from my gaping earlier, either way when I started to speak, she immediately held her hand up for me to stop.

"No, no, no." You are going to be addressing a full House, everyone will be taking notes on how well you deliver this, you need to make an impact. Etch your words on to their memories."

I nodded mutely and cleared my throat, the papers gripped by white knuckled fingers, but before I could start the hand raised once more.

"You're far too nervy." She instructed. "You need confidence in your speaking, and to do that you need to feel confident."

"Any tips would be welcome." I managed to mumble. I swear she sighed in desperation.

"Why do you think I wear sexy underwear when I am in there?" She asked casually, then continued before I could reply. "Because it gives me the confidence to speak. Because I know what I am wearing but no one else does, and that gives me an edge."

"So, I should wear sexy underwear?" I questioned as my brain spun in circles.

"Maybe." She replied thoughtfully. "Show me what you are wearing currently."

My head spun faster as I began my goldfish impression again, wondering how fast this situation was getting out of hand.

"Today..." She urged me on impatiently.

If I thought my hands had shaken when I was about to speak, I was mistaken, they were uncontrollable as I fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, but eventually I manage to open it to show the plain black bra that cupped my small breasts.

"Just take your jacket and blouse off." She instructed. In hindsight, I think there may have been a little lustfulness in her voice. Even more so when she suggested I do the same with my trousers. I was very sure my face was burning when I took my papers in my hands once more, my bare feet on the polished wood floor, wearing nothing but my panties and bra, my clothing piled on the lectern. I took a breath to begin my reading but was halted by the raised hand once more.

"Yes, I think I see the problem." She smirked, weakening my knees. "The underwear does nothing for you. Take them off as well."

This time I didn't gape, I think my mind had shut down by that point, dropping in to obey orders mode. My last two items of clothing joined the pile, knocking half of it on the floor as I did so.

"Why don't you bring them over here out of the way." She suggested as I scooped my clothing up off the floor. Meekly I shuffled over to her desk and placed them on the chair I had been sat in before returning to the lectern.

It is funny, I have been naked in front of women before, both sexually and in other situations, and while my brain screamed that I was naked in the Home Secretary's office, I actually felt less nervous when I smoothed out my speech and began to read it once more.

I got half way through before the hand raised again and I halted. At least I couldn't get more naked I thought.

"That is an improvement." She commented in a smug tone. "We just need to fire your passion a little."

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood behind the lectern, my slightly crumpled handful of papers and the dark gold stained lectern the only shield for my nakedness. I still have no idea why she hardly gave my body a second glance, her eyes seemed to be focused on something else entirely.

"Yes." She said breaking the moment's silence. "We need to give you a little encouragement."

She stood from behind her desk, and I was a little disappointed to see she was clothed from the waist down. A couple of short steps took her around the desk to where my clothing lay. It seemed to take several hours for her to scoop them off the chair and drop them in to a draw that was locked within seconds of it closing.

I won't lie, I had to grip the lectern with both hands as I swooned a little, the blood running from my brain to parts of my body that suddenly demanded a larger amount of blood to function.

"Now." She grinned like a Cheshire cat who had not only got the cream but found a rather tasty looking mouse doing back stroke in it.

In this case a very naked mouse.

"If you convince me you are very passionate about the subject you are speaking about, you will be able to leave this office as you entered..."

There was a small inward breath as she ran the tip of her tongue around her lips, looking even more catlike.

"If you don't however..." She picked up three party rosettes up off her desk, blue satin ones several inches across. "Well, let's just say you will be showing your dedication to our party."

An image flashed through my mind of me standing outside her office with a rosette on each nipple and the third covering my now very hot opening. The dizziness got very quickly worse as I got more aroused and my face burned red with a heat to match.

My hands shook again as I raised my speech. Only this time it was with more than just nerves.

Apparently, I delivered my speech with such a passion I was very convincing, so much so I did get my clothes back and I left her office with my modesty intact, and later that day I delivered it to the House, picturing myself standing there wearing nothing but rosettes.

I received a standing ovation of cheering from both sides, and the media was full of articles about me being the new rising star of British politics.

If only they knew the full story.

The scenario was repeated several times after that with one or two variations. I know for sure that she has several pictures of me wearing nothing but blue rosettes and red cheeks. That was the time I hadn't done as well, and she had handed me the rosettes and pointed to the door.

In a sexually induced haze, I attached them with double sided tape and meekly made my way to the door, unsure if she was going to make me walk out in a state that would ruin both our careers.

She had let me get as far as opening it before she called me back, taking the pictures as I walked back to her desk.

"I was afraid this would happen." She announced. I detected an amount a glee in her voice, as if she was not only expecting it, but hoping for it.

"We need to increase the stakes a little I think." She told me smirking in a suggestive way.

I spent the next hour reading out my statement bent over her desk getting spanked with a wooden ruler every time she thought I was lacking in passion or conviction.

When it came time for me to deliver my address in the House, I was grateful as I didn't have to sit down any longer, my behind still stinging from my lessons.

After that, things got a lot more sexual. I know I could have stopped it at any time, but not only was her advice helping me achieve my goals, but I was enjoying my lessons far too much to give them up.

It seemed that she always had a plan to push me a little harder, for instance there was the time I was locked in to a chastity belt on the Monday in preparation for a debate on the following Monday, and not content to have me unable to touch myself, she sent me texts every few hours teasing me about how horny she was and how she was going to 'relieve' herself as soon as she had the chance.

On the Monday I was due to speak and after being a ball of sexual frustration for a week, I received a message off her. I glanced up from where I was sat to see her looking back at me, she was wearing a very expensive looking skirt and jacket that was cut beautifully to suit her figure and her hair was done up in a sexy looking French plat.

Do well and I will not only release you but give you a climax to remember. Do badly and you face another week locked away.

I looked in to her eyes and she winked suggestively as my phone vibrated once more.

A picture downloaded. It don't show a face or distinguishing marks, but I knew it was her body from the waist down, the well-tailored charcoal skirt hitched to her waist, leather straps holding a pad in place over her sex that a vibrator could be attached to.

We made eye contact once more and her hand dropped to briefly touch the material of her skirt just above where that pad would be. If anyone else had been watching it would have been a casual movement, maybe brushing off a tiny spec of dust. To me it spoke that if I delivered a performance of a lifetime, I was going to be used by her in a very vigorous way.

Between the sexual frustration and the image that was now burned in to my memory forever, I could feel my sex rubbing against the steel she had locked on to me and I tried to cross my legs to ease the tension a little, but I knew too well that no matter what I did I was at the mercy of my mentor.

My legs were like jelly when I was called to speak, and several times I had to lean against the back of the bench to my fore while I spoke. Fortunately, the press decided that I was so emotional about the subject I was speaking about, I needed something to support myself.

The Speaker of the House even approached me afterwards to say the he had never heard someone speak with such fervour.

As it was, I could feel my arousal beginning to seep down my thighs, so I thanked him and hurried on my way mumbling 'bathroom' as I went.

When I finally gained access to her office, she was already sat behind her desk. As was the practice now whenever I entered her office, I undressed just inside the office, depositing my clothing in the cupboard by the door and locking it then walking over to place the key in to her hand where she dropped it in to a desk draw.

No words were spoken. I just stood in front of her wearing just the steel belt which was soaked with my arousal.

"Place your hands on the desk." The soft instruction came

I moved in to the required position, one I have been in more than a few times before. As normal, she placed a book in front of me, the Erskine May Parliamentary Practice, a comprehensive guideline to how the House worked. She would open it to a particular section which I would have to read and commit to memory while she watched, then I would be asked questions, and if I got them incorrect, I would receive a spank with her wicked ruler. Fortunately, I have a very fast eye and a memory for things I read, but I did enjoy getting a few questions wrong purposely from time to time.

With my eyes glued to the page I saw her stand from her chair, the sight of skin in the corner of my eye giving away the fact she had been lacking her lower half clothing this time. I felt cool fingers grip the waistband of the steel belt I was wearing, pressing it hard against my sex and making me whimper. A hand containing long rubber dildo appeared between my eyes and the book, an object longer than any of my toys, and heavily ribbed. It was a good job she had hold of the belt as I think my legs would have folded under me otherwise.

"I suppose you should know that if you hadn't delivered your best performance to date you would be taking all of this in a different hole to where I am about to place it."

I whimpered once more as I wondered if she was just saying that or if she would have speared me in the behind with the large object.

There was a soft click and the belt undid, making a slight sucking noise as it parted from my hot skin. Had I been a lesser person I would have had to masturbate there and then, but the thought of her taking me was the only thing in my mind.

I felt the tip of the sex toy press against my folds and I longed to press back against it, but I wanted her to be in full control, so I remained still, awaiting full penetration.

"Now this toy has a lovely little nub that presses against my clit." Her voice breathed warmly in my ear. If you climax before me, I will be locking you back in that belt and the key will go out of the window in to the river."