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Part III (One Day Later)
The Prime Minister sat at her desk at No.10 Downing Street and reviewed the latest news from Oversex. It was anything but reassuring. Nothing whatsoever had been heard from the Oversex Coven. All witnesses were in substantial agreement as to what they'd seen: a pack of enormous black dogs, with a penchant for chasing beautiful women. It was most distressing, but one had to conclude that the Hounds of Hengest were abroad once again. So many years of careful planning–and now this! This could be quite the sticky wicket.
Just then there was a knock. One of the two mini-skirted attendants opened the big door, and in came Pansy Pimlico, the PM's most trusted aide. She was a slender, strawberry blonde in a tan mini and heels. She had some papers in her right hand, and she looked very worried.
"What is it now?" snapped the PM.
"A sighting, ma'am, on the outskirts of London."
"A sighting of what?"
"The . . . the dogs, ma'am."
The PM jumped up. "Let me see that," she said, and took the report. It was true: about twenty of the big beasts had been seen on the edge of town. With her free hand, the PM began to stroke the front of her elegant black skirt. It wasn't a mini; even a Prime Minister couldn't get away with that, but it ended just above the knee, looked ever so nice with her black pumps, and could be lifted quickly at need. The PM brought her hand to rest right over the tetragram on her Panties of Power. Let them come, she thought . We'll blast them all. "Let's take it up to Level 1," she said. "I want everyone's panties primed." She then saw the look on her aide's face. "What's wrong now?" she asked.
"It's just . . . it's just that . . . I'm afraid, ma'am. I'm afraid!"
"Afraid of what, dear?" As she spoke, the PM walked over to where her aide stood, visibly trembling.
"Of . . . of being caught!"
"And . . .? " As the PM said this, she took the girl in her arms and stroked her hair.
"Of . . . my panties down . . . and the hurt . . . they say it hurts! Oh, I don't want to be caught! I don't want to be caught! I'm so afraid!" Pansy started weeping on the PM's shoulder.
The PM slid her right hand under the girl's mini and then down the front of her panties. Pansy was already moist with the thought of hurtful Hounds, so it was no great matter to slip a finger in and gently massage her clit. Still crying, the girl began to gasp and whimper. Then, with no warning at all, the PM scored the tender flesh with a dagger-sharp fingernail. Pansy squealed and fell to her knees.
"Who should you be afraid of?"
"Y-you . . . j-just you!" Pansy sobbed.
"Excellent. Now go take us to Level 1, before I get really angry."
Keeping her eyes averted, Pansy got up unsteadily, made a quick, shallow curtsey, and left as fast as she could.
The PM was returning to her desk when she heard the first screams from outside. Then the door burst open, and in rushed Pansy with a Hound right behind her. It seized the hem of her mini and pulled her shrieking to the floor. Two more Hounds barreled in and brought down the attendants. No leisurely play here: three pussies were bitten, hard, before their owners could even think of shooting back. The PM fell against the wall, fumbled her skirt up, and said "Fire!" The tetragram on her panties glowed red, and one of the Hounds imploded. Now she just had to power up and fire again.
But there was no time! Five more dogs forced their way into the office, and the biggest of them came right at her. Before she was even half-way charged up, it had bitten through her tetragram and skewered her puss. The PM screamed and fell to the floor.
It was only then that Nigel Mycroft and Lord Lechley entered the room. "Strike while the iron is hot," said Lechley. "That's what they always taught us at Sandhurst."
"Quite," said Mycroft. He walked over to where the Hound was stripping the PM of her panties. "Why, Prime Minister, I believe you've been bagged."
"Enjoy your triumph while you can," she hissed. "You haven't caught us all; I will be avenged, I tell you; I'll–ohhhhhhhhhh!!!" And it was nip, nip, nip, until the pretty black pumps were done kicking.
THE END
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