Yes, Madam Prime Minister

Page 209

Dinia didn't make many changes. Apart from some small decorations and furniture that she liked, she mainly replaced an office desk and two large sofas, and added a wine cabinet.

Alexander's former desk was a small one with four long corners and no drawers. Dinya replaced it with a large one with no corners, a front panel, an open middle, and multiple drawers on both sides. It wasn't that Dinya needed to store a lot of documents, but rather that she liked to wear slippers when she sat in the office. Wouldn't it be very unseemly if she didn't have a large drawer desk that completely covered her lower body?

The sofa was changed because Alexander's office only had chairs, which were hard wooden chairs, and Dinya found them uncomfortable, so she replaced them with sofas.

As for the wine cabinet, that's a personal hobby.

At this moment, Ronan sat in the Prime Minister's office chair. Behind him, to his left, was the Church's seven-starred cross flag, and to his right, a flag bearing the Freigo family crest. A national flag? There was no such thing. On the wall behind him hung the famous painting "The Oak Pact," depicting the first king of the Golden Eagle Dynasty and a group of people who were both mages and nobles, making a series of agreements under that old oak tree, including provisions stipulating that fifth-tier mages would not participate in the war.

In front of Ronan was the kneeling Prime Minister.

Dinia had taken off her camel-colored leather coat and placed it on the sofa. The buttons of her wool coat, which resembled an officer's uniform, were all undone, and a few buttons on her white shirt underneath were also undone. From Ronan's perspective, who was sitting down, one could see her delicate collarbone and the cleavage between her two plump white breasts beneath the open collar.

Further down, you can see her knees, covered by thick black stockings, kneeling on the carpet beneath her skirt. The thick black stockings, pressed against her knees, appear semi-transparent.

With a slight upward gaze, one could see Dinia's exquisite face, her moist red lips constantly sucking and swallowing the large, fleshy head of her penis, her delicate and high nose, and her ruby-like eyes beneath her long, thick eyelashes.

And beyond that, there were her round, perky buttocks. Even though they were covered by a thick woolen long skirt, the outline of her buttocks was still prominent in this pose.

No matter how many times you see it, this meaty belly can still instantly arouse your most primal desires.

Inside the Prime Minister's office, beneath an oil painting documenting glorious history and before a sacred flag, Ronan sat while the Prime Minister knelt, his red eyes occasionally flashing with a fierce light, yet his verbal service never ceased.

The thrill of doing this in the Prime Minister's office—a room that determines the direction of a country—is indescribable.

Ronan couldn't help but let out a comfortable and pleasurable groan.

Dinia suddenly stopped, spitting out the penis, "What are you yelling about, you filthy thing?"

"Feeling good enough? Can't you even make a sound?" Ronan retorted. "Don't stop, there are still balls to lick."

Dinia raised her hand and punched Ronan in the balls. She didn't use much force, but it still made Ronan wince in pain.

However, in the end, Dinia still grabbed the penis with one hand and pressed it against her lower abdomen, sucking on Ronan's testicles.

After licking her, Ronan began to hold Dinya's hair with one hand and press the other hand against the back of her neck, pressing Dinya down to give him oral sex.

Press it down completely, then lift it up, then press it down again—each time a deep throat.

Not long after, Ronan's penis began to throb; he could feel it.

Ronan pushed Dinia away, grasped the penis himself, and said, "Open your mouth."

Dinia paused for a moment, then opened her mouth. A thick stream of white fluid shot out, followed by several more splatters. Dinia instinctively closed her eyes and turned her head to dodge, but she was still sprayed all over her face.

A few strands of her snow-white, pale gold hair clung to her, some remained at the corner of her mouth, and thick, white smegma slowly trickled down her face.

Just the sight of Dinia's expression—so cold and ruthless, yet also lewd—made Ronan's recently ejaculated penis twitch violently.

After swallowing the food in her mouth and wiping her face, Dinia crawled out from under the table, stood up, and looked down at Ronan, who was still sitting in the chair, lost in thought. Dinia, who was initially a little angry, suddenly smiled again.

"What are you laughing at?" Ronan asked.

"I'm laughing at you for getting so excited just because you shot me in the face," Dinia said.

"Ha." Ronan chuckled. "Isn't this normal? Didi, a beauty like you, any other man could remember it for a lifetime if you just smiled at him."

Dinia was momentarily at a loss for words.

"Didi, the prelude is over, it's time for the main event." Ronan said with an excited smile, "Let's celebrate! You've achieved your long-held dream and successfully become Prime Minister."

The excitement, elation, and mixed feelings of melancholy that Dinah experienced upon becoming prime minister had long since faded after the election.

"Ha, a celebration? A celebration is me lying on my desk and letting you fuck me, is that it?" Dinia sneered.

Ronan suddenly stepped forward and pressed himself against her. Dinya was taken aback. Ronan slipped his hand through the gap between her shirt and skirt, reaching between her thick black stockings and silk panties. With a gentle swipe of his hand, he felt the wetness on her panties.

"Tsk tsk, our Prime Minister, she's only been eating for a little while, and she's already like this." Ronan said with a slightly smug smile, "Didi, do you admit you missed me?"

Dinia grabbed Ronan's wrist and pulled his hand away. "If you say another word, get out of here."

Ronan stopped talking nonsense, pressed Dinya down on the desk with her backside facing him, and lifted her skirt up.

The pose, the angle, the silky, slightly sheer thick black stockings covering her buttocks—round, fleshy, and perky—completely captivated Ronan's gaze. Looking at this scene, Ronan couldn't even bear to pull down the stockings or tear a hole in them.

Taking a deep breath, Ronan grabbed Dinia's two buttocks with both hands and pressed his face against them, as if he wanted to merge his head into Dinia's buttocks.

He touched, rubbed, and licked, using the tip of his nose, his face, and his lips to feel the smooth surface of the pantyhose stretched taut by its extreme fleshiness.

Finally, Ronan got up, opened the crotch of his torn pantyhose, and, holding his already hard and throbbing penis, shoved it all into that moist and warm cavity.

Filled with a long-lost sense of fulfillment, Dinia couldn't help but exhale a long puff of white breath.

Ronan bent down and began to violently thrust his hips, almost losing his mind, driven entirely by instinct.

After a while, Ronan stopped what he was doing, reached out and picked up a messenger bag from the table.

Dinia looked up at Ronan, her expression seemingly saying, "Why did you stop?"

Ronan opened the small messenger bag and took out a jar of ointment and a string of beads.

“Didi, to celebrate becoming Prime Minister, shouldn’t we do something special?” Ronan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dinia returned Ronan's gaze with a vicious look that could rip a chunk of flesh from him.

Chapter 477 Introduction: Recycling, Brutality, Be Yourself

Elena was walking down the third-floor corridor of the Prime Minister's Office building, heading towards the fourth floor.

The Prime Minister's Office is a four-story building. Apart from the reception hall, the other rooms on the first floor belong to the permanent secretaries dispatched by the General Secretariat to various central departments. The permanent secretaries themselves are generally not here, but assist the ministers in their daily work in other departments. These rooms are for secretaries of secretaries, who are responsible for liaising with secretaries of other central departments.

The prime minister himself relies on this system to indirectly control other departments and become the head of the bureaucracy.

The second floor still belongs to the Secretariat. The people on the second floor are the secretaries who actually work for the Prime Minister. There are currently 163 people in total, and the number is still increasing. This is inevitable, as the city population of the kingdom is increasing, and with the increase in city population, the political affairs that need to be handled are also becoming more numerous and complex.

The head of the General Secretariat, commonly known as the No. 1 Secretary, also has his office on the second floor.

The third floor has a large lounge and a small lounge.

The large lounge is reserved for a select few leaders, who are attended to by dedicated maids. The small lounge is for everyone else, and when it's crowded, there might not even be a place to sit.

The "others" do not include young clerks who don't even have a secretary title. How can young people rest? They have to work hard.

The fourth floor houses the Prime Minister's office and the main conference room.

Elena went up to the fourth floor. She now works in the semi-official Agricultural Production Integration and Management Association of the Kingdom of Fas, commonly known as the General Farmers' Association. She serves as the supervisory and management officer, responsible for overseeing the operation and organization of farmers' associations in various regions, especially in terms of resource allocation and financial operations.

At this moment, Elena came to propose to Dinia the establishment of a special internal bank for the farmers' association.

However, before she even reached the door, Elena sensed a surge of magical energy, a surge of Dinia's magical energy.

She walked slowly and quietly to the door, where she heard a voice say, "Yes, Madam Prime Minister."

Then came the slapping sound.

Just hearing that sound, one could almost picture the scene of gushing fluids flowing down her pantyhose.

Elena, who hadn't heard what Dinia had said earlier, was quite unhappy and muttered, "Damn it, how did the country become like this?" She then recalled that sunny afternoon when she, at eighteen, had witnessed the fateful first meeting between the two.

Who could have imagined that, more than ten years later, the two would end up like this?

At this time, inside the house.

After a series of intense thrusts, Ronan, feeling himself about to ejaculate, pulled out the anal beads from Dinia's anus, tossing the beads, still covered in ointment, aside.

Ronan pulled his erect, swollen penis out of Dinia's wet vagina, aimed it at her pink, slightly open anus, and thrust it in.

Dinia's tightly closed mouth suddenly opened, her pupils trembled, and a burning, throbbing pain spread from her stomach throughout her entire body.

Ronan felt a tightness and heat, as if his penis was being gripped tightly by a pair of burning hands.

After remaining still for a while, he gradually got used to it and began to thrust. One hand was on Dinya's waist, and the other hand was slapping Dinya's buttocks hard. The physical pleasure was secondary; the real pleasure was the unparalleled sense of control and the exhilarating feeling of releasing everything.

For Dinya, in addition to the strange feeling of pain and pleasure in her body, there was another kind of indescribable feeling.

Being violently penetrated from behind should have been unacceptable to a strong woman like her, bringing no psychological pleasure and even feeling like an insult. But the one who penetrated her was Ronan, who sometimes seemed like a tolerant father, sometimes like a troublesome son, sometimes like a warm-hearted brother, and sometimes like a younger brother who deserved a beating.

She was an orphan, and Ronan, who suddenly entered her life when she was twenty-six, became all her "men".

This was both the least loving and the most loving sexual act she ever had with Ronan.

"Ronan, uh, Ro..." Dinia moaned as she called Ronan's name, her legs bent back, her feet hooking around Ronan's legs. The special black stockings had been torn by the uncontrollable magic, with multiple runs and holes, and her toes were even breaking through the toes of the stockings, peeking out.

Even when she lost her composure during climaxes, Dinia's magic never went out of control.

"Didi!" Ronan pressed down on her, grabbing Dinia's large, white breasts tightly with both hands. He used so much force that the milk flesh spilled out from between his fingers.

Ronan let go of Dinia's hand, grabbed her hair, and pulled her head up, blurting out all the things he had been holding back. "You want a strong country and a good life for your people? You're just a dreamy, difficult bitch. This damn France is a broken-down old ship. I have to repair the old ship and build a new one at the same time. Do you know how tired I am? And you give me attitude and hit me. I'll fucking kill you, you bitch."

Dinia retorted, "Hypocritical slut, cowardly dog, pretending to have no feelings, pretending to have no dreams. Come on, you piece of trash, fuck me to death."

“But I love you, Didi.” Ronan laughed and cried at the same time.

“Me too, Ronan,” Dinia replied.

The two kissed each other.

Ronan quickly pulled out, and Dinya stood up. The two stood close together, embracing, and soon removed their clothes. Dinya was left with only her underwear and tattered black pantyhose, while Ronan, completely naked, ripped off his condom and re-inserted into Dinya's vagina. They kissed again.

Dinia stood on tiptoe, while Ronan slightly bent his knees.

After a long, long time, their lips parted. Ronan realized that he had already ejaculated sometime earlier and gone soft, while Dinya noticed that some areas of her black stockings on her inner thighs were already half-dry and starting to clump together.

The two looked at each other and smiled, then parted ways.

Dinia sat on her desk, legs crossed, hands propped on the surface. Her large, full breasts, which were not sagging at all, were not concealed. Some of the white hairs that had been stained with semen from her face earlier were stuck together in a clump. The tuft of white hair on her lower body was sticky and tangled. Her black pantyhose, which was full of holes and tears, was also covered with semen. The toe of her left pantyhose was torn, revealing her glistening toes.

Ronan, sitting on the sofa, looked at the lewd Dinia, yet surprisingly remained calm.

"Didi," Ronan called softly.

"Hmm?" Dinia responded, puzzled.

“I suddenly feel a sense of relief, as if we can be ourselves again, even though our ‘selves’ have been tainted by each other,” Ronan said calmly.

“But we certainly can’t achieve true peace and harmony,” Dinia said with a smile, adding, “but this seems alright too.”

"I have to arrange work for the other secretaries, so I'll be going now," Ronan said, picking up his clothes.

Soon after, Ronan was dressed, and Dinya had also put on a pair of tights and changed into a spare pair.

"Remember to come to the meeting first thing tomorrow morning," Dinia reminded her.

“Yes, Madam Prime Minister,” Ronan replied.

With a bang, Ronan closed the office door, nodded to Elena, and he and Dinia already knew Elena had arrived.

Chapter 478 Big Government, Small Government, and the Prime Minister's Debut

A week passed in the blink of an eye, and it was February, the coldest time of the year. On this day, the temperature in the capital dropped below zero. The royal palace and government offices were located in the northernmost part of the city, which was at the highest relative altitude, and it had already snowed.

Early in the morning, Ronan, wearing a fur coat, arrived at the Prime Minister's Office by carriage. As soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by the warmth of the fireplace. He took off his coat and hung it up, then placed his briefcase on a small table beside him. Camille, who had arrived at the office earlier than him, greeted him, "Good morning, Miss Rabelais."

"Good morning, Sir Artes," Camille replied.

Ronan sat down on the sofa, picked up a newspaper, and casually complimented her, "The lipstick color suits you very well."

"Thank you for your praise." Camille smiled happily, but when she looked at Ronan, she found that he was reading a newspaper and not looking at her, and she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

Mechanized printing technology existed decades ago. Newspapers originated in the commercially vibrant Vena region and quickly spread northwards throughout the western continent.

However, even today, newspapers are not cheap, and no publisher wants to lower the price. After all, middle-income earners can afford them, and those who cannot afford them are illiterate.

The only thing Ronan regrets is that there are no daily newspapers anymore, only monthly and weekly ones, and the content in the newspapers is basically not news to him.

He would simply read the various pronouncements of "paper politicians" as a pastime to pass the time.

Before Ronan could finish reading a particularly insightful commentary, Dinia pushed open the door and entered, while Ronan put down his newspaper.

Dinia carefully put away her mink coat imported from Ross. The oatmeal-colored turtleneck sweater underneath made her already large breasts look even bigger. She wore a light brown jacquard wool long skirt with thick black stockings underneath, and black wool calf socks on her feet. Her shoes were thick, non-slip, stitched leather shoes.

"Good morning." Dinia greeted Camille casually, then sat down at her desk and looked at Ronan. "Ronan, is something the matter?"

Ronan picked up his briefcase and sat down in the chair opposite Dinia. "Yes, I have a small suggestion for the proposal you plan to make at tomorrow's Imperial Council meeting."

Dinia gestured "please," and said, "Speak."

“I suggest you don’t bring up the suggestion of ‘increasing the number of civil servants’,” Ronan stated calmly.

Dinia looked surprised, but quickly regained her composure.

Dinia sat back down, arms crossed. “I remember three days ago, our esteemed Secretary-General suggested that I expand the civil service.”

“That’s right, but I didn’t expect that your boldness and skill, Prime Minister, would surpass the imagination of a mere public servant like myself,” Ronan replied.

Dinia turned to Camille. "Camille, did you understand what our secretary was saying?"

“Although I would love to say I understand, I don’t, ma’am,” Camille replied to Dinia’s question, looking at Ronan.