Yes, Madam Prime Minister

Page 498

At this moment, Madam Zhao was wearing a long dress. From behind, almost only her feet in high heels were visible. Her hips were neither full nor particularly perky, but her waist and hip curves were quite nice. What Ronan really noticed was the silk stockings on her ankles and the prominent Achilles tendon behind her high heels. The Achilles tendon, covered by a layer of delicate pearly white silk stockings, was now tinged with a faint silvery moonlight, making it extremely charming.

Especially when walking.

Beneath the long skirt, only high heels, stockings, ankles, and Achilles tendons are visible, which, far from being regrettable, actually amplifies one's lustful desires.

Madam Zhao was suddenly pushed by Ronan, who was attacking her from behind. She leaned forward and instinctively put her hands on the edge of the stone tablet to steady herself. Her buttocks stick out.

Ronan roughly lifted and tore the skirt open, then began frantically grabbing and kneading the thighs through the pearlescent white pantyhose. Under the moonlight, the pantyhose, which covered the rounded but slightly fleshy thighs and the slender but fleshy straight legs, gleamed with a faint oily sheen. These pantyhose-clad arms and legs, exuding the charm of a young married woman, further aroused Ronan's lust for rape.

A rape began...

At the same time, thousands of miles away in Tehran, the capital of the Persian Republic, in a small manor.

Manar's daughter Bahar and Mushir's daughter Freishta secretly met.

The two sisters are very different in age from their mothers, who are both over 100 years old, but in reality, they are not young either.

Bahar, at level three, looks like a young girl in her early twenties. She has a sweet smile and a face that clearly shows she has been pampered and carefree since childhood, spoiled by her parents and her husband in adulthood.

Freshta, a second-tier female soldier, was just as beautiful, but looked a little older than her sister, around thirty years old. She had a blank expression, much like a strict female instructor in the army who was called an old maid by the female soldiers.

Like those extraordinary female soldiers, she had artificial talent, initially at the first tier, which was then transplanted to become the second tier.

To go a step further, she was an experiment in this training model. Ronan's daughter, Mushir, was indeed one of the supreme rulers of the country, and she made her daughter the first experimental subject as an example.

Due to conflicts between their respective husbands, the two sisters have had very little contact with each other in the past decade.

Bahar spoke first, "Sister, you've always been smart. Do you know what Mother and Aunt are thinking?"

Frishta was initially surprised. She had thought her sister was there to pave the way for a deal, but it turned out to be like this. She sighed helplessly and said, "Your president husband shouldn't be so stupid as to send you to sound him out. It seems you made this decision on your own. I'm really impressed with you. If you want to know, just ask those two directly."

"The two of them" naturally refers to their mothers.

“This, this won’t do!” Bahar looked hesitant.

Freishta yawned. "Actually, there are only two issues now. First, the debate over whether to further expand public ownership or further privatization. Second, the opposition between the succession system and whether it should move towards hereditary succession or electoral succession, right?"

“Yes.” Bahar nodded emphatically.

“Actually, my mother and aunt don’t care about this at all. They no longer have any political ambitions for this country, otherwise why would they have abdicated? Now, this country is just an institution that provides human and material resources for their research,” Freishta said, expressing her judgment.

Upon hearing this, Bahar's expression immediately relaxed, as if he had breathed a sigh of relief.

The reason is not complicated: she favors public ownership.

Freshta suddenly laughed. "You don't think they want to strengthen public ownership and support pseudo-hereditary succession, do you?"

Bahar was taken aback. Wasn't that right? Public ownership clearly had a stronger ability to mobilize human and material resources. Although she didn't participate in politics, she still knew this basic common sense.

“You might be mistaken about something. What they care about most isn’t money, resources, or labor, but the researchers who can assist them,” Freishta said, a hint of sarcasm in her eyes. “And further expanding public ownership will only have negative effects on researchers.”

“Public ownership isn’t as idyllic as those clergymen who don’t engage in production or manage affairs but just chatter away in the scholastic faculties all day long describe it. It’s not simply about the public ownership of the means of production, not just life and wealth,” Freishta continued. “Take the most basic means of production, land, for example. It’s publicly owned, and that kind of thing should be decided by public opinion, right? Otherwise, how can the ownership be reflected? But the actual work still requires division of labor and cooperation, and the final results also need to be distributed. Ultimately, there needs to be a ‘manager,’ right?”

"The result is official guidance. We should be thankful if the official guidance doesn't turn public property into government property."

"Farming might be okay this way, but it won't work in scientific research. Good resources are extremely limited. How can talented people share resources with mediocre ones? If an ordinary researcher also needs to use that machine, isn't that a waste of resources? In this field, individuals have to take more than their share."

"Actually, there's nothing to argue about. Some sectors are state-owned, some are collectively owned, and some are privately owned. Isn't that how other countries around the world do it? It's just that now, public versus private, inheritance versus selection, have become two opposing groups with different banners."

“My mother and aunt would rather expand privatization. Since that’s the case, they’ll have to target their old brothers. And given their style, they’ll also suppress their own relatives.”

Freishta gave her conclusion, and then saw the expected horror on Bahar's face.

Bahar was terrified simply because she had a "simple" wish: that the next generation would have a better life.

“Then what should we do?” Bahar asked.

She asked this because she knew that the ambitious Freishta, like herself, longed for more public ownership and more hereditary systems.

“A coup,” Freishta replied.

Chapter 1158 Supporting Character, Random Intervention, Things Won't Be Complete Without This

What? A coup?

Bahar was so frightened that his face changed drastically.

Freshta remained calm. "The two sides are irreconcilable. Only by suppressing both sides can the existing good system be maintained. In the end, both sides are self-righteous and only care about themselves. No matter which side gains power, it will only lead the country down a path of no return." "This..." Bahar was completely dumbfounded.

Freshta placed her hands on her sister Bahar's shoulders. "You can rest assured, I will only create opportunities for you. You are the commander." "Me?" Bahar looked puzzled.

"Yes, you. I'm not afraid of you telling on me, so I'll just tell you directly. I will lead the students from the training camp to cause some trouble for those two under the guise of an exercise, giving you time. You will then lead your troops to the council meeting after the election, kill those district councilors, kill the mid-level officials, and finally get the government's top officials to negotiate with other city councilors and provincial councilors under the coordination of the cult."

Freishta directly detonated his plan.

She knew very well that, given her sister Bahar's weak and indecisive nature, once she learned of her plan to stage a coup, Bahar would inevitably tell her husband, Damavan, who was still sitting in the position of head of state.

Damavan will not try to stop it, but will only try to take advantage of it.

Of course, Freishta herself had her own plans.

Everyone understood the unspoken agreement and relied on their own abilities.

"Uh, I'm sleepy." With that, Freshta got up, turned around, and left.

In the blink of an eye, they had vanished without a trace, leaving only a bewildered Bahar behind.

Bahar simply couldn't understand why things had turned out this way, and why the problem had to be solved through bloodshed.

She couldn't understand why her mother and aunt didn't do that, since they could have remained in their positions, with absolute authority, and maintained prosperity and stability for a long time.

in the dark.

At the top of the Wisdom Library tower, Mushir sat, playing the ancient Persian instrument tanbur, humming a tune, and gazing into the distance at the place where his two daughters were having a secret rendezvous.

As the song ended, Mushir stood up, standing at the highest point in Tehran, her long robe fluttering in the breeze. "What an unlovable child. But this time, your mischief has run into your grandparents, so things won't be so funny."

Almost silently, Manar appeared beside Mushir. "I was going to send someone to report to you, but it seems you already know."

“I also have my own intelligence channels,” Muhir said.

"What are you planning to do?" Mainal asked.

Mushir hung the stringed instrument on his waist. "Let them do whatever they want. Little Lai and her sister are just minor supporting characters. What we're really looking forward to is the unexpected extras who haven't even appeared yet. I guess the old man came here for that role too."

Manar then changed the subject, "I thought you would at least want to see your mother."

“A hundred years can dilute any kind of feeling,” Muhir replied, seemingly lost in thought.

Manar turned to look at her sister, "But a hundred years can also make any emotion more intense."

The two were not only talking about their parents, but also about their friends and children.

As time flows by, things change, and people change too.

At the same time, in the gardens of Guangzhou.

Having finished his brutal rape of Madam Zhao, Ronan stood there enjoying Madam Zhao's cleaning services.

Her long dress was torn open with a large slit in the front and back, and one of the shoulder straps was also torn off, slipping down to reveal half of her breast. Madam Zhao, with her hair disheveled, squatted down, and the stockings at her knees were stretched out in this position. The pearly white stockings reflected a watery luster in the dim moonlight. Her toes were raised, and her heels were off her high heels, and the stockings at her ankles and insteps were squeezed out with obvious wrinkles.

Meanwhile, between the two thighs encased in white stockings, drops of hot semen continued to fall onto the ground.

Behind her, there was a large puddle of wet water, the semen she had leaked earlier.

After cleaning up all the remaining semen, Madam Zhao swallowed it all, and then, as if she had completely lost her strength, she collapsed to the ground.

Ronan looked at the moon, which was gradually dimming and sinking. "There's still a while before dawn. Let's go back to the room." With that, he picked up Madam Zhao, who was sitting on the ground, and walked towards the room.

In the luxurious room, which resembled a small courtyard, Ronan gave Madam Zhao a thorough bath and wiped her clean before carrying her out of the bathroom and placing her on the bed.

Then, Ronan took out a pair of thin black pantyhose with polka dots.

Madam Zhao lay on the bed waving her hand, "I can't go on, let me rest for a bit." "I'll put it on for you, and then I'll do it to your back. It's not complete without doing it there," Ronan said with a smile.

For a moment, Madam Zhao really didn't want to move at all. After Ronan spent a lot of time dressing her in polka-dot black stockings, he directly picked up her feet and used them to perform footjob on himself.

After struggling for a while, she still couldn't get fully erect, so Ronan simply made her bend her knees, then he held her down with both hands and fucked her thighs, calves, and the crook of her knees from the side, performing leg sex.

After a while, Ronan's penis became hard and erect again, turning into its thick and long state.

Without making Madam Zhao lie down, Ronan directly lifted her legs, which were covered in polka-dot black stockings, pulled the stockings up to her thighs, and pressed his penis against the entrance of her anus, beginning to penetrate.

Having not received preferential treatment in a long time, Madam Zhao couldn't help but frown and grimace. Ronan could only proceed slowly, little by little, pausing after each step before moving forward again.

Having been fully explored by Ronan, Madam Zhao's anus quickly regained its condition and began to show less resistance.

Gradually, Madam Zhao's clenched teeth slowly opened, her lips parted slightly, and she began to moan; she was starting to feel comfortable.

Before long, her hand went to her vulva and began to knead it. "Oh, oh my god."

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? It hasn't even started yet."

Having said that, Ronan began the actual thrusting into the anus.

After a considerable period of rapid and intense penetration, Madam Zhao's hands were almost completely still. Ronan pulled out and inserted his penis into her front. Instantly, Madam Zhao's eyes widened, and she let out a loud "Oh!"

She began to moan loudly again, and Ronan worked even harder.

Gradually, her voice became faint, her black-stockinged legs lay limply on the bed, and her toes, which had been curled up in the toes of the stockings, completely relaxed. Her eyes were glazed over, and she was delirious, muttering, "Uh, love you, love me."

Until she completely fell silent, Ronan pulled out, stood up, and began masturbating towards Madam Zhao, who had passed out and lay on the bed like a woman with a hangover. In the final moments, Ronan grabbed Madam Zhao's black-stockinged feet. "Shoot, shoot it all onto your sexy black-stockinged feet, uh ah." With a low growl, his penis throbbed, and several streams of semen sprayed onto the insteps of Madam Zhao's black-stockinged feet. After ejaculating, Ronan let out a long sigh, sat on the bed, and, like a meditating monk, completely emptied his mind.

After a long while, Madam Zhao opened her eyes and saw the quiet Ronan. In her daze, she felt that having this man by her side was enough.

Chapter 1159 Disappointment, School Starts, Groups of Three

Three months have passed in the blink of an eye, and September has begun.

Ronan has finished his studies.

In the realm of mortal science, physics was essentially a review for him, and as for mathematics, Ronan had skimmed through it; he didn't need to catch up with the level of some mathematicians, and with his talent, he couldn't do it anyway. As for other subjects, Ronan didn't pay much attention to them; biology was in its infancy, and chemistry was just truly born.

As for astronomy, it is a discipline that was born along with human civilization.

Ronan didn't care, for a simple reason: the universe of this world was a finite "false universe," like a fragment, according to several artificial intelligences. As for why such an "illogical" universe could exist, they couldn't explain it, and neither could the first few humans who came to this world.

Therefore, astronomy has its limits in this world.

Ronan will not pursue his truth.

In terms of the theory of the extraordinary, Ronan was unexpectedly disappointed.

From the very beginning, Ronan knew that there had been no substantial progress in basic theory over the past century. Compared to the rapidly advancing basic theory of mortal science, it was as if there had been no progress at all.

The theory of the extraordinary is developing rapidly only in the field of application, which is the opposite of the science of the mundane world. The mundane world had the steam engine a hundred years ago and is still using the steam engine now.

However, the development of so-called application areas is almost entirely focused on magical machinery and magical devices.

In the realm of magic itself, these are merely minor innovations.

This is the reason for his disappointment.

"Alas, unlocking the mysteries of the world still seems so far away," Ronan sighed.

the other side.

After three months of intensive tutoring, Lavana has reached the level of a thirteen-year-old high school student with extraordinary abilities in both mortal science and extraordinary theory.

Today marks her official entry into the training camp, where she begins to learn the unique power management methods specific to artificial superhumans specific to the Persian Republic.

This year, there are a total of 63 trainees, which is much more than in previous years and more than double the 30 trainees last year.

Is this the only number of people each year?

Indeed, there are only a few people. There are many people with superhuman abilities who have this need, but very few who can travel thousands of miles to Persia and afford the high tuition fees.

In the end, just as Ronan had guessed, almost all the people who came were illegitimate sons or even children born out of wedlock from wealthy and powerful families.

Moreover, the training camp is held every year, and it doesn't gather a large number of people at once.

It all cost a lot of money. The training camp provided everyone with custom-made clothing: one formal suit, two casual suits, and three training suits.

On the first day of school, an entrance ceremony was held as usual.

The ceremony was not long-winded, with no lengthy speeches. There was only a brief speech by the head instructor for this term, Frishta, followed by two performances.

One segment featured a performance by female soldiers engaged in cultural activities.

The second segment, while still featuring female soldiers—and genuinely female soldiers—aims to demonstrate their ability as artificial superhumans to maintain mental stability during prolonged, high-intensity combat. This is meant to show the trainees that their tuition wasn't wasted; even if the final result isn't ideal, it's not the training camp's fault, but their own.

After the ceremony, roll call and formation took place.

This year, the number of participants was relatively even, with 63 people divided into three teams, each with exactly 21 people. Each team was further divided into different subgroups of three people each, with people of the same gender in one subgroup, and some groups having one more or one less person.

After the formation was completed, we headed to the dormitory.

The dormitories were reasonably priced for the high tuition fees. Three people shared a room, with a common living room, a toilet, and a bathroom at the entrance, followed by a larger bedroom with three double beds. The toilet and bathroom were tiny; the bathroom only allowed one bucket of hot water for washing, and strict water usage rules prevented waste. Furthermore, the toilets were extremely outdated, a far cry from those in developed countries. This was due to Tehran's water situation. Located in a valley, Tehran still heavily relies on underground water systems like qanat wells, and cannot arbitrarily construct underground pipe networks.