Councilwoman One - Part 4

Assuming that the Mighty Monarch won't get thrown in jail or wind up in the emergency room after yelling obscenities at Venture's ivory tower, he shouldn't be home for at least another hour. It'll be cutting it close, but by Sheila's estimation...after their stalemate in the sitting room and Gary's triumph in the shower...they've got just enough time for one more round of their impromptu competition.

Sheila leans back across the bed, grabs her black service cap, and then plops it onto her shower-wet head. Propping herself up on one arm, an alluringly devious smile crosses her face as she spreads her legs wide. Biting her lower lip, she runs her free hand over her bald mound, her ring and middle fingers parting her crimson-tinged and swollen labia.

Dr Mrs: (sternly) On your knees, henchman. It's time to service your queen butterfly.

Gary: (smirking, faux-obediently) As you command, mighty Sovereign.

Gary drops to his knees with a grimace. Guys with a husky build always end up with bad knees. If being a henchman for The Monarch since he was fifteen years old wasn't destroying them, then hoisting his 'primary' into the air for a couple of hours definitely would.

Dr Mrs: Mmm-hmmm. Hurts like a mother, doesn't it? That's what you get for...

Gary, reminded a little to much of his overbearing mother, hates it when Sheila gets all 'I told you so' on him. Leaning forward, he grabs her by the thighs, wrenching her towards him. Surprised, Sheila's arm slips across the bed causing her to plummet backward. Landing flat on her back, her service cap tumbling across the bed, Sheila grins at the irritated-looking henchman.

Dr Mrs:Oh, it's gonna be like that, huh?

Skipping the normal pre-oral run-ups...a little breast fondling, some nip biting, slow downward kisses...Gary quite literally dives right in. Nose jammed against her button, he plants his lips against Sheila's puffy mound, parting her labia with his tongue. Biting her lower lip, her eyes squinting, Sheila rotates her hips upwards in order to give the henchman full access.

Dr Mrs squirms and writhes, a fistful of the henchman's hair in one hand, a fist-full of the bed covers in the other. A little sucking, alternating with some nibbling, Gary finds all of her sensitive spots, sending the woman into a frenzy. Bucking and squirming, her chest heaving as she arches her upper back, Sheila pounds the mattress with her fist.

Dr Mrs:OHMYGAWD, YESSS! JUSSST LIKE THAAAAT!

On top of Gary possessing the largest rod she's ever taken, at this point, she's quite certain that he's in a dead tie for first place. Sure, her husband is no slouch when it comes to heading south, but he's nowhere close to being in the same league as Gary and Mr Polygamy. Gotta keep his four wives happy somehow. It's as if she's had some dojo-trained lick-master from the Orient in her midst all along.

While Gary continues to service his villainous boss's wife, Sheila begins to detect a pattern to his seemingly random method of tongue technique. She can't quite put her finger on it...the sequencing seems so familiar.

And then it dawns on her...

Dr Mrs:Oh... My... Gawd... S-s-seriously?! Are you tuh-tonguing the... The alphabet?!

Gary stops just long enough to respond.

Gary: Sam Kinison is my spirit animal.

Before she can reply, Gary presses his face back into her mound, jamming his tongue deep inside her. Dr Mrs half-laughs, letting out a wavering moan at the same time, the color of her eyes just visible beneath her fluttering eyelids. Gary rotates his head slightly, staring down the length of her body, watching her. Dr Mrs just can't help but to laugh even more, looking down and seeing his wide smile between her legs, protruding out from either side of her puffy mound.

Getting her to focus more on coming and less on laughing, he refocused on flicking her clitoris with his tongue. Gary can't help but to snicker a little, her laughter all but completely stopping, trailing off to a series of sputtering inhales between clenched teeth...sounding much like Hannibal Lecter reflecting on some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Letting go of one of her thighs, he pushes his thumb into her, his index and middle finger slipping into an unsuspecting sphincter. Gripping her much like one would a bowling ball, her hips bucking and twisting wildly, Gary observes little beads of sweat begin to form all over her body.

It won't be long now.

Dr Mrs: H'ohhh fuck, ohfuck, ohfuck, ohfuuuuck! Yesssssssss, please!

The henchman's head firmly clamped between her thighs, she draws her knees up, wrapping her calves behind Gary's neck. Sucking and tonguing her button, he manipulates her 'prostate' with his fingers and thumb. With no need to hold onto her thighs any longer, he grabs a handful of breast, rolling her rock-hard nipple around with the tip of a finger.

Grasping Twenty-One's head with both hands, the raven-haired woman arches forward, her entire upper body coming off the bed...she's practically cradling his head in fetal position when the waves of pleasure come hard and fast. Her feet cramping as she clenches her toes, knuckles turning white around fist-fulls of his '90s wet-look hair. Eyes clamped tightly shut, her brow furrowed, only a hissing noise escapes her an she blows tiny spit bubbles through gritted teeth.

No one...not even Copycat, after making four or five copies of himself...has ever made her come that quickly.

All of her energy spent, Dr Mrs suddenly releases her grasp. Collapsing back onto the bed, splaying out spread eagle and drenched in sweat, she's practically hyperventilating. Gary raises up, taking in a long and exaggerated breath, having nearly been suffocated by her...again. Eyes wide open, going in and out of focus, she smiles up at the ceiling, panting away.

Dr Mrs: Okay. You... You win. Are... Are all... Are all h-henchmen as guh-good as you?

Gary:Yes.

Dr Mrs:Huhhh... How... How come?

Gary:'Cause all villains ever think about is evildoing. All we ever think about is sex.

Dr Mrs blinks a few times. Gary can almost see the wheels turning in her head. Propping up onto her elbows, she cocks an eyebrow, the side of her mouth up-turning into a smirk.

Dr Mrs: Seriously? Did you just... Shoo! Hang on! Head rush! Oh wow!

Shaking her head to release the cobwebs, her vision narrowing to a tunnel for a few seconds, Gary's 'Hench 4 Life' tattoo comes back into focus.

Dr Mrs:Did you... Did you just paraphrase 'Revenge of the Nerds'?

Gary:Oh c'mon! I've been wanting to use that quote since, like, this morning!

Dr Mrs: (shaking her head, faux-disapprovingly) Such a Geek. Ohhh, and...uhhh...

The Councilwoman rolls her eyes, gesturing down to her nether regions with a nod of her head.

Dr Mrs:...feel free to take your fingers outta my ass.

Two hours later, having hustled to get into the shower...that would make her third one today...Sheila finds herself sitting at the kitchen table. Clad in her usual pink bathrobe (and nothing else), a cup of coffee in one hand, she hums some Duran Duran song that's stuck in her head. With her other hand she finds herself casually running her fingernails up and down Gary's inner thigh again. It's like deja vu all over again. Gary, hunched over the table while reading an article in Modern Enemy Monthly, tries to pay her no mind. For all of their rushing, the Mighty Monarch has yet to return home.

Dr Mrs: (sighing heavily) Really, sweetie?

Gary: I'm sure he's ok. Prolly just stuck in traffic somewhere.

Gary, feeling some sense duty to his 'primary', puts his arm around Sheila's shoulder. Sheila, however, leans away from him, wrinkling up her nose.

Dr Mrs: Uhhh, what are you doing?

Gary: Comforting you? (pulls his arm away) Or not. Ok, this is awkward.

Dr Mrs: It's just sex, Gary. I'm not about to fall head over heels for my husband's hench-man, irregardless of how kind, big-hearted, and well-endowed he is.

Gary: Uhh, okaaay? That's not where I was going with that. He is a villain and I am his hench-man. You are his wife. My sole purpose is to serve you both, come what may, in whatever capacity that I can, until the day I die... Or you fire me... Or I quit. And if that means doing all of his dirty work...and then doing you...then so be it. Call it duty or loyalty...or stupidity. Whatever. Cuz it's not like you guys pay me anyway.

Dr Mrs: Meet me down in the… Urgh. ‘Egg Sack’. I’ll go put on something a little more…revealing.

Gary blinks, watching as his primary’s wife unties her robe as she saunters up the stairs. Just as she disappears from sight the pink, terry cloth robe comes tumbling over the banister, landing in the hallway outside the kitchen.

Dr Mrs: (aloud, to herself) Gottaaaa come up with a better name for it.

Original Art by Mew666

Commissioned by Phillipthe2