Chapter 3: Blackmail and Other Tales

Mike knew that getting the French government to return the portrait of Albert Thompson would be virtually impossible. The French have always held onto anything of value, even if it was just a century old portrait of a man Mike hadn’t even heard of. Nonetheless, he was determined to make this agreement work, knowing he had to do whatever it took. Back at his small Canberra apartment, Mike decided it was time to do some real research. But first, there was more important business to take care of. As soon as he closed the front door behind him, Mike undid the top button of his pants and slid them off, along with his now stretched underwear, in one swift movement. He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his thoroughly crinkled shirt, tossing them both aside. He stood naked in his white wall living room, his flaccid cock slapping his leg like a soft salami. He was sore all over from the day’s rendezvous and felt absolutely spent. He was certain his prostate would be bruised black and blue by now. Mike was wincing in pain as he walked to the shower, but found immediate relief as the hot water washed over his body. He stood there for a good ten minutes and allowed the water to carry away all the swear and semen from his long day of work. When the time was right, Mike stepped out of the shower and grabbed a grey towel from a coat rack, taking care to dry each of his hard abs individually. Once fully clothed again, he set to work preparing for the meeting with the French Ambassador. Of course, they had met several times, but everything remained above board. Mike wasn’t even sure the Ambassador was gay – he could have been straight, or worse, asexual! Assuming sex was off the cards, Mike knew there was only one other way to get the painting back – blackmail. And with that, he proceeded to review the Ambassadors Wikipedia page in fine detail.

After three hours of googling and researching, Mike still had nothing. It was as if this damned Ambassador was a saint! No scandals or incidents he could use to his advantage, not even a wife or mistress! Not even, much to Mike’s dismay, any record of the Ambassador using the services of a prostitute. The situation became all that much harder and for the first time ever, Mike wasn’t sure his erect penis and willing anus could solve the situation! This would require careful planning and perhaps even some illegal moves.

‘Aha!’ shouted Mike to nobody in particular. ‘I have it!’ If there was no scandal to be found, perhaps one could be created…. Mike knew instantly how he would achieve this seemingly impossible feat – it would involve his penis and a hidden video camera.

Mike rose early at 6.30am to begin his day. The meeting with the French Ambassador was not until 10am, giving him plenty of time to prepare himself for what lay ahead. It was imperitive he keep up his stamina and ensue he was in top shape for the meeting, given anything could happen. He went to the gym downstairs and decided to do some core training. Beads of sweat were soon collecting on his bare torso and abs, and began pooling into his belly button.

“Looking good, hot stuff!” said a voice from behind. It was Mike’s neighbour, whom he didn’t have time for and didn’t even know his name. He was a short man, rapidly approaching his late 40s, and judging by his physique and facial features, Mike assumed he’d had a hard life too.

“Thank you”, said Mike, who had not forgotten his manners, before putting his shirt on again an leaving. Back in his own apartment, Mike had time to prepare himself for the meeting with the ambassador. He reasoned it was all in the look, and planned his outfit down to the finest detail. He decided to forgo his morning shower and allow his masculine scent to linger. He carefully removed his undergarment from the top drawer. It was a midnight black jockstrap that allowed every detail of his sequestered penis to be revealed through the silky yet durable material, but also gave first class access to his asshole, assuming that the Ambassador was a top or at the very least, versatile. Mike assumed, given he’d never met one, that asexuals were also into assplay because at least it didn’t involve the use of genitalia. Over the jockstrap, Mike chose to wear black pants with a well fitted leg and a backside that revealed his bare ass. His shirt was white, and slightly see-through, so that his muscles and nipples could be easily seen. They say all is fair in love and war, and Mike’s body was the perfect weapon for both. Straightening himself out, Mike called his driver and arranged a pick up, effective immediately.

Mike arrived at the French Embassy at exactly 9.45am. It was his first time here, and for a brief moment wasn’t even sure it was the correct address – looked like a couple of white sheds behind a security gate. Mike eased up when he saw the French flag flying above the shed at the front of the compound. Walking through the main door (which needed to be pushed open, by the way), Mike followed the signs to the Ambassador’s office. There was no security whatsoever, which was odd, and only minimal staff in the building. Even the Ambassador’s office was unguarded. Mike took the opportunity and knocked hard on the door – perhaps too hard, because the door swung right open to reveal a bare ass thrusting away at a shocked Ambassador, who was bent over his desk.

“Go away, go away!” he cried in a very thick French accent.

Mike tried to shield his eyes so that he didn’t see anymore than he needed too.

“Mr Laycock, you’re early. Well, we may as well explain this situation and get down to business” said the Ambassador in his thick accent. It was only then Mike felt comfortable to open his eyes. The Ambassador was standing before him, with his pants thankfully back on, and behind him was another gentleman fumbling around with his belt. Mike immediately recognised this man, and instantly knew he had all the blackmail material required to get the painting back. For the man who had been fucking the Ambassador was none other than Hans Von Fritzl, the German Chancellor.

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