6 comments/ 112315 views/ 10 favorites Hot for Hillary (Rodham Clinton) By: btraven This story describes an adult male/female consensual sexual relationship. It also contains a political theme that might offend some. If any of this offends you DO NOT READ. The following story was given to me for posting by B. Traven who does not have USENET access. It is part of a voluminous series of stories never published before that supposedly describe true case studies investigated by Dr. Traven. Dr. Traven has many contacts - some which reportedly extend into the White House itself. I am unable to confirm many of the details in this story. I'm not completely sure that Dr. Traven is not pulling my leg, but I'll let judge for yourself. Dr. Traven is very interested in any comments or criticisms on this story. I will be glad to forward any messages about this story to Dr. Traven, but note that it may be a while before he is able to respond since he is still on sabbatical in Mexico. I may post more of the Dr. Traven's stories, depending on Dr. Traven's wishes and reader responses. "Hillary is both Clinton's greatest asset and greatest liability to Clinton's campaign for the White House. She is intelligent and has a successful career of her own. She is also attractive, which is a two-edged sword - with most men wanting to go to bed with her, and most women wanting to scratch her eyes out." - Time Magazine, Febuary 1992 "Well, I could have stayed home and baked cookies." - Hillary Rodham Clinton, March 1992 "It is should be the sole goal of all Republicans - indeed of all Americans of conscience - to devote their lives for the next few years toward the removal from the White House of President Clinton and her husband Bill." - Roger Ailes, April 1993, Republican campaign strategist and president, CNBC "Hillary Rodham Clinton is a disaster to this country. She is far left of the American mainstream, and is unaccountable to anyone." - William Rusher, National Review, June 1993 "Near the top of the list [ of women that men would most like to screw ] would be the First Lady - Hillary Rodham Clinton" - Al Goldstein - Screw Magazine, March 1993 "The whole fabric of human existence is that of domination and submission." - Friedrich Nietzsche ** John Peterson toweled the sweat off his forehead after coming back from his daily run. Peterson was a large muscular man almost 6' 4". He had dark hair that was cut short and always perfectly combed. He carried his large frame in a ramrod straight posture that gave him an towering, almost menacing appearance, the kind that would make men sometimes instinctly back away when he entered a room. If anyone got close enough to look into his steel-grey eyes, though, they would see no menace; they would instead see a surprising depth and a hint of sadness. When back home in D. C. he tried to catch up on the swimming and weight-training routine at the gym. Since joining the Secret Service two years ago, however, he was rarely at home. Peterson enjoyed the travel and the feeling of power it gave him to protect the lives of officials in the name of the Secret Service. People were deferential and respectful to him as if he had the same authority and power of the official he was protecting. While on President Bush's detail in the final months of his administration, he privately imagined that he was the president. Of course he kept such silly fantasies to himself because he was very much a professional. Since his divorce a few years ago, his career in the Secret Service had taken over an even larger part of his life. He and Becky had parted amiably after 5 years; and being childless made it easier for both of them to call it quits. She was a lawyer in a prestigious law firm in D. C. and was said to be on a fast track to becoming the firm's first female partner. Maybe he was old-fashioned, (A Neanderthal according to Becky in a heated argument), but he still envisioned the ideal home life to be one were the loving wife and children were home to greet him after a long, hard day. He realized now that he was trying to escape from the less than ideal home life with Becky by joining the Secret Service. In college he joined the ROTC, and following graduation he was commissioned as an officer in the US Army. He enjoyed the structure of military life and had a promising career in the service. After eight years at the rank of Captain he surprised many by leaving. With a old college friend he started a security business in D. C. that did remarkably well. He met Becky at a party. She was a vibrant, fresh-faced blond who looked more like a farmer's daughter than a law student of Georgetown. They hit off immediately, and married a few months later following her graduation. Life with Becky had been wonderful at first, but they both worked long hours, and eventually drifted apart. A few years later through a friend he had learned of the Secret Service and, on a lark, filed an application. Based on his military record he had no problem being accepted. Selling his share of his growing security business to his partner had been difficult, but Peterson enjoyed the military discipline in the Secret Service that he found lacking in his life. Being away from Becky every other week had, of course, paid its toll on what was left of their marriage. He regretted that things hadn't worked out differently, but they were probably headed for an eventual split anyway, even if he had not made the choice to join the Secret Service. He didn't have a steady relationship but he had an active sex life that was free of commitments. A handsome, fit man in his mid-thirties like himself had more than his shares of conquests. Being in the Secret Service helped in that respect too, because, unknown to most of the general public, politicians were usually trailed by groupies who were eager to fuck the brains out of the handsome Secret Service men who guarded them. ** His first detail was highly-sought one among those in the Secret Service. He was assigned to guard the President of the United States himself. He enjoyed being with President Bush who treated him as a colleague rather of as a servant or as part of the wallpaper. He was saddened when President Bush lost the election. There was a gloom over the White House for weeks afterward. At Christmas time President and Mrs. Bush invited him to join them for a family Christmas dinner in the White House. It was like the home life he had always dreamed about. Later in the evening after singing Christmas carols before the crackling fire of the fireplace, the President and Mrs. Bush presented him with what is now his most prized possession - a gold Rolex watch. It was actually against Secret Service rules to accept gratuities but knew he could not give up such a wonderful gift. Like many of the aides and Secret Service men he fought back tears when President Bush departed later in January. As a Secret Service agent he was supposed to be apolitical but he had very negative opinions both from a political and personal perspective about the usurpers that came to replace the Bushes. He was always a professional; and he when he was assigned to guard President Clinton he kept his personal feelings in check. But he was immediately repelled by the boyish impetuousness of Clinton who ordered him around like a servant. Although obviously bright, Clinton lacked any sense of personal discipline. In public he could be exceedingly charming; and it was with this charm that he managed to snake his way into public office and the beds of a long string of attractive women. Bush was a father figure to him; but Clinton, although over 10 years older than Peterson, appeared like a spoiled little kid who Peterson had to approach gingerly to keep him from throwing a tantrum. Perhaps Clinton sensed some of his personal animosity because a few weeks later Art Green, his supervisor, called him into his office to tell Peterson he was being taken off the Clinton detail. Although the Presidental detail was the most desirable detail among Secret Service agents, he was privately relieved. He almost resigned on the spot, though, when he was told his next assignment. "Mrs. Clinton?" his voice cracked. "Yes. We've had a request for you to guard the First Lady." "A request from who?", he fought to keep the emotion from his voice. "Mrs. Clinton." Green said carefully. He had, of course, met Mrs. Clinton while on the Presidental detail but he was surprised that she would single him out. He had secret animosity against Clinton but he didn't have any particular feelings about his wife. He knew Hillary Rodham Clinton had a successful career of her own as a lawyer - much like Becky. Unlike most First Ladies who confined themselves to re-decorating the White House he heard that she acted as kind of a co-President. Some people resented her taking on Presidential powers for herself, but after seeing her husband in action, he was sure he needed all the help he could get! She appeared cold and formal - even toward her own husband; and she smiled only in public. Privately, the other Secret Service agents referred to her as the "Ice Queen". As a man he couldn't help to notice that she was really a hot looking lady with liquid, penetrating eyes and with a hint of a really good figure under her business attire. He felt flushed with shame and fought to suppress these thoughts. "... take it or not?" he heard Art say as Peterson snapped out of his reverie. Guarding the First Lady was hardly a plush assignment among the SS guys but he knew he could get stuck with an assignment busting up illegal whiskey stills if he wasn't careful. "Besides ... she's a hot looking lady", he heard his mind echo. "Yes. I'll do it." he said, trying to put some iron into his voice. And he knew he was playing with fire. ** The secretary was on the phone and looked somewhat annoyed at his interruption. Still talking on the phone, she gestured for Peterson to enter the inner office. He unconsciously ran his palm through his head, smoothing down imaginary out-of-place hairs, and walked to the open door of the inner office. She was sitting at her desk and was also talking on the phone. She was immaculately dressed in a light-blue business outfit that somehow managed to look business-like and feminine at the same time. She wore sparkling earrings that set off her blond hair. He stood in doorway awkwardly, not sure if he should enter or not. She looked up at him at him and smiled while continuing to talk on the phone. Since she did not indicate for him to enter he continued to stand there awkwardly. Trying to look more casual he raised his left arm to lean against the door frame, but quickly took his arm down when he realized that he his suitcoat had opened to expose his gun in his shoulder holster. She finally put the phone down and looked up toward him. "And you must be ..." she said in bubbly voice. "John Peterson, Ma'am ... Secret Service", he heard himself say in a deep voice that sounded like dialogue from a cheap Western. "Oh, yes. John or is it Mr. Peterson?" "John is fine, Ma'am." She actually seemed pleasant and not at all like an Ice Queen. "And Mrs. Clinton will do fine, or even Hillary is OK. Ma'm makes me sound like an old lady." "Yes, Ma'am ... uh, Mrs. Clinton", he felt like a idiot now and felt foolish that he had taken this assignment. She reached into her drawer and picked out a stack of envelopes. She looked at him and smiled. "Now that we have the introductions out of the way, why don't you deliver these envelopes for me." His face dropped and he felt a sudden flash of anger. He was a Secret Service agent, not a messenger boy. He had in the past volunteered to run errands for the Bushes but those were done as a personal favors. Since the Nixon administration it was understood that Secret Service agents assigned to the White House are not personal valets. They are professionals trained to protect lives. What right does this ... bitch -there he said it - have to send me on her errands. He drew himself up to his full height and puffed up his chest. "Mrs. Clinton, I afraid I cannot do that." he said in a flat voice. Her mouth frowned in a pout he would have found sexy if he wasn't so angry. "Excuse me?" "Mrs. Clinton, I am a trained Secret Service agent assigned to protect your life. I cannot both protect your life and deliver your mail." She paused for a minute to digest what he had said. She placed her hand under her chin, thinking. "John, let me see if I understand what you are saying ..." she said sounding like a lawyer presenting a case in court. "I have approximately a dozen envelopes in my hand that I am asking you to deliver. All but two of recipients are down the hall. The remaining two recipients are one floor below. An obviously fit man such as yourself should be able to deliver each of envelopes to their respective recipients within, say, 6 minutes." She paused and looked at him. After a few moments he realized she was expecting him to respond. "Yes." he said. His throat felt dry. She smiled and continued. "However, you are unable to take 6 minutes to deliver these envelopes because you are guarding my life?" "Yes." He now felt she was understanding. "However ... I do not see any assassins ready to kill me and the White House itself is very thoroughly guarded." "Yes, but ..." he tried to interject. She cut him off and continued. "Moreover, there were no Secret Service agents guarding me until you came in ...", She looked at her watch, "12 minutes ago." He knew it was futile to say anything. "Looking at the facts we see that I was without a Secret Service agent since 5:45am, over two hours ago, since I left my husband to come to my office." She continued. "So, in spite of the fact that I was without ANY Secret Service protection for at least two hours this morning, you are saying you cannot leave me unprotected for the six minutes it would take you to deliver these envelopes." "Mrs. Clinton ..." He knew this was not going to be a good day. "Now, I think perhaps there another motive for you refusing to help me out with a small errand." she said in an understanding tone. "Each profession has its own standards of conduct. If anyone can understand that, I can. As a practicing attorney in the state of Arkansas I was prevented in many instances of representing clients who do business with the state - because my husband happened to be governor. This was to prevent an appearance of a conflict of interest - all because of the standards of my profession. Can you imagine? I could not practice law the same as any other attorney in that hick state of inbred hillybillies because of my husband's job. This is an absurd sexist rule that would never have applied if I were a man." She stopped to look at him sympathetically. "So, you're saying that in your profession you could not do me a favor - you could not help the First Lady in her official duties - because it would violate your professional standards?" she asked in a soft voice. "Yes, Mrs. Clinton." he said relieved that the confrontation appeared to over. "Please call me Hillary." she said sweetly. "Yes, ... Hillary." he said in a friendly tone. "I'm glad that we understand each other now." she said with the hint of a smirk. "Now that we have our knickers down, and I understand your position, let me tell you what I think of it: You work for me, Peterson. You're just the hired help, here. We all have to do whatever it takes to get the job done. I've had to do that all my life fighting against sexism that permutes this society." He was mortified. "Peterson, you're a hired gun. A boy who never gave up his toy guns. A boy playing with his gun while the girls were relegated to playing mommy with their dolls. Professional ethics? Don't make my laugh. You don't want dirty yourself by putting your toy gun down for a moment and doing some real work." She continued with a grin. "You're going to do this little errand for me, or you're going to get your ass the fuck out of the White House - and the Secret Service. This is a new regime, and anyone not willing to help out will be out on their ass. And don't forget I'm the one who calls the shots here. My husband may be the one who wooed the public with his boyish smile but I am the one who is working in the trenches. Some men have problems working for women but the times that are a'changin', buster. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?", she was screaming now, and he was afraid someone else would hear. He nodded his head mechanically and felt very small. She continued in soft, intimate voice. "Good. John, please deliver these envelopes for me. It would help a lot. After you're done just take the rest of the day off and cool off. Just be here bright-eyed tomorrow morning and we'll have a fresh start. I'm not really the bitch you may think I am. Let's not have any more confrontations, and everything will be alright. I'll see that everything is cleared with ..." she looked in her notebook. "Mr. Art Green" He meekly took the envelopes from her and turned to leave. "John?" He turned around to face her. She smiled brightly. "Ah, yes, ... Hillary?" "Nice watch." she said with an evil grin. He felt a flash of white-hot anger. He turned and walked away quickly before he did something stupid. He delivered the envelopes and, then, left for the nearest bar. ** After downing a half-dozen Wild Turkey's his outlook was improved measurable. This bar had the just the right ambiance with ripped nagahyde bar stools, garish neon beer signs and a permanent cloud of smoke. Someone sat in the stool next to him. He looked over and saw a bosomy blond who wore too much makeup. "Hi, there." she said a voice cheery voice that sounded sickening sweet to his ears. "Uhh, hi." he finished his shot glass and motioned to the bartender to get a refill. The haggard-looking bartender came over with his refill. "Get the lady one, too." Peterson said with a slight slur. "Thanks, honey!" she said brightly. She leaned over toward him and squeezed his arm. "Are you an athlete, or something?" "Nope, I'm not a cop, either." "Well, you're in real good shape, if you don't mind my saying, that is." she leaned against him drinking some colorful drink containing fruit. Looking at it made him want puke. "Can I ask you a question?" Peterson said. "Sure, honey." "Are you a lawyer?" She burst out laughing. "No, why would you ask that?" "Then let's go fuck." He took her by the arm and they left together. ** The next day he woke up with a hangover. The events of the previous day came back to him, and his stomach sank. He debated whether to talk with Green about his run-in with Hillary, but he decided to try and stick it. Civil service regulations or not he knew someone in her position could get back at him. Besides his experience in the military taught him to obey orders even if he didn't personally go along with them. Its wasn't just the orders themselves that mattered it was the discipline that they entailed. It was the discipline that stood between him and chaos. If life taught him anything it was the need for self-discipline. If he had trouble dealing with Hillary or anyone else his self-discipline would get him through the situation. Everything went alright that day. Maybe, he and Hillary had really started a new day as she had suggested. She was friendly as if nothing had happened and gave him no errands to do. He realized afterwards that her performance the previous day was a really a power play where she was asserting her dominance over him. When it was clear in her mind that she was dominant, she didn't need to play any more power games with him. He inwardly stewed when he realized this but he reminded himself that he was the one with self-discipline. ** Hot for Hillary (Rodham Clinton) A few weeks later she called him into her office. "Get your bags ready, John. We're going off together." she said conspiratorially. "What?" he was momentarily astonished. "I'm going to speak at the AMA convention in Chicago on health care. You have to accompany me." Of course it was all standard operating procedure. She required Secret Service protection and he was the agent assigned to her. He normally liked to travel but felt uneasy about going with her. "Our flight is at 8:40 on Thursday morning. I'll be looking forward to our trip." "Yes, Hillary." He groaned silently. ** He was at her side during the AMA convention, silently watching from the background. No one bothered him or made eye contact with him while he took care of security. He was amazed at how skilled she actually was at working a crowd. Contrary to what he had thought, she was at least the equal of her husband in social skills. Hillary knew just how to adjust her sales pitch for her heathcare package to suit various audiences. She could talk on the same level on highly technical issues with a doctor, a medicare bureaucrat or insurance company executive. In spite of himself he found himself secretly admiring this amazing woman. He also found she was not above using her feminine charms to make an impression on men. Hillary could be very seductive, although very discrete to the point that it was not apparent what she was doing. While talking with a doctor she would sometimes touch his arm intimately and look him longingly into his eyes with her deep penetrating stare. During strategic parts of a conversation Hillary would adjust her skirt innocently, momentarily displayed a flash of shapely nyloned legs. Other times Peterson trained eye observed her during conversations where she leaned forward as if the better hear the speaker. Of course by leaning forward Hillary exposed a nice expanse of cleavage under her silk blouse, which certainly did not go unnoticed by the hapless speaker. She had most men mesmerized, and Peterson doubted that any of them realized what was going on. This lady was a barracuda! ** Later that evening after the reception was over Hillary called to her suite. When he entered he was surprised that none of her staff were with her. She sat on an expensive, but uncomfortable looking, sofa. She was reading some papers and had not acknowledged his presence up as he entered the room. He knew this was actually another one of her power games, so he stood there and waited patiently for her to finish reading. She was dressed in soft blue, very feminine, robe that went well with her complexion. He had never seen Hillary in nightwear before, but she was modestly dressed in her robe. She finally put her papers down and looked up. "John, I'm glad you could come." As if he really had much of a choice. She gave him one of her penetrating looks that made him queesy. She smiled sweetly. "I was looking forward to this trip because of I thought we could get to know each other better." Alarms started going off in his head. She may be powerfully persuasive and damn attractive but there was no way he would let things go any further. "Hillary, ..." "John, why don't you sit down for a moment." Her blue eyes twinkled in the soft light and he tried to look away. "John, just sit down for a minute. You look uncomfortable." She motioned him to the couch next of her. "I just wanted to discuss some security details." she added in a surprisingly (for her) meek tone. He felt relieved but still apprehensive. She just wanted to discuss security, which was entirely proper. He grudgingly sat down but on the chair in front of her rather than on the couch. I'm always a bit apprehensive when I'm out of the White House. Isn't it a bit unusual that the rest of my staff is on the floor below me instead of on the same floor?" He relaxed some more. She just wanted to discuss security. "As I understand it, Hillary. There was not enough room to accomodate everyone on the same floor as your suite. I have arranged for the members of your staff to be located one floor below and for the remainder of the rooms on your floor to be vacated as a standard security precaution." He felt comfortable discussing a subject with her that he was well-acquainted with. "There are three-shifts of officers provided by the Chicago police department covering the lobby 24-hours a day. There are six undercover FBI agents staying clandestinely in this hotel, and a Bomb Squad provided by the US Army is on alert, and can be here in less than 10 minutes notice." He was on a roll now, and became more animated. "Also, a special phone", he pointed at the red phone on the end table, "is provided with a direct line to the local Chicago FBI office is available for you to use in any emergency." He looked at her with a new-found confidence. "Hillary, your security is completely provided for. We are trained professionals here to ensure your complete safety. And don't be deceived by appearances. We are trained to be discrete and stay in the background. No official wants to appear in public surrounded by armed thugs." She lowered her head, staring at the floor absent-mindedly. "Well, John, ... I guess I'm been silly. I've been worrying about something that you have thoroughly taken care off. I guess its easy to take the work that you for granted. I may appear to be so self-confident and assured, but sometimes I feel scared inside." He had never seen her like this before. Very vulnerable. He just wanted to give her a big hug and tell her everything would be alright. She looked up at him. She smiled with genuine warmth. "John, were are you staying?" Alarms started going off again in his head. Watch it! 'I'm staying down the hall." he said careful. "But that is standard operating procedure." he added quickly. "So ... we're alone on this floor?" she smiled. "By your arrangement." He could feel his temper growing and fought hard to suppress it. "Yes, Hillary. That is a standard and necessary security arrangement. I provide your immediate security and can only do it if I am staying on the same floor as you." he said a little too abruptly. She thought for a moment. "OK, it is a necessary security arrangement for you to stay on the same hotel floor as me." she said in her lawyer voice. "But, why", she paused for effect, "was it necessary for everyone else to stay on a *different* floor." she smiled mischieviously. "Hillary, ..." he fought to maintain control, "I've already explained that there was not enough room for everyone on the same floor." "Hmmm ... let's see, there are 8 rooms on this floor including my suite. There are 6 staff members plus one Secret Service agent - yourself-. What is 6 plus one plus one, John?". "But I was told - you told me - 7 staff members were coming!", he said shrilly. She smiled back at him. "I must have miscounted, John." "So we are alone on this floor by your own arrangement. How thoughtful of you, John." He imagined strangling her - her face becoming purple as he slowly squeezed the life out of her. "Now, we can fuck in private." The words shocked him, of course, coming from her. But he was not going to be forced to do anything he didn't want to do. She was no going to control him. "Hillary, I'm leaving. I will submit my resignation in the morning." he hissed through clenched teeth. She stood up and stared at him. "John? ..." Then Hillary did something he was totally unprepared for. She ripped open her robe showing a white lacy nightgown underneath. The nightgown was pretty but not revealing. She was trying to seduce him, but it wasn't going to work on him. She, then, grabbed the high neckline of her nightgown and violently ripped it down, exposed a rounded breast with a pink nipple. With surprising speed she reached over and scratched his face, gouging his left cheek. He had to fight the urge to strike her back. and rubbed the burning scratch on his face. Hillary Rodham Clinton stood there emotionlessly with her breast hanging out of her ripped nightgown. Normally, any attractive woman, especially Hillary Clinton would look extremely sexy to him standing before him like that. But he was too angry to feel anything. Whatever she was planning wasn't going to work on him. She smiled confidently at him. "You just raped me, John. You arranged for us to be alone on the same floor together. You came into my suite armed, ripped off my nightgown and raped me." "Rape is a serious offense. Under Illinois penal code rape is a class X felony that carries a mandatory 8 year prison term. Normally for a first offense it is pled down to sexual assault with a possible probationary sentence, but I have a feeling they will go for a maximum penalty for raping the First Lady of this country." She still stood there with her tit hanging out talking impassively. "You are through, John. Your career is over. And your life will never be the same. You trusted my security to you and you violated me in the most vile way. You took what is most precious to any woman. Incredibly, he saw tears well up in her eyes. She was a consummate actress that he knew he could never survive in the courtroom. He was actually starting to feel guilty himself. She stopped her histrionics for a moment and smiled at him slyly. "You know I always get what I want, John. Now, don't feel threatened by that - I've had to do whatever I could to make it as far as I have as a women in a male-dominanted sexist society." She softened her voice. "John, would making love to me be so awful? Don't tell me you've never fantasied about me. I'm sure many men would love to fuck the First Lady." She tilted her head and pouted in seductive way. Hillary did indeed look very sexy standing before him with her breast hanging out of her ripped nightgown. He noticed that her pink nipple was crinkled with excitment. He found himself getting aroused in spite of his anger. "Like what you see?" She noticed him watching. Hillary circled her exposed. nipple with her index finger. "Rip the rest of it away." she demanded. "Fuck me." she added. He stood there transfixed. Suddenly, she slapped him hard on his cheek with a hard crack. "Do it!" she screamed. Something snapped within him. He reached over and ripped away Hillary's nightgown with a violent tug. The degree of angry he displayed shocked him, and he could tell from her expression that his reaction was probably more than what she had bargained for. She stood there naked except for her lacy white panties. Her nightgown was in tatters on the floor before her. She did have better body than he had even imagined, with a smooth white complexion and a sleek but curvy figure. Her breasts, though not large, were good sized for her small frame. They were hung upright and were capped with flower-pink nipples with large areolas. After her momentary shock at his anger, she re-gained her composture and looked at his expectantly. Needing no further encouragement, he ripped off her panties, leaving Hillary Rodham Clinton completely naked. He studied her body feverishly. Her bush was soft-fur that was light-brown in color, (of course he already knew she wasn't a natural blond). Hillary's ass was high and firm. "Come on, lover." she said in a low voice. He reached for her and kissed her deeply while running his hands over her smooth nakedness. They both fell to the floor with him on top. He kissed her earlobe, then the side of her neck. He made a trail of kisses down her front until a salty nipple sprung into his mouth. He teased it with his tongue until he could hear Hillary's soft whimpers. He sucked hungrily while his hands found her buttocks and squeezed tight. She opened her legs automatically and his cock pressed at her crotch through his pants. "Let me." she said excited, and he picked up his hips so she could unzipper him. His cock sprung free, angry and red. He pressed the tip against her pussy, and immediately found himself slidding without resistance into Hillary's depths. She grabbed his buttocks and pulled him to her. He thrusted lightly at first into Hillary but, then, harder as she pinched his buttocks in encouragement. "Oooh, fuck me." Hillary moaned. He was fucking Hillary with abandon now, thrusting in and out hard. He knew he was losing control and had to hold back now if he was going to last. But Hillary grabbed his balls and squeezed lightly, causing him to go over the edge into a shuddering climax where he pumped semen into Hillary in violent spasms. Spend and exhausted he laid on top of her until she motioned for him to roll over and led him to the bed. He looked into deep blue eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Hillary, ... did you?" he said in a concerned voice. She smiled sweetly and ran her hand through his hair. He breast lightly brushed against his chest. "John, you don't need to worry about me.", she answered ambiguously. They rested together under the sheets. "Hillary, what about ...?" "Bill?" she completed the sentence for him. "How noble of you in this day and age to worry about your lover's marriage - especially after you have just gotten done fucking her." She looked at his reaction and smiled when she saw the guilt on his face that he had elicited. "Don't worry. Bill and I have an understanding in our marriage. Our marriage is more of a political alliance. Bill can be very charming and can be an effective campaigner and spokesman if he can keep his pants on long. I, on the other, am the doer and the thinker behind this partnership. I'm the one who has been working while he's out fucking some bimbo." "He's never been too interested in me much, anyway." she said with a hint of sadness. "I would find it hard to believe that there was any man who was not interested in you, Hillary." he said reassuringly. She got out of bed, standing there buck-naked. "I'm a realist. I don't have the body of Gennifer Flowers, or Paula Jones most of the other bitches Bill fucks on the side.". She ran her hands over her body. She looked damned sexy to him. "But I don't have a IQ in the double digits like them, either. Besides, I usually don't have a problem getting any man I want, as you should know." He nodded slightly. "When I was a girl growing up in Park Ridge, Illinois there were not many opportunities for a young woman." she sat down on the bed and continued. "This society was dominated by men who relegated women to the background. I knew I had to escape this sexual domination by finding a different avenue. In Junior High I formed the Lavender Club with a few special girl friends. We renounced men and learned to explore each other bodies. When I first had my pussy eaten and came with a violent orgasm, I knew that I didn't need men. After school, members of the Lavender Club would have have orgies and form daisy chains. Eventually this became too tame and we graduated to more daring and exciting forms of sex, including S&M and B&D. Of course all of this was kept quite secret. It wouldn't do for Dr. and Mrs. Rodham to know that their sweet little Hillary was actually a bull dyke. I even would date boys occasional to keep up appearances." Hillary paused to let him digest this. She saw his expression. "Don't be so shocked, John." "Only part of the Club's activities was sexual. We built self-confident in our minds as well as our bodies. We helped each other in our schoolwork to the point that all members of our club were in the top 10% of the school academically." Her fingers trailed down his arm playfully. "After I left for college in Massachusetts the Lavender Club dissolved. I was still secretly involved in Lesbian activities on campus, but by my Junior year I started finding the Lesbian lifestyle to be too limiting. As a private challenge to myself I set off to seduce a dorky-looking Freshman. When I finally got him in bed he never knew what hit him. I dominated him sexually and had him whimpering for more. Honing my sexual skills through my years of sexual experimentation in the Lavender Club gave me an enormous edge over any woman - or man. Seeing how easy it was to seduce a hapless freshman, I wanted to see how successful I would be with a man who was more of a challenge. I, then, tried the most sought-after man on campus, the star quarterback. He was a big, handsome strapping guy who was stuck up on himself and was surrounded by swooning co-eds. To my surprise I found that I could dominate him just as easily as the first dork. I fucked him until he was pleading for more. With the first crack of my riding crop on his bare butt he was transformed from from a Big Man on Campus to a whiny mama's boy. When I cruelly broke up with him he cried like a little baby, begging me to take him back. A few weeks later I read in the campus paper that he had committed suicide." He winced. "My lesbian friends were of course horrified that I would screw men, but I knew I could have sex on my terms with either men or women and enjoy every bit of it. I learned that sex was not really heterosexual or homosexual, and, surprisingly, was not even primarily biological. Sex was about power. The power to dominant and control another for the mutual fulfillment of both parties." She looked him in the eye for a reaction, and continued. "When I met Bill at Yale we screwed heavily at first, trying to out-do each another. But he was highly promiscuous, and tired of me quickly. He is utterly lacking in commitments to anyone or anything. He preferred screwing women whose IQ matches their bra size. But he kept coming back to me because I was the one who would write his papers for him and help him prepare for his exams. He had political ambitions, and I knew he would do well because he could charm the skin off of a snake - or the panties off of a co-ed - with ease. We both knew we could form a partnership that would be mutually beneficial to both of us. Another thing I learned was that not only is sex power but that politics is also power. With each you need the skills - and the strength - to get others to accept your dominance over them." He looked at Hillary in disbelief. "Do I shock you, John? Most powerful women have experimented with lesbianism at some time in their life as means of symbolically shaking off male sexual dominance. Many of the women in our Administration became known to me through lesbian circles. Roberta Achtenberg, of course, is openly gay. But few people suspect Janet Reno, Carol Browning, Donna Shala, Dee Dee Myers and Jane Alexander, among others. Hah, if any of them were straight Bill would be fucking them, and the government would come to a screeching halt." She laughed at her own joke. "No, I haven't had sex with any of them - lesbian sex is probably too dangerous for me politically at this point. I will confess, though, that I lust after Tipper. She is completely straight as far as I know - at least as straight as any woman can be who is married to a tree - but I would be willing to risk a lot to train Ms. Goody-two-shoes in the art of eating my pussy." She laughed. "She might even enjoy it." "Enough of talking - let's fuck some more." He cock grew immediately in response. They screwed slower this time. Each extracting as much pleasure as possible from the other. He fucked in long deep strokes, and Hillary pushed her hips forward to meet his thrusts. The phone suddenly rang and she picked it up. He started to pull himself out, but she held him by the buttocks. "Hi, Bill. I was just thinking about you." His cock started withering, but she pinched his ass and pushed her hips toward him. "Yes, I think the convention is going fine. Our healthcare proposals are being very well-received." Hot for Hillary (Rodham Clinton) She grabbed his balls, and he felt himself growing excited in spite of himself. "No, I didn't have to screw anyone yet. A flash of leg is all it takes to get these old men to come all over themselves." He was seriously fucking her now. He was close to coming, and thought she was close too, although she expertly kept her voice calm. She laughed. "No, I wouldn't tell you if I was, Bill. You didn't tell me about the bimbo you screwed in our bed at the White House today, did you?" He heard the voice on the other end of the phone get loud. She was dripping wet, and their fucking was now making slight slurping sounds that he prayed couldn't be heard over the phone. She wrapped her legs around his ass, forcing his cock deeper into her. She gave a evil laugh. "I didn't know, Bill - it was a good guess on my part." She quickly inserted a finger into his ass, causing his prostrate to trigger. He came showing wave after wave of semen into Hillary. He had to bite his knuckle to keep from crying out. He felt her body relax against him. "Ok, Bill, say goodnight to Chelsea for me. And I hope you're planning on sleeping alone tonight - the press will have a field day." She hung up the phone, and smiled at him. "That was Bill." she said cheerfully. "I know." he groaned. They laid back on the bed exhausted. "Am I as good as Becky?" she asked. His body suddenly tightened up. "What? Do you know Becky?" He sat up on looked toward Hillary. Her perky breasts were uncovered. She smiled back at him. "Sure. Becky Peterson, your ex. We lady lawyers have to stick together. "Did you know she was just named a full partner in her firm?" "Well, I heard she was in line for it." he replied. "She told me you were tight-assed and very controlling. But you could also be a good lay. That's what intrigued me about you." He started feeling anger well up again. "Oh, don't get mad. Women talk when they are together. I was just intrigued by you, and when the opportunity arose, I selected you for my Secret Service agent." Her hands went under the covers. Hillary grabbed his cock and stroked it lightly until it was hard. He thought he was utterly spent for the night, but Hillary knew the right way to tough him. She was stroking him harder now and he found his excitment building. She withdrew suddenly. He pushed his torso over to her and looked at her pleadingly. "Hillary?", he started touching himself. "I want to you to do something first, John.", ignoring his pleas. She pulled the covers down and opened her legs wide. She took his head and guided it toward the dark junction of her legs. He stopped her. "Hillary, I, uh, ..." he stuttered. "You what? Don't eat pussy. You probably wouldn't mind if I sucked your dick. But it is too undignified for you to satisfy me? Besides its too yucky and smelly. The big macho Secret Service agent with his big gun can't stoop to satisfy a lady." she sounded angry. In a calmer tone she said, "John, look I know you don't like to do this. I had to talk my teenaged girl friends into doing it, but once they did it they enjoying eating my pussy as much as being eaten out themselves. Take your time, John. There are other ways of satisfying a lady. Besides, after you do me, I'll do you." She rolled her tongue in a suggestive way. "I knew that would get to you." He imagined her pretty blond face covered with his semen, and felt himself grow harder. "Good. I'll show you, John." She guided his head gently but firmly. Her pussy was musky smelling but not altogether unpleasant. Hillary Rodham Clinton's pussy was actually pretty with soft brown fur and lips opened like an exotic orchid. He stuck out his tongue tentatively, barely touching her outer labia. "Deeper." She pushed his head further down. He had trouble breathing. He stuck out his tongue again, entering her slit. 'A little bit higher." she demanded. He moved his tongue a little higher along her crack and probed with his tongue. Bingo. She squirmed. Hillary wrapped her legs around his head, trapping him. He licked again and again. Feeling her body stirring. "Harder but slower." she said with a slight crack in her voice. He found the right rhythm as his tongue teased Hillary's clitoris. She wrapped her legs tighter, suffocating him. Her body was now shaking. He was surprising to find himself stirring, with his cock now throbbing. He didn't really enjoy licking Hillary Clinton's pussy so much, but found himself getting off on her reaction. Nothing was turn-on like a turned-on sexy lady. And Hillary Rodham Clinton was one sexy lady. He wanted her to come to a screaming orgasm. He knew she was close as her hips started to jack-knife. An idea came to him. As he continued licking her pussy with ernestness, he reached under her buttocks and slipped his finger into her anus. "Ooohhhh, John, Ahhhh." Hillary was out of control now, squeezing his head until he saw stars. "Ohhhh . . ." She loosened her grip on him. Her body collapsed like a rag doll. He moved his head back to the pillow. He hugged her and there were both silent. "That was good, John ... the best." He was feeling quite proud of himself. She stroked his head. She sat up with a start. "John, I'm feeling tired. Can you go back to your bed." she said flatly. "Uh, Hillary." he looked at her pleadingly. "I'm sorry, John. I'm just too tired. Maybe you can finish yourself off." He was smoldering with anger and got up and grabbed his clothes. Without bothering to put them on, he went to the door. He paused and looked back. She had rolled over. "Goodnight, Hillary." No reply. Maybe she was asleep by now - or maybe just ignoring him. He went out in the hall to his own room. He felt hurt and used and spent. He vowed never to go near that fucken bitch again, even if meant his career. On the other hand maybe she was just tired. He could remember times when he had fallen asleep immediately after sex even if his partner was still unsatisfied. Or maybe this whole thing was a game to her. She certainly seemed to lose control over his incipient attempt at pussy eating, but she seemed to snap out of the throes of her ecstatic orgasm pretty quickly - so maybe it was an act. Anyway, sleep. He needed sleep. And maybe things would seem clearer tomorrow. He dreamed of Becky during better times. It was their their honeymoon. They had a picnic in the hills near San Francisco. It was spring and there was a warm, fragrant breeze in the air. They walked hand-in-hand through the grassy pastures, full of love for each other. He knew nothing else in this life would ever compare to this moment. They sat down together in the grass, and kissed deeply. He ran his hand through her golden hair. He looked into her beautiful eyes and realized that it was Hillary. They kissed with warmth and deep affection. Hillary now unzipped his fly and teased the tip of his engorged cock with her tongue. He laid there gazing into the endless blue sky while Hillary's ministrations caused the heat in his loins to slowly rise. Life was bliss. He awoke sweaty. It was still dark, and he smiled as he recalled his dream. He felt a wet mouth ernestly sucked his cock. Not sure if he was still dreaming, he reached down. "Hillary? ..." She continued to expertly work on his cock. bobbing her head back and forth. She took his root deeply into her mouth, lightly brushing his cock against her teeth. Her tongue darted, teasing the head of cock. His heart was now pounding and he knew he was close to exploding. Just as he felt he was about to shoot his load into Hillary's mouth. She got up. She walked to the door without turning around. Her rounded bare ass wiggled slightly as she walked. "Hillary!!", he pleaded. She laughed wickedly. "Good night, John." She closed the door behind her. The bitch! He was angry, hurt - and excited. It did not take him long for him to relieve himself with his hand. He feel into a deep sleep immediately afterwards. ** The next morning she was friendly when he came to pick Hillary up to escort her downstairs to the convention. With a mischievious smile she handed him a rolled-up bundle for him to dispose of; and when he examined it he discovered that it was the nightgown and panties he had ripped off of her the previous night. He looked at the bundle guiltily and quickly threw it down the incinerator. Other than that, nothing passed between them about the night before. At the convention she gave a very well-crafted keynote address on the need for a national health care plan; and crowd applauded loudly afterwards. She displayed the same remarkable skills she had shown the previous day in working the crowd. He watched her from the back wall giving her sales pitch with her sparkling smile and bright eyes. Last night had been like a dream, and he wasn't sure what to make of it yet. He watched Hillary and felt himself light-headed and warm at the same time. God help him, he thought, he was falling in love. He fought hard to to suppress that thought. He tried to catch her eye, but Hillary didn't seem to notice him. He shouldn't have felt bad about this because after all it was a Secret Service agent's job to remain in the background and not be noticed. Later she went up to him and flashed a friendly smile. "I've been thinking about you all day", she whispered as she brushed her hand lightly against the front of his pants, feeling his now-erect cock underneath. His heart lept, and he looked around wildly to see if anyone noticed, but no one seemed to see anything out the ordinary. "Tonight." she whispered longingly; and, then, left him there with his heart racing. ** He felt like a nervous teenaged girl, waiting by the phone in his room for Hillary to call. She didn't actually say she would call. They didn't say much as he dropped her off after the convention and they each went to their room. But he assumed she would call him later to tell him to come to her room. She would at least have to call him if she was planning on going out so he could accompany her as Secret Service agent. She's not going to call, he thought, and his heart sank. The phone rang. He grabbed for it, almost knocking it to the floor. "Aren't you coming, John?" "Uh, sure. I'll be right there." he stammered. He knocked on her door. "Come in." She was sitting on the sofa wearing the same robe as she did the previous night. She smiled but didn't get up. "I thought that day would never end." she said wearlily. She looked at him with a twinkled in her eye, "How come your clothes are still on, John?" He quickly took his clothes off. He felt nervous standing there wearing nothing but an erection while Hillary Clinton still sat there in her robe watching him. She studied him. Drinking in the details of his body. She got up, and ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. Her touch was electric, sending tingles down his spine. "You have a nice body, John." she said in a low voice. She wrapped her hand around his engorged cock, stroking it lightly. Then, she squeezed hard, making him wince. "Oow." he cried with pain, but he was still erect, though. In fact, his cock was throbbing with excitment. She removed her robe slowly and deliberately while she watched his reaction. Hillary Rodham Clinton had on a shiny black leather corset with matching thigh-high boots. Why hadn't he noticed the boots before under her robe? The corset accentuated rather than covered her nudity. The corset was open at the top exposing and lifting her breasts high. Below, the corset came down to her navel. Since she wore no panties she was bared ass from there down to top of her boots. The black contrasted well with her golden blond hair and light complexion. "Like it?" she said teasingly. He was very excited, and also felt a sense of dread like a bird transfixed in the gaze of a snake. He swallowed dryly. She touched his cock again, and he felt like jumping out of his skin. "A little jumpy?" she asked playfully. She reached over and picked up a black bag from behind the sofa chair. He followed the curves of her rounded bare bottom as she bent over. She picked up what looked like a doctors bag, and placed it in front of him. "What's that?" he asked in a weak voice. "Just a bag of tricks I bought at a shop in Miami recommended to me by Janet Reno. That old bull dyke knows all the tricks." Sweat beaded on his forehead. He felt scared in spite of his excitment. He knew he was not ready for this kind of scene. This was going too far. She pulled some long silk scarfs out of the bag. "Give me your hands, John." she demanded. "No.", he said in a firm voice. "I'm not doing this, Hillary. You're a good-looking lady and you can certainly excite me, but this is going too far. It was nice but it is going to end here. I'm getting dressed and going back to my room." She started to say something, but he cut her off. "And don't try the rape ploy either. I'm sure you'd have as much to explain as I would." He expected a fireworks of histrionics from her, but she said nothing and looked at him disappointedly. Calmly reached over to his bundle of clothes on the floor and picked up his gun. "Hillary!" he shouted. But she had the safety off and the gun pointed at his abdomen before he could react. "I didn't want it come to this, John. But you disappointed me." "Hillary, please give me the gun. Look, we can play any games you want - just give me the gun." he said trying to keep his voice calm. "As you've said, John. It's gone too far." She pushed the gun against his stomach. The blue steel gun felt cold against his skin. "Go in the bedroom, John." He could have tried to make a grab for the gun. And he though he could have succeeded, but he wasn't sure. He felt very vulnerable standing here naked with a gun pointed at him. Later he would wonder shamefully whether he hesitated because he really wanted to go through with Hillary's game. He entered the bedroom, sweaty and shaken. She followed behind him with the gun. "Get on the bed, John." He carefully streached out on the bed. He looked up at Hillary longingly. He was hoping they could fuck and she would, then, forget the gun. "The other way, John." She saw the puzzled look in his eyes. "Turn around on the bed face down", she said as if talking to a small child. She raised the gun. "Do it, John.", he turned around on the bed, feeling more vulnerable with his bare ass sticking up. He looked behind him, not knowing what to expect. She walked over to him. He could smell the musk of her arousal. She expertly tied his hands and feet to the bedpost. He was relieved to see her place the gun down carefully on the endtable by the bed. If he could get his left hand untied he might be able to grab the gun before she could. He pulled at his restraint and it seemed too tight. "Here we are, John. I really shouldn't have had to use the gun. You'll see - it won't be so bad. In fact you might beg to be tied up by me later." "Hillary, it doesn't have to be like this. Let's just make love the normal way." She reached into her black bag and pulled out a riding crop. "Normal?" she laughed, "What is normal? You have a lot to learn, John, about the ways of making love." He pulled at his restraints madly. "Hillary! please." he pleaded. "Hillary, I ...", he voice caught for a moment. "love you." He couldn't believe he was actually saying that, but being tied up naked on a bed with a beautiful woman standing over you probably helped focus your thoughts. "I love you too, John." she said as she cracked the whip down hard on his ass. The sharp pain caught him by surprise, and a drew a deep breath. She rubbed the raised welt on his buttock lovingly. "As you might have heard there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. Since the days of primitive humans sex has always been accompanied by a measure of pain." She cracked the riding crop hard on the opposite buttock. "You've seen the caricatures. The brawny caveman drags the woman to his cave by her hair. You never see the next scene where he violently fucks her brains out in the dampness of the cave. Sex and pain." She cracked the whip again. Maybe he was getting used to the pain because it didn't hurt as much this time. He pulled his left hand again at the restraint. It didn't budge. He tried to think of what he had read long ago about Houdini's technique for untying ropes. He studied the knot, picturing it in three dimensions in his mind. He pulled slightly at the knot testing it for weakness at different angles. Hillary continued, talking as she were addressing a lecture hall. "What do the cave people do afterwards? Do they fuck again? Maybe they expect the pain the next time because its association has been ingrained in their psyches. Maybe she begs him to pull her hair as they fuck like dogs in the darkness. Outside the cave maybe he has to fight off rivals for the woman, again associating pain with sex." She struck him again followed closely by another blow. The pain seemed to settle into a warmth deep with him. Maybe she was right about pleasure and pain. His erection pushed painly against bed. Trying to keep a clear head he tested the restraint at his left hand further, feeling careful for a loosening. "You're feeling it aren't you, John. Its nothing to be ashamed of. Its the way we're programmed biologically." She struck him again, this time in his crack, that caused him to cry out in pain. "I'll tell you another secret, John. Deep within our brains near the stem, the most primitive part of the brain - the reptilian mentality within us - lies the archetypes we're programmed with. The patterns or roles that we assume out of pure instinct. Within each of us lies the roles of master and slave. We have tried to cover up this dirty secret through layers of cortical tissue and thousands of years of human culture, but it is always there within us in our true selves. It all comes down to submitting or dominating. That is the essence of sex and of politics." She flicked the riding crop quickly now, hitting him hard but still controlled. "Hillary ..." "You're close to coming now, aren't you, John." In spite of himself, it was true. He rubbing his cock against the sheets, seeking release. She reached under him and grabbed his cock. He immediately started humping her hand. "I thought so, John." she smiled. With a couple of firm strokes of her hand she made him explode in a violent orgasm. He pumped wads of semen into Hillary's hand in spasms. She pulled out her hand and inspected it. She smiled and wiped it on the bedsheet. "Now, do me, John." Hillary Rodham Clinton crawled up on the bed and stuck her pussy in his face. He immediately lapped at it hungrily. After a few minutes she came loudly, screaming his name. She held his head and rubbed the back of his head tenderly for while. He felt ashamed of course, as he laid there spent and energyless. But there wasn't much he could have done tied up like that. He forced himself to concentrate on the restraint on his left hand. Hillary got off the bed and reached in her black bag again. She pulled out a tube of something. He started feeling a sense of dread deep in his gut. "Hillary, untie me. Let's just hold each other." he said warmly. She ignored him. "Just an ointment for your love wounds. You'll be sore otherwise in the morning." She rubbed it into his burning ass. It did feel better. She careful traced each welt and applied the ointment with loving care. He, then, felt her finger in his crack, gently rubbing. Hillary's finger found his anus and started rubbing there. It felt good and a warmth spread through his loins. She pushed slightly and met resistance. Hot for Hillary (Rodham Clinton) "Just relax, John." she cooed. She pushed her index finger into his ass. It felt good. He relaxed and Hillary's finger slid into his ass up to the knuckle. He was aroused now, rubbing his erection against the smooth sheets. "You ole hetero, you, I think you like that." she laughed. "It's not unusual the anus is an errogenous area with many nerves and blood vessels. It's nothing to ashamed of." She inserted a second finger and he spread his legs to relieve some of the pressure. Suddenly she removed her fingers. Leaving his anus feeling empty and unfulfulled. She removed something else from her bag and stood direct behind him. He strained his head to see what she was doing, but Hillary was just out of sight. "Hillary?" She moved to the side of him where he could see her. She had a large black dildo fastened at her hips - and a wicked smile. "Hillary!" he screamed. "John, just lay back and relax." She applied generous globs of ointment to the dildo, stroking it lovingly. "Do you like my cock, John?" she asked. "Hillary, not this, please." he pleaded. "You fucked me right? You shoved your cock into me - and I certainly not complaining - but what's the matter with a little turn about?" "Let me fuck you, John." She climbed up on the bed and positioned herself behind him. She kissed the back of his neck. "You know I always get my own way." "I love you, John." He felt the tip of the dildo at his asshole, probing. He could feel her breasts pressed against his back, the nipples hard. "Uhhh. . ." he cried as she pushed. "Just relax, John. I'll rip you up otherwise." she warned. She pushed but still met resistance. She reached under him and grabbed his cock. She played with it. Then, Hillary slid in past his sphincter muscle. He felt full. It still hurt but the pressure on his sphincter had been released. His left hand slowly worked at the knot. it seemed to loosen slightly. "Relax, John." she commanded. She slid in further, taking his breath away. The knot at his left wrist was definately looser now. He pulled at some more. "The hard part is over. Now is the fun part." Hillary started thrusting lightly at first then harder. He found it hard to concentrate as she fucked his ass. The knot was almost untied. He gave it a hard tug as Hillary thrust deeper into his rectum. It came free! In one quick motion he streached his arm and grabbed the gun off the endtable. "No!" she yelled. Hillary unmounted him and grabbed at the gun. Quickly he put the safety on, and threw it under the bed. She went for his eyes, and he threw her across the room with his one free hand. The back of her head hit the far bedroom wall. As quickly as he could he tore off the remaining scarfs and ran over to Hillary sprawled out on the floor with the glistening black dildo still sticking out prominently from her crotch. He held her head. "Hillary, are you alright?" he brushed aside her blond hair and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Yes. I guess." she said weakly. "Come and lay down." He picked her up - she looked so small - and carried to the bed. He held her but the dildo pressed against his ribs. Disgusted, he reached behind her and found the catch on the dildo strap. He undid the catch and pulled the angry-looking dildo away. It caught on something as he pulled it away, and he discovered it was a two-headed dildo with the other end still buried into Hillary's pussy. As careful as he could he pulled the dildo from Hillary. It came free with a slight popping sound and was glistened with Hillary's wetness. He looked agast at the size of the digusting thing - it was at least 8 inches at each end with a healthy diameter. He through it across the room. He kissed her again. She seemed to be alright, just a little groggy. She returned his kiss. "I love you, Hillary." He just wanted to hold and protect this beautiful lady forever. "I love you too, John." she said warmly. She, then, hit him full in the face with the riding crop. "Bastard! No one dominates me." she screamed. His left eye was watering from the blow. He grabbed her arms and held her firm. "That's enough, Hillary." She kicked at balls, sending paralyzing pain through his body. He doubled over. "You bitch!" he screamed. She saw the look in his eye and responded in fear. He tied her up face down on the bed. He thought to himself that he was doing that for her protection, but when he saw her shapely bare ass wiggling as she struggled her started getting other ideas. He greased his cock up with the ointment and mounted Hillary from behind. Her soft buttocks felt good against his cock. He positioned himself, placing his cock in Hillary's crack. "You bastard! Don't you dare. I'll kill you!" He was well beyond rational thinking now. He only wanted to dominate Hillary, now. Fuck her ass until she screamed for more. He understood what Hillary had been saying to him before. We have roles hard-wired in our psyche. He had found himself slipping into the role of slave before and now he was the 'top' - the master. "Just relax, Hillary" He was amused he could use her own words back at him. He found Hillary asshole and pushed against it. It didn't budge. He pushed harder and managed to get the head of his cock into her. She was very tight. He reached around her and found her nipples. He pinched them lightly as he kissed the back of her ear. He pulled harder at Hillary's nipples, and started pinched them cruelly. It was having a effect, and he found himself slidding deeper into Hillary's rectum. She had stopped swearing at him, and was only moaning in pain - and maybe pleasure. "Give it up, Hillary. Remember that I love you." He bit at her earlobe and pulled on her nipples. He felt the tension drain from her body, and he slid all the way into Hillary Rodham Clinton's ass. He paused for a moment to allow her body to adjust to his intrusion. "Fuck me." she said suddenly. "What?" he was startled. "Fuck my ass, John. It belongs to you." He need no more encouragement and starting fucking her ass. He tried to be careful to minimize her pain but she egged him on. He was thrusting hard now, taking out all of pent-up anger and confusion on Hillary's ass. He was close to coming, and she pushed her bottom back against him, causing him to ejaculate heavily in spurts into her ass. She had come at the same time, and turned to kiss him with great fondness and affection. They fell asleep like that with Hillary still tied face-down on the bed, and John astride her nearly naked body. He woke up first and found his cock, now soft, still pressed between Hillary's buttocks. She awoke and felt him stirring against him. "Let's do it again, John." she said happily. "Let me untie you, first, Hillary." "No, like before, please." She pushed her ass against him causing his cock to throb. "You know the right button to press, Hillary." he kissed her cheek. "No, you do, John. I've never let any man - or woman - take me the way you did." He greased her asshole tenderly with the ointment. Her sphincter still seemed dilated from before. He inserted his cock and it slid effortless all the way into Hillary's ass. He felt engulfed with her heat. She felt like a velvet glove tightly gripping his cock. He began to thrust, and she responding immediately. Just, then, he heard a key at the front door. Instinctly, he grabbed his gun from under the bed and turned the light off. He threw a blanket over Hillary and made a gesture for her to be quiet. He kneeled down with his back to Hillary and held his gun with both hands in a shooter's stance, aiming it at the door. The door creaked opened but no one appeared. "John. Hold your fire. Can you hear me?" It was Art's voice. What was he doing here? "John, it's me Art. I'm going to step in. Hold your fire." Art entered the door cautiously. John lowered his gun. "What's going on Art?" He, then, saw the shadows of others in the hallway. A large man with a familiar boyish face entered the room behind Art. "Mr. President?" Clinton stepped around Art and entered the bedroom. "Get the fuck out of here, Bill." Hillary said behind him. John suddenly realized he was naked and felt a hot rush of embarassment. He picked up his bundle of clothes, awkwardly holding the clothes against his crotch with one hand, and his gun pointed to the floor with the other. "I ought to shake your hand", Clinton said in his amiable drawl, "but I see your hands are pre-occupied." Clinton smiled but John just stood there nonplussed. "This is none of your business, Bill. Get the fuck out of here.", Hillary screamed in a shrill voice. Clinton pulled the blanket off of Hillary, exposing Hillary tied face down to the bed bare assed except for her leather corset and boots. "Mmmm, mmmm." Clinton said mockingly, "Can I play, too?" "I've waited a long time to see Hillary like this." Clinton grabbed the riding crop from the floor and struck Hillary hard on the ass. Peterson wanted to grab the riding crop from Clinton and save her. Clinton looked back at Peterson. "Now step aside and let a real man take over." Peterson stood his ground. Clinton looked over to Art. "Get him the fuck out of here." Clinton turned back to Hillary and swatted her ass again. "I feel your pain, Hillary." Clinton joked. Art touched Peterson's shoulder, trying to gently get him to leave, but Peterson resisted. Peterson wanted to bust Clinton in the mouth. He caught the lost look in Hillary's longing eyes. "Go John, you can't do anything." she said between whimpers. "I feel your pain, oh, yes." Clinton enthusiastically hit her again with a loud slap. "John ..." Art nudged him again, and reluctantly John followed him into the hall. Art closed the door behind them. In the hall were two other men. One man, John recognized as Louis Freeh, Director of the FBI who gave Peterson a cross look. Peterson started putting on his clothes. "Look, John, everything's cool." Art explained. "We've been monitoring you and Hillary for some time." "What'll you going to do - haul me away to prison. Hillary and I are consenting adults in this." "No, nothing like that, John. The President wanted a man who was tough enough to break Hillary. The FBI did a psychological profile on you and determined that you would be an ideal candidate for the job. He tried a close and trusted friend before and he met with tragic consequences. Perhaps, you've heard of Vince Foster? Vince was a broken man after Hillary was done with him." Peterson was incredulous. "I've been set up, then." Peterson growled. He could hear muffled blows through the door. "John, you were the right man for the job, and you did it well. The President is pleased." Art said reassuring. "You did give us a few scares earlier on, but you came on top in end.", Art laughed. Peterson just glowered. Art handed him a plane ticket. "Look, John, just catch a flight back to DC, and take a few days off. Things will look better later. I told you everything's cool." "Just get the fuck out of my sight, Peterson", Freeh spoke with a sneer. He could still hear muffled cries from Hillary's room, and his heart sank. Peterson walked sadly back to his room. ** Peterson made a redeye flight back to DC. The next morning he sat in front of his television watching the news while sipping on a beer. "... The President paid a surprise visit to Chicago last night to visit Mrs. Clinton who was speaking the AMA convention on the new Clinton healthcare plan." Katie Couric announced. A camera shot showed Clinton and Hillary standing together on a stage, smiling. "People are already talking about a new closeness never publically seen before between the President and the First Lady." The camera showed a close-up of Clinton and Hillary holding hands together. "Their partnership on the healthcare plan seemed to have brought the First Couple closer together." "And other news, in Los Angeles ..." Peterson turned off the television and groaned. ** Peterson knew he could not go back and face Hillary or Clinton. He typed up a letter of resignation, stating that he was leaving for better opportunities in the private section. A few days later Peterson came home from grocery shopping and found an attache case on his bed. He pulled out his gun and searched his apartment. There was no one there and no sign of a forced entry. He cautionly opened the attache case and discovered a letter of recommendation signed by the President. On top of a pile was was a glowing recommendation profuse with praise for his services. Under that letter was another letter of recommendation, also glowing in its praise, signed by Hillary. His eyes picked out the words "sad to see Mr. Peterson leave". Underneath, the second letter was several neat stacks of hundred dollar bills. He counted $100,000 in total. ** Peterson bought his way back into his old security business. His partner was glad to see the amount of money he was able to invest into the business. The next day a package arrived via parcel post. It contained no return address. He opened it. It contained a small object wrapped in tissue paper and a card. He unwrapped the object and discovered a delicate crystal rose that he knew had to be expensive. The card read: I missed saying goodbye to you, John. I appreciate everything you've done for me; and I wish things could have turned out better between us. Please take this small gift. Roses have always held a special meaning for me. A rose is beautiful, but can be painful if you get too close and prick yourself on a thorn. A good description of me maybe? I also worked at the Rose law firm in Little Rock. Take this gift and think of me when you see it. I will love you always, H. Peterson fought back tears. ** One evening Peterson was feeling especially lonely, and decided to call Becky. Although, they had parted amiably they had not talked socially since the divorce. She seemed happy to hear from him. They filled each other in on what had happened in their lives. Had he heard that she was finally named a partner in the firm?, she had asked. Yes, he had heard it from a friend. Before he said goodbye, not sure what her answer would be, he invited Becky over to dinner at his apartment. Becky said yes that would be nice. The next day, full of nervous energy, like a teenager on his first date. He went out and bought groceries for their dinner. He wanted everything perfect. He bought an expensive wine, good steaks and salad fixings. He added bought candles and flowers - yellow roses. He also made a side trip to make a purchase in darkly lit shop that he had never before frequented. Their dinner by candlelight was perfect and romantic. It recaptured for both of them the magic of the early dates together - magic that they thought was gone forever. She picked up the crystal rose on his mantle, and admired its beauty in the candlelight. "Such a beautiful rose. Where did you get this, John?" "From a friend." he replied. Later that evening they kissed and made out a little on the couch. He, then, led her into the bedroom. They peeled off each others clothes, surprising each other that they could be so eager for each other after 5 not-so-good years of marriage together. She picked up a strange-looking object from his end table. "What's this?" she asked. "A riding crop." he replied. "I didn't know you took up horse riding, John." "I didn't.", he said with a wicked smile. ** John and Becky re-married a month later. Everyone said they were foolish to put themselves through that misery again, but he knew it would be different this time. A few months later Becky discovered that she was pregnant. They bought a house together and decorated the nursery in preparation for the new addition to their little family. Becky cut back on her hours at work, and they grew closer together in a deeper love for each other than they had ever known. John was happy - he finally had control in his life.