Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction with a sprinkling of satire thrown in. Any resemblance between how my fictional Condi and Jenna act and how the real Condi and Jenna act is unlikely and purely coincidental. Now bugger off and find something useful to do.
“I’m very disappointed in you Jenna,” said her father sternly, pushing forward pictures of her daughter exposing her pussy while changing on a supposedly private beach, pictures that had found their way onto the Internet.
‘That’s so like Daddy,’ thought Jenna contemptuously while outwardly acting contrite. ‘Here he has pics of my hot half-naked body, showing off my twat no less and he doesn’t even look at them.’ With any other man she could have easily persuaded him to sweep it under the rug by crawling under his desk and giving him the blowjob of his life. Nor would the fact that he was her father have stopped her either. After all she’d been fucking her twin sister since they were twelve, not to mention anyone else she could manage to get between her creamy white thighs.
Unfortunately her father, despite the evidence of her and Barbera’s existance, seemed to have no sexual desires at all. Maybe that’s why he’d had their mother replaced years ago with the hated Laurabot(tm).
Her reverie was brought to a halt by the words “disciplinary action”. Previously her and Barbera’s behavior had brought nothing but lectures although if he’d found out about her now defunct affair with Alexandra Kerry she was sure the shit would have hit the fan before this. She was about to ask him what he meant precisely but was brought up short when he summoned Jake Chen into the office.
“Agent Chen, you will escort my daughter down to second level sub-basement 5C and leave her in the care of Secretary Rice.”
‘Condi Rice?’ thought Jenna. ‘Uh-oh.’ Secretary Rice had a reputation for behind-closed-doors behavior that was totally different from her poised and elegant public demeanor and more than a little scary.
“I didn’t even know we *had* a sub-sub-basement.” Jenna said as they reached the bottom of the third flight of stairs.
“Not many people do.”
In truth no one person knew all the levels and rooms that existed beneath the White House nor was there a comprehensive database. Every administration had added it’s share for varying reasons and not always informed the following one, especially if it was of another party. Some, like the one where Harry Truman had, according to legend, liked to be spanked while wearing a pink tutu would forever be lost to history.
The room whose code-locked steel door they now stood before had originally been built and equipped on the orders of Lyndon Johnson for the purpose of releasing the tensions brought about by the Vietnam War.
Chen thumbed the intercom next to the door. “Secretary Rice?”
“It’s Mistress Condi down here, dog!” came the harsh reply through the speaker. “Put the bitch through the door and go!” He shrugged at Jenna, punched in the key code, maneuvered her through the door, gave her a sympathetic look, closed the door and left.
“Strip!” came the command from the somewhat petite woman in front of Jenna. Condi’s attire would have shocked any of the pundits familiar with her usual elegantly demure wardrobe. She wore a black leather corset that pushed her breasts upward, a pair of red silk thong panties, thigh length black leather boots with three inch spiked heels and nothing else. In her hands was a taser in case the First Daughter proved less than cooperative, on a nearby table was a riding crop.
Jenna, knowing she was being called on the carpet had dressed conservatively in white pullover jersey and beige mid-calf length skirt. These now came off revealing the white thong and pushup bra beneath. Seeing the taser she had quickly abandoned any thought of resistance and hoped that by being a good little sub she could get out of this with a minimum amount of damage. In a way it was better she was here and not Barbera. Her sister had too much of the dominant in her make up. She would have fought, lost and in the end only made things worse for herself. Jenna was more flexible. Of course Barbera probably never would have flashed the world her cunt either but that was water under the bridge.
“Would Mistress like to remove the rest herself?” she simpered.
Condoleezza raised an eyebrow at this, not sure whether or not she to be pleased at this unexpected cooperation.
“No, you can undress yourself…but do it slowly.”
Janna complied, easing first one brastrap off her shoulder then the other. At the same time she put a little sway into her hips as if listening to an inner music. After unhooking the bra she held it teasingly in front of her tits while rotating slowly to give the Secretary a nice view of her back and ass before dropping it to the floor. She hooked he thumbs in her panties and looked at Condoleezza.
“Can I lie down to take them off, Mistress?” she said, her voice husky. Condi, fascinated by the show being put on for her just nodded. Jenna sprawled on her back, lifted her shapely legs and spread them as widely as possible while still being able to get her thong off, angling to give her Mistress the best possible view of her trimmed pussy. Of course it was flashing the papparazzi while pretending she didn’t know he was there that had gotten her into trouble in the first place. ‘So sue me for being a creature of habit,’ she thought.
When the panties had come off Condi seemed to recover herself and barked, “Roll over bitch! On all fours!” As the First Daughter obeyed she put down the taser and picked up the riding crop then walked over to the voluptuous blond and straddled her back. The Secretary was a small woman and her feet easily reached the ground but there was still enough weight on Jenna’s back to make it creak. This pain was soon increased as her rider applied the crop to her buttocks and used her small but strong hands to pull her head by the hair in the direction she wanted her new toy to go.
Eyes clouded by pain Jenna nonetheless did her best to get a look at the dimly lit room. It was indeed a classic dungeon. A rack was against one wall, a brazier with forunately unlit coals and iron rods against another. Chains ending in manacles dangled from the ceiling and hung from the walls. A long table held smaller implements of torment. She wondered, shuddering, how much of this was just decoration and what, if any might be applied to her tender flesh.
Her rider guided her to a rectangular iron frame hanging from the ceiling by chains, the bottom hanging about six inches above the floor. From each corner of the frame a short chain ending in a manacle hung. Next to it was a cable with an electrical switch box at the end.
Condi dismounted from her steed who sighed in relief.
“Are you hinting that I’m fat Little Bitch?” she snarled, “Little Bitch” having evidently become Jenna’s “slave name”.
“No Mistress,” Jenna said hastily.
“Good,” Condi said, bending down and lifting the young blond’s chin so they looked directly into each other’s eyes. “Daddy doesn’t want any permanent damage but “mistakes” can always happen. This isn’t a heriditary monarchy…yet, so he needs me more than he needs you. Remember that.” She released her victim. “Now standup.”
She flicked the switch and the frame lowered to the floor. “Step inside and manacle your ankles and right wrist. Good Little Bitch.” The Secretary manacled the second wrist and raised the frame back to it’s original height then went and stood in front of her victim. She reached in back and undid the corset, took it off and threw it out of the way.
“Like what you see?” she said , cupping her breasts in a mock offering.
“Oh yes, Mistress!” Somewhat to her surprise, Jenna’s enthusiasm wasn’t faked. Despite being more than twice the other woman’s age the Secretary had an attractive, exercise honed body. Her breasts were small but firm, topped by already erect brown-black nipples. Almost against her will she found her own nipples hardening.
Condi smiled at this sight and reached out to roll one rosy eraser stub between thumb and forefinger.
“It doesn’t need to be any more difficult than it has to be, if you know what I mean,” she said in a purring voice, then gave a hard twist, bringing a gasp of pain from her toy. “Unless I want it to be.” She turned, walked over to the table and picked up what was essentially a thick leather belt three feet long and two inches wide attached to a whip handle then walked in back of her subject, talking all the while.
“It’s not that I want to do this…, oh who am I kidding, of course I want to do this, I’m getting wet even as I speak but this part is on Daddy’s orders. He wanted me to go for the Biblical forty lashes but that might very well kill you so I’ll just keep it down to an even dozen. It’ll be our little secret, okay?”
Jenna started to nod but then an explosion of pain hit her back making it impossible for her to do anything but hurt. At the second she was sure she was going to die but by the sixth blow something odd started to happen. Pain turned into numbness and at the tenth blow numbness turned to…something. It wasn’t quite pleasure but it wasn’t really pain either. While not a masochist Jenna had reached that point all masochists seek where pain becomes so intense the border between it and bliss becomes blurred and meaningless, In fact, as the agony from the final blow faded she found herself feeling, instead of relief, a kind of confused regret.
Condi lowered the belt-whip and approached her girl-toy from behind, reaching between her spread legs and rubbing her damp pussy.
“Mmm, you *are* a little slut, aren’t you. Should I make that your new name? Little Slut?”
Between the beating and the sensations produced by Condi’s probing fingers Jenna was barely able to gasp out “Whatever…Mistress…wants.” It was too hard to think, better to just let Mistress do her thinking for her. What had started as a ploy was now reality.
“Good girl,” Condoleezza said, leaning forward so that her nipples pressed against Jenna’s raw back and nibbling her neck and ears producing yet more emotional confusion, “Little Slut it is then.” She withdrew her fingers from Jenna’s crotch and licked the juice off her hand while reaching for the electric switch and lowering the frame to the ground with the other. She then unlocked the manacles binding her prey who promptly fell to the ground on all fours. She waked around the frame and, getting down on one knee raised Jenna’s head by the hair and kissed her on the lips, ravaging the broken girl’s mouth with her tongue.
“You’ve been a good little girl, Little SLut.”
“Thank you Mistress,” Jenna said, tears of both pain and gratitude rolling down her face.
“Now I have a treat for you. Would you like that?”
Condi sprawled in front of her kneeling slave, spread her legs and pulled off her sopping wet thong.
“But first Little Slut, eat me. Make Mistress Condi come!”
As she eagerly licked and thrust her tongue into the Secretary’s dark furred snatch Jenna felt hands clenching and pulling at her hair. As she found and attacked her Mistress’ clit she felt thighs wrapping themselves around her head, neck and shoulders.
“Oh! Yes! So…*fucking* GOOOD!”
As her legs unclamped from their orgasmic lock around Jenna’s head and body Condi slowly slid from underneath her girl-toy, stood up and pulled the First Daughter to her feet by her hair. She wiped her cumcream off of Jenna’s face and let her lick it off her fingers.
“Now for your treat. You didn’t think I’d forget did you? I wouldn’t do that to my sweet Little Slut.” She led her now thoroughly tamed and enthralled fuckslave to what looked like a gymnast’s vaulting horse but with leather straps at the front. At her Mistress’ direction Jenna lay face down and lengthwise on the horse, head and limbs sticking out and let Condi tie her wrists. The Secretary then went to her table and chose an implement not of torture but of pleasure, a double-headed foot long strapon dildo. Going to the horse she stood behind her new acquisition who was waiting in a confused haze of both fear and anticipation. Slowly Condoleezza slid the dildo into her cunt and tied it firmly around her waist.
“Spread your legs,” she commanded. As Jenna complied she thrust into her pleasure pet, slowly at first then harder and harder, to an enthusiastic response.
“Yes, yes Mistress, fuck your Little Slut! Fuck her hard! Fuck her good!”
“Whose little slut are you!”
“Yours! All and only yours!! OH GODDD!! Fuck, fuck, FUUUUUCCCKK!!!”
When Agent Chen was summoned to collect the First Daughter he was dismayed at her battered, exhausted appearance. Although there were no visible marks it was obvious she had been through a dificult ordeal and had to lean on him as they climbed upward.
“How bad was it?” he asked, unprofessional concern in his voice. Jenna and her sister weren’t just charges to him but the best fucks he’d ever had.
She smiled oddly at him and said, “It…could have been worse.”