Hi Politics
By Counselor
How a President became the First Gentleman.


A pure fantasy about what might happen if some of today's modern couples ended
up in the White House.

At 10:28 PM President Jeff Williams climbed the stairs of the White House and
irritably pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The day had ended badly
with a boring dinner and a bitchy wife. It was Millie's behavior that had
really pissed him off. Who did she think she was, siding with the Secretary of
Labor? Well, he had told them both off. The day after tomorrow both the Post
and the New York Times would have editorials praising his veto. To hell with
his wife and to hell the Secretary. Who cared what they thought? Nobody had
elected them.

Ten minutes passed. By now he was in his pajamas. What was keeping Millie? His
irritation had made him horny. "Get your ass up here, Mildred Avery Williams,"
he muttered to himself. Prior to the campaign she had been Mildred Avery, much
too proud to take his name. That name business irked him more than he'd ever
let on. Where would she be without him? Nowhere. Damn it, if she didn't come
soon, he'd...

The First Lady entered steaming. "I can't believe how pig-headed you were. How
often do I have to tell you? -- Quit playing to those stupid conservatives."

"Millie. It's over. I've decided. Now let's make up and go to bed." He smiled.
"You look great in that dress."

She whirled on him. "You bastard. You get nothing until you sign that bill."
She turned away shaking with anger.

"Now, Millie." He put his right hand on her shoulder.

For an instant she was still as if her body were frozen. Then she put both
hands up to his closing her fingers gently around his wrist. Suddenly her
whole body came to life. She tightened her grip on his wrist and, holding it
up momentarily, ducked under his arm twisting it outward. The sudden pain in
his shoulder caused him to bend and twist away from her. As he she slid behind
him forcing his wrist up between his shoulder blades. She had caught him by
surprise, but Jeff Williams was known for quick recoveries. He tried to turn,
but she pushed his wrist forward and upward simultaneously hooking his right
leg with hers. They struggled as he tried to keep his footing, but she forced
his wrist up and pushed forward keeping his right ankle locked with hers. He
fought for his balance, but it was no use. Down he went, crashing to the floor
with Mildred on top now with both hands pushing his wrist higher between his
shoulder blades.

"Ow! Damn! What the hell are you doing?...You're hurting me. Millie, let me
go! Stop right now, or I'll call the secret service guy."

"Go ahead. Call. I can't wait to see his face or maybe it will be her face.
What a story for the press. Go ahead! If you don't call, I will."

"No! Millie!" He was thinking fast. "Hell. You'd be embarrassed just as much
as me."

"No, I wouldn't. I'd love it." She was astride him now, holding him, in
complete control. The most powerful man in the world was helpless under her.
The most powerful man in the world. The most powerful MAN in the world. It was
unbelievable. Her sense of triumph cooled her anger. But she could not resist
a little more pressure on his wrist.

His shoulder was hurting like hell; it felt as if it might come out of the
socket. "Please, Millie. You're really hurting me. Let me go. I was just
trying to make up."

"You were trying to have sex. Tell the truth for once. Say it." With that she
forced his wrist an inch higher.

"Ow! OK. OK. That's far enough. I wanted sex. What is wrong with that? Let me
go...please."

"No veto tomorrow."

"No politics now. Let me up and then we'll talk."

"I can hold you here all night. I'd rather have the staff see you this way
than the secret service."

"No veto. If I had known how much you cared, I never would have thought of
vetoing the damn bill."

"Liar! Swear. No veto."

"I swear. No veto."

"Give up?"

"Millie. You're crazy" She exerted a little more pressure. "OK. If that's what
you want, I give up. Now let me go."

A sense of power and elation swept through her. She was made for this moment.
She was getting aroused sexually. "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Beg me."

The President was known for his flexibility. At this moment he was willing to
do or say anything to get loose. "Millie, I beg you. You have made your
point."

"What point?"

"About the veto. Any point you want. I've begged. Now let me up."

"Say please."

"Please."

His words restarted the refrain running in her head, "The most powerful man in
the world. The most powerful man in the world. The most powerful MAN in the
world under me. I am woman, his master."

She let go of his wrist and stood up. Slowly he moved his painful shoulder
into a more normal position and then stood up, turning away as he did, ashamed
and unwilling to look at her even when she moved in front of him. Finally he
looked up. She tried to keep a solemn look on her face, but an irrepressible
grin broke out. Seeing her grin was too much for him. He flushed a deep
crimson in mortification and anger. His fists clenched as he stepped forward.

She retreated. "Wait! Don't! If you attack me, I am going to yell my head off.
Then tomorrow the headlines will say either 'President attacks first lady, or
first lady beats President.' Now go ahead."

"Bitch."

She laughed and stuck out her tongue. "My, aren't you the tough one? I didn't
even muss my dress." She ran her hands down the front of her dress and then
twirled so that he could see. She turned to the mirror humming to herself,
smoothed her hair and slipped out of her dress. The President could not take
his eyes off her. Her body was beautiful, young and athletic, broad shoulders
and firm breasts. He noted the play of her muscles under the soft skin. He had
a nearly overpowering desire to attack her, to throw her on the bed, to rape
her, to show her who was boss. The only thing that held him back was the
certainty that she meant what she said. She would yell her head off and
tomorrow it would be public knowledge that the President had tried to rape the
First Lady. In this political climate ninety percent of the people would
believe the woman, maybe ninety-nine percent. His career would be over, his
life ruined.

Damn! He turned away. A few minutes later he climbed into bed, trying to think
of the day's politics, anything but what had just happened to him. Mildred
hung up her dress slowly, brushed her hair in front of the vanity. She watched
him through the mirror as he drew up the cover and turned away from her.

Mildred went into the bathroom and closed the door. She slipped out of the
rest of her clothes and stood naked in front of the full-length mirror. She
had always admired her own body, the long hair, the finely chiseled face, the
broad shoulders, the firm if somewhat small breasts, nipples fully erect from
the excitement of the fight, flat belly, good hips, shapely legs. Suddenly she
struck a masculine pose. She flexed both biceps noting the swell of her
muscles, not too much, just right to do the job. She tried to look fierce, but
a broad smile broke out and then she was overcome with laughter. She tried
various muscle poses enjoying each one until she was too weak with laughter to
carry on. She had done it! She had done it! This body, this feminine body, had
put down the most powerful MAN in the world. She put on her nightgown. It felt
so smooth, so frilly, so feminine. "I did it. I, a woman, did it. The most
powerful MAN in the world was helpless under me. He gave up. He begged me, me,
me." Never had she experienced such a high. Her sexual desire was intense. She
should have fucked him. Sex was about power, not lust. Why didn't she? Maybe
some day. She was much too excited to go to sleep. She decided to take a
shower, to cool herself down.

Mildred locked the door, took off her nightgown and turned on the shower. She
paused again to look at herself in the mirror. What a body! She crossed her
arms in front reaching as far as she could and gave herself a hug. She loved
her body now. The most powerful MAN in the world begged ME. She stepped into
the warm shower. How good it felt, but it did not cool her passion. Maybe she
should wake him up. No, he would just think she was weak and needed him. Well,
she wouldn't be weak; she would fuck him some day, but she didn't know quite
how she would manage that.

She touched her nipples. They were hard; so were her breasts. She stroked
herself adding to the fires within her. Very well, alone. I have need for no
man. She was aflame. "Power...woman...No man...Beg and plead...My body,
better, stronger, more beautiful.... Sex is power...Power is sex...I am
sex...and I am power."

Afterwards she continued the shower lathering herself carefully. She felt at
peace, but her analytic mind now began clicking away. He would surely sign the
bill. He would not have the nerve not to, but he would try to get even. He
would have to get her alone when no one was around. She had overlooked
something. She needed some evidence of her triumph, something to hold over his
head, something always to bring him to heel. He had begged when he was down,
but, when she let him up, he was ready to attack her. What could she have
done? She should have made him sign something. She should have taken a
picture. She should have done something. Now she had nothing, nothing but
herself, her wits and her body. She would have to be careful. She would have
to win next time, for there surely would be a next time.

An hour after getting into bed, Jeff was still wide awake, unable to sleep or
to control the thoughts whirling in his brain. Millie still wasn't in bed.
What in hell was she doing now? He must think over what had happened and
decide what he had to do. She had tricked him, had taken advantage of his
surprise. Why in hell had he panicked? Why had he promised no veto and given
up and begged her? He felt a sudden sweat as he thought of what he had done.
Well it was over and nobody would ever know about it. He had better not veto
the bill, though; he had given his word and she would never let him hear the
last of it. OK, he would sign the bill. But he had to get even. He could not
let her get away with this. After all he was he President of the United
States. He would have to get her alone, completely alone and then... He knew
just how he would do it.

Having a plan made him feel better. What had happened, happened. No one would
know. He would get even and all would be back to normal. Finally he went to
sleep. Millie still had not come into the great double bed.

Much to the surprise of the President the major media praised his signing of
the bill. He rarely thought of how Mildred had extracted the promise from him.
When he did, his usual thought was, "I probably would have signed it anyway.
Anyway my time will come." They had not made love since, but he had managed to
slip away for recreational sex with a young woman named Daisy Jenner. Five
weeks into the affair the First Lady learned of it. She knew of Daisy Jenner,
a first rate writer for the Post. Millie saw Daisy later at a reception, a
tall, striking, longhaired blonde. She thought to herself, "Beautiful and
probably smart, too. I see why he went after her." But Millie bided her time
saying nothing to anyone.

Nearly a year after what he now thought of as Millie tricking him, the
President was offered a weekend in the mountains of North Carolina at a
vacation home of a major supporter. He quickly accepted on condition that he
and the first lady would be there alone. He then extracted a promise from the
Chief of Secret Service that no one would be within earshot.

He was very excited. Here was his chance to settle what was now an old score,
to get even, to put her down, to show her who was boss, who was President of
the United States.

"Just the two of us, Millie," he said. "It will do us good to get away. It
will be like old times."

She nodded, thinking to herself, "And you'll get even just like old times. I
never knew anyone more transparent." She knew she would be tested. She was
excited and nervous, even scared. As the day grew closer her anxiety mounted.
There was no doubt that he would try to beat her up physically, maybe even
rape her. How else could he get even? How else could he show that he was the
master? He looked so large, so strong, so self-confidant. Her victory was so
long ago and he had gotten over his shame at surrendering to her. She almost
wished she could escape the trial that was to come, but, no, she really had
asked for it. She had brought it on herself. There was nothing to do but to go
forward.

It was 9 PM when the President plopped himself on the king-sized double bed in
the master bedroom of the vacation home. "Ah, Millie, this is life. I am ready
to retire from the rat race and take on a life like this. What about it, just
the two of us?"

"Bullshit."

"Oh, Millie, relax. Forget about everything. Let's just be ourselves."

His self-confidence worried and irritated her. She was afraid. She admitted
that much to herself, but she said nothing. She stepped out on the verandah.
The night was clear. The fall colors were now shrouded in darkness and mist.
It was a peaceful place. As she looked into the star crowded sky, she almost
lost her bearings. She seemed to melt into nature. How petty even the affairs
of state seemed now. Yes this was the way things should be. What did the
little plots and counter plots of humans matter to the universe? The world
must have been like this forever. Little did it care what he would do to her
or what she would do to him. She stood meditating as the cold air closed about
her.

Finally she went inside at peace with herself and the world. The President was
in his pajamas going through some papers. "Get ready for bed," he said in a
preemptory voice and then added in a conciliatory tone, "It's getting late you
know." She turned and began to close the curtains that covered the verandah
door.

The President who had been waiting with mounting impatience came up from
behind, putting his arms around her his right hand covering her left breast.
He was alert, on guard against any tricks. For Millie this was the moment. She
had rehearsed this or something similar many times over. She slumped softly
against him. "Oh. Mmmmm. You are so masterful and so strong. You really are."
As her body relaxed, she could almost feel the tenseness drain out of him.

She covered his hand with both of hers and then gently her right hand closed
on his ring finger. That was the end of the gentleness. Suddenly she erupted,
bending his finger back viciously as her body straightened. Her left hand slid
under his palm. Now holding him with both her hands and keeping up the
pressure on his finger, she turned toward him, twisting his arm painfully. To
ease the pain he had to rotate his body away from her. Now it was not hard to
force his hand upward towards the small of his back in a hammerlock. Once the
action started her anxiety was replaced by excitement. Events seemed to be in
slow motion. "Twice in the same way," she thought. "You're stupid."

Thoughts were racing in his head too, "Damn it. Tricked again. I can't let
this happen." He leaned backwards trying to keep her from hooking his leg with
hers, so she just pulled him so that he fell on his seat.

Controlling him with her hammerlock, she slid her legs around his middle,
locked her ankles and then straightened her legs squeezing, harder, harder,
tighter, tighter. He summoned all his strength. He pushed backward getting
traction from his feet on the floor. He succeeded in rolling her on to her
back, but she merely intensified the pressure on his middle and on his wrist.
With his left hand he tried to pry apart her ankles; it was futile. She was
hurting him now, mostly his shoulder, but the pressure around his middle was
painful too and seemed to be squeezing the breath out of him. He stopped
struggling concentrating on breathing. Keeping her hammerlock, she rolled back
into a sitting position and now holding his wrist with her left hand began
kneading his breast with the right. The symbolism of her stroking his breast
was not lost. "Oh, Millie. Damn you." With his free left hand he tried to pull
her away from his breast, but she merely pushed his right wrist higher.

"Stop that," she said. "Let me have my fun." He gave in to the pain. She
rubbed his nipple between her thumb and forefinger and blew in his right ear.
Next she stuck her tongue in his ear while she continued to work on his
breast. She was rewarded by hearing his breathing come in short gasps. Then
his body began to squirm. Yes, she had him now. Her excitement mounted. She
slid her hand down between his legs. He groaned as she stroked him there
bringing on an involuntary hardness. It was all too easy. She reached a little
further and gave a squeeze to his balls. She felt his body contract. She knew
what she had to do. It was part of the plan. She released his balls and his
wrist. Unlocking her legs she stood up.

He hardly moved except to bring his arm around in front. She kicked off her
shoes and stepped out of her dress and half-slip. He got up very slowly,
letting his arm dangle and shaking it. He kept bent at the waist trying to
hide his hardness.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Her voice was sympathetic, but her fists were
clenched. He was shaking his head slowly trying to clear his thoughts when she
hit him in the face. Then when he straightened, she drove her right fist into
his abdomen throwing her whole body into the blow. He staggered bending
forward. She grabbed his hair with both hands bringing his head down and her
knee up into his chest. Holding him, she brought her knee up twice more hard.

As he tried to pull away, she jerked him forward by the hair and, as he began
to fall, twisted so that he fell to his side. She threw herself across him
forcing him flat on his back. Her right hand reached into the cleft between
his legs and then came forward capturing his balls. She squeezed just hard
enough to hear him gasp and feel his muscles contract as he blurted out, "Oh,
damn." Round two was hers. The most powerful man in the world was hers to do
with as she wished. She could do anything. "Give up?"

"Oh, Millie." Her hand tightened around the source of his manhood. "Oh! Oh!
OK, Millie. OK, anything you want."

"Say the magic words."

"I give up."

She let him go and stood up. Slowly he pulled himself into a sitting position
and then got to his feet. They faced each other. She tried to meet his eyes,
but he averted his gaze toward the ground. For the moment she had beaten him,
but she needed more. She needed complete dominance. "Take off you pajamas."

"What?"

"Take off you pajamas."

"Millie, you got whatever you wanted. Let me alone."

"Take off you pajamas, or I will take them off for you." He backed away,
holding out his hands as if to ward her off. "Now!"

"Millie, you're crazy."

She took a step forward. He swung at her. The blow caught her in the ribs,
rocking her back. Ignoring the pain, she smiled. "Is that the best you can do?
Now take off your pajamas." Again she stepped forward and slapped his face. He
grabbed at her wrists and they closed, each trying to wrestle the other down.
"Damn," she thought, "he is strong." She grabbed his leg and tried to lift,
but he put all his weight on it and seized her around the upper chest from
above. Her hands slid off his leg and down she went, pulling her knees
underneath her. For the first time she felt the adrenaline surge. She could
loose. He was heavy on top of her. She strained and with all her strength
lifted enough that he lost his purchase. She scrambled away.

Again they stood facing each other. "Go on, call for help," she taunted him.
Outwardly she was confident. To an observer she had the psychological
advantage, but inwardly she recognized the danger. The adrenaline was still
flowing. She was wary, knowing that he was more dangerous than earlier when
she had surprised him.

It was he who backed off. The fight had gone out of him. He tried to make
himself more angry, but fear kept rising in his belly, blocking out the anger.
He had expected an easy victory and was unnerved by two quick defeats. To be
beaten by his wife, to have her hit him and squeeze his balls. It was too much
to take. He wanted to have time to rest, to get himself together. His charm
had saved him many a time.

"Truce, Millie. You are really great. You deserve to be the winner. You got me
tonight. You are quite a woman. We've had enough."

"You mean you've had enough. Take off you pajamas."

He paused. To do so was total surrender. Not to do so was to set her off
again. He tried to bargain. "Millie, I'll take off my pajamas if we can then
go to bed and stop this silly fighting. You know I'll do anything you ask."

"I'm not asking. I'm telling." She stepped up to him, slapped his face and
grabbing his pajamas, ripped the top open.

"Damn it." He said in an almost pleading voice and then summoning all his
pride, said strongly, "Damn you." Now his anger welled up. "Damn you." He
stepped back, arms at his sides, fists balled.

Millie watched, her thoughts racing. "That son-of-a-bitch is going to try to
hit me again." She stood back watching him all her senses on full alert. She
wanted to keep the psychological advantage. "Come on, be brave." Goaded he
took a step forward, but she was quicker. She darted in and hit him first, a
right fist to the nose. He grabbed at her hands. She stepped close and brought
up her knee hard into his crotch. As he bent grasping himself, she pulled up
on his right leg and sent him crashing to the floor. She jumped. Her aim was
perfect. Her buttox landed in the middle of his abdomen. As the air shooshed
out of him she swung herself so that she was astride him. He lay there trying
to catch his breath, not resisting. She slapped his face again and again. She
got up and came down hard on his abdomen, knees first. He was sick and
hurting. He tried to turn over, but she pulled him back and sat on him. Now
the fight was gone out of him.

She pushed away his pajama top and began massaging his nipples. She noted his
eyes widening and his breaths come faster. "OK, now sit up and take off your
top." Surprisingly he did as he was told. A feeling of victory swept over her
as she stood up. "Now your pants." He sat there clutching his pants around
him. Fear and terror now swept in waves over him. Why had he not kept the
Secret Service close? He couldn't help himself now. Millie gave him a push
and, reaching between his legs, gave his balls a squeeze. "Take them off, or
I'll make you." Slowly, very slowly, he complied. "OK, stand up, all the way
out. Now stand up straight. I want to look at you. Now turn around."

He was trembling. He tried to pull himself together, to control his trembling,
but he could not. She ran her hands over his back, and then reached around his
front, over his chest, his nipples, then his stomach, down to his legs and
finally into his crotch. Yes, she could still arouse him. "That's good. Just
relax. Oh, I like having a man in my power." She led him to the bed on which
lay her nightgown. She unloosed a silken cord from it. "Put your hands behind
your back." She tied his wrists together and then pushed him down on the bed
and sat astride him. "Now I am going to fuck you. I am going to fuck the most
powerful man in the world." She slid off him and lay along side him, took his
nipple in her mouth and began sucking.

"Damn," Jeff thought. "She's trying to make me the woman." At first he tried
to struggle, but his bonds and Millie held him; so he kept still trying to
accept whatever might come. Her lips moved to his neck, his face, his eyes,
his ears. She blew into first one ear and then the other. Then he felt her
lips on his chest. She sucked his other nipple, then she kissed his stomach,
her fingernails ran over the inside of his thighs. He was alert and aware, but
he seemed to be floating out of his body hovering near, watching her and
watching his body respond as though it were someone else's. He was almost
surprised that his penis was standing straight up when her hand closed around
the shaft.

Then her hand slid down encircling his root. Her fingers reached, seeking and
catching his balls. Now, as her hand closed, she had him. He was hers, all
hers. With her one hand she controlled his maleness, the source of his power.
She could feel that power flowing, up her arm, into her chest, building,
building until it flamed throughout her body. She felt giddy, almost
disoriented. "I've got him. I've really got him. I can fuck him any time I
want. I am going to fuck him now." She felt the moisture between her thighs.
It was good; she was ready. She rubbed her nipples against his chest. Now,
now; now was the time to fuck him. Almost instinctively she mounted him,
raised herself and pushed taking him inside. Oh, it was wonderful and so easy.

Her passion rose. She slid up and down on his body. No. That was not it. She
thrust her pelvis forward, shoving herself on him. Down and relax. Yes. That
was it. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck a man. Fuck a man. Harder! Harder!

Jeff continued to watch what was happening as if from somewhere outside his
body. Her hand closing over his balls had been unsettling and unpleasant. He
was relieved when she let go. Then he was inside her. He noted her increasing
passion and the force of her thrusts. Suddenly he was aware of his own rising
excitement, drawing him back into his body. No, he wanted to stay aloof, not
to respond to her. He willed his body to remain still, but he could not resist
her. Her passion swept over him carrying him away. "Damn!" he said out loud.
He fought hard. "I wont! I wont!" But his muscles betrayed him, first with
spasmodic contractions and then with a rhythm that kept pace with hers,
matching her thrust for thrust. With a deep groan all his self-control left
him. His body responded to hers; his passion matched hers.

Millie at first hardly thought of what was going on in Jeff's head. The
muttered words "Damn" and "No" told her that he was fighting her. His
resistance added to her excitement. She would win. She would take him. Against
his will! Against his will! Her thrusts grew stronger.

Neither his will nor his body was match for hers. He began to moan, "Oh! Oh!
Millie! Oh!" His surrender gave his passion free rein. Millie excitement knew
no bounds. She felt his passion; she knew his surrender; she reveled in her
victory. Together they climaxed. Always before she had felt that he had
deposited his essence in her, but this time she was in control; she had taken
his essence from him.

Afterwards she stood up and looked down at his supine body. The excitement and
the glow of her accomplishment were still with her. She stretched and lifted
her hair. There he lay, naked, helpless, limp, hers. It was better than she
could have imagined.

She took his belt from the dresser, pulled him so that his ankles were around
the leg of the bed and then strapped them tight with the belt. Now he would be
safe.

She walked to the bathroom and closed the door. She stood in front of the
full-length mirror. Her body was beautiful. A momentary feeling of weakness
overcame her. She shook her head to clear it. Yes, she was satisfied. All
anger and lust were quenched. She was at peace.

A half-hour later she reentered the room. Jeff was sitting, his hands still
tightly tied behind his back. She grabbed his hair and pulled him back into a
supine position. "You'll sleep there tonight." She climbed into bed and in a
few moments was asleep.

Jeff heard her steady breathing. He could not believe that she was actually
asleep. What kind of person was she? He was uncomfortable and getting cold. He
thought of calling to her, but he didn't want to deal with her now. He tried
to go to sleep, but that was impossible. He rolled as far to one side as he
could and then to the other. Finally he sat up. He was angry, but as the anger
rose it was quenched by the fear, which gripped his belly. What would happen
to him now? What would she do with him? Would his presidency end in disgrace?
Never had he been so miserable. He was too afraid to be angry.

Dawn found him in no better frame of mind. Perhaps he had slept for as much as
thirty minutes. He was not sure. Millie's breathing was still steady as if she
had no care in the world. Well, she didn't; she'd gotten her wish. He tried to
say to himself, "That bitch," but fear made it impossible even to think the
word. He wanted to call to her, but he did not want to face her when she woke
up. Damn! This was terrible. For the first time in years, he actually thought
he might cry.

He couldn't look at his watch, nor see the electric clock on the other side of
the bed. Finally he thought it must be seven o'clock. "Millie," he was almost
whispering. "Millie," a little stronger. "Millie, Millie, it's time to wake
up. Millie." She stirred, then sat up.

"Aah," stretching. "Oh, is it morning." She rolled over and looked down at
him. "Did you sleep well?"

"No, Millie. It's time to get up." She got out of bed and stood over him. He
had rehearsed his words. "Please, Millie, untie me before someone comes in. If
someone comes in it will be embarrassing for both of us. It will be the end of
our political careers. Please, Millie. You like politics as much as I do and
you are very good at it. Let me up and I'll do anything you want and I'll
support you to be the next president. Please. You know I mean it."

"You're so transparent. You'll say anything to get what you want. Here, kiss
my foot." She put her foot above his lips. He kissed it. "You'll do anything,
but I don't trust you. I need a hold over you and I intend to have one."

Millie rummaged in her duffel pulling out a camcorder. Focusing on the supine
body of the President, she said, "Here is the naked body of President Jeff
Williams. You can see that his feet are strapped to the leg of the bed. Jeff,
turn your head so that we can see you. Are you shy? I can wait all day and I
will if necessary. That's it. Let's see a smile for the audience. You can do
better than that. That's it. I know you are happy. Now sit up so that we can
see your hands. Oh, they are tied. Who tied you Jeffie? Come on, you can tell
me. Who tied you."

"You did."

"What's my name?"

"Mildred."

"My whole name."

"Mildred Avery Williams."

"Why did you let your wife tie you up?"

"I didn't."

What do you mean you didn't?"

"I didn't let you."

"How did it happen, Jeffie?"

"Damn it. Quit these games and don't call me 'Jeffie.'"

"Jeffie, tell the truth." Her voice had taken on an edge.

"You beat me up and then tied me."

"You mean that the most powerful man in the world was beaten up by his wife
and then tied up?"

"Yes."

"Say it for the audience, Jeff."

He was in this too far to stop now. Besides she had him. He had to play along
with her. "You beat me up and then tied me to the bed."

"Why, Jeffie?"

"What do you mean?"

"What made me beat you up."

"I don't know. All I was trying to do was to make love to you."

"Against my will?"

"No."

"Tell the truth, Jeffie. Did I ask you to make love to me?"

He saw where this line of questioning was leading, but there was nothing to
do, but give her what she wanted. "No."

"Did I do or say anything to make you think that I wanted you to make love to
me?"

"No."

"But you tried anyway?"

"Yes."

"Then you got what was coming to you?"

"Millie, I don't think you had to do what you did. You know I didn't rape you.
You raped me."

"The President of the United States was raped by a woman? He claims his wife
raped him. Wow! That is news!"

Jeff was both angry and worried. "People get sent to jail for what you did."

"Not unless a jury believes that a woman actually raped a man." Millie's
emotions were churning now. - I did rape him. I really did. Imagine that. I
wanted to fuck him and I did. I'd like to fuck him again, right now. But
instead she said, "Who are you going to nominate for President at the next
convention?"

"You."

"Say my name."

"Mildred Avery Williams."

"Why."

"Because you are the most qualified person in the country."

"What about you?"

"I am not going to run again, that is if you will run."

She turned off the camcorder and took the tape out. "I'll be back. I want this
tape in safe hands. It's my insurance policy." She moved toward the door.

"Millie, where are you going?"

"Out."

"Millie. Don't go...Please."

"See you around."

"Oh, Millie." The last was a groan.

He heard her go down the stairs and the front door close. Now he was really
frightened. What would happen to him? Who might come in? He had to get loose.
Desperately he began to struggle. The wrists were hopeless. The knot was firm.
The bonds were too tight to wriggle a hand free. If he could lift the bed,
maybe he could get his feet free. He swung his body around. He tried to sit up
so that his shoulder would push up the frame of the bed. It was too heavy.
Perhaps he could push off the mattress and then the springs and then lift the
leg of the bed. He went to work on this project. He tried from underneath the
bed. No, still to heavy. He worked his way out from under the bed. He sat up
and tried to pull the bedclothes off with his teeth.

He had been working for about half and hour when he heard the front door open.
Fear, held at bay by his efforts, returned. He lay quite not making a sound.
Maybe it was Millie. He heard someone coming up the stairs. "Who's there?"

A masculine voice responded, "Oh, Mr. President, I thought I would see if
there is anything that I can do for you."

"No. Please go away. I need some privacy. It is the first time in I have had
any in two years. Please, just go away." He heard the footsteps receding down
the stairs. His heart was pounding. He could hardly breathe.

About fifteen minutes later he again heard the door open and steps coming up
the stairs.

"Who is that?" He steadied his voice as best he could. No answer, only steps
coming closer. His heart was pounding, his breath labored. The bedroom door
opened. It was Millie.

"Oh, Millie. I am so glad to see you. Thank heavens it is you."

She laughed. "You love me, then?"

"Yes."

"Let's see how much."

She loosed his feet and pulled him into the center of the room. Then she sat
on his abdomen and began playing with his breasts, kneading them, pinching
them gently, rubbing them.

"What are you doing, Millie?"

"Seeing how much you love me." She looked back at his groin. "Not too much,
yet." She ran one hand over his maleness and then returned to his breasts. He
let his mind dwell on what she was doing to him, to his breasts. She was
playing the man and, tied as he was, he could do nothing about it. Damn. He
had never thought very much about his breasts, but now they seemed very
sensitive. This was getting to him. His breath came faster; his body began to
writhe; the pain in his arms was forgotten. Millie glanced back. Yes, his
hardness gave him away. It pleased her to be playing with his breasts, a man's
breasts, bringing him to arousal. The most powerful man in the world could be
played with like a woman, by a woman, by her, by me, by me. Yes she was wet
now. She was ready, but she would take her time. She had all the time in the
world.

She slid down. She took his breast in her mouth and sucked. She ran her tongue
over his nipple as she sucked harder. She heard his gasping and felt him
squirm and knew that he was as aroused as she. Now his other nipple. "Millie.
Let me go and I will make love to you. I'm ready. Please."

"Ready to be fucked by a woman?"

There was no answer other than his heavy breathing. She forced her knee
between his legs spreading them. She lay on top of him, pushing his legs apart
with hers. She closed her thighs catching his erect penis. She reached back
pulling it firmly into her cleft. The she thrust her pelvis against his.
Thrust, relax. Thrust, relax. Thrust relax. Each thrust stimulated her
clitoris against his shaft. The movement was intoxicating. Yes, this is the
way to fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

Jeff's hips hurt as she forced herself between his legs. So this was what a
woman felt like. At first he accepted her thrusts passively, but as he became
more aroused his body answered following her rhythm, just she had in other
days followed his.

"I'm fucking him. I really am." Millie thought. Then the whole thing suddenly
seemed ludicrous. Two more hard thrusts and she dissolved into girlish
giggles. It's so ridiculous. Here I am fucking the President of the United
States. "Lie still, Mr. President, or I'll fuck you some more. How do you like
being fucked?"

The President lay still, his emotions drained. Millie's continued to giggle,
but more quietly now. She was more aroused than ever. She wanted to satisfy
herself, to take him now. "Put you legs together." He did. Now she mounted
him, took him inside her. It was good. She lay still for a moment and then
began her thrusts. Yes...Yes...I am sex.... I am power....Sex is
power....Power is sex....I am woman....Power is woman....He is mine. "You're
mine. You're mine. You're mine."

For Jeff it was like a nightmare. He had lost all control of his life, of his
wife, of his destiny, of his body, of his emotions. Even his sex was being
taken away from him. He could only observe as his body responded to hers. The
climax seemed to take from him his pride, his honor, his very self.

For Millie the climax was the ultimate power trip. She took from him more than
his seed; she took his strength; his very manhood flowed into her. All he was
now belonged to her.

Afterward she untied him. The she threw her arms around his neck and gave him
a long passionate kiss, hard, bending his neck backwards. He accepted the kiss
passively, clinging to her. "Now, she said gently, "Go take a shower and put
on some clean clothes. The we'll go get some breakfast." As she watched his
naked body disappear into the bathroom, she wondered if power really was the
ultimate aphrodisiac when the woman held the power. Well, we'll see.

The next weeks were hard for the President. It seemed to him that he was sleep
walking. What had happened was too horrible to contemplate. At times he was
filled with rage. He would have killed his wife if he could. At other times he
felt a cold trembling inside. When he was around Millie, he could not look her
in the eye. He often turned away with a strong urge to hold is hands
protectively over his genitals. He went through the motions of a normal life,
but always there was the fear that Millie would say something, that someone
would see the videotape, that he would be disgraced. It was all so unfair.
Being a woman was such an advantage. If he had done what she had done, he
would be in jail.

The first lady was more outgoing and self confident than ever. She became more
aggressive, telling people including the President what ought to be done and
then insisting on having her way. The staff tried to get the President to
issue his own orders, but repeatedly he deferred to his wife. Soon rumors were
out that the real president was Mildred Avery Williams. Those rumors crushed
the already battered President. He even complained to his wife, "Millie, it's
not fair. You are taking advantage of being a woman."

"Your damn right," she shot back. "Men have taken advantage of being men for
too long. Now it's our turn so quit your bitching."

He thought to himself angrily, "She loves embarrassing me. I wish I could get
even." But he said nothing and did nothing.

It was four months later when Mildred sat alone in the family quarters of the
White House. Her heart was pounding. What she was about to do was dangerous.
She didn't have to do it. Everything was going her way. "So why do it?" she
asked herself for the twentieth time. "It's so macho. I must have taken on his
macho along with his manhood when I fucked him. It's crazy, but here I am
behaving the way he would. It's not like me."

A knock on the door interrupted her. "She's in the private dining room," the
waiter reported. Now as her heart beat wildly, she went opened the door of the
dining room. There sat a startled Daisy Jenner, who immediately jumped to her
feet. Millie could hear the quick intake of Daisy's breath.

"Sit down. Don't worry. Everything's OK. He's away. Don't worry. I just wanted
to meet you. I am not angry with you. I just thought we ought to get to know
each other." Daisy sat down warily, looking as if she might bolt for the door.
Mildred pulled a chair up to her, not too close. "You know we have something
in common. Jeff has good taste in women. He likes them pretty and smart. So
what is wrong with our getting to know each other?"

"Nothing. I guess."

"Let's have a drink together before dinner. Have you been in here before...No?
I will show you around." Millie chatted about the furniture, the paintings,
the rug and how the room was used. As she went through the routine of the
charming First Lady by rote, Daisy began to relax, just a little. "This job is
sometimes a bore. I mean being the First Lady sounds glamorous, but most of it
is just formality. I have tried to be different and make a splash in major
policy, but you would be surprised at how many of Jeff's advisors try to shut
me out. But now I've got more power than they do. Sometime, though, I would
like to blow it all off. Do you ever feel that way?"

"Yes." Daisy's answer was guarded and distrustful. She wondered where all of
this was leading.

Millie went on, "You must have editors all over you. I read all of your pieces
that I can. It is not just that you have been having an affair with Jeff. No,
I read them because they are good. That one on Algeria, though, seemed cut up
as if it had been spoiled."

"You're right. Nobody else noticed that. Wow. Good for you." For the first
time Daisy began to relax. She went on with more animation, "Yeah, that
bastard Johnson has no taste, no style, but he thinks he is the world's
greatest editor. Actually he is the world's greatest dolt. I can't understand
how he got the job he has."

"I knew we had a lot in common. Both of us have problems with arrogant men who
have no talent but think they do. We are sisters. We should be friends,
Daisy." The last was said with a soft tone suggesting an intimacy that made
Daisy feel uncomfortable.

Daisy kept her eyes on Millie's face, trying to catch some clue to what was
going on. She was waiting for something to happen, but Millie kept up what was
almost a monologue. Daisy noted that Millie was informed and entertaining.
"This woman is swift," she thought to herself. "Watch out, Daisy girl. Don't
let her charm you. Keep your guard up. She has to resent you."

Two glasses of sherry were brought in. Dinner followed as Millie continued to
chatter on about the plates and the silverware and the food. Everything was
perfect, Daisy noted still with unease. However, the sherry along with the
delicious food and the fine Chardonnay wine relaxed her. After dinner Millie
dismissed the waiters. "Come sit by the fire and we'll talk some more." The
fire was warm and cozy. "Well," Daisy said to herself. "Why not be comfortable
and enjoy it. There really isn't anything she can do to me."

Millie continued the conversation. "Jeff can make some dumb appointments, but
has good taste in women. I knew you were smart, but I had no idea that you
were so pretty...beautiful really. I love the way your hair comes down like a
frame around your face. Your face is oval, you know. Your high cheek bone
balance you mouth.... , And your eyes. That dress, it makes your eyes seem
totally green. Daisy, you are just lovely. I could go on looking at you all
night."

After the wine and the food, the compliments warmed Daisy just like the fire.
She tired to keep up her guard, "Watch out Daisy girl. It is almost as if she
is coming on to you."

But before that thought could go further, Millie stood up abruptly. Now, I
have to do something. I am going to call Jeff. I'll put the phone on the
speaker so you can hear, but don't say anything. I don't want him to know that
you are here."

Daisy was uncomfortable as the call went through. She was not a spy. She did
not want to listen secretly to a conversation between Millie and her husband,
but what she heard next crowded out any reluctance to listen. She was suddenly
a reporter on a huge story. The highlights of the conversation that followed
were:

"Jeff, I want you to name Alice Runkel Chairman of the Joint Chiefs."

"Millie, that's impossible. She's junior on the list."

"I don't care. Surprise them."

"The Armed Services are not ready for a woman to be the top leader. There
would be a revolt. The press would crucify me."

"It would send a great signal that you value women and have confidence they
can do anything that men can do."

"But they say she may be a lesbian."

"So much the better."

"Millie, be reasonable. I can't do it."

"You will do it."

"Millie, please. We shouldn't talk like this over the phone."

"It's secure, but you're not. Are you going to do as I say?"

"Millie, don't make me....OK, if you want it that bad, I'll think about it."

"I want an answer now."

"Oh, Millie. OK. If you want it that bad."

"I do. I want to see it on the news by next Monday."

"OK. OK. I'll do it, but I don't like it."

"Thanks. You are a sweetheart."

Millie hung up.

Daisy was wide-eyed, her mouth open in astonishment. "A woman heading the
Joint Chiefs. Wow! That is news, great news. Can I go with it?" Millie nodded
and Daisy continued, her reticence now gone. "I can't believe the way you
talked to him. Does he let you get away with that?"

Mildred laughed, "Daisy, Daisy, you may be beautiful and you may be smart, but
you have a lot to learn. He doesn't let me get away with anything. I do as I
please and he does as I please. That's the way we get along?"

"But, but why?"

"Because I'm smarter and tougher than he is. Daisy, you just don't understand.
No one gives power to you. You have to take it. The strong take from the weak
and I am the strong. Men aren't like us; they aren't subtle. You have to be
tough with them. You have to hit them over the head to get their attention and
then lead them around by their balls. If you show any weakness, they will walk
all over you. You have to show them you are stronger and they better not mess
with you.

"You know it's important that women have power. Jeff is the most powerful man
in the world, but that does not mean that I can't be more powerful than he is.
You are my sister so I have told you my secret. Now we have to figure out how
to get you more power. The first thing is for you to write a piece predicting
that Jeff will appoint a woman head of the Joint Chiefs. Play it up that he is
doing so because of his respect for women and his confidence that a capable
woman can do anything that any man can do, including running the military. Say
it will be one of the great symbolic steps of the century." Millie raised her
glass of wine. "Power to us, the women." Daisy was very excited. She laughed,
raised her glass, looked Mildred straight in the eyes and drained her
wineglass.

"Mildred. May I call you Mildred? I can't believe this is happening."

"Call me Millie. You know, Daisy, I really do understand why you appealed so
to Jeff. I can't take my eyes off you. Your hair looks so soft. May I touch
it?" Millie leaned forward and fingered the shoulder length hair. "It's as
soft as it looks. Daisy, you are one of the new women, smart, feminine and
competent. Women like us are going to change the world. It will never be the
same again. I promise you." She let her fingers run down the back of Daisy's
neck then gently pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead and then on
the lips, at first softly and then more hungrily. In her surprise Daisy
neither resisted nor responded. A few hours before Daisy would have run from
the room, but now this powerful, self-confident woman mesmerized her. She felt
herself trembling. In fact, she could not have stood up if she had wanted. She
seemed in the grip of an overwhelming passivity. "Daisy girl, watch out," she
said to herself. "Get up and go. Now!" But her body was rooted to the chair.

Millie drew back laughing. "This is really the year of the woman. And you and
I, Daisy, we are those women. You are not afraid, are you? You and I are going
to remake this world, the two of us." She closed again. Daisy did not resist,
but let Millie take her in her arms. Then Millie's lips pressed on hers.
Millie's tongue entered Daisy's mouth and reached deeper and deeper.

Daisy's breath came more quickly; her arms went around Millie's neck. "Oh,
Daisy girl, you've done it now." Millie noticed the tension draining from her.
She had done it and Daisy was responding. Whatever happened now, she had
crossed another barrier, broken another stereotype.

Now, Daisy moaned and her body came alive. She was responding actively, deeply
aroused by this powerful woman who was so masterful and yet so gentle. Millie
was caught up in the magic of Daisy, of Daisy's body, which seemed to flow
into her. Yes, this was heaven. This was her beginning and her end... She felt
for Daisy's breast. It was unbelievably soft and dear, the dearest thing she
had ever felt. Gently Millie unbuttoned Daisy's dress, the dress that had so
beautifully set off those green eyes. Now she cupped Daisy's bare breast, took
the nipple between her thumb and forefinger stroking it to a new hardness.
Daisy lay back, eyes dreamy, totally in the control of this woman who was
arousing her. Millie could almost taste the sweetness of Daisy's breath. She
kissed her nipple then outlined it with her tongue. Yes power was the ultimate
aphrodisiac. And I am sex and I am power and I am gentle to this woman, this
woman who was now hers. Yes, hers that was it. This is my woman and I am sex
and I am power and I have a woman who is mine, mine, and mine.

Millie's mouth and hands explored the wonder of Daisy, her beauty, her
femininity. Millie's hand found her pubis, touched her wetness and marveled
that she had brought this beautiful woman to that peak. "Now come with me my
sweet, my lovely, beauty, my sister, my love." Gently she raised Daisy to a
climax and came alive herself as Daisy's breathing became deeper and then
wonder of wonders Daisy's body began to heave involuntarily as Daisy moaned,
"Millie, Millie, oh Millie."

Millie's ardor knew no bounds. She would keep Daisy at a peak as long as
possible. Without pausing in her ministrations, she opened her blouse and
presented her breast to Daisy, who took it in her mouth. Even as Daisy climax
subsided, she sucked on Millie's breast.

Daisy was intrigued by Millie's breasts. She reached for the other breast,
realizing that Millie was responding to her just as she had responded to
Millie. "Daisy girl, now it's your turn." And Daisy took charge. She rolled
herself on top. Her tongue stroked Millie's nipple. and for the first time in
years Millie totally surrendered herself to another. It felt good; her whole
body came alive. "Love me. Love me. Kiss me. Yes. Yes." Being in charge of
this woman's body gave Daisy a sense of power such as she had never felt
before. From what she had heard even the President of the United States could
not do what she was doing.

When it was over they lay in each other's arms, tired and peaceful. "Now we
are sisters and lovers." Millie laughed. "Do you know something funny?"

"What?"

"You are the first woman ever to sleep with both the President and the First
Lady. There have been women who have slept with the President and women who
have slept with the First Lady, but you are the first to do both. But, you
know what?"

"What."

"You won’t be able to sleep with the President anymore. I won’t let you. You
are mine now."

"I know."

"You are a better lover than he is."

"I know. So are you."

"My sister. My lover." Millie was fulfilled. This was the final step in
appropriating all of Jeff's power. She had conquered the last vestige of his
manhood, this lovely girl in her arms. A woman would be head of the Joint
Chiefs and a woman lay in her arms. There was nothing a man could do that a
woman could not. She was a better man than he could ever be and a better woman
too. She buried her face in Daisy's breasts.

It had been five days and Daisy still had not pulled herself together. The
story predicting a woman as chairman of the Joint Chiefs was the talk of the
town. It had led to intense speculation. Then, when the President had made the
appointment, she became instantly famous. He had written her an impersonal
note saying, "I did not know anyone could read my mind." No one seeing the
letter would have guessed the previous relationship. She was relieved that he
had not called.

Thinking of Millie made Daisy giddy and weak. She did not feel exactly guilty,
but how could she have surrendered to the first lady. She wasn't a lesbian and
yet, yet something had changed. On the other hand, she might be a lesbian; she
could not imagine herself going back to the President or any other man for
that matter. Maybe Millie had made her a lesbian. That thought sent shivers
through her and left her so weak she had to lean on a table for support.

Daisy went out of her way to see the first lady. She attended a large
reception for that purpose. It was strange being again in the same room with
her. Millie was wearing a pink dress. She looked so feminine. Could this be
the woman that had bullied the President and seduced her? It did not seem
possible that it had all happened. Spying Daisy, Millie made her way over. She
said nonchalantly, as if to a passing acquaintance, "Are you all right, dear?
You look a little pale." At that point Daisy thought she really was going to
faint.

Somehow she managed to stammer, "Oh. I'll be all right in a minute," and beat
a hasty retreat.

Jeff tried to make connection with Daisy several times, but she always had an
excuse. He needed some sexual relaxation to blow off steam. The job was a
killer and Millie was worse than no help.

It was late in the afternoon when he entered the private quarters to find
Daisy and Millie drinking tea. "Come in, Jeffie, you know Daisy Jenner." The
President turned pale; he felt faint. "Don't worry. I know everything about
you and Daisy, but that's all past. I've taken her away from you, Jeffie. I'm
her lover now." Millie put her arm around Daisy cupping her breast.

"No! Oh, no! No!" His voice took on a pleading quality. His knees were weak.
He collapsed in a chair.

"Yes, Jeffie. The better man won has won Daisy and the better man just happens
to be a woman. So no more passes at her if you know what's good for you. Do
you understand?"

"Yes."

"You can be friends though. Give her a brotherly kiss on the cheek."

"Oh, Millie."

"Do it!"

He complied.

It was nearly 10 p.m. when Jeff Avery-Williams entered the master bedroom of
the White House. President Mildred Avery was still debating with two of her
cabinet officers, both women. She had shooed him upstairs so that they could
talk confidentially. Jeff was used to being the First Gentleman, as the Post
referred to him. After she had crushed his ego, he had rebuilt it around being
her husband. He had slipped easily into a supporting role. He now looked up to
her. He was glad she was smarter and tougher and, yes, even stronger than he.
He belonged to the most powerful person in the world and had been happy to
sacrifice his career for hers. It was funny. Seeing powerful people,
especially powerful men, defer to her boosted his ego. The concession speech
of the presidential candidate she had defeated had given him a thrill, had
even been sexually arousing. What a change for him.

But now he wanted her attention. He needed her attention. She had not made
love to him in three weeks and he was horny. He no longer begrudged her
dalliances with her press secretary, Daisy Jenner. After all she was not the
first President to have a mistress. If she had to have one, he was proud that
his wife had picked someone as pretty and as clever as Daisy. Millie might be
able to take a woman away from him, but he would bet there was not a man in
the world that could hold a woman against Millie's charm and power. Charm
counted for a lot, but, as Millie had said, power is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
If Jeff Williams and Daisy Jenner could succumb to Millie's power, why anyone
could.

He slipped out of his clothes and pulled on a fresh silk nightgown with frills
around the bodice. Millie would notice. She liked him as feminine as possible
now. In private she even called him her wife. He admired himself in the
full-length mirror. "I don't look too bad in this nightgown. I hope Millie
will take me tonight." As he thought of her love making, the silk nightgown
covering his crotch bulged. He smiled. "That's something Daisy Jenner couldn't
do. She is a lot more pretty than I, but I can give Millie something no woman
can." Smiling he combed his hair and lightly patted on some perfume that he
knew Millie would like. Now he laid out pajamas for her. Yes, he was ready,
ready to give himself to the most powerful person in the world. Now if only
she would choose to hold him, to kiss him, to fuck him, then he would be
happy.