Hot for Hillary [Rodham Clinton] (5/6)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
HOT FOR HILLARY (RODHAM CLINTON) (5/6)
By B. Traven
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
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.
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
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
"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
"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
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
"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
"You're close to coming now, aren't you, John."
In spite of himself, it was true. He rubbing his cock against the sheets,
She reached under him and grabbed his cock. He immediately started humping
"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