The naked, dark-haired, sexy woman lay on the block with her arms and her legs fixed down by the metal clamps. She could not move and she was wide open to the abuse that the man with the black-leather hood wanted to give to her.
She looked at the whip in the man's hand and then she looked down at his cock.
In her fevered, frightened mind, the whip and the cock became extensions of the same thing, and she was not sure if she wanted that thing or not. She was both frightened and thrilled as the naked man with the hood over his head approached her and raised the whip high in his hand.
When she saw that whip up in the air, she knew that it was going to come down on her.
And she knew that she did not want that. At least, she thought that she did not want that. She was sure of nothing any longer. She was confused by the humiliation and the torture and now she was going to get the whip, the sexy and violent whip.
"Slave slut," the man snarled. "Fucking slave slut."
And, as the whip came down on the woman, she was not certain at all. But she thought that she might actually be a slave to this man. She knew that she was his captive for certain.
The whip cut into her flesh and she cried out in pain.
But she felt the eruption in her pussy too and she knew that, somewhere, down deep, she was enjoying this a great deal. And she could not understand that at all.
CHAPTER ONE
The dark-haired, teen-aged girl knelt naked in the middle of the bedroom floor.
Her arms were tied behind her and she kept her eyes down. She knew that she was a slave.
And she knew that a slave did not look her mistress in the face.
The woman moved around her slowly, taking in the lovely sight of that sexy, naked slave.
There was nothing that Donna Morgan liked better than having a slave for the afternoon.
Donna was wearing a black-leather bra over her sexy, firm tits.
That was all' that she wore. Her cunt, her wonderful pussy with the dark, thick hair, was open to the air.
Every once in a while, she would see the girl, Terri, try to sneak a glance at that pussy.
And that pleased Donna. The mistress knew that she was beautiful and sexy, but she liked to be reminded of that from time to time. She liked to have a naked girl look at her with that kind of lust in her eyes.
Donna Morgan was a gossip columnist for a New York City newspaper.
She had often wondered what would happen to her if the news of her dominant ways with women ever got into a gossip column written by one of her enemies.
But Donna did not really worry about that. She knew that too many people feared her power.
She wrote about show business and politics. She wrote about celebrities.
And she had ruined the careers of a few celebrities in politics and in show business with her column.
She had a lot of power for a woman who was not yet thirty, she thought.
But this was when she felt the most power, when she had a naked girl kneeling before her.
This girl, Terri, was her research assistant. At least, that is what the people at the newspaper office thought.
Terri did do some research for Donna, looking up dates and names and the little bits of information that gave Donna's column more credibility with readers. But that was really not what she was paid for.
Terri had been hired straight out of high school because Donna had met her and liked her and then had found out that Terri liked to have another female dominate her. That was her main job with Donna now.
She was paid a nice salary because, on afternoons such as this one, she would kneel naked in front of her boss in Donna's apartment, and she would be a slave, the kind of slave that Donna had always liked to have.
Donna had had many female slaves during the last few years, but Terri was the best.
Never had the woman met a girl who really enjoyed the slavery as much as this dark-haired beauty did.
Donna saw Terri shiver, and she knew what was happening in the girl's body.
There was that strange mixture Of lust and shame, that servitude and sexiness. It was like a pale fire in Terri's system. And Donna knew just what to do with that fire. She would fan the blazes of that fire and make Terri serve her in this special way because she was the truly powerful woman in that room and the girl was the true and loving slave.
Donna looked over Terri's body again. She could never get enough of that young beauty.
Terri's skin was dark and her tits were big and high on her body. She had a wide, red mouth.
It was the kind of mouth, Donna thought, that was just meant to open when the girl cried out in lustful pain.
Donna moved behind Terri and looked at those hands, the very small hands, the delicate hands.
Those hands were tied tightly with a rope and they hung there, sticking out of the rope like two useless, little things.
And Terri's back was broad and tanned and had a fine spine running up and down it.
Donna put her bare foot on the back of the girl and pushed her forward onto the floor.
Terri fell with a thump, the kind of thump that reminded Donna of a filled sack of shit being dropped on the ground.
Yes, she thought, a sack of shit. That was what Terri was to her.
But the girl was such a sexy and beautiful sack of shit too, the dominatrix thought.
As Terri lay there on the floor. Donna pressed her bare foot against the girl's rounded buttocks.
And she used the term that she had just thought of, the term that defined Terri well.
"Sack of shit," she said. "Worthless sack of shit."
The girl said nothing. She just lay there and felt the pressure of the woman's foot on her ass.
Terri had always liked this kind of sexy and brutal treatment.
She had been raised on Long Island, and she was a bastard child. Her mother had kept her but had beaten her often when she was growing up. After several years. Terri discovered that she liked the beatings, that she equated the beatings with the mother's love that she had heard so much about, that special love that was supposed to be the best in the world.
When her mother was not beating her, she was ignoring Terri, and the little girl did not like to be ignored.
So she would do things to make her mother's anger rise in her face with a red heat. And then she would wait for her mother to take that red heat out on the daughter with a nice beating.
When she was sixteen, Terri discovered that other women liked to beat her too. She started hiring herself out in the afternoon, coming to New York City and meeting some of the most influential women in Manhattan. They would beat her and pay her, but Terri had begun to believe that that was the most that she could ask for. She was, after all, a bastard. She had come into the world with one person-her father-completely ignoring her, not even claiming her as his own. She had been nothing but trouble for her mother from birth. She felt that she was paying for all that trouble that she had caused when she was beaten, and she also felt that she was being worshipped in a strange way when she was beaten.
Terri knew that she was sexy, and she knew that women became aroused when they beat her.
That was a strange kind of homage to her, and the girl prided herself on just how much punishment she could take, just how much cruelty she could bear. No woman had ever really defeated her, not even her mother. She was still a lot of trouble to that woman on Long Island.
Terri knew that her mother sometimes worried about her and wondered what it was that her daughter did to make money. She knew that Terri did not have any special skills at all, that her daughter was really sort of stupid. Terri knew that she was not very intelligent either, but she had something that was better than intelligence. She had a body that was meant to be beaten, a body that women loved to torture. And she had the endurance to make sure that those women got their money's worth when they paid her.
And she also loved Donna in a special way. That columnist was the most important and most beautiful woman that she had ever met. In her dreams, Terri thought that she might one day be like Donna Morgan. But she knew that, in reality, she would never achieve what that woman had achieved. She was just not smart enough, not gutsy enough, not dominant enough.
But, if she could not be like Donna Morgan, the girl thought, she could at least be Donna Morgan's best slave.
And that is what she felt like when she felt that foot on her ass. She felt like the best slave that money could buy.
She had often had that dream, that dream in which she was on the auction block in a slave market.
In her dream, she was naked and all the people of New York City were looking her over.
And then the bidding started and the first man to bid was a huge, black man with a big gut and green teeth.
Another man was bidding against that black man, a little guy with glasses and a shaved head.
Every time the little guy would make a bid, the black man would top it and then the black man would grin at Terri with those green teeth. She shivered each time he looked at her and showed those teeth. They were like the ultimate in decay, she thought.
But she really did not like the little man either, and she wished that someone else would bid on her. AH of the people of New York City were milling around that auction block. There was a sea of people around her and they were all looking at her, but no one else made a bid in her dream They all seemed to think that Terri was unworthy, that she was not worth any money at all. And the bidding between the little, bald man and the black man with green teeth had already gone very high, much to high for most of the people in the city.
Terri tried to decide which man she would like best. And then she figured that it did not make any difference to her.
She would be a humiliated slave, no matter what man bought her. Her life would be hell, no matter how the bidding went.
And then Terri saw the car moving through the crowd, the big black car that seemed to shine in the mid-day sun.
And, in her dream, she saw Donna emerge from that car, Donna in leather.
The other people from New York City knew Donna and gasped when they saw her there and they cleared a path for her.
The beautiful newspaper columnist walked through that crowd as if the sea of people were parting miraculously in front of her, Terri remembered. The dream had been slow and rhythmic at that time, and, in her dream, the girl on the auction block concentrated on Donna, only Donna.
All of the other people, even the big black man with the green teeth, seemed to be lost in a fog, a fog that would not cover Donna because even it knew how beautiful and powerful the columnist was.
Donna moved in that fog of people to the edge of the auction block and looked up at Terri.
And, in her dream, the girl knew that she wanted that woman to buy her, not either of the men.
She wanted to be the slave of a woman for the rest of her life.
And she wanted this beautiful woman to be the woman who controlled her.
Donna reached out and touched the girl's bare leg and a sudden chill went through her, the chill of lust for that beautiful and powerful woman. Terri stood very straight on that auction block and threw her shoulders back so that the woman could see how big and ripe and sexy her tits were. She wanted that woman to admire her.
She wanted that woman to buy her and take her away from that auction block and make her a slave of desire, the kind of desire that only a woman could give another woman.
In the dream, Donna took her hand away from the naked girl on the auction block and smiled up at her.
Her teeth were white, as white as any teeth that Terri had ever seen.
"Come with me, slave-girl." the woman said softly but firmly.
And Terri moved off the auction block in the dream and moved naked through that foggy sea of people.
The people let them pass, did not even try to touch them. They knew that Donna was powerful and they knew that she would not allow any touching-either of her or of her slave.
The naked girl felt very protected with Donna in her dream.
And she felt safe and protected now too. Even with the woman's foot on her butt, she felt protected.
She knew that Donna would hurt her, but she also knew that Donna would never let anyone else hurt her.
And that made everything seem even and equal to the girl. That made all the punishment worthwhile. She finally had someone who cared about her, someone who did not care that she was a bastard child and not very smart, someone who would give her shelter.
And that was what Terri wanted-shelter, pure and simple.
Donna moved her bare foot off the girl's buttocks and then started speaking to her, saying the harsh words that she knew that Terri expected and loved to hear.
"Bastard bitch of a girl," she said. "Your father would not even claim you, and I do not blame him."
The girl just lay there and listened and felt that strange combination of softness and sadness in her that she thought must be something like love.
"Bastard slut," Donna said. "Bitch. Whore. Stupid girl."
And then, finally, Terri spoke to tell the woman who was her mistress that she was correct.
"Yes, Mistress," she said. "I am a bastard bitch and I am not very smart."
"You are stupid!" Donna yelled, correcting her with a furious voice.
"Yes, Mistress," the girl moaned in ecstasy. "Stupid."
Terri lay there on the floor and kept her eyes closed as she heard Donna sigh and move.
And then she felt the pressure on her body, and she knew what the beautiful and powerful woman was doing.
Donna liked to do this with her slave, and Terri liked it too.
The woman lay on the girl's back, put the pressure of her body on Terri's.
She felt the little ball that the little hands made under her stomach and she moved against that ball and gave herself that nice, queasy feeling that she liked, the feeling that she linked with sex.
And she rubbed her tits, the tits that were in the black-leather bodice, on the girl's dark back.
Terri felt that cool leather on her back and she sighed. She loved the aroma of the leather, like something sweet, and she loved the coolness and she loved the pressure too.
It was the womanly pressure of her mistress, and Terri knew that, with that pressure, she could feel at home.
She sighed under that pressure and listened as her mistress whispered the words of hateful lust at her.
"Worthless, stupid, bastard bitch," the woman said. To Terri, those words were the complete declaration of her own existence.
"Yes," the girl said. "Yes. That is all that I am, Mistress."
And then Donna moved off the girl. Terri found herself wishing that her mistress would lie on her back and give her that cool leather forever, that her mistress would give her what she really needed in life.
But she knew that Donna was about to give her what she really needed. She looked up quickly and saw the beautiful woman approach the bureau and pick up the whip, the long and black whip with the leather hanging from the end of it.
Terri pressed her face against the floor again as the woman came back to her and ran the soft leather of that whip over her spine.
Slowly, up and down her back, the cool leather traveled.
It tickled the girl and cooled her and thrilled her, but she knew that the harshness would come.
With Donna Morgan, the harshness always came, the girl remembered.
And it was a harshness that the girl expected and wanted. She wanted to feel at home.
She wanted to pay for all the trouble that she had caused in her life, with her birth and with her life and with her own sexiness.
The leather strip at the end of the whip came off the tanned back of the girl.
And then it came down with a crack, a terrible and wonderful crack.
The girl tensed her body as the whip hit her. She knew that the sting would travel deep into her body, almost to her very soul, she thought.
And that was just what Terri needed, a stinging in her soul, to make her feel alive and wanted and good again.
The whip would not cut her, but it would hurt her, sting her. And, when it came down again, the girl jerked there on the floor.
"Lie still, bastard bitch," the mistress muttered. "Lie still and take your punishment."
"Yes, Mistress," the girl sighed, and she tried to lie very still, tensed her body and accepted the cracking of the whip that came time after time to her. She accepted it all.
Soon, the stinging had made her tanned back pink and had made it hot too. When Donna looked down on the sexy girl, it seemed that her slave was on fire. And Donna could understand that.
She was on fire too. The brutality that she offered to her slave-girl always turned her on.
She dropped the whip on the floor and walked across the room again. She had a way to cool down her slave-girl.
She opened the door to the little refrigerator in the bedroom and pulled out the dildo that had been in the freezer for several hours. There was ice on that dildo, and the ice sparkled in the light of the room.
Donna smiled and carried that iced dildo quickly back to the girl who lay there.
She could see that Terri still lay there with her eyes closed.
And the mistress liked that. She did not want Terri to see this dildo.
She had never done this to her slave-girl before. She had read about it just a couple of days before in an S and M magazine and she had decided to try it with Terri. She wanted to surprise her sexy, little slave.
She knelt behind Terri and she gave the girl a harsh and brutal command.
"Up on your knees, bastard bitch," she snarled. "Up on your knees and spread them so I can see that bastard pussy of yours."
And the girl came up on her knees and spread her legs as wide as she could.
Terri bent over and rested on her big, girlish tits and sighed.
But the girl kept her eyes closed, wondering what her mistress was going to do to her. She was almost afraid to watch.
And then she felt the cold, the frigid cold slip into her.
"Oh, my God!" she screamed. "I am freezing, Mistress, freezing!"
"Shut up, bastard slut," the mistress snarled at her slave. "Shut up and let me fuck you."
The iced dildo worked back and forth in the young woman's cunt. She whimpered and she felt that she was being fucked by an icicle.
Donna watched the dildo as it came out of the girl. The heat deep within Terri was melting the ice.
After just two or three stabs into that pussy, the woman in the leather bodice could see the water on the dildo where the ice had once been.
But she knew that Terri's heat had not conquered all. She was still shivering.
The dildo was still very cold, and Donna laughed furiously when she thought of what that cold dildo must be doing to the girl and her sexual senses.
Then she snarled at her love-slave, the girl who was freezing and burning with lust at the same time.
"You think your cunt is hot, Terri?" Donna said. "You think your pussy is hot and special, you bastard piece of shit?"
The girl just moaned and shivered more as the cold dildo worked in and out of her.
"Your cunt is nothing," the mistress snarled. "Your cunt is nothing but the cunt of a bastard bitch. Feel that cold in your cunt now? Try to fuck the cold off that dildo, bitch. Try to fuck the cold out of your cunt, you bastard whore. Go ahead, try it. Try it. Try it."
And the girl did try to fuck the cold out of her cunt. She worked hard against that dildo, wiggled her ass and sighed and fought the cold with all of her heart and all of her sexy moves.
But it was no use. The cold was there to stay, and Donna Morgan knew that her love slave would remember that cold for a long, long time.
Then the woman in leather pulled the dildo out of her slave's wet cunt and dropped it on the floor.
She rammed her fingers up that pink pussy and felt the cold and the water and the juices all mixing together.
She worked her fingers around in the snatch and the woman in leather actually sighed with her own passion.
She loved the cold, wet, soft feel of Terri's pussy. She loved the way that the girl still moved, against the woman's fingers now, fucking the fingers and trying to get rid of the cold that was deep inside of her.
Donna thought that that was fantastic. simply fantastic. That was the reason that she kept her little love-slave around.
The columnist felt her own pussy tremble and felt as if it were dissolving into something new.
She knew that she was getting so turned on that she would need some relief.
So she pulled her fingers out of Terri's cold and wild and sweet cunt.
And she gave the girl an order that she knew that the proper slave could never refuse.
"On your back, bastard bitch," she said. "Lie on your fucking, bastard back."
Terri tumbled onto the floor and turned onto her back and looked up at the woman.
The coldness was still there, deep in her pussy, but the woman's fingers had given her heat too.
She sighed as she saw the woman move close to her and stretch her legs over her face.
And Terri stuck out her tongue, her eager tongue, as she saw that dark-haired cunt come down to her face.
The hands that were bound and under her hurt the girl a little bit, but she did not care.
She yearned for the sweetness of that cunt, the sweetness that she was hungry for.
As the woman moved down on the girl's face, she reached down and spread her own pink, sweet pussy lips.
And then she felt that tongue enter her and she sighed and whimpered.
Then she remembered her role as a mistress, the role that she was used to.
And she growled at her love-slave, the sexy, naked girl, with anger.
"Lick that cunt, you bastard bitch. Lick that pussy with your bastard tongue. Slam that bastard tongue into me, you worthless sack of shit, you worthless bastard-"
Donna Morgan's voice died away as the girl did just what she was told.
That tongue moving deep in Donna's pussy made the woman sigh and toss and turn.
She had given the slave that cold dildo, but now the slave was giving her that warm tongue.
Somehow, to Donna Morgan, that seemed to be a good exchange, a fair and equal bargain for the slave and the mistress.
As the tongue worked around in her cunt, Donna knew that she was going to come very soon.
And she lifted her hands to her black-leathered tits and she growled at the slave with more words of passionate intensity.
"Lick that pussy, you fucking bitch. Lick me out and make me come, you fucking, worthless, sack-of-shit bastard. Oh, God, lick me out. It feels so fucking good!"
And Donna leaned back on the girl's face and let the good feelings surround her and take her in, let the goodness engulf her. She had made her slave feel good and useful, she thought.
And now her slave was making her feel hot and sexy.
A very good rate of exchange, she thought, a fair and equal bargain.
CHAPTER TWO
"Those fucking Easterners," Gov. Larry Green said to one of his most trusted aides. "They are all so full of shit because they keep losing population. People keep moving out here to the West where the air is clean and the living is easy."
"Yes sir," the aide said. "That is why they move out."
"So the Eastern states are losing power," the western governor explained. "At least, they should be losing power because they are losing population. Their cities are cesspools, with the possible exception of Boston."
Gov. Larry Green had gone to college in Boston and he still liked to visit that city.
The aide was sitting on the other side of the desk and listening.
He knew that the governor was going into one of his regular rants against the East Coast.
And he knew that it was probably good for the governor to get his anger out this way. It did no one real harm either, the aide thought.
Larry Green-the boy governor, the press called him-was not really a boy at all. He was a hard, tough politician who was forty years old. He had some ideas that people liked and that was the reason that they had voted for him. But he also knew how to kiss up to the old-time politicians and that helped him too.
He was going to the convention of his party the next week with a large block of uncommitted delegates that he would control.
All of the people who wanted to be president had been calling Larry Green and praising him for his policies.
But Green had played his cards close to his chest. He did not want to give away what he could sell to the highest bidder.
And he knew that the real bidding was among the candidates for president would not even start until they were all together there in New York City. He was looking forward to that convention, no matter how much he hated the East.
"They call it the Big Apple," he sneered. "But the Apple is rotten to the core. Those fucking people there should know better than live in a city like that, and they are moving out by the hundreds, coming West. Go West, young man. Remember that great statement?"
"Yes, Governor," the aide said. "I remember it."
"Who the fuck said that, anyway? Was it Lincoln? Jefferson?"
"Horace Greeley, Governor," the aide said softly. "It was Horace Greeley."
"Horace Greeley? Wasn't he a New Yorker?"
"Yes, Governor, he lived most of his life in New York City. Ran for president once but he was defeated by-"
"Then it is a shitty statement. Don't ever let a writer put that into one of my speeches."
"Yes, Governor."
"Not once."
"All right, Governor. I will make a note of that right now."
"I don't want to be quoting some fucking New Yorker, you know."
"I know."
"I like statements by people like Dorothy Parker. That would be good to work in. Work in some Dorothy Parker. She was a woman. It would appeal to the feminists."
"She was a New Yorker too, Governor," the aide said softly.
"What?"
"She was a New Yorker too."
"Fuck."
The Governor stopped to think for a moment and finally Nhe asked the aide the question.
"Hasn't there been anyone from the West who has said something quotable?"
"You mean, the Far West, Governor?"
"Of course, I mean the Far West. You don't want me quoting some jerk-off from Chicago, do you?"
"No sir."
"What about the Far West? Any good Far West quotations?"
"Well, there is 'I am not a crook,' Governor," the aide said with a grin.
"This is no fucking time to be funny," the Governor snarled. "Get out there and get my research department working on it. I want a whole list of great Far West quotations on my desk by tomorrow morning. Is that clear, shit-for-brains?"
"Yes, Governor," the aide said, standing up.
"Then get to it," the Governor barked.
The aide walked out of the office and forgot about the list of quotations immediately.
He knew that the Governor had just been letting off steam, that he would forget about that order by that night. He would quote anyone that his speech-writers wanted him to quote. The Governor trusted his speech-writers, his wordsmiths.
Larry Green sat in his office and fumed about Easterners.
Those fucking Easterners, he thought, they almost laughed in his face when he came out with some of his policies.
He talked about saving the enviroment and the Easterners just could not understand that. They had damned little environment left to save.
No, they wanted welfare and they wanted the federal government to take over the cities and run them.
Larry Green knew that that was not the answer to anything. The federal government could not handle anything. Most of the bureaucrats in Washington that he had met, he thought, could not find their asses with both hands and a flash-light. He chuckled when he thought of that phrase. He wished that he had the courage to work that line into a speech. But it would not do any good.
He knew that the newspapers would never quote him directly on that one, and the TV networks would certainly never play a tape of him saying something like that. And the media, the Governor knew, ran politics. What they wrote and what they said on TV made all the difference in the world.
The media. That brought to mind Donna Morgan.
Eastern bitch, the Western Governor thought. The worst of the Eastern bitches.
The Governor had often thought of running for president himself. He knew that he had the kind of ideas that people would relate too, real people, not Easterners. He could run for the president and tell the people that he did not like busing and welfare and give-away programs. He could run for president and tell the people that he would stream-line the government and cut their fucking taxes and get government off the backs of business. Sure, he thought, the Easterners would scream bloody murder. They liked Big Government, the bigger the better, more people to blame stuff on that way. But the Governor knew that the real people, the people in the Midwest and South and Far West wanted the same thing that he did.
But Donna Morgan had stopped him from running for president. Larry Green knew that Donna Morgan had something on him, something that she was just waiting to drop like a bomb on his campaign the minute that he mentioned that he would be a candidate. And the Governor could not figure out what that something was.
There was a lot that Larry Green had to hide in his past.
He had had two girlfriends in college and both of those girlfriends had gotten pregnant. He had paid for the abortions, but that was before abortion was legalized, and he knew that the idea of aborting babies upset many of the people who just might support him after all.
And then there was the fact that he had written those three porn books for fun and had gotten them published under a false name. If anyone ever found out about that, the morality people would be on his ass like ugly on an ape, he thought.
Ugly on an ape, he thought. That was a good western expression. He had heard it once in a western movie and it had stuck with him.
And then there was that money that he had taken from the big company that wanted to cut down the trees in that state forest. And there was the other money that he had taken from other companies and other big men. He had needed that money. You did not run a gubernatorial campaign on peanuts, he thought. You needed big money with big money and big things that they wanted their Governor to do.
And he had done those big things for the big men with the big money.
Governor Larry Green had often tried to fool himself, to say that he had done nothing that a thousand other politicians had not done. But that was not the issue. The issue was simple. He wanted to live in the White House and Donna Morgan, the New York City gossip columnist, had something on him.
She had hated his guts ever since that time ten years ago, when he was just an up-and-coming state legislator, that he had met her at a party in Chicago. Of course, she had not been anything then, just a strong-willed college student who was studying journalism. She had looked good though, so good that he had put his hands on her tits and squeezed them through her blouse. It was nothing that he had not done to many other girls. But Donna Morgan took offense and pushed his hands away and told him that she would have his ass if she could.
Now, the Governor knew, she had some information on him and she knew just how to use it.
And he also knew that Donna Morgan could hold a grudge for a long, long time.
He remembered what she had done to that congressman from Arkansas. She had ruined that fucker's political career by writing those stories in her column about his drinking and his fucking around in Washington.
That congressman had not been doing anything that a dozen other congressmen had not done.
But Larry Green had been told the inside story on that little scandal. It seems that that congressman, a crusty, old fart who thought that women found him irresistible, had thrown himself on Donna Morgan one night at a cocktail party and had put his hands everywhere that he could before she pushed him away. Two days later, her stories about him started to appear in the papers, and they were talked about all over the country. They were all true, of course. Those girls on the congressman's payroll could not type or even answer the phone. They were just paid to fuck the congressmen and the other men that he wanted to impress with his ability, the other men who had votes or money or something that any member of the U. S. Congress needed from time to time.
The Congressman had resigned from office two weeks after Donna Morgan had started her campaign against him.
And Donna Morgan had done it all to him. What could she do to the boy governor who wanted to be president?
Governor Green suddenly looked at his watch.
Damn it, he thought, all of this fuming about that Eastern bitch had almost made him forget that Jenny and Cindy and the policeman were waiting for him in one of the most private offices in the building.
The governor got up and straightened his tie and then marched out of his office and right into a newspaperman who had been waiting to see him. The governor tried to look happy, but no politician is ever happy when he sees a newspaperman who looks like he has a tough question all ready in his mind.
"Governor," the man said, "your bill on water pollution went down to defeat today in the State Senate. I thought that you assured us that you had the votes for that bill."
The political realities of that bill were very complex. He had liked the idea, but he had ended up deciding that the defeat of the campaign practices bill was much more important. So the Governor had gotten together with a couple of leading members of the state senate and they had compromised. He would throw the vote on this one, tell a few of his people that he wanted them to vote against cleaning up the water, and then the opposition would throw the vote on the campaign practices bill. It was all very neat that way, but he could never tell a newspaper reporter that.
The Senate leaders would understand. He had told them that he would have to act very angry. They could act angry too, when the campaign practices bill got the shit knocked out of it on the floor of the legislature. The Governor looked at the newspaperman and then he put his arm around the man's shoulders.
"Let me tell you something, Harley," he said, walking with the reporter out of his office. "There are cactuses and there are caucuses, but there is one difference that you should never forget. With a cactus, the pricks are on the outside."
The newspaperman laughed at that joke, but then he caught himself.
"Does that mean, Governor, that you think that you were betrayed by some of the members of the legislator?"
"Figure it out for yourself," the Governor barked and then he walked down the hallway quickly.
This way, the reporter could tell his readers that the Governor was obviously angry.
This way, the Governor had not charged that anyone had really betrayed him. He had just implied it.
Implication, he thought, was one of the finest parts of politics.
And that reminded him of the former president who had always said that he did not mean to infer something when he actually meant that he did not mean to imply it.
Larry Green, who had once thought about being a writer, had liked that former president.
He had once told a linguistically-minded colleague that if he ever had a problem with picking what word he should use, he should just listen to that former president.
"He is consistent on the trickiest points of grammar and syntax," the Governor had said. "He is always wrong. Always."
But thoughts of grammar and syntax escaped the governor's head when the man opened the door to that private office and saw the three people standing there. He knew that they were waiting for him.
Jenny was the redhead with the big tits. She had some freckles on her nose. He liked that.
Cindy was the cute and cuddly, little blonde. She had been a track star in college, and she had long and firm legs.
The policeman wore the sun-glasses and the uniform, just as he had been told to. The Governor was really not all that interested in the cop. He just needed the man there so that he could know that law and order was prevailing.
"Sorry that I am late," the Governor said, closing the door and locking it.
The two girls were dressed in robes. They both opened those robes at the same time.
Jenny and Cindy smiled when they did that. They were both naked under those robes.
It was a game that they had played with the governor for about a year. Larry Green always had two girls on his staff who would play with him, and he thought that Jenny and Cindy were two of the best that he had ever hired. He was glad that that aide had found them during that wild weekend in Las Vegas a year before and had brought them to the Governor's attention.
The Governor pulled off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. He did not even speak to the cop. The man just stood there, ready to play his part of the little game. That particular cop-Harvey was his name-had been playing the game with the Governor for three years and he knew that he was supposed to be ignored until the real action stated.
When it started, the cop would not be ignored at all, and he knew it.
As the Governor unbuttoned his vest, the two girls dropped their robes on the floor.
They had both been hookers in Las Vegas, but not ordinary hookers. They had been young and sexy and high-priced.
They were also very intelligent, so intelligent that the Governor knew that they could do some little things around the office in order to be real and productive members of his staff.
He did not want to get caught in that same fix that that congressman had been trapped in.
A newspaper columnist like Donna Morgan might claim that Jenny and Cindy were paid too much for what they did.
But she could never say that they did not really work for the state at all.
When he thought about that columnist again, he fumed, wondering what Donna Morgan had on him. And then the plan seemed to come to him quickly, in one lightning bolt image.
He knew what he would do to find out what the columnist had on him. And he knew what he would do to get his revenge on that bitch, that Eastern slut.
He looked at those two naked girls. They were professionals, he remembered.
And they would do whatever he told them to do. They were versed in all kinds of sex.
And then he remembered that he was going to New York City the next week to go to that convention.
He would even be speaking at that convention, but, most important in his mind now, Donna Morgan would be in New York City, at that convention too. He smiled at the two naked girls.
"How would you two like to come with me to the convention next week?" he asked.
"In New York?" Cindy asked, her blue eyes growing wide.
That was one thing that he liked about Cindy. She always reacted to things as if she were a little girl. Even though she was a professional, a paid whore on the Governor's staff, she retained a certain amount of innocence that he really liked.
"Yes," the Governor said, unbuttoning his shirt as he grinned at Cindy. "In New York City. The Big Apple."
"Sure," Cindy said, girlishly. "I would love to go with you."
"And you, Jenny?" the Governor asked the redhead. "What about you?"
Jenny was a little older than Cindy, twenty-four. She was big like an Amazon. And she never seemed to lose her cool, to show any real interest at all. As the Governor thought about his plan, he was sure that Jenny would work into it very nicely. In fact, that redhead was almost essential to his plan on getting revenge on Donna Morgan.
"Sure," Jenny said softly. "I will go with you, Larry."
The Governor was ecstastic as he pushed down his trousers and stepped out of them.
The girls were both going with him to New York City. They would do his dirty work for him.
The plan took on its complete form in his head, but he did not tell them anything about it right then.
He wanted to wait and explain it in detail later.
Right now, he thought, he was much more interested in fucking and getting all of that good and sexy action started.
As the Governor moved out of his shorts and then stood naked in front of the cop and the two naked females, he tried to pick out which one he wanted to work with that afternoon.
Cindy was cute and girlish and exciting, as usual, he thought.
But then he remembered that Jenny, the red-haired Amazon, was essential to his plan for New York City and revenge on Donna Morgan.
And lie wanted to fuck that essential redhead, that sexy, freckled thing.
"I will take Jenny," the Governor said. Then he nodded at the policeman and for the first time spoke to that man in uniform.
"Is that all right with you, Harvey?" the Governor asked.
"Sure," the cop said. "Just fine with me."
"Good, Harvey," the Governor said. "I want you to be real happy."
Then the cop unzipped his trousers and pulled out his long, thick dong.
Harvey had always been popular with the ladies, even before he became a man in uniform.
Cindy looked at that dong that she had seen so often and yelped like a little puppy.
"Boy, oh boy," she said, almost jumping up and down and clapping her hands with glee. "I get to suck on Harvey's big dick."
"Yes, Miss," Harvey said, sounding like the cop that he really was. "You surely do get to suck on it. You surely do."
Jenny looked at her blonde friend and then she looked at the Governor. The redhead moved toward the Governor slowly and put her arms around him. She was as tall as he was. She pressed her mouth to his and moved her big, sexy tits against his body. The Governor speared the inside of her opening mouth with his tongue and raised his hands and felt those big tits, massaged them with passion and lust.
When the kiss was over, Jenny spoke to the Governor.
"You sure are good, Larry," she said.
"Jenny," the man told her, "you are absolutely essential to me."
The redhead kissed the Governor again. Larry knew that she did not understand what he meant when she said that she was essential. But he knew that she would find out very soon, when he explained his plan of revenge to her and to Cindy. Then she would know everything that she needed to know, the Governor thought.
But first came the fucking, the good and sexy fucking that he liked to give her.
The Governor could feel his cock rising against her body. The redhead moved against that stiffening rod in a sexy and slow way. She smiled at him and then she asked the question.
"Want me to suck that piece of meat you got there, Governor?"
"Sure thing, Jenny. You got the greatest mouth in the, West."
The redhead held her arms around the Governor's neck and leaned back slightly. She closed her eyes and tossed her full head of red, wonderful hair and squirmed against his prick one last time. Then she started to move slowly to her knees.
As she went down to her knees, she kissed his body, worked her mouth over his chest and his stomach, licking and kissing him with her warm, red lips.
And then she went to her knees before him and she lifted his prick in her hands.
Before she started to suck that cock, the redhead looked at Cindy and saw that her friend was using her mouth in a good way too. She smiled and looked up at the Governor. She was not surprised that he was watching too. That is what he always did when he worked with the girls and Harvey, the cop. That was the reason that he wanted Harvey involved in all of this in the first place.
For some quirky reason, the Governor liked to watch a girl suck on a policeman's cock.
Jenny did not understand that reason, and she had never asked for any kind of explanation from the man who paid her so well.
She knew that she should never ask for explanations. She was that much of a professional.
And she liked the sight of Cindy sucking that cock too. Sometimes Jenny sucked it and Cindy worked with the Governor.
But the redhead had to admit that she liked it better this way. Harvey's cock was almost too big for human consumption.
Little Cindy, she knew, would like it, though. She liked to suck a man-root, and, as far as the blonde was concerned, the bigger the better.
Right now, Cindy was holding the prick up and running her tongue down the underside of the meat.
As she did that she stroked on the man flesh and the combination of her hand and her tongue made the thing hard and it seemed to throb. Jenny thought that she could see that giant man-gland throb from even across the room.
The man smiled down at Cindy and put his rough, policeman's hand on her blonde hair and stroked her as she licked the cock.
Then it came time for the moment of truth. The little blonde with the strong legs looked back at Jenny and saw that her friend and the Governor were both watching.
She shrugged her shoulders in a girlish way and then she turned back to the cock and opened her mouth wide.
And she moved her head forward, taking the head of that massive organ into her.
She started to suck on that head and Jenny, watching that, felt like applauding on Cindy to give the blonde courage to take more and more of the cock into her.
But she could not applaud. Not now. She could not clap for her friend because she had that cock of the Governor in her hands.
She felt that cock throbbing in her hand and she turned her attention back to that gubernatorial organ.
And she licked the meat with her wet, warm tongue, licked it with slow and sexy movements of that tongue.
As the redhead wrapped her fingers around the prick, the Governor took his eyes off Cindy and the cop.
He looked down at Jenny and he appreciated what he saw there, what he saw her doing to him.
She was licking the cock and making it harder, pressing her slightly freckled face to his meat.
The Governor groaned and thought that she was definitely essential to his plan. She and Cindy would do the work for him, would prepare Donna Morgan for her trials in a very sexy way.
He had heard one piece of gossip about Donna Morgan, a piece of gossip that other columnists would not touch, out of a sense of courtesy or fear.
Donna Morgan liked to whip and enslave young women. She was a lesbian dominatrix.
The Governor did not know for certain if that was true, but he thought that it probably was.
The higher levels of the political world, he remembered, were really something like a small town. He and Donna were both in those higher levels, Larry as a governor of a major state and Donna as a Big Foot-the term that they used now for the media stars, the journalists who were almost as important as the politicians themselves.
In those higher levels, one heard all the stories about the other people in the higher levels.
And most of those stories seemed to be true. The politicians who were said to be queer, Larry thought, were really queer indeed. The ones who had drinking problems threw up on your suit after two in the morning at parties. And it seemed that the politicians told this story privately about Donna Morgan with a certain amount of glee. They were all afraid of her and they told of her own sexual abuses like children who talk about the teachers who scare them the most in classes. Larry hoped that the gossip was true.
If it was, his plan would work out perfectly, he thought.
And then he sighed as he felt the redhead put her mouth around his prick and suck on it with delight. He heard the faint sucking sound that she made and he felt the pressure that she gave him with that sucking and he closed his eyes and wallowed in the sensations that Jenny was giving him. To the Governor, it seemed that his cock was hardening to a new and more powerful size, that she was even better than usual. He knew that it was a combination of the sucking and his plan that did that to him. He put his hands on her red hair and felt that hair and groaned to the redhead who knelt before him as he felt those lips on his cock and those big tits against his bare legs.
"Suck that thing, Jenny," he groaned. "You do it so fucking well. The best mouth in the West. Only in the West could a mouth like that be formed."
As Jenny sucked on the Governor's cock, she listened to those words and remembered that the Governor did not really know that much about her. She was from Baltimore, Maryland, pronounced Bal'mer by its residents. She had taken great care to lose that strange, Baltimore accent when she had started to work as a prostitute in Las Vegas. She knew that hookers-high-classed hookers, that is-are like television announcers and newscasters. They are supposed to sound like they came from nowhere, from Iowa or some place like that. Sure, some of them used their syrupy Southern accents to make a little extra money off the conventioneers from Georgia and Alabama, but those same girls, who often came from some place like Minneapolis, Minnesota, lost out when the black civil rights groups came to have fun in Las Vegas. The black men did not like the syrupy sound and some of the Northern liberals did not either.
As Jenny sucked, she remembered that she had been to another political convention, four years before. She had worked as a whore during that convention and she had gotten mixed up with a very wealthy politician who wanted to keep her with him all week long. That guy, a New York politician, wanted to talk about great works of art and have her spank his bare bottom and call him a bad boy before they fucked. He had been nice enough. She wondered if she would meet him again, but then she remembered that this convention was being held by the other party. This party did not have many members who really talked about great art with any sense of passion.
But this convention would probably have men who wanted to be spanked and called a bad boy.
Politicians were really so much alike, never satisfied with the regular stuff, Jenny thought.
Jenny worked her mouth back and forth on the prick and felt the thing harden in her mouth and stiffen to its fine and sexy length.
She really did like the Governor in a way. He had taken her off the streets and had given her a job that she could write home to Baltimore about, that is, if she had anyone in Baltimore to write to, which she did not. He had given her a finee position and he was really very nice to her and to Cindy. He did not demand a lot of really kinky stuff.
But Jenny knew that she would do even the kinky stuff for this soft and respected job on the staff of a Governor. And Cindy would do the kinky stuff too. They had done that kind of stuff for less.
When the cock was hard, it battered the back of her throat. Jenny pressed her face close to the. Governor's body and let his cock slip down her throat. She knew that the Governor liked that. Then she slowly pulled her face away from his body and let his cock escape her lips. It came out hard and stiff and red with blood, swollen by the softness and the sexiness that she had applied to it.
Then she looked at Cindy again and she was surprised again by her friend's ability.
Jenny knew that, when his cock was hard and ready to fuck, Harvey had more than a foot of meat on him.
Yet the little blonde had taken all of that meat into her, had taken it in and was sucking on it with delight. Her face was pressed close to Harvey's police uniform, and Jenny knew from her own experience that Cindy was not smelling the starchy, rough sweetness of that uniform.
"Come on, Jenny," the Governor said. "Let's fuck, you sexy redhead."
And the big, sexy former hooker got up from her knees and moved with the naked Governor to the sofa.
She lay down on that sofa and started to finger herself. She was already wet, but she liked to give the Governor a show, liked to give him something to look at when he took his eyes off Cindy and the cop, which was not that often.
The redhead ran two of her fingers deep into her red-haired snatch.
And she massaged one of her big tits with the other hand, giving herself pleasure.
When the Governor looked down at her, the redhead lifted her tit up and kissed and licked the top of her mound.
She knew that the Governor liked that a lot.
Larry Green smiled at Jenny and moved onto the sofa. She pulled her fingers from her cunt and spread her legs wide as the naked man moved over her and positioned himself and prepared to fuck her juicy, warm hole.
Jenny took that time to study Larry Green's body. She had to admit that the Governor was a very sexy man.
He was dark and handsome and he had a wide, strong chest. He ran every day before he came to his office, ran with a policeman who was supposed to be his bodyguard.
His skin was tanned and he had a nice, long cock. Not as long as Harvey's but Jenny had always considered that big-dicked cock as something of a freak of nature. The Governor was more like a stud than a freak. His cock was just nice and long and he knew how to use it to give even a former professional like Jenny pleasure.
Jenny reached up and ran her hands over the Governor's body. She felt his hard sides and his muscled chest and she sighed to him to make him feel even more manly and powerful with her.
"Fuck me, Larry," she said. "Fuck my hot cunt, you stud."
She knew that he liked it when she talked that way to him. He liked it when Cindy talked that way too, but Jenny and Cindy were different. Cindy retained that girlishness. Jenny was more mature when she said things like that.
The redhead reached down and pulled her pussy-lips open and the Governor saw the pink softness of her inner folds.
That pinkness, that softness drew him like a magnet into her warm and wet cunt.
He slipped into her as she lifted her legs. She slowly wrapped those legs around him and held him loosely as he drove deep into her pussy. She sighed and started to move her ass and her hips as the Governor started to move in and out of her, to fuck her with a gentle masculinity.
"Yes, Governor," she said. "Fuck me. Fuck my hot cunt, you great stud."
As the Governor fucked her, he looked back at that other sight across the room.
He watched as that little blonde moved back and forth on that long and fat cock.
The policeman was groaning and his head was thrown back and he was jabbing his cock into her mouth with the movements, the jerking movements of his hips.
The redhead put her legs around his legs and sighed and let him fuck her with such manly power, but she closed her eyes and let her own mind wander. She knew that he was watching the action across the room, and she wished that she could watch it too. But she could not see it, and so she let her mind conjure up all the images of her youth, the images that she could see just about any time.
She remembered when she was a teen-ager in Baltimore going into an empty warehouse with a black boy. She had been enthralled by that black boy. He seemed so handsome and so wild. She had fucked before then, but never had she fucked so well.
The black boy had put her on a crate and then he had stood next to that crate and had pulled her body down on his cock. They had fucked with glorious delight. They had fucked with wild and sensuous movement, and Jenny kept thinking that his cock, his black, thick cock, was like a spear, entering her and cutting her. She liked that idea.
And then she had had to leave home when her father found out about her fucking of that black boy.
Her father was a racist, a fat man who drank a lot of beer and talked about niggers.
He had thrown her out and she had traveled, had fucked her way across the country.
And then she had ended up in Las Vegas, the city of golden lights.
That is where the Governor had found her. That is where she had found herself by working as a prostitute.
Sometimes it had gotten bad when she had a string of smelly, disgusting men.
But she grew to love all of the kinkiest stuff and she knew that she could always be able to find new thrills, new kinks, as she traveled through life. She wondered where those new kinks were, now as she fucked the Governor and moaned under him and felt her body moving against his body and felt his spear driving deep into her just the way that she liked it.
And the Governor was watching the blonde who worked on the policeman's cock.
He thought about law and order, as she did that. He thought about the respect that people should have for policemen and for all men in uniform. There was a time, the Governor thought, when that respect had been almost universal, when policemen had been everyone's friends. But now, in this modern age, people hated the cops and tried to kill them and refused to say anything if they witnessed a crime. It was terrible, Larry Green thought.
And he would change that if he got into the White House.
The Governor thought that everyone should respect the policeman and treat him just as Cindy was treating Harvey now. If he could, he would make it an amendment to the constitution that every young girl should have to suck a cop's cock at least once a week. That would show the policemen that they were respected and loved and honored in America again. And it would, no doubt, attract better men to the force, men who would put up with the danger and the low pay and the long hours because they knew that girls would want to suck on their cocks, would want to do what good American girls should do.
The Governor knew that it was a fanciful notion, but it was one that made a strange sort of sense in America today.
It was also one that Donna Morgan, that Eastern bitch, would probably not agree with, the Governor thought. She would never agree with anything that was really and truly American.
Larry fucked away on Jenny's cunt and watched with interest as the blonde finally let the cop's cock spring from her mouth. She grabbed it with both hands and stroked that piece of police meat with a steady and quick movement. And then Harvey, the cop, started to come. He came all over the blonde's face in huge spurts of whiteness, creamy whiteness. The Governor watched that, watched how the blonde accepted the come on her face and then he felt his balls tighten and he knew that he was coming too.
"Come with me, Jenny," he said, lying on the redhead and putting all of his attention on the fucking that he was giving her.
And the girl under him tightened her legs around his waist and churned away under him, with his cock deep in her warm and wet snatch.
And, fucking that warm and wet snatch, the Governor came, growling and huffing and sighing with passionate, male fever.
As he came, he thought again of the plan-his plan to get his revenge on that Eastern slut.
Donna Morgan would be sorry that she ever denied him, he thought.
She would be sorry that she had ever tried to get something on him.
And then the Governor thought that the woman would be more than sorry. She would be damned, damned by her Eastern attitudes and her Eastern power.
He came into Jenny's cunt and felt the girl whining under him as she came too.
And the Governor knew that now the power, the real power of America was in the West.
And he determined to show Donna Morgan the next week in New York City just how much power the West could have-even over her. He laughed out loud as he came and thought of the power that he would have over her.
The Governor laughed out loud and came with spurts of cream, good, Western male cream.
Later on, the governor went back to his office. He had given Harvey his bonus for a job well done and he had told the girls that he wanted to see them later on in the evening and tell them what he had planned for the convention in New York City.
The reporter stopped him again in the hallway outside his office.
"Governor," he said, "about that water pollution bill. There is talk that there was deal made, that you let the thing go down in defeat in order to-"
"Sir," the Governor said, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring at the reporter as if he were so insulted that he wanted to punch the man in the nose. "Sir, I do not make deals in that political way. Compromises, sometimes, yes. But never deals. And you can quote me on this. I would never make a deal that jeopardized the health of the residents of this fine state. I would never make a deal that kept clean water from coming out of those pipes at home. I believe in clean water, Sir, as much as I believe in life itself. Clean water is life itself. And you can quote me on that."
The newspaper reporter was writing it all down. He muttered to himself...."life itself. Yes, Governor. I have it. I will quote you on that. Sorry, Governor, if I offended you in any way with that talk about a deal. It is just that-"
"I understand," the Governor said, slapping the man on the back. "I believe in a strong and vigorous and free press too. You did your job well, my man."
And then the Governor walked into his office and slammed the door behind him.
He went to the little refrigerator at the side of the office and pulled out the bottle of distilled water that he always drank. The water out of the tap was not fit for human consumption, he knew. But he had money to buy the good stuff, and the people who drank that other water were no much good anyway.
He poured himself a glass of water and thought about the free and vigorous press.
He hated those fucking newspaper reporters more than anything else in the world.
Most of them were transplanted Easterners anyway. That was the main problem with them.
He sipped on the water and smiled. That one in the hall had been easy to handle.
The Governor knew that the next day's headlines would read something like this:
GOVERNOR OUTRAGED OVER WATER BILL DEFEAT
'CLEAN WATER IS LIFE ITSELF,' SAYS GREEN IN ANGRY STATEMENT
GOVERNOR VOWS TO FIGHT ON IN BATTLE FOR CLEAN WATER
That would make the voters sit up and take notice, the Governor thought.
And then he remembered the way that Cindy's sweet face had looked when that cop had come all over her, the way that she had smiled and accepted that clean and manly come.
Water? He did not care if come started shooting out of the taps of the voters.
Not as long as they did not blame their courageous and noble governor for that come.
Anyway, he thought, it might be better for them if the taps did open up and shoot out come. It might be a hell of a lot healthier for them.
Especially, it would be healthier than that shit the state passed off as water now.
The governor thought about come shooting out of the taps and he chuckled.
Then he sipped his bottled water and thought about New York City and the sweet revenge that he was going to have on that Eastern slut who liked to beat up girls.
If that gossip was true, he was planning to give Donna Morgan a taste of her own medicine.
If they were not true, it would not change his plans at all.
If the gossip was not true, he would just give Donna Morgan a taste of Western power and Western justice and Western brutality.
The West, he thought. That was where the American power was now, and he was going to show that Eastern slut for sure.
CHAPTER THREE
Late Monday night, Donna Morgan came strolling out of Madison Square Garden.
She had been interviewing a famous movie star who was also a political activist.
The movie star-an academy-award winning actress-had told Donna that she was not at all satisfied with the party's platform plank on air and water pollution. She wished that Gov. Larry Green had had more to do with writing that plank, the movie star said. "He is the only politician who really cares about the health of the common people," the movie star added.
Donna had just nodded her head. She did not like Gov. Larry Green, but she would let anyone babble on for five minutes if the babbling person was famous. And the movie star was definitely famous. She just did not know shit about politics, Donna thought.
Donna had also run into a television reporter who had called up to the producer overseeing the convention and had suggested that they put Donna Morgan on the screen for a few minutes. Then the reporter asked her in front of that television audience what gossip she had picked up on the convention floor. Donna frowned at him and told him that he would have to read her column to find out. Then she had made a couple of other innocent statements and reminded the reporter that New York City was really a great city and she had left him standing there, talking to his audience.
Donna knew that most of the television audience was watching baseball games and movies on independent stations. The convention was just not very exciting. She could not remember a convention that had been exciting-not since Chicago in 1968. And that had been so exciting that it had driven the candidate down to defeat.
Donna Morgan had a strange little quirk in her nature too, a thing that regularly got her angry, and that television reporter had gotten her angry by saying that one word. Gossip. All right, she thought as she headed for the doors of the Garden, she considered herself a gossip columnist, but she did not like to be called that, not by anyone else.
She did not understand why a woman who writes about people and writes about the real things that happen in their lives-divorces, marriages, comedies and tragedies-was consider a gossip columnist. Her stuff was not gossip, not any more than the "informed source" stories that the political reporters wrote every day. She did not like to be looked down upon by those other reporters. She remembered, however, that journalism was still a man's game. Men were in charge at most papers and magazines and TV networks. As long as men were in charge. That was the reason that women were considered gossip columnists still, while men were considered personality reporters.
She walked outside the Garden and looked at the little band of protestors and thought about how the real spirit of protest had died after 1968 and 1972. There used to be thousands-sometimes hundreds of thousands-in the street. She counted the bunch on the street now. There could not have been more than thirty of them. She walked toward them and looked at the signs that they were carrying. "Support Gay Rights" one of them said. "Down With the Military" and "Ban the Bomb" were two others. A third wanted to make her statement against meat-eating mammals.
Fuck, Donna thought. Only thirty of them and they still could not get together on one simple cause.
She stopped and decided that she did not want to talk to them. They were all pretty useless in today's world, she reasoned, holdovers from a more agressive and interesting time.
Donna was turning away from them when the little blonde walked up to her. Donna looked the blonde over and smiled. She was such a cute, little thing, the columnist thought. When the blonde smiled and stopped, Donna felt her heat beat more wildly. She liked that blonde. Maybe there was a chance that she would be able to enslave the girl tonight.
Terri was at Donna's apartment, waiting for her to come back from the convention, but the columnist had grown a little tired of her bastard girlfriend. She wanted a change of pace and she thought that this blonde might be just the kind of change that she needed. When she saw the girl approach, Donna grinned at her. She thought that she would not let this blonde take Terri's place. But she would not mind working with her for one night. She might even take the girl back to her apartment and work on Terri and the blonde at the same time. She had never done that before, worked on two girls at once. She felt her pussy begin to grow moist at the very idea of sexy action.
"Miss Morgan," Cindy said, approaching her. "My name is Cindy. I work for Governor Larry Green."
"Oh," the woman said, running her eyes over the girl. She did not like the Governor from that Western state, but she had to admit now that Larry Green could really picked his staff for beauty. She wondered quickly if the Governor was fucking this girl. She hoped not. She did not like the idea of sharing a girl with that Western crook.
"Governor Green would like to meet with you tonight," the girl said. "He would like to know if you would care for an exclusive interview."
"Right now?" Donna asked, taking her mind off the blonde's sexiness and thinking about her work as a journalist. "In the middle of the night?"
"Yes," the girl said.
"Why would Larry Green want to grant me an interview? I have written some pretty nasty things about him in the past."
"Of course, the Governor is aware of that," Cindy said. "But he thinks that you are fair. And he wants a chance to present his ideas on government to a member of the Eastern press. That way, he can gauge the reaction of the media to his programs without facing a whole gang of reporters."
"So, he picked the worst one of the lot to try it out, eh?" Donna asked with a smile.
"You might say that. And he would like to talk to you now. I have a car waiting to take you to the Governor."
It sounded very interesting to Donna Morgan, a chance to grill Gov. Larry Green and to be able to listen to his half-witted ideas about fiscal conservatism. Yes, she would go and interview him. And then she would murder him in her column when she wrote it the next day.
"Let's go," the woman said.
"Right this way. The car is parked about a block away."
As Donna walked with Cindy toward that car, the blonde kept glancing at her. She just had to smile. The Governor had told Cindy and Jenny what they were supposed to do to Donna, and both of the girls looked forward to it in a strange and truly kinky way. Neither of them had done anything that harsh since they had stopped working in Las Vegas. And, even in that city of decayed morality, Cindy remembered, they had not been called upon to do it often.
And Cindy was happy that Donna was such an attractive woman. The blonde had seen the columnist's photograph many times, but photographs did not do her justice. The woman was young and sexy and had long, dark hair and a beautiful face. There was also that sense of power in her, the sense of power that Cindy and Jenny were going to have to defeat.
The blonde felt the challenge and knew that she and her red-haired friend would be up to it.
She knew that Jenny, especially, was going to enjoy working with this Eastern bitch.
Strange, Cindy thought. She had started to think in the terms that the Governor thought in. She had started to make a distinction between the good West and the bad East. It was strange because Cindy was from Boston. And you couldn't get much more Eastern than that.
Of course, she had never told the Governor that she had been raised in Boston.
She did not want to lose her job with the Governor, the job that gave her so many thrills and a nice salary too.
And the blonde also did not want to lose the Governor. He was a little strange in his ideas, but she liked him. She thought that he was sexy, and she usually enjoyed the things that he came up with, the little rituals that she shared with the Governor and with Jenny and with others-like Harvey, the cop. She smiled when she thought of that big cock that Harvey had. Harvey was sitting in the limosine. He would drive them to the warehouse district, to the place that the Governor had had set up just for Donna Morgan. Jenny was waiting in that car too, and Cindy could not wait until her red-haired friend saw that columnist, saw how beautiful the woman really was.
She knew that Jenny would have fun dominating this woman too.
Jenny put her hand on Donna Morgan's fine, strong back and pointed toward the big, black car. "Right over there," she said. "The Governor is staying at a friend's apartment near the river tonight and he wants to see you there."
"He doesn't want anyone to know that we are meeting, right?" Donna asked.
"The Governor prefers to keep a low profile," the blonde told the colunmist.
Suddenly, Donna Morgan stopped and turned and looked at the blonde.
"If this interview is not on-the-record, I will not go. I do not talk to politicians off-the-record. I want to be able to tell my readers what the Governor tells me."
Cindy smiled.
"It is on-the-record," the blonde said. "But it is not for attibution to the Governor."
"Oh, a source in his campaign organization," Donna said with a nod. "That is what I am supposed to say."
"Yes" the blonde said. "Something like that. A source in his office. A source in his campaign. A high source, even. You can say you got the information from that source."
"Well," Donna said, grinning. "That is all right with me."
Cindy smiled. She knew that it would be all right with Donna when she had mentioned it.
The Governor had shown Jenny and Cindy one night how to read the source attributions in the newspaper, how to tell which person was saying what, although they were often not mentioned by name or quoted by name. A high state department source, the Governor told them, was the secretary of state. A high White House source was the president himself. Anytime the reporter said "high" it meant that he had talked to the highest person possible in that area and it meant that the official was making statements about his enemies or floating trial balloons with the public or doing something that he wanted the chance to claim he never did later on if things blew up in his face.
It was an honored tradition in the relationship between the politicians and the press, the Governor had told them.
But Cindy knew that she and Jenny would start a new tradition tonight with Donna Morgan, a tradition that would surprise this beautiful, Eastern slut who wanted to harm the Governor.
When they got to the car, Cindy opened the back door and Donna peeked in.
She saw the cop-probably from the state police on detached service to the Governor-behind the wheel.
And she saw the redhead sitting in the back seat, the sexy, big redhead.
Donna glanced back at the blonde and then she looked at the redhead.
And she had to admit to herself that Gov. Larry Green could certainly pick them.
As she got into the car, she felt sorry that she was not going to get the chance to work with the blonde, to beat her and humiliate her as she had often done to other women. She looked at the redhead and she thought that she would not have minded getting together with her either.
But she was just going to get an exclusive interview, an interview with which she could ruin the Governor. She would have to settle for that, she thought. First, journalism and then sex.
That was the way that things were supposed to be in the media.
"My name is Jenny," the redhead said, shaking Donna's hand as Cindy moved in on the other side of her. "I work for Governor Green too. He is very anxious to talk with you tonight."
"Well, I am anxious to talk to him too," the columnist said.
When Cindy closed the door, Harvey started the motor and pulled out onto the street slowly. He started to head for the river, for the western part of Manhattan.
Then the plan went into action. Both the blonde and the redhead knew what they had to do.
First, Cindy got the woman's attention but putting her hand on Donna's leg.
"The Governor was right," she said softly. "You are very sexy."
Donna looked at her. She did not know what was going on here. She wanted to smile at the little blonde and tell her that she was sexy too, but she thought that this might be some kind of trap, some kind of test that Gov.
Green or some other political foe was giving her. All a man like Larry Green needed was a few photographs of Donna Morgan in the arms of another woman. With those photographs, he could silence the columnist, or, even worse, get the woman on his side on political questions.
When Donna turned slightly to look at Cindy in wonder, she felt the other girl, the redhead, jerk her arms behind her and she felt the wrists being pulled together.
She heard the handcuffs click. She had been dominating people long enough to recognize the sound of that click.
"What the fuck is this?" she yelled, as Jenny put her arms around Donna and pulled her back in the seat. And then Cindy went to work, tearing the woman's dress open with her hands. The fabric was expensive and Cindy thought that she could actually hear money being tossed away as that fabric was ripped up the front of the dress to expose Donna's black hose and her garter belt and her black, laced panties.
As the redhead held the columnist down, the blonde put her fingers under those panties and started to rip them too.
Donna screamed with fear and anger and struggled against the red-haired Amazon's gasp.
But she could not break the hold that Jenny had on her.
She felt the cool fingers of the blonde on her panties and on her flesh and those cool fingers gave her a certain kind of thrill. Donna could feel it even as she fought the two of them, tried to kick at the blonde.
But Cindy was between the woman's legs now and she was ripping the black panties slowly with her fingers, ripping them open with a girlish smile of lust and dominating relish.
The blonde exposed the black-haired cunt of the beautiful woman. She ran her fingers quickly through that black hair and felt it. It was soft and lush, like a tropical forest, she thought.
Donna's head was against Jenny's tits, those big, Amazon breasts.
And the redhead quickly opened her blouse and twisted the woman's head until Donna's face was against the breasts. Then she snarled at the newspaper gossip columnist.
"Suck that tit, you lesbian bitch," she said. "Suck it like a baby sucks on its mother."
Donna's face was pressed against the sweet-smelling, soft flesh.
And she could not help herself.
Before she realized it, she was sucking on that tit, sucking on the pink nipple that Jenny offered to her.
She sucked that sexy nipple and she jerked in that back seat like a fish that had been taken out of the water.
She was sorry then that her hands were fixed behind her. She would have liked to touch that nipple, to touch that tit.
She was turned in the seat and she felt the cool hands on her bare buttocks and she knew that the blonde was touching her. She gave herself up to the passion in her heart for a moment.
The newspaper gossip columnist did not usually like it this way, and she still was certain that it was some kind of trap.
No doubt, she thought, there were going to be photographs taken of this.
But she could always say that she had been forced to do these things, and she thought that she might as well enjoy something about this ordeal.
And then the cool hands left her ass and she felt something cold and hard move over her bare buns. She jerked her mouth away from the tit and turned and looked at the long, black dildo that Cindy had in her hand. She turned, back to the redhead and she pleaded for help, even though she knew in her heart that neither of those girls would help her.
They were only going to torture her, to torture her for their boss, Gov. Larry Green, that Western prick.
"Please," the woman sighed, almost crying. "Don't let her do that to me. I will suck on your tit for the longest time if you just don't let her-"
"Suck on this, Eastern bitch," the redhead snarled.
She slammed a tight, leather ball into Donna's mouth and quickly tied the strap attached to the ball about the woman's head.
Then Donna was muffled. She could not cry out.
When the ball was fixed securely in the woman's mouth, Jenny nodded at Cindy.
It was time for the blonde to take her turn at really hurting the woman.
Cindy grinned at her red-haired friend and then spread the cheeks of the woman's butt.
She looked down into that secret cavity and she smiled.
Jenny reached over the woman and put her hands on those cheeks and kept them spread.
To Donna, lying between the girls, it seemed that the redhead was trying to pull her ass apart, to rip it apart with some sort of sexy strength and anger.
While Jenny kept those cheeks spread, the blonde with the firm legs slipped the long, black dildo up Donna Morgan's ass. The girls felt the woman tense and toss between them and they both knew that she would have cried out if that ball had not been in her mouth.
"Lesbian, dominating slut," the redhead snarled. "Now you are going to get a taste of your own medicine."
The Governor had told the girls about the rumors, the gossip about Donna Morgan, and Jenny believed those rumors now that she had seen the woman. There was definitely something about Donna Morgan that seemed to reek of power, the kind of power that a dominating woman had, the kind of power that Jenny now felt as she held the woman's buns open and watched her blonde friend slip that dildo into Donna' butt.
The pain was terrible! Nothing like that had ever invaded Donna there before!
She felt as if the thing were about to rip her apart. She felt the pain and she wondered if that dildo had some kind of blade, some kind of knife attached at the end that put her into danger.
That is how she felt at that moment, in danger. She felt as if she were being cut apart.
Jenny watched carefully as her blonde friend pressed that black dildo down into that ass. She felt the woman squirming under and she knew that they were giving Donna Morgan something that she had probably never gotten before.
And this would not be the first new thing that the woman would experience during this convention week. Indeed, she would suffer during this week as she had never suffered before.
She deserved to suffer, the girl from Baltimore thought, for being such an Eastern bitch.
And then Jenny felt the woman suddenly relax and she nodded at Cindy. The blonde pulled the dildo out of the woman's ass slowly.
They both knew that Donna Morgan, the gossip columnist, had passed out from the pain.
She lay between them like a child with two loving mothers, Jenny thought.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Donna Morgan awoke, she was in a big room and she was naked.
She tried to move and then she discovered that she was clamped down, a complete prisoner there in that room.
A light was shining in her eyes, a bright light that almost blinded her.
" And she was lying on her back on a large stone block. She tried to look around.
She saw that she was spread-eagle on that block with metal clamps over her wrists and her ankles. Those clamps were tight and the stone under her was hard and smooth.
The pain in her body was dull and pulsing and she knew that it would be there for a long, long time.
She felt that she had been placed on an altar, for sacrifice. But she looked around the room and saw that there was no one there, no one to complete the sacrifice and put her out of her misery. She called out.
"Help! Help me! Damn you, you can't leave me like this!"
And then the most frightening thought in the world occurred to her.
She knew that, if there was someone else in the building with her, that someone would probably punish her in a new and terrible way and make her feel sharp pain. But the truly frightening thought was that there might be no one around at all. They might have brought her here and clamped her down and left her to die of thirst and hunger and that dull, throbbing, pulsing pain in her body.
The gossip columnist suddenly decided that she would gladly endure the pain that someone could give her if she could only be sure that she was not left alone to die there. She cried out again.
"Is someone there? Please, show yourself if you are there!"
But no one came into the room. Donna Morgan listened carefully and tried to pick out the sounds of people walking around in the other rooms. She heard nothing except the beating of her own quick heart and the sound of her own shallow breathing. She started to cry. She felt the tears come to her eyes and she knew that they were not caused by the pain. They were caused by the idea that she was alone there with no one to turn to.
As she cried, she wondered where she was. Was she still in New York City at all?
She would be missed by the morning. Terri, her love-slave and research assistant, would miss her, and her editors would wonder what had happened to her. They would finally call the police after a few hours of making phone calls and trying to find her on their own. And then the police would start to look for her and soon the other reporters would find out that she was missing and it would be a big story, one of the biggest in New York City.
But the police would not be able to find her, not quickly. New York City was so big, she remembered.
And she was not even sure that she was still in New York City. She might be in New Jersey or Connecticut or anywhere. She did not even know how long she had been unconscious.
It might have been hours and the two girls might have put her on a private plane and taken her to some far-away spot like Maine and clamped her here and left her to die.
No, she thought, the police could not save her and her friends could not save her either.
And then she had another thought. She was not even certain that Governor Larry Green had anything to do with this.
The two girls had said that they worked for the Governor, but they might have been picking a name out of the hat. Neither of them had shown her any identification. Neither of them had even told her their last names.
How could she have been so stupid, she wondered, to get into a car with two strange women who said that they worked for a governor?
Then Donna Morgan knew how she had gotten so stupid. She remembered the way that that blonde had smiled at her and she remembered too that she had been thinking about taking that blonde home and dominating that girl and Terri at the same time.
She had let lust get into her brain and that lust had not allowed her to think clearly.
The whole thing had never made a lot-of sense, she recalled now.
Governor Larry Green, who did not like her, wanted to meet with her in a friend's apartment and grant an interview so that he could gauge the reaction of the Eastern press.
The story had been full of holes from the very start, she thought now.
But in the middle of the night she had looked at that blonde and she had felt her own cunt grow moist and she had let that cunt rule her head. A wet cunt has no conscience, she remembered, and it also has no common sense. She just had not been thinking clearly at that hour, and now she had been left to die slowly on a block in the middle of some desolate place like Maine or Vermont.
She hated herself almost as much as she hated the people who had. put her there.
She wept with that self-disgust tightening her throat and making her want to gag.
And then the door opened. She heard it and looked toward the sound.
She was relieved to discover that she was not alone there, so relieved that she almost wanted to shout out a joyous greeting to the man who stood there in the door.
But, in a few seconds, she was frightened of that man, so frightened that she could say nothing at all.
He stood in the door with a black hood over his head. There were holes for his eyes in that hood and another hole for his mouth and two little holes that he could breathe through.
The man was strong and muscled and naked except for that hood and two leather bands that went around his forearms. Donna looked down at his prick and saw his cock, long and meaty and growing hard as he looked at her that way. Then she finally worked up the courage to say something. She sighed and asked him the question.
"Who are you?"
The man did not say anything, did not answer her at all.
He just stood there and stared at her as she lay there on the block.
He ran his hand down over his cock and he massaged himself slowly.
Then he turned and walked out of the room, and, before Donna Morgan could even realize what she was saying, she was calling out to him with a loud voice.
"Come back! Come back! You can fuck me if you want! Just don't leave me alone here!"
When she heard her own voice, she was shocked, for she had not fucked a man since her college years. For the last several years, she had gotten her thrills with women, only women, by dominating them and calling them names.
But she knew that there were some things worse than fucking a man with a black hood.
And she knew that one of those things was being left alone in this kind of place.
She heard the man walking back toward the door and she felt that she had won some kind of victory.
He would come back and fuck her and then, maybe, he would let her go, at least let her get up and walk around so that she could ease that dull, pulsing pain in her body.
But, when he appeared at the door again, Donna Morgan knew that she had been wrong.
She knew that she was still a defeated victim for the man.
He was still naked and his cock was still long and meaty and hanging between his strong legs like something in a butcher's window.
But he was carrying a whip in his hand, and Donna knew that, if there was a butcher in that room, he was the butcher, and she was the piece of meat to be cut and carved up for the feast of furious violence.
She closed her eyes and tried to block the sight out of her mind. But the image of that man with his whip was too embedded in her consciousness now. It stayed there in her mind even as she kept her eyes closed and tried to move against the clamps that held her down on the block.
The Governor liked the way that the columnist looked then, struggling about the metal, struggling and unable to move. She looked best when she looked defeated, the Governor thought.
Jenny and Cindy had told him about the way the woman had reacted to the stuff in the car a couple of hours before. They had told him about how she had greedily sucked on Jenny's nipple and then had promised to suck on it forever if they just did not hurt her. Now the Governor knew that the rumors had been correct, that Donna Morgan was a lesbian. Jenny was almost certain that she was also a dominatrix, but the Governor wanted to find out for sure about that. As he stood there and looked at the beautiful woman, writhing and struggling on the block, he decided that he would just ask her outright if she were a dominatrix. He knew that the gossip columnist would not be able to hide the truth from him now, not while she was fixed so firmly on that block, not while she was his naked prisoner. But he did not speak right away. He just looked at her. She was very beautiful, he thought, and he remembered the time that he had grabbed at her at that party. She had fought him off then, but now she was willing to fuck him, to do anything to save her sluttish, Eastern life.
The Governor lowered his voice to a growl, trying to disguise it, and then he spoke to her.
The growl stopped her moving about on that block. She lay very still and listen.
"I hear, Donna, that you like to beat up girls and make them your slaves. I hear that you like to have your girls lick your pussy with their slave tongues. Is that right?"
"Yes," she murmured, shivering when she admitted to it. "Yes, it is true."
"How many girls have you enslaved, Donna?" the man with the hood growled at her.
She did not even have to think. She had always kept count, had kept a running total of the number of slaves that she had had. She had been proud of that total, but she was not proud now. It was impossible for a prisoner to be proud of anything in her life.
"Twenty," she said. "Twenty females and one male."
"Twenty," the man repeated. "Were they all sexy and young girls, like Cindy and Jenny?"
"Cindy and Jenny?" she asked. She could not place the names.
"The two who kidnapped you. You remember them, don't you? The little blonde and the big, sexy redhead? They are young and sexy and they work for me."
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Were they all sexy and young like Cindy and Jenny?" the man growled, demanding an answer to his question. He knew that he was in charge and he would not answer a prisoner's question. Not right now.
"Yes," she murmured. "All sexy and pretty. The one I have now, Terri, is a bastard girl with big tits. She is very sexy and very pretty and she enjoys being a slave. She really enjoys it."
The man stepped forward. Donna watched him, watched his cock and his whip. Her eyes kept moving from the prick to the whip until, in her mind, they seemed to be extensions of the same thing. The cock was part of the whip and the whip was part of the cock. She did not think that she had ever seen a man who seemed so male to her. She made the offer again.
"You can fuck me if you want," she sighed. "I have not fucked a man since college, but you can fuck me if you want to do that."
The man just snorted with laughter under his hood at that offer, and Donna did not know what that meant, whether he would fuck her or not. She did not know what anything meant any longer.
"Eastern slut," the man snarled. "You have no power in the East any longer, and I am going to show you that. Jenny and Cindy and I are going to show you just how much power the West can have. We are going to make you suffer more than all those twenty girls combined. We are going to work with you for a long, long time, Donna. You Eastern piece of shit."
And then the man raised the whip high. Donna watched as the muscles in his arms bulged against the leather straps around them and she saw the whip come down on her body. It landed with a crack across her tits. It stung and bit into her and it cut her flesh.
The whips that she always used never cut a girl, but she was not going to be working with people who cared about her beauty. She knew that when she felt the pain and looked down and saw the blood leaking out of her tits, out of the cuts caused by that black whip.
And then she screamed in pain, screamed and fought against the metal clamps that held her down.
The Governor brought the whip down on her again and again, cut those tits with the whip and then cut her fine, firm, sexy stomach too. The woman tensed on her block and soon the screaming stopped. She could not yell out any longer. The pain was too intense, the biting pain was too great and it made her too much of a victim.
She felt that pain shoot through her and she whimpered and she listened to his snarls at her.
There was something about those curses that sounded vaguely familiar to her.
"Eastern slut. Eastern bitch," the man said. "You have no power any more. Let go of that power. The power is in the West, you fucking, Eastern piece of shit. Your cities are cesspools and your people are crazy and the West is where America really is. Fucking, Eastern slut."
And then, as the pain shot through her with lash after lash of that whip, Donna Morgan suddenly understood why those curses were familiar. She knew suddenly who the man was.
She recognized the voice then, but, more than that, she recognized the ideas, the silly, Western ideas.
The man in the hood, she knew, was Governor Larry Green!
"Green!" she yelled. "You fucking bastard! You worthless-"
When she called out his name, the Governor suddenly stopped whipping her. He looked down on her body.
She was bloody, but she had figured it out. Her mind was still working and she was angry at him and the West. She had not been complete captivated yet, completely tamed yet.
But the Governor smiled behind the hood and knew that he had other thing's planned.
He would tame that Eastern slut by the end of the week.
He was determined to make the New York City convention work in that way, at least.
The Governor dropped the whip on the floor and moved to another side of the room as the gossip columnist screamed at him.
"Green! You worthless piece of shit! You can't do this to me, Green! I will fucking destroy you!"
The Governor looked back at her and growled from under his hood.
"No, Donna," he said. "You will not destroy me. You are the prisoner now, and you must learn to serve your master well."
And then Donna knew, that he was right, remembered the clamps that held her down and the pain that he had given to her with his whip. She looked down at her own cut and bloody body. She trembled and knew that she was the prisoner, that he was right, that things were not going to go her way at all.
Then she decided quickly in her pain to try a new approach.
"All right, Governor," she said. "You can fuck me if you wish."
And, again, the man snorted with laughter and then he growled more words at her.
"Do you think that I would fuck a bloody piece of Eastern dogshit like you? Do you really think that?"
She was silent. She did not know what to do, how to get free.
The gossip columnist lay there and wondered what was in store for her now.
The Governor picked up the metal clamps and carried them slowly back to her. Then he worked quickly, slipping the clamps over her bloody nipples and letting them bite into her.
She screamed even more then, but it happened too quickly and she was incapable of escape.
The Governor stepped back and looked at her and smiled.
She twisted and squirmed there, but she was a complete prisoner to his desires and the metal clamps on her tits were a major part of those desires at the moment. They were biting into the nipples and the Governor could see the trickle of new blood that flowed from each nipple.
As she moved there on the block, the Governor thought that she looked like a woman who was fucking an invisible man, fucking him with all of the lust in her system. And some of the lust was seeping out of her, seeping out in the form of blood, her red blood from her torture.
And the torture had just begun, the Governor remembered. He smiled.
He reached down and he felt his cock. It was hardening there and moving out from his body.
Larry Green wrapped his fingers around that cock and watched the beautiful woman squirm with the pain that was in her.
He chortled and knew that he was going to come very soon. His cock was hard and pulsing and he was enjoying the sight of this sexy action-his revenge on the Eastern slut-more than he had ever enjoyed anything.
She started to scream again. She yelled with the pain that was in her.
The pain was so terrible that she could not really see through the tears in her eyes. She knew that the Governor was in the room somewhere. She knew that he was watching her, that he had done these things to her.
But the pain was too terrible to even allow her to think about the man who had given her that pain.
She screamed and twisted and then she closed her eyes and she felt the night come over. She knew that she was passing out again, passing out from the pain and the degradation.
But she wanted to say something to the Governor before she lost consciousness.
She did not want the Governor to think that he had won it all-not yet.
She sighed the words out as she felt herself floating and tumbling in the mid-air sleep of night.
"Fucking Western sadist," she sighed. "Your political ideas suck shit, Governor. Suck shit."
And then she passed out and lay like a dead woman on the block.
Larry Green knew that she was not dead at all, and, as he grasped his pole, he thought about all the other things that he would do to her.
And he came, shooting his white semen all over the floor in front of him and moaning with masculine power and desire.
He knew that he had not conquered her yet, that she was still a strong and beautiful Eastern slut.
But then he felt good about her strength. She would not be easy to conquer and that would make the ultimate victory all that much sweeter, he thought.
And, coming, the Governor of that Western state knew that he would be victorious.
Coming, he knew that he would be the final winner in his battle of pain with the wonderful and beautiful Eastern slut, Donna Morgan.
After he came, he leaned against the wall and sighed and looked at her.
Then he went to get Jenny and Cindy. They would unclamp the woman's tits and wash her body and rub salve onto her to ease her pain.
And then they would play a major role in Donna Morgan's next ordeal.
The Governor liked to think of what Cindy and Jenny would do to the woman.
His cock grew a couple of inches in anticipation and it began to stiffen.
They would show her, he thought. They would show that Eastern slut that the power now lay in the West, that the West was the real America now. He would be very proud of his girls, very proud indeed.
And it was all going to happen during the convention, during the ultimate display of good old American power. The Governor would be wheeling and dealing down there on the convention floor, making plans for future elections and inspiring delegates with his speeches and giving the party the kind of new leadership that it needed.
And, while he did that, his girls would be with Donna Morgan, teaching that woman all about Western power.
And the Governor was almost certain that Donna Morgan would begin to like it.
He thought that he could already see it in Donna. She had been angry with him, and she had been unconquered for the moment, but that something was there in her and the Governor could see it. The Governor thought that she would grow to like this kind of treatment, especially when Jenny and Cindy worked on her.
Then everything would work out according to his plans, and America would be safe for real Western power.
That was one of the things that the Governor believed in-power.
He thought that America should be the most powerful nation on God's earth.
The Governor had it all worked out, and he knew that the ordeal would last throughout the convention week for Donna Morgan.
He would work with Donna when he could get away from that convention.
And Jenny and Cindy would work with her at other times.
And, together, they would all conquer that Eastern slut and make her sweet and slave-like for the rest of her fucking life.
She would become a slave of the West, the Governor thought.
And he smiled.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Donna awoke again, she was lying on the floor. She was not bound at all and someone had cared for her wounds and had washed the blood from her body. She looked up and tried to focus her eyes in the bright, blinding light of that room, tried to see if she was alone again. She tried to move too, but the pain was still there. When she moved her body at all, the pain shot through her like lightning bolts. She jerked with that pain and fell back on her back on the floor and spread her arms out wide from her body.
She looked like a woman who was being crucified, Cindy thought as she stood naked over the naked Donna and looked down at her.
And that was the way that it should be, the blonde reasoned. In a special way, Donna was being crucified, being tortured for her Eastern believes and her Eastern sluttishness.
That was the term that the Governor always used, and Cindy thought in those terms now, even though she was from Boston. She thought that the woman was an Easterner and that that somehow gave the Governor a right to hate her and torture her.
But something was not right, the blonde thought, something in her mind told her that this woman had a life that was worth living.
And then Cindy knew that she was attracted to that woman, that she would have liked nothing better than to go to bed with that woman.
Donna Morgan was a beautiful, dark-haired, powerful woman.
And, now, in her weakness, she looked like the kind of woman that Cindy wanted to clutch to her bosom and protect.
But Cindy knew that she could not do that. The Governor would not allow that. It was not in his master-plan for the convention.
Donna opened her eyes and looked up and saw the blonde standing there and sighed.
She remembered that she had been attracted to that blonde when she had been kidnapped. Now that she saw the cute girl again, she felt that attraction again and she hated herself.
That attraction, that cunt ruling her head, had gotten her into this mess, the columnist remembered.
"I am from Boston," Cindy said, "and Jenny is from Baltimore. We are both Easterners."
Cindy did not know why she was telling the woman that. It just seemed important that Donna should know about her Eastern heritage at that moment.
The blonde thought that it would make the newspaper columnist feel more at home with them as they carried out the Governor's wishes and tortured the beautiful, dark-haired woman.
Cindy went down to her knees beside the woman and touched Donna's tit with her hand.
That touch sent the pain shooting through the woman again and Donna jerked with the pain.
Cindy pulled her hand away from the tit, remembering that the Governor had mauled it just a few hours before.
"I am sorry," she said softly. "I just wanted you to know that I was from Boston."
The woman did not understand why the girl was saying this, but she understood that touch.
Cindy had not meant to give her pain. The columnist knew that. The blonde had wanted to ease her pain a little with that touch. Donna sighed and smiled at the girl in a friendly way.
"When I first saw you," she said, "I thought that it would be good to take you home with me and treat you like a slave. I have another slave at home. Terri is her name. She has dark hair and big tits and she is from Long Island. She is a bastard and she is a good slave. I thought that it would be fun to work with both of you at the same time."
Cindy listened to that and did not know how to feel about what the woman was saying to her.
She knew that Donna was trying to compliment her with those words, but Cindy did not really feel complimented at all.
She did not want to be that woman's slave. If Donna had told her that she had wanted to take her home and make love to her, that would have been different, Cindy thought.
She would not have minded going to bed with the woman. She had gone to bed with a lot of women in the past. She and Jenny had even made love a dozen times or so when they were really horny, but she did not like to be anyone's slave.
Cindy knew that, in a way, she was the Governor's slave, but she had never been made to feel like one.
The Governor had never used a whip on her or called her bad names. He had just told her to do stuff, stuff that she had liked to do.
She had sometimes thought of herself as the Governor's hooker But never as the Governor's slave! She had never been a slave to anyone!
Thinking that, she rebelled against the idea of slavery and rebelled against that momentary feeling of lust that she had had for this woman.
She knew then that Donna did deserve what she was getting. She had done the same kind of thing to other girls.
Cindy took a deep breath and narrowed her blue eyes to little slits and slapped the woman hard.
"I will never be your fucking slave!" the blonde yelled.
And she slapped Donna again just to make sure that the woman understood her.
"I will never be anyone's fucking slave! I am from Boston and that city stands for liberty!"
She got up from her knees and left the woman lying there. She turned her back on that Eastern whore.
As Cindy stormed away, Donna sighed. She knew that the blonde was right. Cindy would never be anyone's slave.
Donna knew that she had irritated the girl and she was sorry, but that is the way that it was. Donna thought in those terms when it came to sex. She had always thought that the best compliment that she could ever give another woman would be to tell her that she would make a wonderful slave. Now she knew that Cindy did not agree with that compliment.
And the newspaper columnist wondered if she would start thinking in different terms when this ordeal was over.
She did not know. She just lay there on the floor and watched the blonde walk out on her.
Cindy locked the door to the little room behind her and went to find Jenny.
The Governor's girls had taken over an abandoned warehouse near the river in New York City.
The little room where they kept Donna was in the middle of the warehouse and they knew that no one outside would be able to hear the woman's screams of pain and fury when they worked with her.
Jenny was in another room, waiting for Cindy to come in and tell her that it was time for another session, that Donna had regained consciousness.
That room had once been an office in the warehouse and it had an electrical outlet.
Jenny was watching the convention on a little portable TV in that room.
Cindy came to the door and stood there. "She is ready," the blonde said.
And then Cindy looked at her red-haired friend and thought that Jenny looked very sexy in her leather outfit.
It was black leather and it was tight against the girl's big and sexy body.
Jenny was wearing a leather bodice that came up over her tits and left her shoulders bare. And she was wearing leather shorts too, shorts that were cut high like bikini panties. She was wearing high, leather boots with spiked heels. The combination of black leather and red hair was almost more than Cindy could bare. She wanted to throw herself on the redhead and make love to her right then and there.
But Jenny was too interested in the TV. She had heard Cindy tell her that the woman was ready, but, right then, she was busy watching the convention. Cindy looked at the set and realized why Jenny was so enthralled. Governor Larry Green was speaking to the convention.
Cindy sat down next to her friend on the little couch in that office and watched the Governor, their Governor and boss, speak too. The crowds were in a good mood. They obviously knew that the boy governor was good presidential material for years to come. They interrupted him with cheering and applause a lot.
"We must clean up our environment," the Governor was saying as he stood there with his arms high and stretched out to the crowd. He looked good in his three-piece suit and his earnest expression. "We must keep the big business forces from dirtying what we have to leave to our children."
And the crowd cheered.
"And we must also realize that there is a limit to what government can do, that we must handle our own lives as individuals, as neighborhoods, as towns and as states, that we must not run to Big Daddy Government whenever we have a problem. There are problems that cannot be solved by government. They can only be solved by people."
And the crowd cheered.
"People. Ordinary people. The common people are not so common at all. They have strength and they can use that strength and their faith in the American way to do things for themselves. When they do those things for themselves, then government will not cost us so much in tax dollars. And the people want that. They want a stream-lined, effective, cost-efficient government."
And the crowds cheers and hooted and knew that they were listening to a real winner up there on the podium.
Larry Green let them cheer him and then, when the cheers began to die, he went on with his speech about the people.
"The people know what they want. The people are noble enough to know that they must have government, but not too much government. They must have order, but they must also have diversity and creativity. They must have law but they cannot let the law stand in the way of justice."
And the crowds cheered again.
"And so I call out to you and I say, Let us have a government as good as its people. Let us have a government that answers the needs of the people but also knows how to get off the people's back. Let us have progress and prosperity for all. That is what I stand for. That is what our party stands for. And that, my friends, is what the people stand for. Let us unite with the people and go forward to victory, a victory that will change the direction of our lives and the lives of our children and our grandchildren for years and years to come."
And then he was finished and the crowd went wild with cheering.
Many people from western delegations held up home-made signs saying that they wanted Larry Green to be president. But both Jenny and Cindy knew that Larry had decided the week before that he would not have his name put into nomination, even as a favorite son. He would let his uncommitted delegates in his state vote for whoever they wished.
Larry Green had a plan, and part of that plan was based on the idea that his party would be destroyed in this coming election. There were too many candidates and too few causes that united the members of the party. They were still fighting there on that convention floor. Someone would be nominated and then would go down into the pits of defeat in November. From that, defeat, Larry Green would then arise as a candidate who could win four years later. It was a grand plan, a masterpiece of political thinking, just as Larry had made a grand plan for the domination and defeat of Donna Morgan.
Cindy could not help feeling proud of her governor, the man who could arouse the crowds in that way with his oratory.
The blonde did not watch the television much, did not keep up with the news. So she turned to Jenny and asked her the question.
"Has anyone missed her yet?"
"Yes," Donna said. "The reporters talked all afternoon about her disappearance. The editors of her paper think that there might have been some foul play. They have the cops searching for her, but they have not turned up any clues. The last anyone saw of her, she was leaving the convention floor."
"Then nobody remembers seeing her with me or seeing her get into the car?"
"Fuck, no. Who would take notice of something like that? There were a lot of women getting into cars that night. Don't worry, Cindy. They won't find her until we turn her loose."
"Shouldn't we get started on her now. She is conscious and she said that she wanted to make me her slave. I slapped her when she said that."
Jenny grinned at her naked, blonde friend.
"Good work," she said.
Then the redhead in leather slowly stood up and picked up the whip from the desk that sat next to her.
"Let's give it to her, Cindy," Jenny said. "You remember the way we planned this one out?"
"I certainly do," the blonde said softly, firmly.
She had started to think about what Donna Morgan had said again. She had started to think about that woman wanting her to be a slave. Cindy did not like that idea at all.
Jenny turned off the television and led the way through the warehouse to the room where Donna Morgan was kept, was being held prisoner. As she walked through the warehouse, Jenny knew that she was looking forward to this one, this session with her. It was going to be great.
She liked to share things with Cindy and she knew that she and her blonde friend were going to share Donna's torture this evening.
Cindy unlocked the door and opened it. She walked in first and then she stepped aside.
She had wanted to get Donna's attention, so that the woman would be looking at that door when Jenny entered in her black leather. She had wanted Donna to be confronted with the sexiness and the fear that would fill her system when she saw that redhead in black.
That is the way that the girls had planned it out beforehand.
When Jenny entered the room, Donna's eyes grew wide. She had never seen such beauty and such sex appeal before.
But she also felt the fear, the fear that came in her body like a heat when she saw that whip and she knew that Jenny meant to use that whip on her.
Jenny walked slowly toward the woman, who still lay there on the floor. Donna was not bound this time. She could have gotten up and run away, but she did not even try to do that.
Jenny and Cindy had both known that she would not do that.
Donna was in pain and Donna was captivated now by the sight of the redhead in leather. She could not run from that sight.
Donna felt those complex emotions of lust and fear run through her and she wondered if that was what her girl-slaves had felt, if that was what every woman felt when she was confronted by a beautiful and dominant female.
She knew that she did not look as remarkable in leather as Jenny did. She knew that she was not as big and she did not have that flowing, red hair. But she also knew that she was beautiful, even more beautiful in leather.
She sighed and lay very still, like a little animal that does not want to be noticed in a deadly forest.
But she had already been noticed and she knew that the redhead would use that whip on her.
"Fucking Eastern slut," Jenny snarled at her. She held the whip up and ran that whip down the woman's body, letting the leather strip at the end of the whip touch Donna's nipples.
With that touch, the newspaper columnist jerked. She still had a great deal of pain stored in those nipples, it seemed, and that pain was just ready to burst out of her.
When she saw that jerk, Jenny laughed with a loud and long sound.
Cindy watched her red-haired friend and knew that she saw a difference between herself and Jenny then.
Cindy did these things to this woman with a sense of duty to the Governor. She was still a little confused about the woman's need for suffering, especially because the woman was such a beautiful victim.
But the blonde could tell then that her friend, Jenny, really got into this, this punishment and this brutality.
She got into much more than Cindy ever could, and it frightened the little blonde a bit.
She had been to bed with Jenny, had shared so much with her. She could not believe that the woman could be this brutal.
And the question came to the blonde quickly, the question that startled her with its fierce need to be answered:
If Jenny could enjoy doing this to Donna, could she also enjoy doing the same thing to Cindy?
"What are you going to do?" Donna muttered when Jenny pulled the whip away from her.
But Jenny just laughed again, with that cold and furious laugh, and she moved away from the naked woman who lay there on the floor.
She nodded to Cindy. It was the blonde's turn and Cindy knew what she was expected to do.
But, as she walked toward Donna, the blonde wondered if she did want to do that, if she could really do something like that to a woman who was so sexy.
Then Cindy remembered that Donna had said that she had wanted to make the blonde a slave too.
And that memory caused fire to come to the girl's head. She knew then that she could do it. She knew too that she should keep that in mind, that statement of purpose that Donna had given her. The dark-haired beauty had seen Cindy and had imaged her as a slave.
Now Cindy was going to show Donna just what kind of person a slave could be. She was going to make the woman her slave.
As Donna lay on the floor, the blonde moved over her head and stood over it. Donna looked up into that fine pink cunt.
Good, she thought, she just wants me to eat her out. I can do that, Donna thought.
But Donna was wrong. That was not Cindy's intention at all. She looked down at that dark-haired beauty and she smiled, but when she saw Donna stick out her tongue, as if to tempt the blonde, Cindy hated her. The girl knew that the woman would eat her cunt if that was required, that the woman would even enjoy that. And Cindy wanted to do something to Donna that she was certain that the woman would not enjoy.
"If you move in any way," the blonde said softly to the woman captive. "If you move in any way, Jenny will be even more brutal with that whip. I want you to lie right there and take it."
"I will take it," Donna said with a grin, thinking still that the girl would lower that pink, cute pussy down on her face. She would not mind taking that at all, the columnist thought.
Then the yellow stream started to flow out of the hole and it fell down on Donna's face.
The columnist was disgusted and she started to twist out of the way as that warm liquid hit her face.
Then she heard the redhead's firm voice, giving her an order that Donna knew she would have to follow.
"Don't move. Take it all. Open your mouth and drink that piss, you Eastern slut, you Eastern whore."
And Cindy continued to piss and Donna closed her eyes and forced her mouth open and took some of that stream into her mouth. It went down her throat, warm and bitter.
She could not stand it. As the piss started to slow to a trickle, Donna moved her aching body and slipped from under the stream and gagged. She turned on the floor and thought that she was going to throw up for certain.
"Eastern slut!" the redhead yelled. "You moved, you Eastern slut! You did not take all of her piss, her beautiful piss!"
Donna heard the words but could not do anything. The redhead was right. She had moved, repulsed by what the girls had wanted her to do. She felt as if her insides were on fire and she wanted to throw up, but she could not. She moved up on her hands and knees, still aching, and she tried to get that warm, bitter fluid out of her system.
But then, as she thought that she finally would be able to throw up, she felt the hardness on her pussy-lips and she gasped and looked back through tear-filled eyes.
She could not really tell what was happening, but she suspected the worst.
Jenny was working the sharp toe of the leather boot into the woman's pussy, was pressing it against the pinkness.
But it would not really go in very well. Then Jenny got another idea.
"Don't move, you Eastern slut. If you move, I will beat you until no one will be able to recognize you."
And the tone in her voice told Donna that the redhead meant it. She would destroy the woman's beauty if she got a chance to do that.
Donna stayed on her hands and knees and gasped. But she did not move. She tensed her body and she shivered but she stayed in position as Jenny lay down on her back on the floor and lifted her foot carefully and pressed the spiked heel of that shoe into the woman's cunt.
Donna screamed as she felt that spike in her. It was so cold and it seemed so deadly.
But she held still. She did not want her beauty scarred beyond recognition.
Cindy watched with her blue eyes wide as Jenny fucked the woman with that heel, that pointed and dangerous-looking heel. She could not believe that her friend would do something like that. But, more than anything else, she was shocked when she looked at the expression on the redhead's face. Jenny was lying there with her eyes closed and she was moaning and touching her leather-covered tits with the whip.
And then she ran the whip slowly down to her leather panties and rubbed the handle of that whip over her leather-covered snatch as if it were a hard cock that she was trying to get into her cunt.
Jenny was enjoying this!
Cindy could not believe that. She thought that she had known Jenny so well, but she knew now that there were things about her friend that she would never understand at all.
She listened to Donna's screams and Jenny's moans, and she knew that she could never be as close to Jenny as she had been in the past, not after seeing this ordeal that she had put this woman through and had so obviously relished herself.
CHAPTER SIX
The next afternoon, while the girls watched the balloting on amendments to the party platform, Cindy worked up the courage to ask Jenny about it.
"You really enjoy it, don't you?"
"Enjoy what?" the red-haired beauty asked, sitting there in her black-leather panties and her boots and watching the roll-call of the states.
That costume told Cindy that she did enjoy it. The Governor had picked the leather outfit up when they had first got to New York City and Jenny had worn it most of the time since then.
"You enjoy hurting her and humiliating her, don't you?" Cindy asked.
"Sure," Jenny said, glancing at her friend and smiling.
It was that smile that made Cindy shiver. That smile seemed so deadly and so cruel. And Jenny had admitted that she liked it in such an off-hand way, as if she were admitting that she liked eating ice cream.
But this was not ice cream, the blonde thought. This was sadism. This was a sexual fever that was brought about by hurting some other person.
Cindy did not like the woman and she had gone along with it because the Governor had told them to do it.
But she did not enjoy doing these things the way that her red-haired friend did. She knew that.
"If this platform plank is adopted," Jenny said, looking at the screen, "some of the delegates from the Midwest and South might walk out. They don't like it at all."
Jenny had developed a real interest in politics in the months that she had been with the Governor.
She now knew all about delegates and platforms and caucases and she seemed to enjoy the whole process of American politics.
Cindy had always thought that all politicians were crooks, that it did not make any difference who was elected to what, and she had seen nothing in her months with the Governor to make her feel any differently. But she sat there silently in her T-shirt and panties and watched the TV too. She knew that her friend was interested and she really did not want to talk to Jenny any longer about the pain that she enjoyed inflicting on Donna. She did not want to have to face that confusion that this new knowledge put into her head.
When Texas voted, Jenny sighed and turned to her friend.
"Went down to the defeat," she said. "That saved the party in the November elections."
To Cindy, November just meant that winter was coming. She did not care about elections at all.
But she was still troubled by other questions and one of them popped out of her before she even realized what was happening.
"Jenny," she said, "would you hurt me like that if the Governor told you to do it? Would you hurt me like that and enjoy it as much as you enjoy hurting her?"
Jenny glanced at her blonde, sexy friend and grinned widely.
"I would if I thought that you would enjoy it too," she said honestly. "You know, that woman in there is going to learn to enjoy this kind of treatment by the time that we are through with her. That is part of the Governor's plan. He is going to make her like being a slave."
"I don't think that I could ever enjoy something like that, Jenny," Cindy said softly.
"Oh, you can never tell, Cindy. Not until you try."
And, when she heard that, Cindy shivered. She knew that her friend would not mind hurting her at all, that Jenny would get off on hurting her, just as she had gotten off on making love to her those times that they had gone to bed together.
Cindy moved away from her friend and stood up and walked out the door into another part of the warehouse. She wanted to be alone with her confusing thoughts.
And the blonde knew that she could never really trust her friend after this, after knowing that she really got off on sadism.
She wished that she could leave right then and never come back, but she stayed there when she remembered that the Governor had given her so much. She still felt a certain kind of love for the Governor.
But she knew that he was a sadistic crook at heart, and she wondered if there was anyone in the world that she could turn to now.
Suddenly, she felt as trapped as the naked woman in that room.
Donna's hands were tied behind her back. She was on her knees in the closet, the tight and dark little room. At one time, she had yearned for the darkness because the bright light of the other room had hurt her eyes with its constant burning. But, after the girls had put her into that closet, she had wanted the light. She was frightened in that dark, little closet.
And she could not move. She felt the spikes and she knew that, if she moved, they would hurt her.
One spike was against the front of her body, just below her tits. The other spike was against her back.
She felt as if she were impaled, as if the two spikes were really one big spike that had been driven through her. She let her mind wander there in that darkness and she imagined the Governor impaling her with his spike and lifting her high over that convention crowd and walking with her through Madison Square Garden as the crowds cheered his victory over her. She would be a sacrifice for the party. All of the politicians would look at her as a symbol of the press, naked and impaled on the noble Governor's spike, and they would say that they wished that all reporters could be offered up to the party in such a way.
For some reason, she did not mind that vision at all. She found it strangely sexy, that she would be impaled like that and taken into the crowds. She had always wanted to be the center of attention.
If the Governor impaled her and carried her to that crowded place, she would be the center of attention, she thought.
Then the gossip columnist started to do it before she even realized that she was moving.
She was moving back and forth there in that closet, shifting her weight from one knee to the other.
And, to her surprise, she found herself enjoying the feeling of the spikes digging into her flesh.
It seemed to her that her whole body itched and that was the only way that she could scratch it.
She sighed and moved and felt the scratching and grew it love it and she let her mind wander again, there in the dark.
Suddenly, she also loved that dark. She did not want anyone to see the pleased expression on her face as she did this to herself.
And she remembered the first time that she had dominating anyone, the first time that was, in many ways, still the best. There is no time, she thought, like the first time.
She had been a student in college and she was fucking one of her professors, a young, dark, thin man named C. L.
Only the initials. She never did find out what his complete name was.
She found the relationship very strange. C. L. had a beautiful, dark, almost gyspy-looking wife name Deb. But he liked to fuck his students too, and he had taken up with Donna easily. She had been attracted to him immediately. She not remember now how it Started. She supposed that it really made no difference. The fact was that she had started going to bed with C. L. and she had started to look forward to going out with him too, to fucking him on those spare afternoons at his house when Deb was not around.
And then one afternoon, after he had fucked her, he told Donna that Deb knew about their relationship and did not really mind at all.
That had seemed strange to Donna then, but the stranger things were yet to come.
He had told her that Deb wanted to join them for something very special. He complimented Donna and told her that he considered her a very open-minded college girl. He reminded her of something that he had once told her, something that she had agreed with earnestly, that there was nothing that was really jaded, really perverted. There was nothing that people should not try.
Donna had agreed to that with college-girl innocence, and then she worried about it.
She felt that she had probably gotten herself into something very strange with that agreement, but she was proud, and she would not go back on that now. Yes, she told C. L., she still believed that and she was willing to try anything, anything at all.
That is when the college girl learned abofut what the professor and his wife wanted.
And she had gone along with it because she had been too proud to say no.
Then she discovered many things about herself, many things that changed her life.
The next night, she had stood naked over the professor's bed and looked down on them, both of them, the dark, young professor and his dark, beautiful wife. C. L. and Deb were both naked, lying there, prepared to take the punishment from the girl. They wanted to share that punishment. C. L. had said that sharing the punishment would make them feel more like a husband and a wife.
He had filled Donna in on the details o what he wanted and what Deb wanted too.
Cursing, he had said. Plenty of cursing. They wanted to be called names and given orders in a brutal voice.
And they wanted to be hit with that soft, black whip, the whip that stung their naked bodies.
They wanted to be treated like real and loving slaves.
So Donna stood over them and looked down on them and wondered if she could do this.
Now, as she remembered that experience in the dark, she rubbed against the spikes and thought again about how it would thrill her to be impaled. She was learning something new about herself. That was the reason that she now remembered that other night, when she had learned something new about herself, when she had beaten that man and his wife, at first cautiously, almost fearfully and then giving in completely to the thing that had been in her from her own creation, she thought.
As she rubbed against the spikes now, she wished that she could stand up and scratch the itch that was in her pussy.
But the ceiling was low and she could not stand and she just had to kneel there and feel that impaling. She just had to feel it and try to make the scratching that she could get move down to her cunt, the ultimate itch in her body.
She shivered and remembered that first night, that first occasion on which she had discovered that special part of her own being.
She sighed and let the memories return to her in detail.
At first, the man and the woman had just lay there, waiting for the curses to start, waiting for the whip to fall.
Then the man looked at the naked girl, the student that he had fucked so often. He could tell that Donna was nervous, unsure of herself.
"Donna," he said softly, "we want it. We really do. We want to share this. We want you to be our mistress."
"Your what?"
"Our mistress. To us, you will be Mistress Donna," the man explained.
"Yes," the dark wife murmured. "Mistress Donna. Our Mistress Donna. We will be your slaves."
When she heard the woman speak in that way, she felt a shivering feeling run up and down her spine.
She had thought before that having the woman there would make it more difficult for her.
She had wished that she would only have to dominate and curse C. L., the man that she already knew.
But now she liked the woman too, liked her even better than the man, the husband. She had heard the woman's soft voice and she had felt that softness invade her. She wanted to concentrate on that woman, but she knew that she would have to give C. L. some brutality too. He craved it as much as his wife did.
But she looked at that beautiful woman and the college student that that woman would be her main objective.
She knew that, more than C. L., she wanted to dominate Deb.
Donna closed her eyes for a moment and then she started to curse them in just the way that the man had coached her.
"Fucking pieces of shit," she muttered. "Man-and-wife shit collection, that is what you are."
She opened her eyes and looked down on them and she found that she liked the cursing and the feeling of power that she had over these older and beautiful slaves.
It was the first time that she had ever really felt powerful. When she had fucked C. L., he had always seemed to be in control, because he was the man and the professor and she was the girl and the student.
But no more, she thought. No more. She was now the mistress, their mistress, and she was in complete control of them.
"Fucking pieces of garbage," she snarled with a smile on her lips.
And then she yelled the next words to them, yelled them with a fever in her body, a fever that was like lust only better, the college girl thought.
"Fucking slaves! My slaves! You are my slaves!"
And the man and the wife spoke softly and in unison, spoke to their mistress.
"Yes," they said, "we are your slaves, Mistress Donna."
Strange, the college girl thought. Although both of them spoke to her, she only seemed to hear Deb's voice.
She knew then that Deb was the most important in the world to her at that moment. She knew that the wife, the female, was more important than the male.
And she remembered the way that she had thought about other girls when she was in high school, how she used to like to look at the girls in the showers after gym class. She would sneak glances at them then, and she would certainly not try to touch them. She was a very popular girl in school arid she had never wanted to be labelled a queer.
But she was learning a lot about what can happen in a bedroom that night and she was learning too that those feelings that she had had might not be queer at all. They might just be a craving for a special kind of fun.
"Slaves!" she yelled, getting into the act and becoming the mistress. "Slaves! My fucking slaves!"
And she shivered with desire as she looked-not at C. L., but at Deb.
She watched with a fevered interest in her eyes as the woman's tits rose and fell, moving like a complete and humble slave.
Even though Donna was yelling at her, cursing her, the female slave seemed very calm.
The male slave was not calm at all. His cock was rising on his body and his whole system to be filled with jerks, spasmodic churning. He tossed and twisted himself on the bed.
But the wife lay there calmly and accepted it all, and Donna knew then that that was the kind of reaction that she wanted.
She wanted a calm slave who knew her place, and she knew that only a woman slave could giver her that calm and slave-like look.
She smiled and moved closer to the bed. She kept her eyes on the dark and sexy woman as she raised the whip.
"Slaves," she snarled again. And then she brought the whip down.
First, she struck the jerking, trembling husband, lashed him with a fever. But she kept her eyes on the calm, dark woman as she did that. She hit the husband again and again and the woman stayed calm. She did not even turn to look at her jerking husband.
It was as if that man did not even exist in the room, Donna thought.
And that was just the way that the college girl wanted it.
"Oh, Mistress Donna," the husband moaned as the girl lashed him.
But, even though she heard the words, Donna did not really take any great notice of them. Soon, she was not even thinking about the husband. She was just bringing the whip down on him again and again as if she were hitting an inanimate object, practicing up for the whipping that would really mean something to her. That whipping would be on the woman, the wife. That whipping was the one that she knew she was going to enjoy the most.
Finally, she glanced down at the man and she saw that he had his fingers wrapped around his cock. Donna had had that cock in her pussy many times, had fucked that cock and had enjoyed it. But the girl knew that things were different now. She would never fuck that man again, not after seeing how calm and beautiful his wife was.
And she had not fucked a man after that night, she remembered.
Now, in the closet, she yearned for the spike to enter her pussy, to scratch her, but she still did not really yearn for a cock. She had told the Governor that he could fuck her if he wanted to do that. But she had done that because she was trying to find a way out of her ordeal.
She still liked women more than men. She knew that. Women were soft and calm and cool and men were hard and sweating and hot. Men had their place, but, more and more, Donna thought, she had discovered that that place was not in her cunt.
But she wondered if that was still true, if she had been changed by her ordeal.
She had never been punished before she had been kidnapped by the Governor's girls.
Now she was beginning to enjoy the punishment too, the impaling, scratching feeling that she was having now.
She wondered if her attitude about men had changed as well.
Perhaps she had really wanted the Governor to fuck her, Donna Morgan thought. Perhaps she had really yearned for that cock in her pussy. She remembered how she had thought that that cock was like that whip that the man had carried in his hand.
The gossip columnist did not know for certain how she had felt about cock then, how she felt about cock now. The punishment had confused her so much, and now she was feeling good in that fiery confusion.
She wondered if this was the kind of thing that girls like Terri felt when she worked with those girls.
She did not know, but she felt that she had been put into another role, and that role had changed her life.
The college girl had watched until the man started to come. She had continued to beat him with the whip while he jacked himself off. She had often watched him come on her, had made him pull his cock out of her pussy before he came so that she could see that warm, white fluid come out in spurts.
But the excitement of the evening was suddenly different now.
When Donna saw that first spurt of white, she turned her back on the man. She did not want to see that come, not ever again. She knew that that whiteness was a sign of excited maleness, and she did not want that kind of excitement in her vision.
She wanted the calm of that woman, that beautiful woman who lay there on the bed, still waiting for her beating. She kept her back turned and she listened as the man growled and gasped with his orgasm and then, when she heard him give that long sigh, she knew that he was finished.
Then she tried to figure out how she would do this, how she could get rid of the professor.
She suddenly did not want that man on the bed when she worked with the woman, soiling the action with his maleness and his jerking excitement. She wondered how she could get him off that bed and out of her life. And then she remembered that she was no longer just a college girl.
She was Mistress Donna, and they were both her slaves.
She remembered that and she knew that she had the power now to order the man to leave her alone with his wife.
A slave did whatever his mistress told him to do, she thought with a smile on her red lips.
Donna turned slowly and looked at the man. He lay there resting after his beating and his orgasm. She looked into the man's eyes and she could tell that the orgasm had made no difference. He was still her slave and he would still do what she wanted him to do. He might protest a bit, but he would do it. She licked her lips and looked at the woman who lay next to the man.
Yes, she thought, she wanted to be alone with that woman.
"You!" she yelled. "Male piece of shit! Leave us! Leave me with the woman!"
The professor looked at her as if he could not believe what she had said.
"But she is my wife," he muttered. "I want to see you-"
"She is my slave!" Donna yelled quickly. "And you are my slave! Leave us! Go into the living room and sit there! Do not try to come and listen at the door! If I catch you doing that, I will hurt her badly!"
The man looked at his wife and the dark, beautiful woman looked at her husband. Deb nodded to him.
"Leave me alone with Mistress Donna," the woman said softly.
And, when she heard that voice again, the college girl felt that her knees were melthing with the softness and the fire and the lust that she felt.
Slowly, the professor got out of the bed and turned and looked back at his wife.
"Leave us!" Donna yelled at him, cracking the whip and making him jump with that crack.
Men were so nervous and hot, she thought again, watching him jump like that. But women are cool and calm.
She knew that she wanted the woman more than the man. When C. L. turned and left the room like a beaten dog, she felt very proud of herself and very happy in her power.
When the professor was gone, his wife turned her head and looked at the college girl.
"I am glad that you made him leave," she said. "I think that you are beautiful, Mistress."
.And the girl did not know what to do then. She wanted to throw herself on the naked woman and make love to her. She wanted to kiss Deb and hold her close, but she also knew that she had to beat the woman, to make her feel like a real slave.
The college girl shivered and stood there and shook her head to clear the confusion out of her brain.
The woman seemed to understand that confusion. She spoke to the girl softly, with a tender and sweet voice.
"You can do it, Donna," she said, as if she were urging the girl on. "You can do it."
"I guess I can," the girl said softly.
And then Donna turned her back on the woman and took several deep breaths. She was trying to get that harshness back in her system, the harshness that she needed in order to make the woman feel like a real slave.
She had done this much for the husband, the girl remembered.
She could certainly do it for the beautiful wife too, if she could only get that harshness, that sweet harshness back in her system.
And then she felt it coming to her, felt it appearing in her almost like magic.
She turned and stared at the woman with her eyes bright. She looked at that calm woman and, suddenly, she hated that calmness. There was too much peace in her. Donna knew that a real slave would never feel such peace. A true slave's life would be filled with torture and lust. Lust is never peaceful, the college girl thought.
And, thinking that, she moved onto the bed and started to curse the woman with a soft and sinister voice.
"Shitty bitch," she said. "You have no right to peace. I will knock that shitty peace out of you, you worthless whore slave."
And she knelt over the woman and raised the whip in her hand and brought it down on the woman's body.
She heard the leather strip at the end of the whip crack and she knew that that strip should have hurt the woman.
But the professor's wife was still at peace, still calm. She accepted that blow and lay there and did not even flinch.
That made Donna-the college-girl mistress-even angrier with her woman slave.
"Show it, bitch," she snarled. "Show the fucking pain when I give it to you, you lousy whore."
And she brought the whip down on the woman's tits. This time, the woman did jerk slightly, but it was almost unnoticeable. After that little jerk, she lay there, calm and silent before her mistress.
"Show it! You filthy slave, show the pain when I give it to you!"
And Donna started to lash the woman, to lift the whip again and again and bring it down on the woman. She hit the woman again and again and she panted with her rage.
And then the woman started to show it, started to jerk and moan under the whip.
Soon, Deb was like an erupting volcano. Donna brought the whip down on her stomach and her tits and Deb gave into the pain. She twisted under the whip and she ran her fingers down and spread her cunt and started to play with herself as Donna whipped her stomach and tits and arms. The pain turned her on. The pain made her pussy wet and aromatic with lust. Donna could smell that aroma and that aroma drove the college girl on to brutalize the woman even more.
She knew that this was what the woman wanted, that this was the bout of pain that would give the woman her orgasm.
And Donna felt her own cunt quiver with delight as she watched that woman twist under her.
She knew that this was what she had sought for the longest time. She knew that she would love this forever, that she would want more women to twist under her like this.
To the college girl at that moment, men did not-even exist in the world.
She saw the woman twist and she did not even think of the man, the husband, who sat outside in another room and waited for the college girl to finish with his wife.
That man did not exist at all. In the world, there was only Donna and Deb, Deb and Donna.
The two females were, in the college girl's mind, all that were needed to make the world happy.
She stopped lashing the woman and she watched at the beautiful, dark, sexy female fingered herself. She knew that Deb was coming near an orgasm.
When the woman started to jerk with that orgasm, Donna remembered her role. She started to curse the woman quietly.
"Fucking slut. Fucking bitch. My slave, you whore. You are my slave and don't you forget it."
"Yes, Mistress Donna," the woman gasped. "Yes. Yes. Yes. I am your slave."
And then, announcing that she was Donna's slave, the woman came, with gasps and sighs as her fingers worked over her clit and as her body tensed with sexual passion.
When the orgasm was over, the woman lay there and sighed and tried to relax before her mistress.
She was no longer cool and calm. She was not hot and sweaty with the desire that she felt in her body, the desire that had led to the orgasm.
Then Donna thought of something. She knew that a real mistress would not be finished with such a sexy slave so quickly. She moved over the woman's face and she snarled at her with that mistress tone that she had grown to love over the last few minutes.
"Eat my cunt, slave bitch," the college girl said. "Eat me and make me come too, you worthless slave."
And the woman did not hesitate. She put her hands softly on Donna's firm ass and she pulled the girl's cunt down to her face and she drove her tongue into that pussy.
When she did that, Donna leaned back and sighed and felt a girlish growl come up from her throat.
She was immediately in heaven. She had had so many cocks in her pussy, she thought, including the cock of this woman's husband. But she had never felt anything like this before. She had never felt so warm and so alive. That tongue seemed to head right for her girlish soul.
She sighed and let that tongue do its work, knowing that she was going to have an orgasm soon, knowing that her life had changed completely now.
Now the journalist remembered that night and remembered that she had never gotten the chance to dominate that woman again. She had asked Deb about it, but the woman had said that they could only get together if Donna would also whip her husband. That was the only rule that C. L. and Deb lived by.
And Donna did not want to dominate that man again. So she felt her heart break a little and she kissed Deb good-bye. She knew that she would never be this close to that particular woman again.
But there were other women and girls who-wanted what Donna had to offer and she found out that some of the sexiest girls were also the girls who loved the pain the most.
She had had fun, so much fun with those girls throughout the years, but now she knew that things had changed, that she was the victim now. After seeing it from this side, she knew that she was going to have another great change in her life, just like the change that she had had that night with Deb.
But Donna did not know where that change would lead her. She did not know what was going to happen to her now. And she wondered what she really wanted out of life and out of sex now.
She wondered and worked her body against the spikes in that dark closet.
Cindy made up her mind that she had to try something, that she had to find out about Jenny's needs and her own needs too. She walked slowly back into the room where the redhead in leather sat watching the television.
The blonde sat down next to her friend and watched the television commentator who was talking about some politician.
"It was a good speech," the commentator said, "but, so far, the best speech given at this convention was delivered by Gov. Larry Green. That young governor is definitely presidential material and many party regulars and leaders are saying that they are going to give him a good study before the next convention. What they liked about his speech was its absence of BOMFOG. Perhaps I should explain that term for the people who do follow politics. One noted politician used to always make a reference to the Brotherhood of Man and the Fatherhood of God in his speeches. That line was in so many of the speeches that journalists covering him started to just use the initials in their notes: BOMFOG. Now Bomfog is a term for political rhetoric that means nothing. And it seemed that everything that Larry Green said last night meant something. He is a new conservative from the West and the party leaders "here are saying that the nation is getting more and more conservative. If that trend continues, they say, Larry Green-Governor Lawrence F. Green-may someday find himself sitting in the White House. The only question in some leaders minds is how long it will take him to get there-four years or eight years?"
Jenny turned and smiled at Cindy.
"Sort of makes you proud, doesn't it?" the redhead asked.
"Yeah," the blonde said, "I guess so."
But the blonde was not really interested in the pride that she should feel in her boss.
She was perplexed by the complex emotions that rumbled through her head and she wanted to try something, so that she could find out if it was really good. She wanted to find out if this was the kind of thing that she could actually enjoy.
The tone in the red-haired Amazon's voice told Cindy that her friend actually did care about her.
And that was something at least, the girl thought. She knew that that something, that caring quality in their relationship would make it easier to ask the redhead to do it to her.
It made her trust Jenny all that much more, and she needed to trust the girl if she was going to ask that one favor from her.
"Yes," she said, "something is bothering me, Jenny."
The redhead leaned forward and switched off the TV. She did not want to be distracted if her friend was going to tell her her problem.
"What is it, Cindy?" she asked, putting her fingers in the blonde's soft hair.
Before she answered Jenny, the blonde looked at the black leather boots and the leather panties.
She thought again of how sexy Jenny looked in those things. It was as if the redhead had been made for leather, for domination. Cindy thought about that and then she thought that perhaps mistresses and slaves were born and not made.
Perhaps, she thought, she had been meant to be a slave from birth. Perhaps there was something in her Boston heritage that made her crave the slavery. She would have to find out and she would have to ask Jenny to help her. She closed her eyes for a moment and summoned up the courage to tell her friend what she wanted.
"I would like for you to dominate me, Jenny," she said softly. "I don't want to hurt a lot. I just want to find out if I do like it."
"You never asked me to do that before," the redhead said softly, still stroking Cindy's blonde hair.
"I never really knew about it before," the blonde said. "And I never knew that you enjoyed it so much. I know now. I saw you with that woman in there and I knew that you did enjoy it and I wondered if, maybe, I would enjoy being a slave. I know that I don't really enjoy being a mistress, Jenny. You see, I get all confused when I work with that woman. I don't like her and I sort of like pissing on her and things like that. But she is really very sexy and I keep thinking that maybe I should be making love to her and not doing that other stuff to her, hurting her. You don't seem confused at all. You get all hot and turned on and it is like you were making love to her when you beat her or torture her."
"Cindy," Jenny said, putting her face close to her friend's, "you have to understand this. When you dominate someone, it is like making love to them. You are giving them something to feel. You are giving them the ultimate attention in a way. You are centering all of your energies on that person that you are dominating and that is more than most people do when they make love. When you work with a person and give her pain, you are saying to her that she is the most important person in the world, that she really deserves all of that pain from you and all of that attention. Now, some people don't like to be abused. They don't like pain. But, for those who do like pain even a little bit, the attention is really like making love."
"Jenny?" Cindy asked softly. "Those times that we made love? Did you enjoy it?"
The big redhead kissed the blonde softly and pulled the girl into her arms.
After the kiss was over, Jenny held Cindy in her arms and smiled at her.
"I loved it those times that we made love, you sexy thing," the redhead said.
And Cindy found herself shivering in her girlfriend's arms. She felt those big tits against her body and she remembered a sensation that she had felt the first time that she and Jenny had made love together. She had felt that the redhead was both soft and hard, and she liked both things, the softness of her body and the firmness of her strength. Cindy had known then that she would never be as strong as Jenny, as big and as powerful and she had felt that the redhead would always protect her in a way.
Now she did not want protection. She wanted to learn something about herself.
And she wanted abuse from her redheaded, sexy girlfriend.
She looked up into Jenny's eyes and asked her for the favor again.
"Will you please dominate me, Jenny?" she asked. "Nothing harsh or brutal. Just treat me like your love-slave. I want to see if I do like it."
"I would love to," the redhead said.
Jenny let Cindy go and the blonde stood up. She looked down again at that leather, that black leather that seemed to go so well with Jenny's red hair.
The blonde stood there silently and waited for the first order. She knew that her friend would know just how to treat a slave and she trusted Jenny to give her what she needed in order to find out about her true self. She looked down at the floor and waited and waited and waited.
Jenny knew what the first order would be, but she wanted Cindy to know that great slave feeling that came to a girl when she had to wait.
The redhead knew enough to know that waiting was part of the thrill of being a slave, and she wanted to give Cindy that thrill.
Then, finally, the Amazon gave the blonde the order that she was waiting for.
"Strip, slave," Jenny snarled. "Strip for your mistress. Let me see your fucking body."
Of course, she had seen Cindy's body before, many times. But she wanted the girl to be completely nude, completely defenseless before her mistress. Also, she liked the way that the blonde's body looked and she knew that the sight of that body would drive her on to greater cruelty, the kind of special and sexual cruelty that Cindy wanted to experiment with.
Jenny would give her friend what she needed, would give her enough to experiment with, enough to experience.
Cindy pulled her T-shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Then she stood there in just her panties. It was strange, she thought. Jenny had seen that cunt before, had even lapped on Cindy's cunt while Cindy lapped on hers. But this afternoon the blonde felt uneasy showing her cunt to her friend, felt a new and strange kind of feeling that she could not define, something that made her want to hide something from the redhead.
Jenny saw the hesitation and she barked at the girl to make sure that Cindy followed her orders quickly.
"Strip, bitch!"
Those words rang in Cindy's head as she quickly pushed her panties down and showed her friend, her mistress, the golden-haired cunt. She stepped out of the panties and then she stood there in front of the redhead in leather.
Jenny took in the sight of her friend's body. It was very good, very sexy, the redhead thought.
And then the mistress took some time to think up some curses, some special curses for her friend. She knew that it was always best if you think up the special curses, the individual things to say to a slave. All slaves are individuals, she reminded herself.
And she knew enough about Cindy's past to come up with the curses and the insults very quickly.
"You fucking, Boston hooker," the redhead snarled. "You are nothing but a worthless whore."
The redhead stood up slowly. She towered over the blonde and her big tits were close to Cindy's face as she continued to curse her in her special and individual way.
"You would do anything that they paid you to do," she snarled. "You would suck a cock or eat a cunt. You have been that way for years. That is the reason why they threw you out of Boston. You were too much of a whore, even for the fucking Combat Zone. You Boston whore. You Boston slut. You Boston hooker."
The words, the special individual curses, had their effect on Jenny too. She found herself getting truly angry at her blonde friend, feeling that she did have the power to destroy this Boston whore, the right to destroy the blonde who stood before her as her slave.
Jenny remembered little things that Cindy had done to her. The blonde had always felt that she was somehow better than the redhead, Jenny thought, because she came from Boston, that fine and historic city, and Jenny wcame from Baltimore. They had talked about their hometowns once and Cindy had said that she had always considered Baltimore to be the ultimate decaying city while Boston was clean and vibrant and historic. That had angered Jenny, who wanted to be proud of the place that she came from. Now that anger came back to her and she slapped Cindy hard across the face.
The blow almost knocked the blonde off her feet, and she felt the tears coming to her eyes. But this is what she had asked for. She had wanted to try to be a slave, and now she was enduring what a slave, a real slave, had to endure. Her friend was showing no mercy now.
"On your fucking knees, you fucking, Boston whore," Jenny snarled.
And Cindy went to her knees quickly, wondering what was going to happen to her next.
She looked at that red hair that grew over Jenny's cunt and she thought that that red hair was like fire, fire that was about to engulf her, and she closed her eyes and imagined the burning of old and historic Boston.
"You goddamned people from Boston think you are better than anyone else," the redhead said. "I will show you that a Boston slave is just like any other slave, you fucking slut."
And, with that, the redhead kicked her friend, raised her leather boot and kicked the girl right in the chest. Cindy fell over on the floor, gasping and trying to catch her breath.
Then the girl lay there and knew that there was no turning back. Her friend was angry now.
And she would feel what every slave would feel when that slave angered her mistress.
"Boston," Jenny snarled. "Boston sucks. The whole fucking city is filled with people who think that they are better than anyone else."
The blonde's legs were spread. Her pussy was opened. Jenny saw that and knew what she would do to her slave next.
She pressed the toe of her leather boot against that pinkness that she had sometimes sucked when in the ecstasy of lesbian lust. But she was not lusting for the girl now.
She was hating Cindy and her Boston ways, and she was giving that Boston blonde the kind of treatment that she deserved.
The blonde sighed and worked her pussy against the toe of the leather boot.
Yes, it hurt. It hurt like blazes as Jenny dragged her toe against the blonde's clitoris.
But there was more than just the pain. There was also the surrender, the sweet surrender that Cindy was feeling at that moment.
The boot was hard and cold on her wet pussy lips, but the fact was that those pussy lips were wet.
That wetness and Cindy's aroused passions proved it once and for all to the girl.
She did like it. She loved enduring the pain. The confusion that had been in Cindy's head when she had helped her friend torture that other woman was gone and now it had been replaced by one simple feeling, a wonderful and strong feeling-lust.
Cindy was almost in love with that boot that the girl worked into her, and she finally cried out to her friend.
"I do love it, Jenny! I do! I do! I love it! I do! I do!"
Jenny paused the pressure that she gave to the girl's cunt and felt the blonde move against her boot with a sexual nervousness in her system.
The redhead thought that her blonde friend sounded like a bride at her wedding, and she was marrying the boot, the pain, the humiliation. Jenny felt very happy for her friend.
She looked down at the girl and thought that she had never seen the blonde look so radiant, so filled with life.
The girl's face was glowing with love, and Jenny did not want to disturb that love.
She worked her boot against the clit and she continued to snarl at the blonde from Boston who had found herself in a special way.
"You are nothing but a slave. Only slaves come from Boston. They think that they are free up there, but they all want to be slaves. All of the Puritan shit was just slavery. And you are the ultimate, slave, Boston whore."
"Yes," the blonde moaned, grabbing her tits and feeling her own orgasm coming to her. "I am nothing but a whore from Boston and I am full of shit and I am a slave, Jenny. Yes. Oh, yes."
The blonde felt the heat rising in her body and wondered about what that newspaper columnist had said to her a few days before.
She had told the blonde that she had thought of making Cindy a slave, of taking Cindy home with her and working with two slaves at once.
Cindy thought about that now and hoped that Donna Morgan had not changed that much during the past few days.
She wanted to join that beautiful woman and her other slave in that home.
She wanted to serve Donna Morgan just one time before she went back to stay with the Governor and please him and Jenny too.
"Oh, god, Jenny!" the blonde suddenly yelled. "I am coming. Jenny, coming!"
And then she did come, and she felt the heat explode from her cunt as the redhead worked her boot into the girl's pussy again and again and gave Cindy the pressure and the pleasure that the Boston blonde needed.
Then, after the girl had come, Jenny moved onto the floor and lay down next to Cindy and kissed her.
She held Cindy tight and then, after that long, tongue-twisting kiss, she asked the girl the question that was in her heart:
"Was it good for you, Cindy? Really good?
Do you want to be a slave from now on?"
The blonde thought about that for a moment and then she shook her head slowly.
"Not always," she said. "But now I know what it feels like and I know that I will want it from time to time."
The blonde looked into Jenny's eyes and smiled sweetly at her friend.
"But I will always want it from you, Jenny," she said.
The redhead felt warm and soft next to her friend, hearing those words. Cindy would always want her to dominate her on those special occasions. And Jenny knew that they would be special too. They would be the special things that two girls do with each other when they really care for each other.
"I will always trust you, Jenny," the blonde said. "And I need to trust my mistress. A slave needs to trust the person who is making her a slave."
"I know," Jenny murmured to her friend, and then she kissed the girl's face with a few, damp, sweet smacks.
The two of them lay together there and felt the warm feelings that they shared.
And they knew that they were going to keep feeling those things for a long time.
Cindy lay in her big, sexy, red-haired friend's arms and thought about something else that she found strange.
Since she had experienced this, she thought, she would know how it felt and she thought that she would better be able to give Donna Morgan torture too. That was strange but being a slave would make her a better mistress, the girl knew.
She wanted to work with the newspaper columnist until the sexy woman understood the kind of joy that a slave could feel, until she understood that she had to trust and surrender and give up her own will, her Eastern will.
If Jenny and Cindy could do that for Donna Morgan, the blonde knew, they would make her a better person, the kind of person who deserved to be famous and sexy.
And Cindy knew that they would give her pleasure too. She had felt that pleasure now and she knew just how good it could be.
She wanted to share that pleasure with the dark-haired woman in the room.
So it was Cindy who suggested it.
"Isn't it about time that we took Donna out of the closet and gave her another treatment?"
"Yes," Jenny said, "I guess it is."
The two girls kissed and then got to their feet. Before they left the little room with the television in it, Jenny stopped and opened her leather panties and pushed them down. She slipped those panties off and dropped them on the floor.
That was the red hair, the blonde thought, the red hair that she had imagined when she was Jenny's slave. It looked so sweet and so fiery, and Cindy was reminded again of the burning of Boston, of the city in flames.
Jenny still wore her black-leather boots. She walked by Cindy and touched her friend's soft shoulder and said, "Let's go. Let's go give that Eastern slut just what she needs."
And the little blonde went along eagerly.
She knew that they were going to do just as her friend had said.
They were going to give that Eastern slut a taste of slavery, and Cindy hoped that they would be able to make Donna Morgan like that taste of slavery too.
Cindy knew from her own experience now that slavery-real and good slavery-could be sweet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The closet door opened quickly and the light shot in like a bullet.
Donna squinted her eyes in that light and then she felt the leather thing go around her neck. It was cold and it was brutal. She felt the leather pulling her toward the door.
The newspaper columnist tumbled away from her spikes and fell onto the floor.
Jenny dragged her out of the closet with the whip around her throat. Then she let the naked woman go and let her lie there in the floor.
"Eastern piece of shit," the redhead muttered.
"Eastern cunt," Cindy agreed in a snarl. "Eastern slave."
When the blonde said that, she felt her pussy quiver with delight. She liked it now. She liked dominating tins woman because she knew just how pleased a slave could be.
There was no confusion any longer. They would be more harsh with Donna Morgan than Jenny had been with her, the blonde knew, but there would be a reason for that.
Donna Morgan was an experienced dominatrix herself. She deserved the most brutal treatment that any other female could give her. In a way, Cindy thought, she and Jenny were repaying Donna for all the harshness that she had given to those other girls.
Those other girls had probably enjoyed being slaves of such a sexy and powerful woman.
But Cindy wanted to make sure that Donna would know too, just how much it was to be a brutalized slave.
As the woman lay there on the floor, blinking at that bright light again, the blonde went down on her knees next to the woman. She moved her hands over the dark-haired beauty's nipples and watched the woman jerk and tense her body with the pain. But this time Cindy did not take her hands off the nipples. This time, she held her hands firmly on the nipples and let the good and healing pain burn into Donna's flesh.
Finally, the girl took her hands off the nipples and spoke softly to her victim.
"I know that it can be good. I just experienced it with Jenny here. I know how much passion a slave can really have in her heart. You just have to relax and surrender your will."
Donna sniffed her tears and nodded her head slowly at the girl.
"Yes," she moaned. "I do enjoy it. I know now that I enjoy it."
When she heard that, Cindy looked at Jenny and smiled and winked.
"She does enjoy it, Jenny," the blonde said. "Did you hear that? She is learning, just as I learned."
"Yes," Jenny said, standing there in her leather boots. "But let us see just how much she can enjoy. Let us see just how much she can stand."
"I can stand anything that you have to give me!" the victim yelled out.
Jenny did not really like that. It was a sign that her strong, Eastern will was still there, still firmly in place. The redhead knew that they had completed taken control of her if Donna Morgan could say something like that. And she wanted to make the woman a complete and humble slave. That is what the Governor wanted and Jenny was determined to do it for him. She knew that the Governor was presidential material, and she wanted to do this for the future president of the United States of America.
"On your back, you fucking slave," the redhead snarled at the dark-haired woman.
And Donna rolled onto her back and lay there and waited to find out what was going to happen to her next. She did not know if she could really stand anything, as she had told them that she could. She saw that fiery look in the redhead's eyes and she knew that she had spoken too soon, that she was really in for it now.
"Cindy," Jenny said, "I want you to sit on her face and let her lick your sweet cunt."
The blonde nodded and moved over the columnist. She started to slowly lower her pussy to that pretty face. As she did that, Donna stuck out her tongue. She was ready for that. If that was all that they wanted to do to her, she thought, she could handle that with ease. She did not mind eating that sweet pussy-flesh at all.
But, in her heart, the columnist knew that they had more planned for her than that.
In her heart, she knew that that redhead would make her ordeal most degrading and painful. She only wondered if she would be able to stand it.
Cindy worked her pussy onto that face and moaned when she felt that tongue shoot up her cunt.
The tongue worked around in there as Cindy looked at her friend and wondered what Jenny was going to do for pleasure.
As Donna licked on that cunt, the redhead walked around to the other side of her, stood between Donna's outstretched legs. Cindy turned on the tongue, moved slowly as Donna moved her tongue in and out of her cunt. She wanted to see what her friend had planned for the columnist. She wanted to see how they would tame the woman's will.
She had thought that the redhead would drive her boot up the cunt again, as she had done before. Or she might just use the toe of the boot, as she had done to give Cindy pleasure. But what happened next surprised Cindy and thrilled her and shocked her at the same time.
Jenny stood between Donna's legs and slowly lifted one foot off the floor.
And then she slowly pressed that foot, that boot with its pointed and sharp heel, down onto Donna's stomach. She ground that heel into the stomach and speared the columnist with it.
When Cindy saw that, she could hardly believe that her friend was capable of such passionate cruelty. When she saw the blood begin to pour from that spiked flesh, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine what Donna Morgan must be going through at that moment.
But the strange thing was that the woman had not stopped licking into Cindy's cunt at all. If anything, the licks were now deeper and more violent and more sexy, the blonde thought.
The blonde tossed her head back and moaned as she felt those licks, that passionate tongue in her cunt.
And Donna Morgan licked with the fever that the pain was giving her.
She could feel the warm blood rushing out, as if it were trying to flood away the pain that she was feeling, but the pain would not leave. Donna concentrated on that pain and that cunt that was on her face.
She loved it! She loved both the pain and the cunt!
She could not see exactly what the redhead was doing to her, but she could feel it.
It felt as if her insides were on fire, on fire with lust and blood and pain. And she loved it more than anything else that had ever happened to her.
How could any woman not love it? She did not think that any woman could resist such pain and such a cunt. She knew that she was feeling things that she had never felt before and she loved all of those things, all of those things that the girls were doing to her.
She licked out the cunt and she felt the heat of the pain grow in her body.
And Donna Morgan knew that she was going to be coming very soon. She knew that she was going to feel that orgasm as she had never felt any other.
Jenny slowly raised her foot off the woman's stomach and stepped back. She looked down at her boot. There was blood on the black leather, and the blood was bubbling out of the woman's stomach like something out of an exploding volcano.
The redhead watched her blonde friend toss on the woman's tongue and she knew that Cindy would be coming soon. She saw the way that Donna tossed under her, with her hands still tied behind her back and her body filled with lust.
And then she saw the bleeding part of Donna move with spasmodic jerks, and Jenny knew what that meant. It meant that the columnist was coming, coming like blazes as she bled and tongued out the cunt.
Jenny saw Cindy reach up and touch her own tits and she knew that that meant that Cindy was coming too. Jenny felt very happy. Both of her slaves were coming at the same time.
Jenny was proud.
She felt like a mother whose daughters had just won a prize.
She felt like the best mistress in the world.
And she knew that the Governor would be proud of her, very proud. She knew that he would honor her in some special and wonderful way.
She might even get a chance to follow him into the White House and make some slaves there and dominate them in the Oval Office with the President of the United States looking on.
Jenny knew one thing. She knew that anything was possible with Larry Green.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the Governor sat in the back of the car and let Harvey drive him to the warehouse, he thought of a bit of political history that he had learned about that day at the convention. One of the delegates from Massachusetts, a college professor, had told him about the election slogan of 1852.
"We polked you in '44 and we will pierce you in '52."
The Democrats had come up with that because their candidate in 1852 was Franklin Pierce.
Their candidate in 1844 had been James Knox Polk, the president who kept the most voluminous diary of his administration. The professor had told him that too. The professor had said that Polk's diaries filled volumes and were, for the most part, very boring reading.
But poking and piercing had reminded Larry Green of the woman who waited for him in that warehouse. He wanted to head for her immediately and give Donna Morgan some more harsh treatment. He also wanted to check in and see how Jenny and Cindy had fared with her.
The Governor knew that, if anyone could get the woman to enjoy pain and become a real slave, it was those two girls, those sexy females that he was happy to have on his staff.
He sat in the back seat of his car and tried to think up some campaign slogans for his own run for the presidency. If the candidate chosen by the convention the night before went down to defeat, as Larry suspected that he would, he would make a run for the top spot in four years, pledging to bring the party and the country back together. And he knew that he had a good chance of winning. He had made his deals and he could give a speech and he could be all things to all men, at least long enough to get into the White House.
And Larry Green suspected that he really did not have to worry about the newspaper columnist any longer. He figured that Donna Morgan would do what he wanted her to do after the ordeal that she had been put through.
The Governor had been following the story of Donna Morgan's disappearance with interest, and he was surprised that the reporters did not add that most of the politicians who were in New York City for the convention had expressed relief that she was gone. Some of them said privately that they hoped that she would wind up floating in the river.
Politicians did not like journalists who tried to uncover their bad deeds.
That was even true of the politicians of the other party, Larry Green knew.
And then he thought of his own slogans:
MAKE AMERICA A GREEN PLACE! MAKE AMERICAN GREEN AGAIN! THE GREENING OF AMERICA!
Not bad, he thought with a smile, not bad at all.
And then they were in the warehouse district. Harvey went around the block as usual to make sure that the car was not being followed. Then he pulled up outside the old warehouse that they were using for Donna Morgan's prison.
Governor Larry Green got out and told Harvey to wait for him, even though he knew that he would be at least an hour or so in there.
Harvey knew that too. As the Governor walked into the warehouse, the cop curled up on the front seat to take a nap. He pulled his revolver out of his shoulder-holster and held it in his hand. He always slept with his pistol in his hand, like some men sleep with their hands on their dicks.
Larry Green used his own key to unlock the door and he went into the warehouse.
He called out for his two assistants.
"Cindy! Jenny! Where are you?"
"In here!" Jenny yelled. "Watching TV!"
Larry smiled at he walked toward that little room that had once been an office. He knew that the redhead had fallen in love with the political process. She was probably now watching some boring speech before the candidate's acceptance speech. Larry would have to get back for that one and walk up on the podium with the other leading members of the party. But he had a couple of hours.
He stood in the doorway and looked at the two naked girls who sat there staring at the television and he smiled.
"We polked you in '44 and we'll pierce you in '52," he said.
"What?" Cindy asked, turning to look at him.
"Nothing," the Governor said. He knew that Cindy would not appreciate that piece of political humor. But he made a mental note to tell Jenny about the old slogan later on, when they were along. The redhead enjoyed little political tidbits like that.
But Cindy was the one who had the big news for the Governor that night.
"She likes it," the blonde said. "She says that she likes it. She even liked it when Jenny made the blood pour out of her. She liked it so much that she kept eating my pussy while she was bleeding."
The Governor was definitely happy to hear that, and he was glad that Cindy had told him that with her girlish enthusiasm and her blue eyes big and shining.
"And I like it too," Cindy said. "I had Jenny work with me. Not as rough as we work with Donna. But pretty rough, I guess. I liked it too. I liked being Jenny's slave."
"Wow," the Governor said, "sounds to me like a lot of things have been happening here while I have been at the convention, girls."
"A lot of things," the redhead said, turning and smiling at the Governor. "By the way, that was an excellent speech the other night. No Bomfog at all."
"You heard that commentator then?" the Governor said.
"Sure. I have watched the whole thing here," Jenny told him.
"I hope you girls will be ready to move into the White House in four years," the boy governor told his aides.
"Oh, we certainly will," Cindy said, letting her girlish glee show.
And Jenny just smiled. The Governor knew that she was ready to go anywhere with him.
"I think that I will go and visit our sweet hostage," the Governor said. "You two come in and join us in a few minutes."
"Okay," Cindy said.
As the Governor walked down to the other room, he thought about Donna Morgan. She liked it.
She had finally been trained properly. Now the Governor knew that it was time to go into the next phase of his plan. He had to get Donna on his side and then let her go free. He rubbed his hand over his crotch as he thought about the way that he would get the woman on his side. He knew that he would be able to do it neatly and nicely.
Now that she liked the brutality, he thought, anything was possible.
He opened the door that led into the room that had been her cell for days.
And then he just had to stand there and marvel at what the girls had done to her, what they had set up in that room.
Donna Morgan was hanging from the ceiling on an elaborate set of chains. She was hanging from the chains that were wrapped around her wrists and she had other chains around her waist and around her legs. Her legs were spread opened. She still had cuts on her body, but the Governor knew that most of those cuts would heal without scars.
The only thing that would be there to remind Donna Morgan of this week, the Governor thought, was the feeling of slavery that she now had embedded deep in her heart.
And that feeling was going to be very good indeed, that feeling was going to keep her open to the Governor and any suggestion that he made for her column. At least, that is what he hoped at that moment. He walked into the room and looked at her.
Even though she was hanging there, she smiled at him.
"Hello, Mister Future President," she said.
The Governor studied her voice, trying to figure out if there was a trace of sarcasm in the way that she had said that.
But he could find no sarcasm at all. He knew that she meant it. She knew that he was going to be president one day. The next question in his mind was whether she would be willing to help him.
"Hello, slave bitch," he said softly with a smile.
When she heard him say that, she trembled in her chains. Those were the kind of words that meant the most to her now. The Governor pulled off his jacket.
As he loosened his tie, he started to interrogate his slave.
"I have been wondering, Donna," he said, "whether you really appreciate what I have done for you this week. Do you appreciate what you have learned from me and my girls?"
"Yes," the woman said earnestly. "I do appreciate it, Governor. I have learned so much about myself and about pain and I know now that I owe it all to you. If you wish, you may fuck me. You can hurt me too. I don't care. I just want you to know that I appreciate it."
The Governor chuckled when she said that. He knew from the tone in her voice that she was telling the truth.
"Well, I will fuck you in a minute, Donna," he said. "I will fuck you like you have never been fucked before. But I have been thinking that there is something else that you can do for me, something that would be much more meaningful. I have been thinking that you might use your column from time to time to give me a little boost. You could say something nice about me and something bad about my enemies. Keep that straight, slave. Nice about me and bad about my enemies. If you write it the other way around, I will have to come back to New York City and fix you but good."
"I understand," Donna said. "I am willing to do that."
By then the Governor had his shirt off. He reached down and unlaced his shoes and pulled them off and kept talking.
"You know, Donna, I don't think that I would be such a bad president. I think that I would be just as good as any of the other guys who will run for the job. I mean, I lie a lot and I make deals that maybe are not the best for the people. But they all do that, you know. No politician really gives a shit about the people at all."
"I know that," the columnist said.
The Governor loosened his trousers and pushed them down.
"And I assure you, Donna," he said, "that I will not do anything that will really hurt the people unless I absolutely have to, to save my political neck. I really don't mind if there is peace and prosperty because that is the way that I would like to be remembered in the history books. That is another thing about politicians, you know. We all want to be remembered in the history books as good men, strong men, men who brought good things to the people. I am no different from any of the rest of them when it comes to that desire. I remember what one famous politician once said. 'If I could just figure out the way that the historians were going to vote, I would die peacefully.'"
"I remember that quotation too," the columnist said.
The Governor stood there in his shorts and ran his hand over the bulge there.
"You see, Donna," he said. "You can determine in a way what the historians say. The historians look back on the newspapers of the period to get many of their ideas. If you write good things about me, those good things will probably wind up in some history book someday, and the students will think that old President Lawrence Green was not so bad after all. They might even say that I was as great as Washington or Lincoln. Maybe not that great, but at least not bad."
"I am sure," the hanging woman said, "that you would be an excellent president. At least not a bad one."
"I think that that is all that the voters can demand of me," the Governor said, pushing down his shorts and stepping out of them. With all of that talk about politics and his future, the Governor was already about half-erect.
He handled his cock with his hand and felt its growing hardness and stiffness.
"I think it would be nice if we could just fuck, Donna," he said softly with a smile. "That way we could sort of seal our bargain in a special way."
"Yes, Governor," the woman murmured.
"I will let you out of your chains and fuck you like you have never been fucked before."
With that, the Governor went to the hanging woman and worked with the chains and released her quickly.
He held onto her body and lifted her out of her chains and carried her across the room.
Then he lay her gently on the floor. When she was lying there, she sighed.
"Be sure and treat me like a slave, though, Governor," she said softly. "That is what really turns me on."
"Of course," the man said. "Of course, I will do that. That is the least that I can do for the woman who is going to help me into the White House and into the history books too."
Then the Governor looked down on her and remembered the time that she had fought him off, that she had cursed him and threatened to destroy him. But that had been a different woman. The Governor knew now that Donna Morgan was slave-like and that she would do anything that he wanted her to do.
That made him think that the White House was definitely a shoe-in.
With Donna Morgan on his side, he could not lose, he thought.
The Governor lay down next to the woman and ran his hands over her naked body.
She flinched a bit when he touched those places were she had been pierced and poked and bruised. But she gave in, surrendered to that pain because she knew that that pain was ideal for her, the pain that she had learned to enjoy. She reached down and put her hand on the Governor's cock and she started to stroke that thing with her soft and slave-like hand. She looked into the Governor's dark eyes as she asked the question.
"Do you want me to suck on it, Governor? Do you want me to suck on your cock?"
"Not Governor, Donna," the man corrected her. "A slave should not call me that and you know it."
"Oh, yes," she murmured, stroking on his prick slowly as she shivered.
Then she asked the question again, and this time she asked it correctly.
"Do you want me to suck on your cock, Master?"
"Yes, you Eastern slut slave," the Governor snarled. "That is exactly what I want you to do. I want you to put that slave mouth of yours to work and suck me and get me hard so that I can fuck your shitty cunt."
Each abusive word rang in her head like a bell and she sighed as she listened to those words and felt the fever of lust building in her body.
The naked slave-woman slipped down the floor, moved down until her face was close to the Governor's cock. She saw how large the thing was and she was sure that it would be sweet to her, like a Master's cock should be sweet to a slave.
Then she felt the Governor's hand in her dark hair and she heard more wonderful words of abuse.
"Suck that cock, you filthy slave. Suck your master's cock and get it hard."
The woman still ached with the pain, but it was a good pain, she knew.
And she knew that she would do whatever that man wanted her to do.
He was right. He would not make a bad president. He would not be any worse as a president than other men had been.
And Donna Morgan remembered that the nation had survived through the worst of presidents.
Remembering that, she opened her mouth and moved the hardening cock into her and started to suck on it.
She thought that she could well be sucking the cock of the future president of the United States of America.
And she was not surprised to find that that cock was sweet, actually sweet.
For she knew that the sweetness came from the power that that man had. He had power over her right then and he would have power over the whole country in just a few years. She would even help him to gain that power over the country.
She felt the cock harden in her mouth and she knew that this cock would even be better when it was in the White House. She hoped that her master would grant her an exclusive interview then. She would go down on him in the Oval Office. That would be a special, political thrill.
She sucked on the cock with slave-like devotion and she remembered suddenly that this was the first man that she had made love to in years. She had been completely changed by this experience, completely and totally changed. She did not know what she would do when she got home after this ordeal. Would she still want Terri around there? Would she want to brutalize that bastard girl or would she want Terri to humiliate and degrade her?
Donna did not know and she knew that she would have to play that one by ear.
But, right then, she was sucking on that powerful man's cock and she was feeling her pussy pulse with desire and she was knowing that she was going to let that cock in her pussy. She was going to go through that one last change before the powerful Western governor, her master-was through with her.
And she found herself yearning for that cock too, really and truly yearning. She found that she wanted to be fucked by that Governor more than anything else.
The two girls-the blonde and the redhead-came to the door as the Governor started to curse the columnist again. They saw the woman sucking on the Governor's cock and they heard the words that he spoke to her.
"Suck my cock, you fucking whore slave. Remember that I control you. Remember that I want you to write good things about me. I will make you write anything that I want. I will make you praise me regularly in that column. I will let you go and you will go back to your editors and tell them that you became ill and lost your memory. They will think that you were drunk or shacked up or something, but that is all right. That is all right, because you are a whore slave and it is all right that they think that you are a whore. Suck that cock, whore bitch. Suck it and make it hard and then I will fuck you with it."
Jenny looked at Cindy as they stood there and the redhead smiled.
"He sounds just like a president," the redhead said softly.
Cindy smiled at her friend too. She would take Jenny's word for it. She did not really care about politics herself. She just cared about sex and slavery.
But the blonde remembered that that commentator had said that Larry Green would wind up in the White House.
And she knew that, if he did, she would have played her part in putting him there.
The two naked girls watched the slave suck the cock and felt very proud of themselves and proud of the Governor too. They listened to his words, his presidential words, the things that he said to his slave.
"Suck it, you whore bitch. You are going to help me get into the White House, you slut slave. Slave, you are going to make me a fine, upstanding figure in American history. Suck it, you bitch. Suck that cock. Suck it and then I will fuck your pussy and make it feel better than it has felt in years."
As Jenny listened to that, she thought that she could already hear the cheers of the crowds, the voters who would love Larry Green and make him their leader.
And the redhead closed her eyes and imagined seeing those big doors of the White House open right up for her and Cindy and the President of the United States.
She imagined what it would be like when Larry Green was the president of the United States.
She could see the huddled masses in the Oval Office, chained to the walls, accepting the punishment that would make them true Americans. Perhaps Larry Green would pick out the best ones, the prettiest and sexiest immigrants, and he would ask them to the Oval Office. They could work out their citizenships with him and Cindy and Jenny.
The redhead looked at her blonde friend again.
Cindy had changed, Jenny thought, changed for the better.
Now that the blonde understood what kind of pleasure there could be in pain, she was more at ease with herself.
Yes, the redhead thought, the Boston blonde had learned a lot during the last few days.
But not as much as that newspaper columnist had learned, Jenny thought, turning and looking at Donna Morgan too.
That beautiful, dark-haired woman was a complete slave now.
Jenny could see that clearly as she watched the woman suck on the Governor's cock.
She was taking that cock into her mouth almost greedily, it seemed.
And the words of the Governor, the master, the future president, filled the room and added to the heat in that room.
"Suck that cock, you fucking slave. Suck it and write good things about me. You will always be my fucking slave, you Eastern slut, and you will enjoy being my slave too. I will make you enjoy it. I will make you like everything that I do to you, and you will write good and nice things about me in your column and you will help me get into that fucking White House, where all the fucking power is, you fucking slave."
Jenny looked at Cindy and nodded her head.
Both girls knew that the Governor knew what he was talking about.
Larry Green, the boy governor, was already quite an expert on power.
And they were sure that he would make a wonderful president of the United States, a powerful president, a man who would be remembered in all the history books for centuries to come.
Americans would honor him, Jenny thought. And respect him.
And talk about his presidential power for years, centuries to come.
