FUCKED BY THE GOVERNMENT

     "For willful disobedience," the General intoned severely as she brandished 
the fine leather whip by her side. Then she lashed out precisely, three times, 
making Michael yelp with each blow. The whip flicked out smartly with each 
crack. When the General was satisfied with her efforts, she turned to the 
Commander in Chief.
     "Madame President," she inclined her head slightly and proffered the whip. 
The President shook her head; no, thank you. All this time a pretty 
Congressional page was looking on without comment. The three women stood around 
the submissive man without comment. "My dear?" the woman General asked the 
page.
     "Ummm, no...thanks, that is." Jenny blushed a little. She felt bad for 
Michael; it had been her idea to bring him here, after all. He only wanted to 
meet the president, and now look what happened. Michael was bent over the 
President's large Oval Office desk, dress pants down to his knees. Around him 
in a loose semi-circle, staring at his reddening behind with looks of 
introspection, bemusement, and embarrassment respectively were the President of 
the United States, her Chairwoman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and a lowly 
Congressional page, new to Washington and its ways - Jenny.
     Michael looked back to see what they were doing. The General firmly pushed 
his head back. "Perhaps you don't understand me, Michael. Is that so?" 
     "No ma'am," he responded quickly. "No sir, I mean. I mean..."
     "You mean what?" she asked sternly, enunciating each word with slow ease. 
Her faint New England accent made the words seem aristocratic. There was an 
edge to her voice and a tightening of her grip on the whip, a cherished gift 
from an old lover she'd met and left at West Point, twenty years earlier. 
Youngest head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the first female, ushered into 
the top ranks of the military along with the first woman president and nearly a 
half female Senate.
     "I mean nothing," Michael answered weakly. The General gave him an 
affectionate swat on the butt with the glossy handle of her whip. The young 
man, 20 years old and inexperienced, tensed then relaxed.
     The President stepped forward and placed her hands reassuringly on 
Michael's wiry shoulders. Such a burden for one so inexperienced to carry, she 
thought wryly. Not unlike the burden of leadership.
     The head of the U.S. smiled slightly, considering what she had planned for 
this evening. A week of unrelenting reporters and trying minor crises had left 
her strained and nervous. This was a splendid idea of the General's.
     Jenny asked, "Can my friend get up from the desk now?"
     The President considered, then assented. "For now."
     Jenny helped Michael up, and made a secret, apologetic face at him while 
her back was turned to the older women.
     The President moved behind the desk to the plush chair and seated herself 
delicately. "I am going to watch for a while, if you don't mind," she told the 
General. The General nodded and set to work.
     "I am going to give you a series of orders. If you are slow in responding, 
or tardy in your actions, I will punish you. You may, of course, leave this 
office at any time. I assure you, though, that the laughter of the Secret 
Service men will be the least of your troubles. For you will have angered the 
President of the United States, and - worse still - ME. Do you understand?"
     "Yes ma'am."
     "Good. One other thing, you are not to refer to me as 'ma'am.' I hate 
that, out of uniform." And with that, she methodically removed her 
distinguished, medal covered Army uniform one item of clothing at a time, 
dropping the last of her undergarments in a tidy pile by the leg of the 
president's desk.
     Naked, she wasn't half bad looking. A little out of shape, but basically a 
trim woman for her 40 plus years. Her breasts weren't large, so there wasn't 
much sagging, and the lines on her face (surprisingly) were mostly laugh lines. 
She dyed her hair to keep it an auburn brown. 
     "Attention! About face!" she ordered crisply. The President looked on in 
amusement. Jenny stood there, not knowing what to do.
     Michael turned away from her again, as commanded.
     "Remove your clothes. Immediately." Michael obeyed.
     "Hmmmm..." the General murmured thoughtfully, naked herself, less than a 
meter from an unclothed man half her age. It was an entertaining self-image for 
a woman who in her younger days prided herself on her aggressiveness and 
creative thinking. 
     The General turned a speculative eye to examine Michael's naked, alert 
form as he stood there under her command. Subject to her whims, as it were. She 
began reciting a description of the him in orderly fashion: "Tallish. 
Slim. Light build. Hmm.. Long, slender fingers. Small rear." The President 
grinned at that. Jenny was mortified, and kept her eyes off her friend.
     "You'll do." She reached out and squeezed his cheek. He remained admirably 
still. "OK, turn around now and go down on me."
     "Errr...what?" Michael turned around slowly, questioningly.
     "You still use that phrase don't you? Or are you a tad slow?"
     Michael shook his head, sending a delicious thrill down the General's 
spine. The Oval Office seemed a bit warm. She imagined she could feel the 
currents of air as they circulated the room, purified, cleansed and analyzed 
from one of the White House's remote monitoring stations. 
     There was a long couch at the end of the room, underneath Lincoln's 
portrait. She lay on it and motioned Michael over with a wagging finger. "Step 
to it."
     It seemed like he had little choice. Tentatively he leaned over and put 
his head in her lap. He found her hair-rimmed delta with little difficulty and 
set to work. Minutes into the proceedings, Jenny couldn't help but peek at what 
Michael was doing. In a way, it was exciting watching him lap and suck at the 
woman's most private regions with enthusiasm. There was no doubt the General 
was gaining a lot of pleasure from it.
     Jenny watched him for a while longer. His arms were draped gently over the 
woman's torso to steady himself. Midway into the proceedings the General had 
locked her strong thighs about his head and urged him deeper, faster with her 
straying hands.
     Michael was hard now, she noticed accidentally, and again, it was exciting 
to see. She hadn't previously thought of Michael in a sexual way; he was just a 
friend she'd met at one of the low level gatherings that junior Congressmen 
liked to hold. He was there as a caterer's assistant, and approached her purely 
as a friend. 
     Six months later, this private visit with the President was supposed to be 
her favor to him, after tons of laughs and good times spent together. They were 
friends. And now he had to suffer the indignity of this. She would have never 
believed that the President was capable of this, this awful behavior.
     Michael, in the meantime, swished on. The General was making little 
moaning noises in the back of her throat. Jenny hoped he could breathe with 
those tight legs about his head. Apparently he was doing just fine, judging by 
the little rotating movements the General was making with her hips. 
     Finally the woman climaxed on the coach, a quiet staccato fire of grunting 
emerging from her parted mouth. Her movements slowed to a gentle relaxation and 
she pushed Michael up from her. His chin was wet, his face serious.
     "G-good," she gasped. The President was positively beaming from her 
position behind the world's most important desk. 
     Michael stood up, his erection swinging loosely. 
     "Here," the General said amicably. "Let me help you with that." Still 
leaning back on the coach, she took the man's cock in her mouth with 
ease. Michael hissed an intake of breath. 
     Lightly running her fingers along his shaft, she sucked him in with slow, 
deep draughts. 25 years of cocksucking had given the woman a mastery that few 
women Michael's age could match. From the start she was in complete control, a 
wizardess at the act, dictating his pleasure on her terms. Her mouth was firm 
and extremely slick, a hotbed of friction. 
     Michael discovered just how deep her throat was when she went down on him 
to his balls. He groaned piteously. From the base of his cock she made an 
effort to lick his adjoining testicles. She slid back up, and then back down 
again quickly, dispelling the gag reflex as an illusion. Her deep throating was 
controlled and elegant. Powerful. Wet. Intensely, extremely good.
     Despite being filled with Michael's cock, there was a Cheshire smile on 
the General's face as she pistoned up and down with slathering grace. This fine 
handsome thing in her complete control. Inexperience was no match for 
experience, she thought as she vacuum-sucked the poor boy's exerting penis. She 
kept a close ear on his breathing to keep track of her progress. Ah yes, she noted, 
swishing about his cockhead - almost there.
     She pulled away with a wet pop and wrapped a calloused hand tightly about 
his moistened shaft. Her jerking motions were tight and clipped, an efficient 
path to ecstasy as Michael's rapid sighs soon proved.
     Out of amusement the General moved her lips over his cockhead 
seconds before an imminent ejaculation. There was a feeling of intense 
satisfaction at the control she exerted over him, the way she guided and 
directed him to an inevitable outcome, one which would prove most pleasurable 
to him even as he was being purposefully manipulated.
     With a few final pulls on his shaft he began spilling his come in strong 
squirts. My how age makes a difference in ejaculate distance, the General mused 
with her eyes shut as she suctioned him off powerfully. He was making 
noises and jamming her head down on him. She didn't mind. It was fun vacuuming 
up all his jism and consuming it like a thin, sticky sauce. Made her feel 
young again, and the noises he was making were certainly enjoyable. Oh! - 
there came another gob. She swallowed it down with the rest. Finally he 
dribbled off to an orgasm-capping ending. She gave him a last powerful pull 
which shuddered him from head to toe. Delightful.
     Michael stood back weakly and leaned on the president's desk. Jenny was 
past embarrassment as she observed him. Well into open fascination now with the 
whole proceedings. Michael looked over at the President. She gestured him 
around her desk with a silent wave. He acquiesced, tingling a bit as he moved 
over deep carpet.
     "Yes, Madame President?" he breathed quietly.
     "We haven't really done anything yet," she said, raising herself to her 
full height. Plastic surgery kept her looking very young, as young as a 
politician could afford to look and still aspire to high office. She was 
perhaps 30 in appearance, maybe a mature 28. Breasts were naturally full 
beneath the masking effect of her conservative suit. Her blonde hair was set 
stylishly in the current fashion. She took pains to look good.
     "Could you move closer to me, Michael?" she asked, pursing her lipstick- 
pink lips. High cheekbones, very subtly applied blush over good skin. A touch 
of mascara, professional yet a tad sexy too. The President had been a minor 
beauty contest winner in her college days at UCLA, and had kept her looks, 
sharpening them into an in-charge professional demeanor. However it was her 
native wit and intelligence as much as her charm and attractiveness which had 
driven her this far.
     She moved to give Michael a soft kiss on the lips. She was unmarried, but 
would have probably gone ahead with this liaison regardless. 
     Michael kissed well, a bit gently, but that was forgivable. She nibbled 
on him and slipped her tongue into his mouth like a fine gift. It glided on 
in without resistance. For a while they French kissed, then the President 
pulled away. "On the table," she indicated.
     Michael hopped up on the desk and sat facing the President. She pushed the 
chair back with her leg and lightly stroked the man's naked body. He was 
getting hard again, soon. That's the good thing about 20 year-olds, she 
thought to herself. Always ready and raring to go. I'll have to thank the 
General for softening him up for a longer ride this time.
     She hiked down her knee-high skirt but left the rest of her apparel on. 
She wasn't wearing panties. With a mild effort she levered herself onto his 
trim body and sought his cock instinctively. Wet already from watching the 
prior events, it was no problem slipping him in, and oh it felt good. 
     She moved on him like an unchained tigress. "Yum...." she whispered 
cheerfully in his ear and bore down hard. He turned his head aside; some 
whistling air escaped of its own accord. Abruptly she had an idea.
     The President pulled off Michael with a twist of her mid-section. "I want 
you to take me from behind," she breathed. This was exciting her. She pushed 
him aside and climbed up onto the very large desk. There was easily room enough 
for her to assume the hands and knees posture. Ready for entry. God she felt 
wet.
     "Over here," she called behind her. Michael scampered up beside her and 
needed no urging to shove deep inside without preliminaries. It was nice, nice 
enough to inspire a harder, faster thrust. The President wriggled her behind 
pleasantly and clenched down with her vagina. "Nice," she murmured. "Do it 
again." Michael obeyed, like a good lover.
     It was incredibly arousing seeing the President on her hands and knees, 
being taken from behind. She was bucking back at him, but the majority of the 
force was being applied by Michael, and with some tact and deftness too. This 
surprised the General as she closely observed the doggy- style sex with not a 
small measure of passion and interest. Flicking her gaze to Jenny, she saw 
that the pretty page was mesmerized too.
     The General dressed while the President and her lover fucked on the 
Oval Office desk. Then she took Jenny by the hand. The gal gave a surprised 
start. The General led her, smiling, to where the two were furiously going at 
it on the desk. A deskful of scattered papers provided some cushioning for the 
President and Michael's knees as their ride got bumpier.
     Jenny let her hand be moved by the General to Michael's thrusting organ. 
It was very hard and slick with vaginal lubrication. The juices clung like a 
wet coating as his thick, engorged flesh moved in and out consistently, 
speedily. Jenny kept her hand on the base and moved it lightly along the shaft 
when the dick emerged from its vaginal home.
     Judging by the speed which Michael was moving against the President's 
bucking rear, Jenny's light touches were hardly registering. Yet Michael kept 
his eyes locked with hers as the President tossed her medium-length blonde hair 
with abandon. Jenny felt a shiver looking into Michael's deep brown eyes. A 
gradient of pleasure connected them, her the observer, and him the experiencer. 
It felt very strange.
     She kept her hand on his cock and begin squeezing of her own accord, 
watching the feelings develop and subside in Michael's eyes, the twin barrels 
to his soul. She had set this up, her actions had caused this. She was no 
longer certain what was right, what was wrong. Pleasure seemed to have taken 
precedence here in this hallowed old room.
     Jenny moved her lips beside Michael's ears, which trembled as he 
thrust steadily. "I'm sorry, Michael," she whispered sadly. Her hand remained 
on his penis, detached from her consciousness like a surrealistic painting from 
the surrounding reality. 
     Michael nodded once, brushed against her cheek with his moving face, and 
came. Jenny felt it in the shaft she held, the tremors. It seemed there wasn't 
much sperm left to be emptied, but the blonde on the receiving end seemed to 
notice and responded with her own reactive orgasm. The two shuddered as they 
pressed together, taken by the urgent motion of basest instinct.
     It took a while for Michael to recover from this one. He moved to the sofa 
and lay down in exhaustion. Jenny stroked his poor head on the sofa as he lay 
there, tired. He was naked and used, and she felt very badly for him.
     Yet there was something terribly sensual about the whole circumstances as 
she stroked his damp forehead and reassured him quietly. Something overwhelming 
that she hadn't quite felt before; revealed like a curtain yanked away from a 
magic trick by the unique setting she found herself in. She didn't feel 
herself, her emotions were all askew and her mind felt frazzled.
     The President and the General, all dressed, seemed to sense something as 
the pair lay on the coach. They took their leave without word, exiting by 
the west doors. Alone now with Michael, she still felt badly about the whole 
thing, the negativity she had caused. She kissed his face tenderly and felt her 
heart resonate with him.
     "I'm sorry, Michael," she whispered again.
     He looked up at her from her lap and seemed to know what she was feeling, 
what she meant. How truly sorry she was. He moved his face up weakly to kiss 
her and she met him halfway, cradling his neck softly with her arms. It was 
okay...it was going to be okay.
     Without pretense the two made love, Michael on top in the standard 
missionary position, ancient, unchanging. It all felt brand new and wonderful, 
and took a long time to explore. When Jenny came to a gentle climax, and 
started crying quietly, Michael held her comfortingly and murmured soft words.
     He stayed in Jenny's arms until he lost track of time, disentangling only 
when he was sure she'd slipped into undisturbed slumber. Dressing stealthily, 
he left by the same exit as the President and her head of the Joint Chiefs of 
Staff. The Secret Service guards were positioned down the hallway and were very 
discreet. He left the White House unnoticed and was dropped off by an official 
car while Washington slept. All very peacefully, uneventfully.
     Michael returned to his apartment bruised, tired, and generally worn out. 
He tried to ignore the tenderness in his glans. 
     The phone rang at 2335 hours. There was a brief scrambling noise, then the 
heavy quiet of a secure line came into effect.
     "Mikhail?" a heavy masculine voice intoned.
     "Yes. You were right about the two of them."
     "Good," the voice responded from a far distance. "Next time get some 
useful information."
     "No problem. Das vy'danya."
     He put the receiver down slowly and went to get some rest. 
