tagBDSMMadam President, Secret Desire

Madam President, Secret Desire


Part 1 of 3: The Gift Exchange

After the security detail conducted a thorough search of the place, her motorcade entered the premises of the resort.

The property took up several acres alongside the Florida coastline. It was exclusive too. Membership was reserved for only the wealthy and well-connected. The beachside resort was world renowned as an epitome of luxury. Even the spa treatments were legendary.

But that wasn't why President Christine Wallace paid the place a visit. Especially not when the election was less than three months away.

She was here for business. The owner of the resort, a staunch businessman named Bolton, was a major party donor. A private fundraiser was being held there that day, and there was cash to be acquired. These sorts of things were often time consuming, and asking for money was always humiliating, but it was necessary to fund her political ambitions.

At best, she preferred these sorts of private affairs with the elite. There was virtually no chance that she'd be heckled or pampered with excessive compliments. Everything was to the point. She'd get her money, and they'd get to take a picture with her.

At worst, she'd have to give these people favors. Especially the ones who funded her Super PACs with millions of dollars. Well worth the exchange, she thought.

President Wallace stepped out of her car, flanked by two agents. A gentle breeze pushed up her office skirt and put waves on her pink blouse. She put on her public face that consisted of a rehearsed smile, which suggested that she was always in a great mood. She certainly looked the part. Frankly, she was a gorgeous woman. A trait that arguably catapulted her to celebrity status and helped her win the oval office.

She had always been careful about that, though. She never wanted her beauty or fashion to eclipse her brains. She always made a point of putting her intelligence and personality first, but when needed, she'd look gorgeous for the right events.

When she approached the entrance of the resort, she greeted Bolton with a friendly embrace, which suggested that they had a close personal relationship, when in reality, their relationship was mostly business.

"Madam President," he said, bending down to kiss her hand. "It's a pleasure to have your company."

She politely smiled, "It's a pleasure to be here. My goodness, what a beautiful resort. It's like a short little vacation."

Her eyes surveyed the gorgeous environment. She had always loved the ocean and Florida weather. The day was a little hot for her taste, but she didn't let that distract her.

Bolton gestured to the entrance. "Right this way. I'd like to offer you some refreshments and we can go over a few points for the fundraiser."

In politics, that meant backroom dealings. She gave him a courteous smile and entered the building. This was all part of the job. When it came to high profile donors, she was always curious as to what tricks they'd have up their sleeves, and what kinds of favors they'd want.


They were alone in the private office. There was a large window which overlooked the exclusive beach. Small talk was made while they drank fresh fruit juice. Nothing unusual. When Bolton put his drink on the table, it was time for the real meeting. They sat across from each other on different sofas.

"All together, we're looking at around $10 million dollars," he estimated. "That includes funds for your campaigns, the party, and various Super PACs which will destroy your opponent. Of course, there will be other advantages, as well."

She gave a subtle grin, which she didn't bother to hide. "Not bad for a day's work. Well done, Bolton."

"As it turns out, you're a better choice than the other guy."

"I'm a better choice than everyone," she reminded him.

"Apparently so. These donors seem to think so. I haven't seen them throw this kind of cash around in politics before."

Christine took a final sip of her juice. "First time for everything."

"Of course, they'd like a few things," he said casually. "Little things that are manageable. Contracts, people to consider for appointments, things like that."

"Talk to my Chief-of-Staff about that. I've got enough on my mind, believe me. The first debate is coming up and I'm under a lot of stress."

He gave a wry smile. "Well, maybe there's something we can do about that."

"What do you mean?"

"Look around. You're spending the day here. We have the finest facilities in the world. Our staff, clients, and donors, all sworn to secrecy. You can do whatever you'd like."

She lifted an eyebrow. "I'll have to take you up on that. I could use a good back rub."

"We provide more than that."

President Wallace caught the drift. "Look, what you're suggesting is for people with lots of money and free time on their hands. I'm the most powerful person in the world. That sort of thing isn't for me anymore. Thanks, but no thanks."

"When is the upcoming debate?"

"The end of next month."

Bolton gave a half shrug. "Maybe a return to your secret old habits would do wonders for you. Since you became President, it looks like there's been a stick up your ass. Everyone knows this."

"Careful," she said, shooting a death stare to accompany her word of caution.

"All I'm saying is that getting laid might do you some good. You won't be as rigid."

She leaned back on her seat and relaxed. "Your advice is always welcome, but you're pushing it on this."

"This is what the donors would like."

She sharpened her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for their investment, they'd like to know that you're still part of the team," he explained calmly. "They want to know that you haven't lost your roots."

Bolton was right. The donors, elitists, and backroom dealers all came from the same world. A world of secrecy and privilege. Their world was about maintaining power at all costs. Using their money and influence to further themselves in the process.

They also had unique ways of passing the time. With the power they had, the pleasure was expected to be equally as great. They had their ways of accomplishing that to the extreme. It was only known in their circle. Only people of privilege knew about it. Christine definitely knew about it, as she'd been in the political and power scene for nearly a decade before taking the highest office in the land.

However, she had never outright participated in any of these events, despite her own desires. People of power always have the biggest appetites. Especially with all the stress of their daily lives, and Christine had the weight of the free world on her shoulders. Her needs could be powerful, and all she could do was pleasure herself privately in the bathroom, or under the sheets. She would never risk destroying her reputation. She had worked far too hard for it.

That was why she had never participated in these sorts of events. Besides, what she had always preferred in the past was the basic one-on-one approach. She preferred the individual attention. There was more focus and personal concentration that way.

"I can't," she said calmly after some pause. "The stakes are too high at this point. I can't do this anymore."

He smirked, "Afraid I might secretly record you? Blackmail you?"

"I'm not afraid of that. You aren't stupid enough to cross me."

"Touche. But you should remember, Madam President, that everyone in my resort is sworn to secrecy. From the guests, to the servers, to the masseuse. Everyone can be trusted. We also screen carefully for recording devices. Your secrets will be safe."

She gave a soft sigh. "What would I do without you?"

"Isn't it obvious? Your campaign would have less money and you'd be dry between the legs. Just think. These donors want the reassurance, and after you give it to them by attending tonight's events, they'll be happy to hand over more money to you."

"That doesn't sound so bad, I suppose."

"No, it doesn't," he reassured. "We both know what you are, and what kind of sex a woman like you craves. There's nothing more insatiable than the lust of a woman with power. Especially the kind of power you have."

Once again, Bolton was right. The very thought of this made her pussy twitch a little. She even reflexively began to clench the underside of her skirt with her right hand.

She knew she could trust the other participants too. The problem was that, as President, secret service agents would be all over her, hampering her enjoyment. She'd have to tell them to keep a good distance tonight. She didn't really care what they'd see. In fact, she didn't care at all what her security people thought of her. They were all beneath her, as far as she was concerned.

She looked at Bolton with a long, playful and skeptical expression. "What do you get out of this? A chance to see me getting fucked in your resort? I bet that would be the highest accomplishment of your career."

"Maybe," he smiled, in a way that suggested that she was correct. "I'm also a patriot. I love seeing my President succeed."

She stood up and fixed the creases in her skirt. "You've made your case. You're right. Something like this would be good for me. I could use the relief. And make sure those assholes continue funding my PACS and campaign. My opponent has been a real prick lately and I'd like to beat him soundly."

With that, President Wallace left the office in the way that only she could; by holding her chin up high, keeping her shoulders broad, back straight, and walking out stridently, as if she owned the place.

Part 2 of 3: Own Me, Mistress

After a morning spent giving a private speech to about 40 wealthy donors, eating a lavish lunch with them, and an afternoon of socializing, Christine had time in her schedule to relax. The resort had lived up to its reputation. She was treated to the finest spa treatments, massages, and skin care.

Once she'd had a quick nap, it was late afternoon and time to prepare. Bolton had already explained everything. The rules of the night were clear and straightforward. There weren't any games, except the ones that people wanted to play.

Now all she had to do was wait for further instructions. This was the only part that Bolton was vague with, and intentionally so. It was going to be a surprise of sorts.

Things became clearer as she was later escorted down the hall of the private spa area, by an incredibly friendly female staff member. The President remained in a fine silk bathrobe, per the instructions, and her face was makeup-free, which was slightly embarrassing for a more mature lady, such as herself.

"Here we are, Madam President," the staff member said, gesturing to a door she had just opened.

She entered the room alone, and the door was closed behind her when the staff member left. The room itself looked like a fancy five-star hotel. Everything was neat, clean, and perfect.

Another woman was waiting there. This woman wore a sleek black dress and heels. She was tall, with long wavy blonde hair that parted down the middle and onto the front of her chest. She had bright, piercing blue eyes that complimented her fair skin. Her facial features were feminine and her cheeks were slightly curved in a girlish way. Although her limbs were slender, there was a strength to her. This young beauty had an air of confidence about her, with the right amount of bitchiness for the job. After all, a good Domme has those sorts of qualities.

There was no mistake about it, either. This young beauty was a Domme. An all-American looking Domme. Gosh, she was so young for this role. Yet she had the confidence and aura to back it up.

They approached each other and met in the center of the room. Almost reflexively, the President extended a handshake, which was sort of an unusual way to greet your new Dominatrix.

"Welcome Christine," the Domme said. "I'm Mistress Joanna."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mistress Joanna," she replied with an instinctively sharp look.

Mistress Joanna gave an almost mocking reaction. "Is something wrong?"

"No, but it's been awhile since a stranger called me by my first name, and not by my title."

"Well, Christine, with all due respect, your title means shit behind these walls. I'm your Domme tonight."

Christine gave a slow nod, accepting it. "You're young."


"A little. Very. Yes, I'm surprised. It takes a while to earn Bolton's trust. You must have quite the resume at your age...which is how old?"

"I'm 26, although it's rather impolite to ask. I'm well within my rights to punish you for that... And yes, I've earned Bolton's trust."

The President gave a slow nod at the thought of being punished, but continued her line of questioning.

"May I ask how you got his trust?"

"It's a long story," Mistress Joanna replied. "I don't mean to be coy, but it's rather difficult to put this in words. There's so much I can't explain."

Christine looked over the young woman's beauty. "Well, I love learning about people. Especially women like you. I'd love to hear all about it."

"That sounds like it could be fun."

The young woman ran her fingers through the President's hair, admiring her beauty in return.


Christine sat in front of the large mirror of the dresser. Makeup, beauty products, and hair styling tools were spread across the table.

Behind her was Mistress Joanna, brushing the President's hair, thinking about what cosmetics to apply for the evening.

"I have a part time job," Mistress Joanna said. "A normal job. I also study creative writing. I hope to become a teacher someday, which ironically is similar to being a Domme. Basically, people rely on me to tell them what to do. If I don't say it, nothing will get done. That's true at my job, group assignments in college, and sexually when I'm in my Domme role. I've always been assertive, and a leader."

"I admire strong women. Go on. Tell me how you became...this..."

The President gestured to the Mistress's general attire.

Mistress Joanna pondered a moment, putting the hairbrush down, then picked up a mascara brush and guided it towards the President's eyes.

"Hold still," the Mistress said, applying the makeup. "As for the BDSM lifestyle, really, my kink grew with my sexual appetite. I lost my virginity at 18 to a former partner, and honestly, I loved being the rider, not the horse, so to speak. Over time, I began having fantasies that, to put bluntly, weren't 'socially acceptable.' I looked it up, and found that there were others like me. I wasn't a Domme to start with, just tested boundaries with sex and such, and then I found that I was being asked for advice on how people should dress, and so forth, so I started implementing it into my daily life."

Mistress Joanna put the mascara down and picked up an eyeliner pencil. This was like second nature to her. If she wanted, she could be a makeup artist. But that wouldn't have been a fulfilling career for her.

"Close your eyes," Mistress Joanna said, applying the makeup. "One day, I was approached by a friend, who said she'd heard about the lifestyle, and that she's a submissive. That was the first time the concept was fully explained to me. She later introduced me to her friends, and I began my BDSM life as a sub. I hated it. I quit the lifestyle for a while, until later, when I found that my true calling was to be a Domme, not a sub. So here I am. Mistress Joanna."

When the eyeliner was done, Christine looked at herself in the mirror and was pleased by the color scheme of the makeup so far. She also noted that the Mistress appeared to be happy with how this conversation was going so far, and was happy with the progress of the makeup.

"Hard to believe," Christine said playfully. "You look so young and wholesome. Yet there's this other side to you."

Mistress Joanna beamed, "I'm a Gemini. That means I'm naughty and nice."

"So am I," Christine smiled back.

"Then we understand each other's needs. Close your eyes again."

The Mistress applied a thin coating of eye shadow around the President's eyes. Then blush on the President's cheeks, followed by other beauty products to give a more youthful, sophisticated appearance.

When it was done, Christine was pleased with what she saw. She still looked elegant and classy, but a little sexier than usual. Not a look she would have used in her ordinary life, but it was perfect for this night. This special occasion.

"You did a wonderful job," Christine said.

"Lots of practice. Have you ever heard the term 'pet' before?"

"Yes, I've heard of it. I'm only vaguely aware of what it means though. I'm not up to date with all the latest terms."

"The term 'pet' means exactly what it sounds like. You'll be treated like my pet, but in a sexual way. I feed my submissives, dress them, tell them what to do, and how to please me. They derive pleasure from this. Part of the experience is that I dress them, and that includes applying makeup to my personal satisfaction."

"So I'm your pet tonight."


Christine stared at her new appearance in the mirror. "At least I'm in good hands. I don't think you've told me how Bolton has come to trust you. Young Dommes are rare. Especially when dealing with this crowd of people."

"That's another long story. But in short, I had been to a lot of clubs in my early-20's. I guess club owners like the way I look, so they gave me special treatment. I was a Domme to a lot of people. Men and women. And I guess I took control of the right person, because I was later referred to Bolton."

"You are very beautiful," Christine pointed out. "It makes sense that people would want you."

Mistress Joanna kissed the top of her head. "You're beautiful too. And I guess my personality has a lot to do with landing this job. I've always been a caring person. I will help anyone, prompted or otherwise. I enjoy bringing people out of their shell and if there's anyone sitting quietly in a corner of the club, I'm the first to approach them and ask if they're okay."

"How nice," Christine smiled.

"I try my best. That's probably why I get assigned to usher in new people at this resort. And to someone like you, of your stature. I know how to treat subs the right way. To make them feel relaxed and at ease, so that the real fun can become even more enjoyable."

"What's the secret?"

Mistress Joanna began combing the President's hair. "What makes a good Domme? Hmm... Listening. Caring. Putting your pet's needs first at all times. Looking out for signs of discomfort and pain before your pet says anything. Not allowing your sexual needs to get in the way of the scene you are doing. Testing instruments on yourself before using them on someone else. After care, making sure that your pet's skin isn't broken or badly hurt. Applying lotions as needed. Giving hugs. Making sure that the pet knows why it's being punished, or receiving praise. That's what makes a good Domme, in my humble opinion."

This gave Christine a warm feeling inside, knowing that she was under the watchful supervision of this wonderful person. Many dominants could be abusive or unsympathetic, looking out for only themselves, but not this one...

"I can see why Bolton spoke so highly of you," Christine said, looking at the Domme through the mirror's reflection. "He would only choose the best for me. And you seem remarkable."

"Save the review until the night is over."

The comment was a joke and both of them giggled. The Mistress combed the President's hair down the middle, letting it flow behind her shoulder. Even though the style was already done, the Mistress kept on brushing, as if to show that this was a loving relationship (which it was).

When the Mistress put the brush on the table, she bent down to untie the President's robe, opening it at the top. Christine's breasts were exposed and she did nothing to stop it. The breasts were about average size, slightly drooping (which was normal at her age), with pointed brown nipples. Those tits used to curve upwards, but not anymore. There were heavy tan lines on top, and her breasts were pale white. The President looked at herself in the mirror, and her facial expression fell a little.

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