Spanking Hillary

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Spanking Hillary

Note: This story is purely fictional. Any similarity between the characters in this story and actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. (Yeah, right! ;-)

I didn't know how I got assigned to the Bravo Team. I certainly didn't have enough seniority in the service to deserve it. My record, while good, didn't contain any "flashy" items. I was a logistics and communications weenie. I hadn't done close-in security since basic training. It's a lucky thing I still worked out and maintained my physical conditioning.

At 26 years of age, it was still easy to stay in shape. My fiancee, Martha, appreciated this aspect of the job, although she didn't like the idea that jumping in front of speeding bullets was still officially part of the job description. She eventually accepted my profession as I repeatedly told her I was a "desk jockey." Now that had changed.

I caught up with Bravo Team at the Westin Hotel in Seattle. I expected a certain amount of excitement and comradeship among my new team members. Instead what I observed was an almost funeral- like atmosphere. I felt like I was being welcomed onto death row by my fellow inmates rather than as a fellow team mate.

I was given a briefing on the situation. She would be arriving at Boeing Field on Air Force Two on Friday evening, rushed to the Westin with no fanfare, and put up for the night. On Saturday morning, she would meet with the Governor, one of the State's Senators, the Mayor of Seattle, and a local Congressman stumping for re-election. Then it was off to a rally at Westlake Park to try to drum up some support for a National Health Care program. After the rally, it was back to the Westin for a thousand-dollar- a-plate fund raiser for the Congressman, and a dash back to Boeing Field. All on taxpayer dollars.

In addition to covering the other public officials as well, we had another problem to work. We expected about 500 demonstrators to show up at the rally. Great!

I was spared that part of the problem. I was assigned into close- in security. It made sense to make use of my logistical experience to have me work with the hotel staff, local security, and the Seattle City Police. It even made sense to have me do the room sweeps and check out the ballroom for the fund raiser.

What surprised me was that I was to be one of two agents on the front door. I thought that a more senior agent would have been assigned that prestigious job. I even asked my supervisor about this and he told me that it was an order from "Herself." (I could hear the capital in the intonation of his voice.) I felt flattered.

My elation didn't last for long. Ed, another agent, who overheard the conversation, pulled me aside. "Look, kid, you're new here. What have you heard about the 'dragon lady?'"

"Well, nothing, really," I answered.

"Well, you're not hearing it now. This conversation is not taking place. Do you understand?"

I nodded my head to indicate that I did.

"Have you ever met Herself before?"

"Not officially. Of course, I covered some events she attended. I think the last one was about a month ago."

"That's about right," the agent told me, "It was about three weeks ago that we got the word you were coming."

"Now listen to me," he went on, "What I'm going to tell you is second hand. It never happened to me. Maybe I'm too old, or maybe I'm too ugly, but in this case, I consider it lucky to be so. I hear rumors. Now that I get a look at you, I can see why she picked you."

I was wondering where this was going as he continued his conversation. "She likes them young. She likes them strong, and in particular, she likes them black for some reason. By the way, do you have any military experience?"

"Yes, sir! Navy SEAL."

"That figures. I wouldn't mention it to Herself. If there is one thing she likes more than ordering men around, it's ordering black men around, and if there's one thing she likes even more than that it's making fools out of military men. You poor bastard!" He ended sadly.

I waited in silence for more, and after an unbearable wait I finally broke out with a, "What!"

"Do I have to spell it out for you, kid? Look, we can tell who cooperates and who doesn't. Those who don't are out of the service within two weeks, never to seek Government employment again. Those who do -- well, they last a little longer, and are usually 'put out to pasture' in some other part of the Civil Service when she's grown tired of them."

My look of shock must have been comical. He actually laughed. "Hey! Look around you. Even those who she doesn't call into her den don't last long. Morale is at an all-time low for the service, at least this branch. We have people trying to get out all the time. I've only got a couple of years to go myself, or I'd hang it up. She's not the best boss in the world to work for."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Don't look at me. I've never been behind closed doors with her. You'll have to make up your own mind about what to do."

I did. I knew exactly what I had to do.


The laundry staff was treated to a brief glimpse of Herself as I met her at the 'back door' of the Hotel. That's one of the ironies about being a very notable public figure; you don't enter through the front door and walk through the lobby. You get swept in the back way in secrecy and brought up a freight elevator like a prostitute that's being sneaked past the house detective.

I escorted Herself to her suite and had her wait for a few seconds while I preceded the bellboy in and did a final quick sweep of the suite. She sat in a chair in the anteroom and kicked off her shoes. I watched as the bellboy brought her suitcases into the bedroom. He went to draw the curtains, but I told him to leave them closed.

He completed the other items on his mental checklist with absolute efficiency and prepared to leave. He stood a moment at the door. Ed nodded to me. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet and tipped him. Apparently Herself didn't dirty her hands handling money or dealing with people beneath her station.

I completed my final sweep and said, "Is there anything you'll be needing, or would you prefer to be alone now?"

"Yes, boy," she responded, "unpack my things and make sure they're put away properly. She motioned to Ed to close the door and take up his post outside. I looked at Ed. Her eyes were on me. Ed rolled his eyes back in an "I-told-you-so," as he closed the door.

"I could get hotel staff to do that for you, madam," I answered.

"I want you to do it, boy!" she replied.

"boy!" I hadn't heard that term since I *was* a boy. I didn't like it when those rednecks in Georgia called my father that name. It wasn't the worst name they called him, but hearing it now, in the iciness in which it was delivered, brought all those other names to mind.

She seemed to delight in making me perform a menial task. I swallowed both the lump in my throat, and my pride as I quietly mouthed, "Yes, madam," and went to the task.

"Good boy," she responded, "I think you'll do."

I unpacked her bags, hung up her dresses folded her underwear (the joke was she had a cast-iron jock strap -- no, she doesn't, nor does she own anything particularly kinky,) and put out her bathroom items. She was still sitting in her chair when I came back.

"Pour me a drink," she said indicating the champaign, "and pour one for yourself."

"I can't madam," I explained, "I'm on duty."

"You're on duty for ME!" she countermanded, "You'll do as I say. Everything I say. Do you get that?"

I didn't answer.

"I asked you a question, BOY! I want and answer. You ought to learn your manners in front of your superiors."

"Yes, ma'am!" I said with more hostility than I wanted to show.

"Don't take that tone with me, you young buck. I can break you for insubordination." she said, "Now, pour us those drinks."

I poured us both a drink with no intention of actually imbibing mine.

She accepted her drink, crossed her leg and casually pointed to the middle of the room.

"Stand there," she said, twirling her index finger in a circle, "and turn around. I want to take a good look at you."

I felt extremely embarrassed as I did a slow pirouette in front of her.

"Nice ass," she said as I got halfway through the turn. When I facing her again, she stared me straight in the eyes and said, "Now let's get a look at that big black cock of yours, boy. I hope you don't disappoint me."

"Madam!" I protested.

She laughed, "Oh, stuff it. My husband has his hobbies. I have mine. You will obey me, or you'll never work again. Now pull those pants down and let me see it."

As I started to take off my jacket, there was a knock on the door. It was Ed.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, and then barked, "What is it?"

"We have a security issue. I must talk to Agent Dentin, madam," came the answer through the door.

"Oh very well, but be quick about it."

He waited a respectful few seconds and opened the door. "Sorry for the interruption, madam," he said. Turning to me, "Hal, we've got a minor problem with hotel security. I think a word from you can clear everything up."

Herself grinned at me, "Hurry back, boy. We've got things to do."


"Thanks, Ed," I said as soon as we got out in the hall. The interruption was no accident. I had prearranged a signal with Ed, a couple of surreptitious clicks on the radio, to bail me out if things got too hot.

"Yeah, it worked for now, but what are you going to do later? I can't keep barging in on you two all evening."

"Leave that to me," I responded, "I can take care of it from now on.

"Yea, though I walk through the shadows of the valley of death ..." Ed chided. I gave him a punch in the arm.


I was back in Herself's room about 20 minutes later.

"Well, that certainly took long enough," she growled, "I don't like to be kept waiting. I'll make you pay for that indiscretion."

"I think not," I replied.

"You're making a big mistake, boy. You'd better think it over."

"No , ma'am!" I said firmly.

"You listen to this," she said.

I cut her off, "No! YOU listen to this ...'Now let's get a look at that big black cock of yours, boy. I hope you don't disappoint me ... "Madam! ... (laughter) ... Oh, stuff it. My husband has his hobbies. I have mine. You will obey me, or you'll never work again. Now pull those pants down and let me see it.'" I clicked off the tape recorder.

"This is just a copy, of course. The original is already in safe storage in the event of my demise." I let it sink in and took a deep breath before continuing, "Now, that's a clear-cut case of sexual harassment if I've ever heard one."

"You won't get away with this," she said, "This won't hold up in court. I'm a lawyer, I know what's admissible as evidence, and what isn't."

"Oh, this isn't a matter for the courts," I assured her. "This trial is going to be held in the media. It might even knock OJ off the front page. I know full well that people of political power such as yourself are above the law. I wouldn't presume to fight you on that level."

"I've looked at the polls. Your husband can't survive another scandal. He might not be re-elected as it is. If he goes down, you loose all your power. You won't be center stage anymore. You'll be just another rich bitch."

"Ah," she said changing tactics rapidly, "I see. You're looking perhaps for an out-of-court settlement. Something monetary, and very discrete. In fact, maybe so discrete that even the IRS won't know about it."

"My sentiments exactly," I smiled.

"How much are we talking about here?"

"First things first," I told her, "I need job security. You will keep me on staff in my current position indefinitely."

She laughed, "I'd think you'd want to escape my clutches. Don't be a fool. I know what people say behind my back." She paused, "OK, it's a deal. You have your job. I can always get other boys."

"No madam. By 'current position' I mean that there will be no other boys."

"You mean?" she left the question hanging.

"Our relationship may be modified to some extent. but I will be your 'boy.'"

"OK. Now, how much are we talking about for a settlement?"


"Fifty thousand dollars!" she responded.

"No, your punishment will be a little more personal than that. I mean fifty swats. I'm going to give you an old-fashioned spanking, girl. It's obvious that it is long overdue."


The hard features of her face contorted, and her mouth moved as if she was going to speak, but no words came out.

"You have no choice," I reminded her.

She glowered at me in anger, but she knew that physical resistance, at least, was futile. She hissed out her words, "OK, let's get this over with. What do you want me to do?"

I walked to the door, opened it and stuck my head out to talk to Ed. We wouldn't be disturbed for the rest of the evening, and Ed would swear that nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. He saw nothing, and would hear nothing. I could see his ear splitting grin as I closed the door.

I sat down in the opposing wing-back chair from Herself. I pointed to the spot on the oriental rug where she made me stand about a half hour prior and said, "Turn around, girl. I want to get a good look at you."

Her normal peaches-and-cream complexion was a lot ruddier than usual. I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. I suspected the latter. There was nothing but full-fledged rage in her eyes when she finally stopped turning.

"Tsk, tsk," I warned her, "I'll have to teach you some manners. Wait until you feel my hand on your ass. You'll change your tune, you little bitch."

I think the words "little bitch" pushed a button in her. She threw herself at me in a rage, landing on top of me and ineffectually pounding my muscles with her fists. Her words were incoherent, and trailed off into a series of sobs.

"Temper tantrums, too," I remarked, "How much like a spoiled little girl you are. I was going to do this in a civilized manner, but fuck that!"

I twisted her body around until she was prone over my lap, and pulled down her pants. She had on a pair of bikini type panties and that suited me fine.

She knew what was coming as she was wiggling like a snake in the midst of a seizure. I used my physical superiority to subdue her. I had her in the most preposterous position: her waist was over my left knee and my left arm held her torso in place; my right leg was over both her legs pinning her body in a scissors hold. This left my right hand free for spanking.

My only previous experience with spanking was as a recipient. There wasn't anything erotic about it. I was about eight years old, and my father gave me a good walloping for giving my mother what he called "some lip." It was enough. I haven't talked back to mama ever since.

This was entirely different. I felt a kind of excitement I'd never experienced before. I had planned to have her get undressed, lay over my lap and paddle her in a very calm and controlled way. The way it turned out was much more satisfying. Having her behave like a brat and resist me was giving me a hard-on.

I have naturally large hands. I could palm a basketball when I was ten. I hadn't even begun my growth spurt at that point. Working out on a regular basis made them very muscular as well. I also have a set of hard, leathery callouses on my palms. I never thought of my hand as a spanking instrument, having never used it as such before. Now that it was time, I was surprised at how ideal it was for the purpose.

I brought my arm back into a backswing like I was going to smash a serve playing handball. I looked at my target. A lily-white rump with a light blue band of lacy silk outlining its lower portions.

I brought my arm down with all the speed I could. I learned from playing baseball that you don't hit a home run by trying to kill the ball. Home runs are hit by meeting the round ball with the round bat squarely with a lot of speed. My huge hand collided with what little bulk she had on her left cheek. It was the irresistible force meeting a very movable object.

She stopped sobbing. In fact, she stopped breathing. I looked at her ass. There as a perfect impression of my hand on it. I could also see small red spots where I had broken capillaries that were close to the surface. I had forgotten that I could probably drive railroad spikes barehanded. I had to ease off.

I asked her if she was OK. She shuttered, started breathing again and hissed through clenched teeth, "yes." She was still defiant. I liked that. It was going to be a challenge taming her. I love a challenge.

"That's one," I told her, "From now on, you will count each spank as I deliver it to you."

She obeyed. Each time I hit her, she yelled out the number. Sometimes all she could muster was a grunt. I let her get away with it. Each time I hit her, my hand made a very loud clapping sound. By the time the first dozen spanks were delivered, she ceased direct resistance although she was kicking her feet uncontrollably.

I have no doubt that Ed could hear everything that was going on. She knew it too. Somehow, that made it even better. By the time I was close to two dozen swats she had become much more submissive. She was meekly whimpering. Her blonde hair laid scraggly across her sweaty face, her makeup was smeared, her eyes red. She was not at all like her picture on Time Magazine.

"Get up," I growled.

She obeyed without hesitation. I noticed that she stuck out her lower lip and lowered her head. She couldn't look at me. I looked at her panties. There was a wet spot in the front. It was probably the most honest sexual excitement she had in ages.

"Stand there. Turn away from me. Bend over. I want to see if you've had enough."

She did everything I told her. Her ass was a mess. It was entirely pink, and had red marks in splotches everywhere.

"Stand up," I ordered. I pointed to her chair, "Sit." It was like commanding a dog.

"Have you learned your lesson? Will you behave like a good little girl?" I asked.

"Y-yes" she said.

"You're not going to fuck with me or anyone else in the service anymore are you?"


"Good." I said finally softening my tone. "Have a drink of your champaign."

"But don't you owe me 25 more?" she asked. It sounded almost like disappointment.

"Indeed I do, but that's for the next time."

end of female domination, femdom story