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Urotsukidoji - Presidential Duties.	By : Nickamano Category: +S to Z > Urotsuki-doji Views: 94 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither Urotsukidoji or any related materials are owned by me. This was created for entertainment purposes only, and I am not profiting financially from the creation of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
The journey took forty-six long, tedious hours. The digital display on the forward bulkhead she had noticed during take-off, was indeed a clock as well as a general telemetry readout.
The security officers and PAs had to double as air hostesses. Handing out meals, taking away and securing emptied containers, making sure everyone had everything they needed. Ali was amongst them, though she didn’t seem to mind as much as the others. It gave her the opportunity to speak to some of the most powerful and famous people on the planet. She also gained a little more knowledge about exactly what the hell was happening.

PEOC, the Presidential Emergency bunker, was in fact onboard a secret satellite that was in a stable orbit circumnavigating the Earth. It was a state-of-the-art facility and even had an experimental artificial gravity enabler, offering .909g’s.
But to get there, the two space shuttles had to travel in a great arc from the surface into orbit and then through space, following the earth’s rotation until the satellite came into view. And then there would be a gruelling six-hour long deceleration, until they were matching the speed and position of the satellite. Only then could the actual docking procedure could begin.

What was happening down on earth was harder to understand. Something, something big and organic was moving around the planet destroying cities, sometimes whole islands, and everything on them, with no discernible strategy. Numerous national Air Forces and Navy’s had attempted to take the thing down but nothing seemed to work. The Japanese had been destroyed before it could pull together a big enough assault. The South Koreans had failed in their attempt, the Indians, the Australians. The Chinese had initially shown promise through sheer numbers, but their forces had been wiped out.
That had all taken place in the first ten days, but had been kept absolutely secret from the public, at least as much as possible. Of course, rumours were flying about all the time. So were sightings.
A conglomeration of European forces was enroute, but it would take a while to get into East Asian waters.

Their own US Naval forces had been taking a more careful preparatory approach amassing their entire fleet into attack waves. However, they had chosen Hawaii as their staging area. Most hadn’t been in port at the time Hawaii had been levelled, but the remaining Naval forces had abandoned the Hawaiian staging area and were making their way toward East Asian waters independently. Some reports had spoken of something in the water close to the Sea of Japan, perhaps the target, perhaps not. There were reports of tidal waves, whirlpools and other freak weather conditions that had sunk many more ships. The rest, three waves of six or seven vessels each, were still closing in on the second staging area. Still a couple of days away.

Ali was more interested in Kennedy. And being one of Space Force 1’s hand-selected passengers felt like being invited backstage by your all-time favourite band. Meeting them, getting to know them, getting to flirt with them, getting to see how they interacted with their peers and subordinates, getting to see and understand their personality, their sense of humour, the sheer presence.
And Jacob “Call me John” Kennedy really was a superstar. And he really did like to be called John too, at least by those who weren’t expected to call him Mr President.
She mostly kept her mouth shut and her eyes open. However, having so little to do - handing out meals, keeping the pod tidy all in zero gravity, it was a long and tedious journey.
She also kept her ears open, trying to keep up to date with official reports from the VP and Joint Chiefs. But there appeared to be little new happening- devastation, destruction and failure after failure to take down... the whatever-it-was.

Kennedy kept on disappearing for a few minutes at a time, at least every four or five hours with one of the Security agents, or his wife or even his wife’s PA, always into the toilet cubicle. However, he never invited Ali, and it was driving her nuts. She was jealous and confused and frustrated that she was the only one not chosen by Kennedy. Everyone was getting a turn or numerous, except the girl who wanted him the most and it wasn’t fucking fair!

They were all locked into their seats again as the shuttle finally began its final approach to the PEOC satellite. The illuminated red bulkhead display counted off a series of short burns over the course of the six-hour approach designed to achieve the correct relative position and velocity.
Finally, the display read “Soft Contact: complete” and then ten minutes later, “Hard Contact: complete” Finally, with a little whoop and round of applause, the display flashed up “Docking Procedure: complete”.
Everyone started to unbuckle themselves and collected the few belongings they had brought, mainly briefcases, ‘Portable Apple Macintochs’, Filofaxes and notebooks. They were grouped together, hanging onto seat head rests and handholds screwed into the bulkheads, waiting for the Commander and pilot to emerge from the cockpit.
The President was whispering into the ear of one of his female Secret Service agents. She looked faintly uncomfortable, and was not looking her POTUS in the eye, but was nodding in response to whatever he was whispering to her. The First Lady had their son in her arms, cradling the boy who appeared to have slept through much of the zero-g journey. She was also turned away from her husband and chatting quietly to her PA. Almost everyone else were keeping to themselves or chatting to each other in small groups. Michael Falk, Coyote’s PA tapped Ali on the shoulder, then gently grabbed her shoulder and swung her around. He seemed to have taken it upon himself to be her minder. She would have preferred Kennedy but if Falk had information to share…

“Just to let you know, miss, the airlock is up there.” He said, pointing to a hatch in the ceiling.
“Oh, yeah. I thought that’s what it might be.”
“Yeah. So, there’s a corridor beyond it and then PEOC’s own airlock at the other end.”
“Okay. So, we float straight up then go down the corridor and into the bunker.”
“Correct. Now, when you’re moving through, you’ll feel gravity start to kick in and by the time you’re in the other airlock it’ll be normal. But the process will feel a little weird, a little sickness, dizziness, discomfort in the stomach. But it’ll normalise after a couple of minutes.”
“Okay, sounds like fun.”
“It affects some more than others.” He added, shrugging. “You’ll be glad of the artificial reality though, makes all the difference, apparently.”
“I bet.”
“Just stick with me, I’ll see you through.”

“No.”

The voice snatched everyone’s attention and everyone swung around at the new speaker. It was Kennedy himself, gracious and smiling. But equally commanding.

“Thank you, Mike, but I asked Alina to be my replacement PA. So from here on in I’ll have her at my side. I’ll see her into PEOC myself.”
“Yes sir, Mr President.” Falk said.
“Thank you, Mr President.” Ali said, smiling.

Kennedy blessed her with his best smile. Holding her gaze for a second longer than expected. Though unable to avert her locked eyes, in her peripheral vision she noted the President’s hand smoothing across one taut ass cheek of the Secret Service agent he had been whispering to. His hand soothed, cupped and squeezed, simultaneously surreptitious and blatant. No one else was looking, and it felt to Ali like a deliberate choice.
The two astronauts finally floated into the pod, offering the President snappy salutes, before floating up to the ceiling hatch and opened it up with precise, practiced movements. They led the way through. Two agents following along, then the President, his wife and son, her PA and Ali. The other two agents followed and then the rest of them brought up the rear.

Falk wasn’t wrong about the dizziness, discomfort and nausea, as they floated along the corridor. Though the floating didn’t last long. As though being gently pulled to the left she found herself prone against the left side of the telescopic rectangular corridor. She carefully stood up, righting herself, putting herself onto her feet, along with everyone else and noting the pull of gravity, she continued onwards. At least the confusion about the special awareness and increasing gravity somewhat distracted her from the nausea and dizziness.
The two astronauts never ‘fell’ they just rotated themselves partway along and put their feet onto the wall and used hand holds until the gravity was enough to allow them to moon walk along. Ali tried to copy the rhythmic moon walk and found travel much simpler once she got into the rhythm. By the time they were entering to opposite airlock, it felt like walking normally. As though the last almost two days without gravity was nothing more than a distant memory.
The airlock doors opened allowing them inside. They had to wait for everyone to shuffle into the chamber, before the inner doors allowed them entry. Finally, following a further pressure equalisation delay, they were allowed into PEOC. The astronauts and agents entered first, then the President and his family. Once they had moved aside and switched on the lights, Ali got to see the interior of the bunker. And surprisingly, to all intents and purposes, it felt as though she was stepping back in the White House.

“You four are to perform a complete security check.”
“Yes, Mr President.”

As the Security agents departed into other parts of the satellite, Kennedy turned to the two astronauts next, throwing them a salute and a smile.

“You boys are on extended R&R for the duration. You’ve done me proud boys, smooth travel, perfect docking. Now you get to relax.”
“Thank you, Mr President. It’s been an honour, Sir.”
“Honour’s all mine, boys.”

He cast a quick glance toward Ali, but then turned his attention on the rest of the shuttle’s complement. Little Norman was still fast asleep. His mother slightly struggling with the sudden onset of his full weight.

“Ali, you’re with me. Everyone else get yourselves settled in. We’ll have a full staff meeting in two hours. Dismissed.”

He ignored the rabble of “Yes, Mr Presidents”, and catching Ali’s eye again led her off down a lefthand corridor. While everyone else headed right.

<><><>

Karen Lavender had once been on the Presidential detail, filled with responsibilities, timetables, geography and a hundred other things. However, now her head was filled with nothing but the pleasure and the submission to the one who would provide it. It had been terrifying at first but it soon became a drug, a thousand times better than the drive that had led her into the Secret Service, which, for the 1980’s was absolutely unheard of, but she had pushed and cajoled and begged and screamed and stomped and worked her ass off and she had made it. One of a small number of female agents handpicked by President Kennedy to be accepted into the Presidential protection detail. Kennedy had wanted to show women agents front and centre and had wrangled a bit of a cheeky fast-track system for certain agents currently engaged in the process of advancement through field work. It was really no surprise that Kennedy, the reputed womaniser, chose those five specific agents to join his personal protection detail. They were all appropriate choices, good agents with a lot of potential, they were just fast-tracked while they were still young. And each of them was a very attractive woman in her own right.

Only herself and Sam Ramirez had made it onto Space Force 1. However, the other three girls were all following along on Space Force 2, a half a day behind them.
Her master had also captured Sam Ramirez and the two women had their instructions, though they were complex and the timing would be difficult to pull off. However, the mere threat of no longer having access to that mind-breaking pleasure the master could provide made both Karen and Sam absolutely terrified, two addicts refused another fix. They would literally do anything and everything to avoid that fate.

The first thing was to keep the astronauts happy and on side, and to ensure they did not interfere. That was Sam’s job. She went straight over to their habitation quarters. It turned out to be a plush lounge room with a sunken circular couch, a fully stocked bar, a huge TV, videos, a compact disc player. Sam had shucked off her jacket and her sidearm, leaving the latter in her footlocker. Before making her way to the astronaut’s lounge, she used the down-the-sleeve technique to remove her bra, tossing on her bunk with her jacket. Prior to knocking on the door, she freed the top two buttons of her blouse, slipping her hand inside to quickly tease her nipples, pinching them until they were fully erect. Then she knocked a smart double-tap rap.

“Yeah, c’mon in!” A gruff voice called out from the other side of the door; words slightly slurred.
“Hey guys.” Sam said.
“Agent… ahh… Ramirez.”

She stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her, then turned around and took a step into the room. As she did so, she blatantly slid out of ‘professional Secret Service agent’, and into ‘sexual and sultry young woman’ right before their eyes. She knew how to do it. She knew how alluring and desirable she was. And it was nothing, just playing to her strengths. And by the stares and straightening of the relaxed posture of the two men, she knew she had ensnared them both already.

“Gotta a little proposition for you.” She went on. “There’s about to be a little bit of activity beyond these four walls. Nothing dangerous to the President or PEOC, or your good selves. And nothing you can get in trouble for. All I’m asking you to do is nothing at all. Just hang out in here and ignore whatever you might hear outside. The President needs you guys safe and healthy, after all you guys are the only ones who can fly us all back down to Earth.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about. All you need to think about is myself and agent Lavender. You see, as long as you don't try anything at all, just stay in here, keep your heads down and your ears shut, you get Lavender and myself. We’ll be fucking and sucking your brains out, as much as you can handle. Hours, days. And you can treat us however you like. All you gotta do is stay in this habitation. Eat and drink as much as you like. Fuck us as much as you like. You might even get to fuck the First Lady, if that's what you want. The President can make that happen.”
“This is kinda irregular, Ma’am.”
“Yeah, is this some kinda joke?”
“Nope, no joke. In fact, to prove it to you both, you got me right now. A full hour. Go to town, I’ll suck you, I’ll fuck you. I take it up the ass if that’s your pleasure. Do whatever you want to me boys, I’m all yours.”
“But… why?”
“Just think of me as a Presidential gift for your exemplary piloting skills. And your loyalty.”
“An hour? Here and now?”
“A whole hour, here and now. Anything you boys want. There’ll be a little intermission, then I’ll be back for more. Along with Lavender. We’ll go rounds two, three, four, five… As much hot special-agent pussy as you can handle.”

The two men exchanged a look. Excited, no longer suspicious or confused. They drained their shot glasses of dark amber liquid and then relaxed back on the circular couch, arms and legs spread wide, smiling and staring up at Sam. She had surreptitiously shifted herself into a position where the subdued wall lights cast her in an alluring ambience. Her smooth South American complexion turned to a glowing copper, the waves of her short black hair, loosely pinned at the nape of her neck, catching the amber glow of the lights to give it a warm fiery glow. Her big brown eyes reflecting that amber light with a tempting glisten.

“Ain’t looking no gift horse in the mouth.” One astronaut said, around an incessant grin.
“Go on then, Agent,” The other said, gesticulating, “how about you get to strippin’, show off that athletic bod.”
“No problem.” She said, starting on the remaining buttons of her blouse. “And, call me Sam.”

While Sam Ramirez was buying the astronauts’ loyalty. Karen got down to business herself. She had been informed about a certain serial numbered Samsonite rifle case in the small armoury in the PEOC security room. She found it and carried it straight to the satellite’s second airlock. The way was clear for her. Her two male colleagues were with the First Lady in the habitation section, which was also where Susan Coyote and her PA were. She had complete freedom in the rest of the orbital facility.
Climbing into the space suit was the hardest part. She didn’t bother to strip out of her suit. She just popped the closet style hatch outside of the airlock door and pulled out the all-in-one pressure suit. She activated the heater system in the suit and then picked up the helmet. It wasn’t a full EVA suit, more like an emergency suit, thinner, simpler and less gadget heavy. It also allowed for one person to climb into the suit and make it airtight without assistance.
Helmet finally secured, and air tanks plugged into her belt and opened up, Karen checked the time on a wall mounted digital display above the airlock, she took a steadying breath. She still had plenty of time so there was no rush.
She opened the samsonite case and pulled out the M82 Barret, checked the magazine for the black tip designated cartridges, tapped it against the bulkhead to make sure the spring wasn’t jammed, and then slotted it into the fifty-cal’s magazine well. She worked the bolt to load the first round and then checked the safety was on. Neither task was particularly easy with the gloves on but she muddled through. She hadn’t trained for this. No one had, not for this specifically. But at least the rifle did not have its trigger guard. She wouldn’t have been able to get her trigger finger in if it had. Finally, she was ready to step into the airlock.

Ali wandered around the President’s inner sanctum, silently aghast, heart hammering. It felt like she was in a dream. Not only was she in actually God-almighty space… But she was standing here alone with her childhood idol. Just the two of them.
Walking into the satellite’s Presidential suite, she had half expected an exact duplicate of the Oval Office, but it wasn’t. it was a simple lounge/office but it was styled in a strange amalgam of old fashioned classical eighteenth-century furniture, blue and gold striped wallpaper, thick burgundy carpeting featuring the Presidential Seal in the centre of the floor. And then there was a plush walnut bar, and a big antique desk. One wall was filled by the Presidential Seal, floor to ceiling and flanked either side by burgundy drapes and two free-standing Stars and Stripes flags. All that was missing was a podium, microphone and TV camera.
In the centre of the ceiling hung an actual real-life chandelier, though it was not in use. Instead, demure lamplight, that made her think of intimate romantic restaurant mood-lighting was in effect. There was a huge blue fabric plush office chair, as well as a plush leather armchair in one corner beside an old book case.
There was even a big window, though the view was covered with impenetrable floor-to-ceiling burgundy drapes. However, the whole scene was intercut with elaborate state of the art computer communications equipment. A station that appeared to have been taken straight out of a NASA mission operations or ground control room. It was strangely off putting to have an eighteenth-century side table with an antique style lamp (modern electric bulb and flex of course), while stationed alongside it was a futuristic grey plastic console phone and fax machine combo. Modern ergonomics, push buttons, speaker option, the whole nine yards. Additionally, there were a couple of discrete doors in the angular room.

Kennedy had shown her around, opening doors and letting her peak into the rooms, while keeping an intimate but not quite openly flirtatious hand pressed onto small of her back. He showed her a bathroom with a toilet and a walk-in shower. A bedroom that, while not White House proportioned put her own hotel room to shame. And a surprisingly spacious walk-in closet, at the back of which were stored the TV camera on a wheeled platform and miked up free-standing podium. Ali almost smiled at the reveal. He led her back into the office/lounge.

“Get yourself settled in, Ali. And fix us both a scotch and soda. I’m going to have a quick shower, shake off that zero-G boredom.”
“Yes Mr President.”

He had gone into his bedroom, though the door remained wide open. She watched him, still feeling like she was in the middle of a dream. He stood beside the bed, in plain sight of her and began stripping off his clothing. She was mesmerised, unable to take her eyes off him. The dark blond hair shot through the touches of silver give him a distinguished element. His smooth skin, the broad square jaw, pure enticing masculinity. She felt herself getting damp, felt the trickles - tickling, felt the tingles - incessant, insistent on her attention.
He slipped off his silk tie, unbuttoned his shirt and then peeled it off his broad shoulders. She sensed the masculinity pervading the room, expanding tenfold with the unveiling of his naked torso. He had the musculature of an Olympian, taut and prominent and powerful, surprisingly hairless. He had bent to pull off his shoes, whipping out the thin leather belt as he bent himself almost double. The trousers slid to the floor like a pool of silk. He was commando beneath, he stepped out of his trousers and turned to face her.
And then there as just that cock, flaccid but still sizeable and bulging with serpentine veins, a throbbing living organ with a life of its own, nestled in its throne of pubic hair. In that timeless moment, it was all that existed in her universe.

“Ali… Ali? Alina?”

Kennedy had to speak to her twice before she heard him and found the ability to lift her gaze from the penis to his amused eyes.

“Yes, Mr President?”
“I want you to call me ‘John’, okay?”
“Yes, sir… Yes, John.”

Despite not knowing where to look, Ali couldn’t help but smile, his offer implying acceptance and intimacy. She realised her eyes had strayed southward again. And again, it proved to be a trial to drag her gaze upward.

“Oh, one more thing.” He said, finally drawing her eyes up again. “I’m expecting a call from the VP, if the phone rings just answer it for me and give me a shout?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And find yourself something nice from the walk in. You look like you’re a similar size to Heather. Bit bustier, maybe… So, go knock yourself out. Play dress-up while you’re waiting.”
“Thank you… John.”

Lavender completed her preparations before depressurising the airlock chamber, securing herself to the left bulkhead with a carabiner on a short length of NASA quality canvass, and looping it through the rear strap mount of the rifle in case she lost her grip. And then she reached up and vented the air from the chamber. It only took a few seconds, after all, she had the pressure suit on. The doors opened and the blackness of space revealed itself, an utter void. There might have been plenty of stars but the light pollution from inside the airlock dimmed them into obscurity.
Agent Lavender lay down prone, making use of the artificial gravity. She unclipped the antimateriel rifle from her safety line and took up a sniper’s posture. Crossing her ankles and using the ‘V’ between her feet as a barrel rest. Space Force 2 was already on its final approach. The pod’s docking umbilical already extending. She was certain her master would have over-ridden the receiver apparatus on the station, that encircled the exterior of her airlock. She took up aim and she waited. And waited.
And then put a single tungsten steel-cored armour piercing round through the half inch thick, triple layered aluminium silicate glass of the space shuttle’s cockpit. The pressure wave of the penetration would have done plenty of damage. While the bullet carried on though the body of one of the two piloting astronauts and then the air rushing out of the cabin, killed the other astronaut in seconds. The shot panel of glass spiderwebbed and was blown out by the escaping atmosphere. The suddenly expelled air threw off the shuttle’s trajectory only slightly. However, with no one alive to use the thrusters to compensate, the shuttle began a slow ass-over-tip roll while the earth’s gravity slowly began to take possession once again. It was unsavable. The cabin was open to space and there was no access from the passenger pod into the cabin anyway. The shuttle would slowly be pulled back into the earth’s atmosphere and burn up or crash. Either way, the heads of the Department of Defence and National Security were dealt with, as were the remaining six Secret Service agents.
Onto phase three.

This time, Ali found herself lost in the excitement of what amount to a ‘supermarket sweep’ of the First Lady’s walk-in closet. Having seen the quality and the choices she quickly became overexcited. She stripped down to her underwear and started trying on garment after garment. She could hear the shower running and kept on finding herself picturing that body, blanketed in a mist of hot steam, a continual spray of water cascading down those mouthwatering muscles. And that cock. His nest of pubic hair capturing water droplets so they glistened like diamonds, while the trickles of water ran down that pulsing shaft. She had to literally shake herself out of the erotic reverie, instead throwing herself excitedly back into her exploration of fashion and accessory. When she found the jewellery collection, she completely lost her head.
She eventually settled on a pair of oval shaped ruby earrings, with solid gold settings and a luscious red lipstick to match.
She was going to go with pearls and bracelets as well but decided too much might take the eye away from the body beneath the jewellery and she wanted Kennedy to see her, not just what she was wearing. She picked out a presidential blue wrap-around dress that could easily double as a professional looking outfit with the correct accompaniment of concealing undergarments. But she wasn’t feeling professional at this moment, she was feeling seductive and flirtatious and sexy. She hurriedly stripped off her underwear and then wrapped the dress around her naked flesh. She hurried through the buttons that stretched from her midriff down to the tops of her thighs. Over excited, she skipped over to the full-length mirror to admire the result, impressed with her reflection, and grateful of the teenage perk of her full boobs. She was barely able to stand the wait to see John’s reaction.
And then the Telephone rang back in the office/lounge.

On her way back to the habitation wing to initiate phase three, Karen Lavender couldn’t help but take a glance into the astronauts’ lounge where Sam would still be busy.
Her assumption that they would get busy on the sunken couch rather than go to a bedroom proved correct. Peering in through the gap she had formed on opening the door a crack, Karen saw three naked bodies in the throes of a frantic spit-roast. The guys were okay to look at, slender builds, obviously fit and healthy. Afterall they were astronauts, they had to be. But they were slender rather than athletic, no hot tan or bulging toned muscles. They were both Caucasians and both could do with a bit more time in the sun.

One, a sandy blond guy had a bit of a porn moustache going on. The other one had cropped dark hair but it was receding, he also had quite a bit of body hair, mostly across his chest and down his flat stomach, spreading to a dense and wiry pubic nest, from which his ruddy and engorged cock thrust out, disappearing between Sam’s full Latina lips. Porn moustache was younger, Karen assumed, a little bulkier across the shoulders, and all but hairless, He was bent forward over Sam’s back, one arm scooped under her belly hooking the tops of her thighs. His other was across her back, forearm against the base of her spine, the hand spread across the tops of her buttocks. After a second’s examination she realised the guy had his thumb shoved up Sam’s ass hole. He was also pummelling her shapely hips like a first-time teenager, far too quick, far too selfish. He would have to be properly, though gently, educated. These two were to be kept happy and entertained after all, not put down or humiliated. They had to feel like sex gods, interested in nothing but fucking, drinking and sleeping; the latter to give them the energy for more of the former.
But no, while a million miles from the worst of the worst, these two weren’t the most impressive male specimens Karen had ever seen.

Now, Sam Ramirez on the other hand, was a delight. She had that stereotypical Latina sex-bomb thing going on. Generous bronzed flesh without blemish, other than the spank-prints applied by the two astronauts. Her hair, untied had turned into a short but wild bushy mane that bounced and whipped about with each passion-filled movement. To Karen, she would have fit in well with Raquel Welch back in prehistoric cavemen times - her shapely robust figure trussed up in menial scraps of animal skin, her large boobs never more than an inch away from bouncing free of her fur bikini.

Sam rapidly, even mindlessly, pummelled at both ends by the two men; had her arms wrapped around the thighs of the dark hairy one, while her lips engulfed his member, her throat bulging in time to Karen’s racing heartbeat as she watched the rampant threesome. Of course, his hands were locked into her wild mane, pulling her lips toward him until she was kissing his abdominals and inhaling his pubic hair. And best of all, the three of them were nonchalant in their animalistic grunts and groans. The men apparently lost to everything but their lust and this beautiful vixen who had so selflessly given herself over to their mindless demands.
Karen tore herself away from the cracked open door, closing it quietly on the rampant threesome and moved on to the First Lady’s lounge room.

She stood outside the door, listening in while Heather Kennedy convinced agents Woods and Crawford to take on the President because, according to her, he had turned into a monster over the last couple of weeks. Of course they would support her, she was one of the most beautiful celebrity women alive, she was using her femininity and her privilege to gain their sympathy and support. And it worked, barely a minute after she had pressed herself up against the wall to avoid being seen, the two Secret Service agents yanked the door open and hurried out of the room, turning away from Karen and shooting off down the corridor without a second glance.
She wasted no time in stepping into the First Lady’s lounge. Again, she quietly closed the door behind her and turned to face Christina Kirschner, the First Lady and the child Norman who were the only people left in the room. The three of them were too distracted to notice her arrival at once.

Heather Kennedy was staring absently at her son. He was happily playing with his action figures. She had been feeling almost continual butterflies of fear for young Norman for weeks now. Christina was trying to keep him entertained and distracted while Heather had spoken to agents Woods and Crawford. She definitely had taken on the hardest job. The First Lady having to convince these two Secret Service agents that her husband, their boss, had become a devil, who had to be stopped by whatever means were required.
In her eyes and she had convinced the two agents that all they had to do was to put the VP, Paul Shrader in charge. They could make up whatever story the liked about Jacob - the President is sick, there was an accident with the docking procedure and he was gravely injured. Comatose. Dead. Whatever, as long as the power was taken from him and put back into the hands of a free thinking, liberal, mentally stable and ‘good’ human being.
So, when she got the nods from the two men and they immediately left the room, she felt a great flood of relief that washed over her the low-level half-conscious terror she had been harbouring for the last two weeks almost.

Karen drew her sidearm, then rushed over and snatched up the child. Pressing the muzzle of her hollow pointed .22 against his small head. The room froze for a moment, disbelief immobilized and silenced everyone. But only for a second. Then the shock and the pleading started up.

“What are you doing?”
“Norman! Let go of… Please… Put my son down.”
“Put him down! Have you gone insane?!”
“Miss… Agent… What’s your name.?
“Please… put my son down. He’s just a little kid. Please.”
“Stop talking and listen, the both of you.” Karen snapped.
“Please… I need my boy…. Norman! Miss, please… I’m begging you don’t hurt…”
“You’re both gonna shut up and you’re gonna do as I say. And then you’ll get the boy back. Unharmed.”
“If you hurt one hair on that boy’s…”

This time she interrupted the two women by thumbing back the hammer of the Beretta 76. Heather’s face instantly blanched of all colour. While Christina went silent and actually put her hands to her gasping mouth.

“Threats? Really? Stand up both of you. Walk ahead of me. Out this room and to the left.”

They both stood up slowly. Hands raised, fear plain on their faces. Karen was as sure as she could be that they weren’t about to try anything.

“Actually, you’d best grab some blankets. The comforter and pillows from the bed maybe. Up to you, I guess.”
“Why?”
“You’re being imprisoned. And it ain’t the warmest room on the station.”

They did so. Both of them shivering in their fear. Bundling up what bedding they could get their hands on. Karen maintained a distance from them and kept a tight grip on Norman.
The boy was wriggling and crying by this time, having belatedly become aware of the fear from his mother and the woman he saw as his nanny. Karen urged them out of the room and up along the corridor. Heather kept trying to toss calming placations back at her son, assuring him everything was going to be alright.

“Why are you doing this?” Heather whimpered, but she received no reply.

They found themselves at the secondary airlock and the two women couldn’t believe they had been stopped there. At first confused, it slowly dawned on them about the airlock. They protested.
Once Karen, smiling, had cycled the inner airlock door they were begging. She literally under-armed the boy from her grasp into the open airlock chamber, He sailed through the air in shocked silence and then hit the deck with a thump. Then started bawling.
Heather and Christina instantly ran in to collect the howling boy. Karen kicked discarded pillows in after them and then cycled the inner door shut again, keeping them under the barrel of her squat pistol throughout.
That was phase three complete. The master would deal with overriding the airlock access codes. And he would deal with phase four himself, while Karen joined up with Sam and busied herself with the two astronauts. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to back up the master, just in case, it would be good to show her devotion.

Ali sat in the plush office chair, one foot in touch with the thick carpet, swinging herself and the chair, lazily back and forth through a shallow arc. The spin was smooth and friction free and there was no annoying squeak. A Presidential chair if ever there was one.
She had answered the phone to Vice President Paul Shrader, had shockingly put him on hold while she called John from the shower. He had emerged naked and dripping water, to come straight to the phone. Again, she found herself mutely ogling his naked body. He caught her eye and mouthed “get me a robe”. The only one she could find was a thin pink silky thing, with red cuffs and edging that was probably his wife’s.
Still, assuming he was in a hurry, would be getting cold and that it was just the two of them, she grabbed it and brought it to him. He slung it on without hesitation. Giving her a little wink while he listened in to his VP update. He didn’t close up the front of the robe and he didn’t knot the red sash belt, just left it hanging free and exposing. Ali felt herself staring again, mesmerised. This time she didn’t even try to look away.

“…Yeah, Paul… We just saw it happen. Couldn’t do a fucking thing about it… No… No idea what happened. Nothing can be done back at Ground Control…? Fuck… So, they’re basically all goners? Jesus. More names to be added to the casualty list, I guess. Pretty awful way to go, too.”

Ali frowned. She hadn’t even been listening in at first. It was a private Presidential phone call, after all. But the tone and then the content drew her attention.

“Wife and kids got away okay? They all squared away in Crystal Peak? …Good, Good… And your side piece? What was her name? Atwell? …Susan, that was it… Glad to hear it. Can’t lose the fun ones can we…? So, you arranged the surveillance jet I asked for? We need to pin down location. … Yeah, good. No, that’s great. Thanks Paul. You’ll keep me apprised of new developments? …Great. Good Luck to you, Paul. Keep your head down.”

He put the phone receiver back onto its cradle and then turned, grinning across at Ali. She could see his shadowed cock beginning to twitch, beginning to thicken and fill out, inching upward allowing the lamplight to paint its own highlights. He made to step toward her, but then his attention abruptly shifted toward the door. A half second later there was a quick knock, then a heavier more insistent knocking.

“Mr President. It’s agent Woods.” The voice was loud but muffled by the thickness of the door. “I’m afraid I have to speak to you urgently, sir. It’s of the utmost importance.”
“One second, agent Woods. I’m just out of the shower.”
“Sir, I have to insist… Sir?”

Kennedy held Ali’s eye and motioned her toward the wall at her back. She backed up. At the same time, he crossed the room and circled around to the business end of his large desk. He pulled open a drawer, while with his other hand he closed up the front of his robe. Then he cleared his throat and vocalised his permission for the agent to enter.
Woods was accompanied by the other male Secret Service guy. Ali kept herself pressed to the wall, though she felt practically stuck directly between the two agents and John. She immediately realised that the two men were carrying their sidearms, lowered at a forty-five-degree angles. A polite threat. But still a threat. And against the Leader of the Free World. And according to polls this particular President was the most popular any President has ever been within his own lifetime.

“President Jacob Kennedy, I’m here to place you under arrest, Sir.”
“What?” Ali gasped.
“Stay out of this girl.” Snapped the second agent.

He was Crawford, she remembered. Shockingly he had brought his pistol up and taken three strides to his partner’s right into the centre of the room.

“With the First Lady’s testimony and given the dire state of the current circumstances, you are to be relieved of your duties immediately. Vice President Shrader will be sworn in, in your place at the earliest possible time and you will be placed under house arrest elsewhere in this facili...”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. John whipped an object out of his desk drawer, a small snub-nosed revolver.
Perhaps because it was the President, perhaps it was the location, but neither agent fired their weapon. Kennedy did. He didn’t even hesitate. Shouting a diatribe that was half lost in the deafening cracks of his gunfire, something about “treason” and “betrayal”, he squeezed the trigger three times. The first shot went low, hitting the agent in the left side of his chest toward the bottom of the ribs. Riding the uplift of the recoil, the second bullet went into the agent’s open mouth.
The third bullet winged the second agent fortunately deflecting and lodging inside the aluminium pipe of one of the flagpoles. The agent cursed, ignoring the searing pain in his right arm. Switching the pistol to his left, he and righted his aim, ready to shoot POTUS dead.

At the perfect moment, Karen Lavender appeared in the corridor behind them, sprinting into the room gun up. Ali thought she was there to back up her colleagues but it turned out she wasn’t. Karen didn’t even hesitate, reaction shooting two dumdum cut twenty-twos into the agent’s back. He staggered, took a step toward Wood’s body and then dropped, hitting the carpet alongside the other agent, the impact forcing a death rattle out of his shredded lungs.

Ali was panting heavily, her back pressed against the wall behind her. She felt queasy, lightheaded, the smell of gunpowder and blood thick in her nostrils, affecting her already flipping about stomach.
The female agent was also panting, after her, no doubt, desperate sprint. She holstered her pistol, staring over at Kennedy. The President casually slid his revolver back into the drawer of his desk.
He looked up, giving his saviour a strange look, grateful and hungry at the same time, he cast her his best smile. Ali watched her blush in response and smile back. She felt a tinge of jealousy that made her churning stomach even worse. She started thinking about going into the bathroom and throwing up. But that would mean having to pass by those two corpses.

“Have all my instructions been followed to the letter? Everyone is at their stations?”
“Yes sir.”
“Excellent. Good girl, Karen, you have done me proud. Now leave me here. Close the doors and go join Samantha, we need to keep those pilots happy, if were to make it back to the realm once this is all over. I will call you soon and reward you both properly.”
“Thank you very much, master.” Karen said, blushing deeply. “I look forward to it.”

Ali watched her leave the room, pulling the door closed behind her. And once again she was alone with President Kennedy. Still, she felt shaken up, freaked out by the gunfight. And couldn’t help but stare at the dead men, their seeping blood staining the carpet.

“Pay them no mind. I’ll have them thrown out an airlock later.”
“But… but why… why did they…?”
“One thing you never hear about in the media are all the attempted coups on the Presidency. It’s much more common that you might think. There are a lot of powerful men surrounding the big chair, and a lot of men with guns too. A bribe here, a bit of blackmail there, the odd honey trap. And you have armed agents taking their own President into custody. Before photography, where everyone knew what their president looked like, they used to use body doubles as puppets, told them what to say while the VP or a General, or Defence secretary rules the country from the shadows. Happens all the time. We have to be careful. And on full alert. Now, c’mere and let me have a look at you.”

As he spoke, standing in the middle of the room with the Presidential crest filling the negative space behind him, President Kennedy casually loosened his grip on his robe, allowing it to fall open again and reveal his naked and hairless torso beneath. All of those beautifully presented, slab-like muscles illuminated by the warm amber glow of the lamplight. His cock was already engorged, not fully hard but certainly far from flaccid. Thick and meaty and making Ali’s mouth water.
Smiling, she pushed off away from the wall, she held herself erect and slowly walked toward him, catwalk model style but in slow sensual motion.
She felt his eyes on her like spotlights, like sunbeams, heating her skin and making her feel as though she had become John’s whole universe in that one delicious moment.

“That’s one beautiful dress. Looks much better on you than on the First Lady. You definitely fill it better, my girl.”

She quivered at his use of ‘my girl’ she couldn’t hold back the smile. She felt so fucking sexy! Under his horny gaze, the mouthwatering desire and appreciation was stark on his face. It might as well have been tattooed across his furrowed brow.
The sexiness he infused into her flowed through her body, she couldn’t help it. She exuded it, like some invisible cloud that imbued desire in all who got too close. She had never felt as beautiful, or as sexy. And it was all down to him.
She could practically see a fiery glow behind his eyes. She made the mistake of glancing down and caught sight of his cock again. In that moment she felt herself become the cobra, and that dangerous shaft, straining with life and heat, with its one staring eye and the hood of its foreskin captured her utterly, she couldn’t pull her attention away. It was just so big, so delicious. It was making her mouth water. She felt mesmerised, literally incapable of looking away from it.

She stepped up to him, until they stood toe to toe, chest to ribs, craning her neck to stare up into that insurmountably handsome visage. His eyes dipped from hers and she knew he was staring hungrily into her cleavage. She felt herself blushing. Wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on her boobs. His hands moved, and her knees instantly turned to jelly with the anticipation, however he reached toward her crotch instead, working up through the buttons of the dress, up to her buckled waist belt.
As soon as he had removed the obstruction to her bare loins, he did something with his hips or maybe shuffled forward. Whatever he did, it allowed that large hot baton to slot itself into the little diamond of negative space between the tops of her thighs and her pulsing vulva. She let out a gasping moan at the sensation. It felt as though a shaft of hot iron had been inserted there. Some perverse medieval witch’s torture. But it was far from torturous.
She felt her pussy juice seeping from between her swollen lips. The drip connected them; a physical result of their mutual lust, and Ali was half surprised when she didn’t hear a reactionary hiss or rise of steam.
Still, she stared up into those blue eyes, expecting him to lean down and kiss her. A kiss she had dreamed of for a decade. His hands came up to her face, his cupped palms on her rosy cheeks. She smelled gunpowder and the sweet fruitiness scent of his shower gel, and his overt masculinity. His hands turned and slid into the curls of her blonde hair, tickling her ears, gripping more tightly.
And then he asserted pressure, an encouragement to get her to kneel. It was obvious what he was demanding, but he vocalised it anyway, even as she obediently went down onto her knees.

“You will suck me, Ali. I want you to suck me.”

She hadn’t been a slut in High School or College, not by a long shot. But she had not been any kind of prude either and she had sucked enough cock to work out a good technique that had her boyfriends climaxing in no time.
She started that way, wanting to show herself to John as someone who wanted, whole-heartedly, to give him as much pleasure as she possibly could. Firm suction and an over-active tongue were her best techniques. Maybe it wasn’t classed as expert level in knowledge or complexity, compared to a hooker or porn star, but she knew her methods brought about results.

Unfortunately, John didn’t really give her enough opportunity to prove herself. She was pursing her lips around the upper third of his shaft, flicking her tongue back and forth across the bulging underside and suckling firmly, while she bobbed her head up and down that drool coated upper third. But Kennedy was demanding more, and would not let her take the time to build up the layers of pleasure she knew how to build with her mouth.
His hands were still in her hair, but for the first minute or two it was just his fingers brushing through her tresses, fingertips massaging her scalp. But far too early he clenched her skull between his hands and took over, rapidly turning her blow job into him roughly face fucking her.

He held her skull tight and pulled her onto his shaft full on, impaling her on his cock. He pulled her deeper and deeper onto it. She spluttered and gagged, fluid filling her mouth, being forced back and forth by the plugging action of his thickness. Then bursting from her nose and breeching the seal of her lips, pouring down her chin and throat, coating her cleavage. His physicality grew animalistic, his nails digging into her scalp as he pulled her deeper still until, with a harsh squelching pop, that fat spongey mushroom forced its way into the bottleneck of her oesophagus.
Ali gagged terribly, her body desperately trying to eject the thick fleshy invader, but the President’s hands were superhuman, bear traps gripping her skull and keeping her utterly still, while his hips pressured more and more of that erection through the wide stretched ‘O’ of her lips, until his balls were halfway crushed against her chin, the pressure so much that her jaw muscles started to scream in protest.
He drew out the torture, grinding against her face, while her airway remained blocked, and overflowing saliva continued to pour from her lips. Eventually though he slid backward. Another popping reaction, as he freed himself from her throat seemed closer to a physical sensation that an audible one. But Ali only that realised afterward, she was too busy gulping down the overflow of her drool and sucking air into her lungs.
He showed her mercy for a minute or so, sliding back and forth across her tongue and keeping clear of her throat, while she obediently sucked. Ali gazed up at Kennedy with relief and gratitude. The expression of lust and pleasure all over his face and the horny fire in his eyes was all the reciprocation she required for her efforts and discomfort.
So then, brimming with desire for this man, she purposefully plunged her face forward once again, slamming his cock balls deep into her throat. He let out a surprised yet ecstatic groan, while she gleefully gulped on his meat and undulated her tongue against the thickly bulging underside, happy to sacrifice her own discomfort for his obvious pleasure.
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Urotsukidoji - Presidential Duties.