Presidential Contract
Copyright© 2025 by Teacherpetslut
Chapter 1
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1 - We meet the President of the US, Christine Walker, a proud blonde and a secret lesbian, in her 50s who is high strung and mighty, hears about the new program, EES, where you pay a company to bring you down a peg or 2 for a few days, and they can do anything and everything they wish to the subject and secretly signs up, she gets sent to the slums, where she gets handed off to a poor black little girl, where she humiliates and degrades the president, in perverse and disgusting ways!
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/ft Blackmail Slavery Lesbian Fiction BDSM FemaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Spanking Torture Interracial Black Female White Female Exhibitionism Masturbation Public Sex AI Generated
Christine Walker stepped into the nondescript office building on the outskirts of D.C., her heart pounding under the crisp white blouse and tailored pantsuit that screamed power. At 55, the President of the United States carried herself with the unyielding posture of someone who’d commanded nations, her blonde hair pulled into a severe bun, blue eyes sharp behind designer glasses. But beneath that facade, stress gnawed at her like a relentless itch. Secretly, she’d craved this—total surrender, the kind that stripped away every layer of control. The ad for ‘Ego Eradication Services’ had hooked her late one night, promising brutal humiliation tailored to shatter the mighty. No one knew she was here, not her aides, not her lovers. She was a lesbian who hid her submissive urges deep, but they festered, demanding release.
The receptionist, a stern woman in her forties with a clipboard, led her down a sterile hallway to a small consultation room. No flags, no pomp—just a metal desk, two chairs, and a flickering fluorescent light that buzzed like a swarm of doubts in Christine’s head. She sat, crossing her legs tightly, feeling the dampness already building between her thighs at the thought of what she might confess.
‘President Walker,’ the consultant said, entering with a file. The stainless-steel speculum felt colder than midterm polling numbers as Christine Walker signed the final waiver. Her Chief of Staff thought this was a discreet wellness retreat; the Secret Service detail remained blissfully unaware outside the nondescript D.C. office building. Across the mahogany desk, a consultant with unnervingly calm eyes slid a laminated menu across the polished surface. “Standard degradation protocols range from verbal humiliation to forced servitude,” he stated flatly, tapping a section titled ‘Demotion Realignment’. “But Section G requires particular ... enthusiasm.” Christine’s finger trembled slightly as it traced options involving soiled garments, public urination clauses, and the stark phrase ‘total anatomical exposure’. Her presidential signature, usually commanding nuclear codes, now authorized Appendix 3: ‘Consensual Defilement by Designated Civilian’.
She swallowed hard, the acidic tang of shame already pricking her tongue. “Appendix 3—the minor clause. Unsupervised transfer?” The consultant’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We partner with verified subcontractors in economically disadvantaged zones. Your handler will be a local resident.” Christine imagined polished marble corridors yielding to cracked pavement, the visceral shift from Air Force One to a bus reeking of stale sweat and desperation. Her request—forced to lick grime from bare feet, fed scraps like an animal—suddenly felt less like thrilling submission and more like swallowing broken glass. She initialed beside the subcontractor code SLM-BLK-F-9, the clinical notation belying the hurricane of degradation awaiting her.