The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Author’s note: This story takes place in a parallel universe where the two major 2000 US presidential candidates in this universe suffocated in their early thirties while trying to stick their heads up their asses. Thus, the election silliness of this year had no effect on the race. Moreover, this story takes place during a non-presidential year. Sorry that I didn’t mention this earlier.

The Candidate—Part 3 of 4

The morning of the final debate, Donna woke up with a hangover. It was something she was becoming accustomed to. Her new campaign manager, DeeDee, had very limited ideas about campaigning. Actually she had only one idea—drunken orgies in Donna’s ritzy home, all comers welcome. So that’s how she had spent the past three days and nights.

Not that she was complaining—she’d performed every sex act imaginable in that time, her favorites several times over. She was being the best slut she knew how to be and reveling in the fact.

She gazed down with bleary eyes at the buxom red-head that had passed out between her thighs last night and still lay there, nuzzling against her pussy. What DeeDee might lack in intelligence, she certainly made up for in style. She was still half-wearing the transparent gold dress from last night and her make-up was smeared all over Donna’s nether reasons.

It had been quite a week. One thing was sure—the Travers’ campaign had never gotten this much publicity before. The images of her coming-out party at the bar had run on all the local stations that night and been on the front page of The Globe and The Herald the next day. By the next evening, she had become a national news story with reporters flocking to her from all over the country and even overseas.

It had been a relatively dull election year, with every national candidate coached, primped, and trained to shy away from anything that smelled even slightly of controversy. Thus when Donna’s unique new campaigning style got their attention, the media descended like a plague of locusts.

Donna welcomed them with open arms. She’d always gotten a bit of a rush when the spotlight was on her, but now it felt much more intense—it made her giddy. Everyone wanted a piece of her. Some came anxious to receive her offer of sexual favors for registered voters; Others came for the free booze and the drugs that were a arriving with more and more frequency; Still others just came to watch in fascinated titillation.

And then there were those that came to protest. People from dozens of different groups across the political spectrum lined up in front of her house on a regular basis. They brought signs and yelled out things about Donna. Some of it Donna didn’t mind at all; She found that she enjoyed being called a slut-whore-bimbo-hussy-tart. After all, pleasing her pussy had become her primary purpose and she took pride in how well she was pulling it off.

But the protesters also said mean and hurtful things as well. How did they know who was going to hell, anyway? She wouldn’t be surprised if God Himself wanted a piece of her. When she pointed out this possibility, the minister who led one group fell to his knees and started pleading with Heaven to strike her down. Donna wished the man would just let her blow him—he obviously needed it badly.

Donna really didn’t understand why some people were so upset. Oh sure, she knew that what she was doing wasn’t exactly in keeping with the societal norm for someone of her status, but it was so much fun and felt so damned good that anyone objecting to it struck her as funny. When feminist leaders accused her of letting herself be exploited or clergymen condemned her for deviance, Donna’s inevitable response was an uncontrollable fit of the giggles followed by another crashing wave of arousal.

More incensed than the feminists or the moralists were the leaders of her party. The Democrats had sent a delegation to demand an explanation of her behavior and ask her to withdraw from the race in favor of another candidate. The delegation consisted of two congressmen who had been the first to encourage her to run for senate and the Massachusetts Secretary of State Connie Espinoza.

They had insisted on meeting privately in Donna’s home office, away from the circus of press and perverts that most of Donna’s home had become. Donna immediately saw that she could work this to her advantage. The candidate had become very adept in the past few days of recognizing potential targets for seduction. Connie might act uptight and irate, but Donna was aware of the looks she kept steeling of her body.

Donna had let the secretary of state work herself into such an indignant frenzy that she could hardly speak, then she pounced on her. The embarrassed woman made half-hearted protests but did nothing to stop the over-sexed blonde woman from kissing her, fondling her, and eventually stripping her of her pants and gleefully eating her out. By that time she was moaning and begging her to continue.

As predicted, the congressmen didn’t object. Donna knew from the start that they hadn’t joined the delegation out of any sense of moral outrage. They had just wanted an excuse to come see her. And if Donna had learned anything in the past few days, it was that boys like to watch. They were both rock hard and ready for her by the time she left Connie as a quivering mass of half naked flesh.

Donna stretched and smiled at the memory. This was so much fun! The hangover was already passing, replaced as always with an intense feeling of wellbeing.

She saw that it was 1:30—five and a half hours until she debated Wilson. Better pick out a dress and see if she could get in a quicky or six before then.

She sat up and noticed how sticky was. Jism again? Well, here and there, but mostly it was lime jello. Donna giggled, remembering. The jacquzi would never be the same again, but it was worth it.

She gave DeeDee’s head a playful squeeze with her thighs and the red-head instinctively started lapping, eventually coming fully awake and smiling up at Donna with her big, vacant green eyes.

“Wash me?” asked the blonde after enjoying her new campaign manager’s ministrations. DeeDee cheerfully agreed and they scampered gleefully to the shower, their naked breasts bouncing. Several of the partiers who were sprawled about Donna’s home groaned at the girls giggling, not having recovered as well from the night’s festivities. Thank God for DeeDee, thought Donna. She seemed to be the only one capable of keeping up with her. It was like the two were made to party.

Tom also seemed to easily recover from the nightly debauchery, although truth be told he was not interested in partying himself as much as he was in egging on Donna. Donna didn’t need any encouragement to attempt satiating her lust with every available partner, but she wasn’t quite so keen on participating in all the booze and drugs that now seemed to flow through her home on a nightly basis. It seemed, however, that Tom delighted in getting her completely smashed. And Donna just couldn’t say no to him. Something about him was just so...compelling.

The reporter spent all of his time at Donna’s house now, having claimed one of the guest rooms and a space in the garage for his van. He was in the kitchen reading the paper when the two giggling women flounced downstairs clad in nothing but big fluffy towels.

The headline of the globe read:


Candidate’s Support Dissipates as Hedonism Escalates

“Oh poop!” Donna pouted. “Why is the press being so mean to me, Tom? I must have sucked off half a dozen reporters last night alone! And where are they taking these polls? Almost everyone I’ve fucked in the past week says they’re going to vote for me. You’d think that was a representative sample!”

“Well, Donna,” explained Tom, “the press has to have their own little bias. The like to maintain the status quo—it makes their job a lot easier. By embracing sluthood, you’re being a revolutionary, forcing a paradigm shift as it were. Some of the more conservative elements are bound to be resistant. But keep on doing what you’re doing and I know you can win them over!”

Donna giggled. That made sense she supposed. And not all of the papers were being mean. The Weekly World News had done a separate feature on her boobies alone, although she didn’t know were they got the idea that her breasts had started to grow after having sex with aliens. Of course, she had been stoned when she did the interview.

“So Tommy-tom-tom,” said Donna, working a hand up his thigh, “Up for a little game of hide the sausage?”

Tom put down his paper and looked at her pointedly.

“Oh Donna, you can’t have sex before your debate with Wilson. That would be entirely to distracting! No, I’m afraid I must insist that you keep your knees together until after the debate.”

“But...” Donna objected, her heart racing in panic, “But that’s not until tonight! I can’t go that long without fucking! I just can’t!”

“You can and you will,” insisted Tom, “Come now, Donna, you’re a grown woman with a distinguished public career. Surely you have enough self restraint to put off your own needs for a few hours. Now go up stairs and pick out a nice sexy dress for the cameras tonight.”

He turned her towards the stairway by her bare shoulders and then swatted her ass to send her on her way. He sent DeeDee to help her.

“But just with close and make up,” he enjoined, “Keep your mouth and fingers to yourself.”

Donna trudged upstairs. She couldn’t go that long. But disobeying Tom felt so wrong. Donna heard him chuckling as she went upstairs. He could be so mean some times. She didn’t know why she was so devoted to him.

The two women decided that red was the color to go with. It looked good on television and it looked great on Donna. After several tries, they decided on a tiny, skin-tight lycra microdress. Donna was happy to see that her nipples were plainly visible through the tight fabric.

To the dress, they added thigh-high white stockings and little red pumps with five-inch heals. DeeDee blew and brushed her hair to a massive mane, meticulously overdid her make up to match her dress, and added some big red plastic hoops to her ears. The master work complete, Donna applauded DeeDee and she made mock curtsies and bows.

God the red-head looked cute. Just a quicky—Tom would never know.

But before Donna could even finish her proposition, there was a disapproving noise at the door and Tom was waving a finger in reprimand. Donna blushed, bit her lip, and looked down. Damn.

At Tom’s insistence, Donna went down to the living room to practice her closing statement. Thus, she got a good view of her bodyguard methodically removing the party guests who hadn’t made it out on their own yet. The company that had provided her with Jeff had proven insufficient for her current needs, what with the zoo that her home had become and the rabid protesters. Luckily, one of the local strip clubs had recently closed down and Donna was able to snatch up several of the unemployed bouncers.

They were big, burly men who, at Donna’s request, dressed uniformly in tight black T-shirts, khakis, and boots. Watching them man-handle her over-staying guests out of her home was making her incredibly hot. She’d be crazy with lust by the debate. What was Tom thinking?

“Now don’t be nervous, Donna” said Tom as they rode in a rented limo to the debate.

“I’m not nervous, silly,” giggled the candidate, “I’m good at this! And Wilson’s a big old wanker. I’m going to look so good on TV in this dress that everybody in the state is going to be coming in their pants!”

“I don’t know, Donna. You look great, but you seem a bit nervous,” Tom insisted.

Donna bit her lip. It felt bad to contradict Tom, but she knew she wasn’t nervous.

“What I am,” she said in a low voice, “Is randy. Do you think you or DeeDee could...”

The blonde woman pulled up the tight skirt of her tiny dress to reveal her swollen, neglected pussy. DeeDee perked up expectantly but Tom slapped the blonde woman’s hand and pulled her skirt down perfunctorily.

“There’s plenty of time for that after the debate,” he chided.

“But it’s been hours,” Donna whined. “I’m so horny I could die!”

“You’re just nervous,” insisted Tom. “Here, take this.”

He shook out a little pill from a container in his pocket and handed it to her. Donna stared at it.

“What is it?” she asked, hesitant. Tom had been giving her various little pills all weekend, most of which had knocked her for a loop.

“Just a little something to calm you down. Here, wash it down with this.”

He poured her a glass of champagne. She sighed in resignation and took both.

The debate took place in the studios of WBUR, the local NPR station moderating, with news analyst Bruce Gellerman moderating. There was a small audience of about 200 people—the tickets had been distributed some weeks before, but had changed hands several times on the streets since then, the current scalper price being close to $80. Donna looked out at the crowd, all of them so anxious to see her; All of them wanting to fuck her. God, she hoped this was over quick.

The first thing she did was lower the podium. She wanted to lean forward to the mike and make sure everyone got a good view of her marvelous cleavage. She wanted everyone ready by the time the debate was over. No foreplay tonight.

Wilson arrived. The pudgy, gray-haired, gray-faced man was as sweaty and repulsive as ever. Donna wanted to rip his close off and take him right their on the stage. He would to—she could see that he was already sporting a woody for her. But she knew that they would stop her before she could get any relief. And Tom had said she had to wait until the debate was over.

And then the spotlights of the studio started to sparkle and turn a rosy pink. The whole world seemed to be glowing pink. A wave of giddiness rushed through the candidate and then her head started to slowly float away from her shoulders, lolling from one side to another. Donna distantly realized that Tom’s pill had taken effect. Well she certainly wasn’t nervous now! She giggled softly to herself.

The format was typical—Gellerman would ask a series of questions and each candidate would have ninety seconds to address it. The news analyst took his seat. Mercy he was gorgeous.

“Hi cutie!” Donna addressed the moderator and licked her lips hungrily.

“Uh, Hi....” he said, blinking, swallowing and shifting in his seat. Oh yeah, he wanted her. Donna started to rub her crotch, her hand hidden behind the podium.

Gellerman introduced the two candidates. He described Donna’s career as a lawyer, her accomplishments when her late husband was mayor, and her extensive public activism since, but he completely neglected her admittedly brief but absolutely spectacular career as slut and party queen. Mrs. Travers was upset. Surely he knew.

The radio man read the first question: “What role, if any, should the federal government play in public education?”

“The federal government needs to minimize its involvement in our children’s schools,” responded Senator Wilson. “Local school boards need to have autonomy. That way parents can have the most control over what their children are taught and the schools will reflect the values of the local community and not the whims of some federal official. I support legislation that would dissolve the office of the Secretary of Education and restore control to parents. I think the example of former Surgeon General Jocelyn Elders shows the danger of Washington bureaucrats being out of touch with American values. If Dr. Elders had her way, they’d be teaching masturbation in the schools right now. It shouldn’t be the role of the federal government to teach our children about sex.”

Donna snorted and giggled, knowing that Wilson could see her stroking herself. She responded.

“Well somebody’s got to, ‘cause if the kids today are like the kids I grew up with, they don’t know fuck about fucking! <giggle> You should have seen my date for the junior prom—he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He spent all that money on me and then completely botched it up once he got me in the back of the limo. I slept with him a dozen times during high school and never came even once! I had to sneak my mom’s vibrator after every date! And Jimmy had the nerve to say it was my fault, since his old girlfriend always used to come. But I just know she was faking it. Hey Jimmy! How you like me now?”

Donna wiggled her breasts at the camera and made an exaggerated kiss at the camera, then giggled.

The moderator shifted in his seat. Oh yeah—he wanted her bad. They all did. So many gorgeous, fuckable people in the audience. How much longer did she have to wait?

Next question: How open should America’s borders be and what immigration legislation would you support?

Travers: “We should never forget that we are a country of immigrants. Many of the things that make America great are the result of the unique qualities of our immigrants. What would we do without the French kiss or the French tickler? <giggle> And there is so much more in foreign countries that the U.S. can benefit from. After all, a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant could never have written the Kama Sutra. Hell, if it wasn’t for immigration, we’d all be a bunch of Puritans and nobody would be getting laid! So I say, open the boarders! Let the world share in the bounty and the booty that America has to offer and let us in turn partake in all that our foreign friends want to share with us.”

Oh yeah, she nailed that one. She turned to Wilson, stuck her tongue out, raised her skirt and wiggled her pussy at Wilson, concealed from all others by the podium. The man’s eyes bugged out and he stammered something about protectionism.

Gellerman next asked: “Do you support the military action of the current administration and under what conditions would you support the president in declaring war?”

Wilson droned on, but Donna didn’t pay attention. The drug in her system was overwhelming her. She giggled and started massaging one of her tits as she rubbed her crotch with the other. She was vaguely aware of the stir this was causing among the audience. The moderator had to call her name several times before she realize it was her turn to speak.

“I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

“The military” said an exasperated Gellerman.

“Oooohh!” said Donna. “I like the military! A bunch of sailors came to my house on Tuesday. God they were hot! And they just kept coming! <giggle> Once I’m elected, I intend to make the moral of all the men and women in uniform one of my chief priorities!”

And so the debate continued. Donna’s answer to everything was sexual. When asked about the same sex unions now being certified in Vermont, she went to great lengths to describe how much she enjoyed licking pussy, When asked about race relations, she talked about all the different ethnicities she’d screwed in the past week. As the drug continued to work through her system, however, she mostly tended to giggle, distracted by the shiny spot light which she kept staring into until colored spots filled her vision.

The debate over, Wilson fled the press. The man never gave press conferences. Donna, however, was glad to stay and talk. All those microphones—she had become very fond of microphones lately. She tried to answer the questions shouted out at her, but she kept being overcome with more fits of the giggles. Finally, Tom and DeeDee arrived to steer her toward the exit.

Donna floated toward the limo, stopping from time to time whenever they passed a particularly good-looking person to hit on. Tom insisted that they leave though. Big meany. She was so hot!

At the limo, Tom told her that he and DeeDee were going to take a cab and that the limo would take her home. She had hoped they both would do her in the car, but couldn’t manage to even ask why. She just giggled and got in.

Far back in the limo, away from any cameras, was a fat man in a trench coat with a large hat and a scarf concealing his face. Donna was happy to see that she had a potential playmate. The door closed and locked, the limo started off, and the man removed his outer garments.

It was Senator Wilson. The pudgy man was smiling a smile that Donna knew well as his eyes licked her up and down, finally rooting themselves on her cleavage.

“Hello Mrs. Travers!” he said to her boobs.

“Senator Wilson!” giggled his opponent, “What are you doing here?”

The man swallowed hard.

“Well, ah, I was told that you might...need something...from me.”

“You mean you wanna fuck?” asked Donna, her eyes widening.

The senator nodded vigorously. Donna jumped on him. She was soooo horny! The senator’s pudgy hands were all over her. Between licks and giggles, Donna worked at getting the man’s pants off. After quite a struggle, at last she had him stripped to the waste. Her face fell.

Oh well, she thought, any small port in a storm.

The next day, Donna was summoned to court. The Democratic party wanted to have her declared incompetent and replace her candidacy with another. It was too late to reprint the ballot, but Democratic lawyers argued that if she was committed, they could let it be known that a vote for Travers would count towards the election of Terrance Whitehead.

By the time she got to court, however, Donna was sober and had spent the night and morning satiating herself, so she was quite lucid, even eloquent. Her former law experience allowed her to deftly prove the unconstitutionality of their proposal and the judge ruled in her favor. As he explained, there is no law prohibiting sexual activity among consenting adults and Mrs. Travers was clearly in control of her faculties and not a danger to herself or others. Disappointed, the Democrats still officially withdrew all support of the Travers campaign and started a half-hearted write-in campaign, knowing full well that most voters were to lazy to vote for someone whose name they actually had to write.

It was two days after the debate and Donna, DeeDee and Tom were in Donna’s living room watching CNN and doing tequila shots every time someone said ‘family values’. The phone rang, as it was want to do, although they seldom answered it and this was no exception. When the machine picked up, Donna recognized Susan’s voice.

“Donna!” she said, not sounding at all angry, but quite frightened. “Donna, if you’re there, please pick up. I think you’re in danger.”

This got the tipsy threesomes attention, though Tom indicated that they should just listen and the two ladies, of course, complied.

“Please call me as soon as you get this, Donna,” Susan continued. “I’m sorry that I got so mad. It’s not your fault but I think I know whose making you act like this. It’s that reporter—the one from the internet site. I think he’s doing something to you. Drugging you or something. It all started just after he showed up. And he was there at the bar. And I saw him with you on TV at the debate.”

“You have to get away from him, Donna. Please. He’s going to ruin you. I’m at my mother’s house in Vermont. You remember. Come out here as soon as you can. No, wait. You probably shouldn’t drive. Call me and I’ll come get you. Please, Donna. It’s important. I...I care about you very much. Call me.”


Donna was confused. Why didn’t Susan like Tom? He was so nice, so smart, so deliciously hung. But she had changed since she met him. She couldn’t deny that. She liked the changes, but she had wondered about where they came from, at least when she was sober. Could Susan be right?

“Iss that right?” she asked the man with the bushy moustache. “Did you make me a big slut?”

For some reason, this question sent DeeDee into a fit of giggles so violent that she fell off the bed. The reporter scowled at her, then turned to Donna with a cat-like smile.

“Don’t be silly, Donna.” he said, “You’ve always been a slut. You just didn’t realize it. You were like a little seed, just waiting for the sun to shine on you so that you could blossom into the bimbo that nature made you! How could I possibly have made you into something that you naturally are?”

“Why, for me to be able to create a device that could cause major remodeling of the cerebral cortex while simultaneously hyperstimulating the mamotrophic cells of the pituitary and precisely stimulate endocrinal activity to maximize the libido while inducing profound euphoria, I’d have to be some sort of god-damned genius.”

Donna stared at him through a tequila haze. “Huh?”

“If I was that smart, why would I be working as a reporter and living out of my van? That’s just crazy.”

“Yeah, I guess thas kinda crazy,” agreed Donna. “Poor Susan. Too many years without fucking. I guess it finally got to her. I wish that I could help her. She’d be so mush happier if she jus’ got laid once in a while.”

“Donna, you’re right!” exclaimed Tom. “You’re absolutely right! You’re the genius here!”

“I am?” she asked with confused pride.

“Yes, you are! Susan needs to learn to be a slut just like you,” he declared.

“But...but she doesn’ wanna be a slut. She doesn’ even want me t’be a slut,” Donna objected.

“Oh, she’s just a little confused about what she wants, Donna,” explained the reporter. “She’s a little bit crazy—you said so yourself. But I think I can explain things to her, if we can just get her to listen. Yes, that’s exactly what we need to do. We’ll get her here and I’ll have a nice long talk with her.”

“But we can’t let her know I’m here just yet, can we Donna. She has an irrational fear of me. No, you need to have her come like she’s going to take you to Vermont, then when she gets here, I’ll explain things to her and I guarantee she’ll be fucking anything that moves after that.”

Donna listened on as Tom elaborated his plan. As he explained, she was wracked with conflicting thoughts and emotions, all of them muted by the alcohol in her system. On one hand, the idea of Susan being a slut made her incredibly horny and the idea of being with her again, both as friend and as lover, sent a warm flush through her.

But on the other hand, how could Tom just talking to Susan make her realize how wonderful it was to be slutty when Donna’s own stellar example had just made her angry. Clearly Susan didn’t want to be a slut. Could Tom make her one anyway? And if he could, was that right?

Questions of morality began to awaken in Donna’s mind—questions she hadn’t asked herself since that night in South Carver. Tom wanted her to lie to her friend. And he wanted her to do other things. Something powerful told her to trust the man, but she just wasn’t sure anymore. Breaking social mores was one thing, but betraying a friend, even if it was for her own good... She felt the faint stirrings of guilt, an emotion she had thought she was rid of forever. She grabbed the bottle of tequila and did her best not to think about it.

Donna sat alone in the front of her home, the morning light streaming through her window. None of the reporters were there—they were used to no one in the house stirring before noon.

This was the first morning in days that Donna had seen the sunrise. Tom had called off the nightly party, much to everyone’s chagrin, and had kept her somewhat sober while they prepared for Susan’s visit.

Donna heard the car pull up. Susan. She must have left her mother’s at four in the morning and driven like a bat out of hell to be here now. She really did care about Donna. Guilt made another assault on the candidate’s euphoric fortress.

Susan knocked, and Donna made her way to the door. She had made an effort to dress more conservatively for Susan’s sake. She wore a fuzzy pink lamb’s wool sweater. It was tight with a plunging neckline, but it did cover her navel. Her black leather miniskirt extended a good four inches beneath her crotch and the heals on her pink pumps were a modest three inches.

She left the matching pink handbag on the coffee table.

She opened the door. Susan stood before her, the tiny brunette dressed in jeans and sweatshirt, her short dark hair disheveled. She looked haggard, as if her suffering had only increased since parting Donna’s company.

The former campaign manager’s face visibly relaxed when Donna opened the door, then resumed a look of furtive suspicion as she scanned the room beyond her blonde friend.

“Are you alone, Donna?” she asked.

“Yes,” the politician lied, “Nobody here but me.”

I can’t do this, she thought.

“Oh God, Donna, I’m so glad you called me back!” exclaimed Susan. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’ve missed you to, Susan. I’ve missed you a lot,” said Donna, giving her friend an awkward and tentative hug which was hesitantly returned.

“I...I packed a bag,” said Donna. “Why don’t you come in while I get it.”

“Then you’ll come with me?” exclaimed the small woman. “Oh Donna, I’m so glad!”

Donna sucked her lower lip, nodded, then retreated into her home, her friend following, closing the door behind her after a cautious look for watchers outside.

She left the duffel bag on the floor and went for the pink hand bag. Tom would be upset if she didn’t do this. He was watching there in the coat closet. She didn’t want to upset Tom. She had to do this, didn’t she?

“Everything will be all right now, Donna,” said Susan “I just know it. We’ll hide out at my mom’s and you’ll get better. Whatever he’s done to you will wear off. You’ll be just fine.”

Donna shook her head.

“Susan, I still don’t understand why you think I’m sick. I feel great! Really, I think if you got to know Tom you’d like him. And you’d see that he’s not doing anything bad to me. He’ s helped me understand things about myself. I don’t know why, but I trust him.”

Trust. Like Susan trusted Donna. The candidate shuddered.

“Donna,” sighed Susan. “What’s important now is that we’re going to Vermont. We’ll have a nice vacation and we can talk all about it.”

The small woman stepped close and looked deep into her friends blue eyes.

“You are coming with me, aren’t you Donna? You seem hesitant.”

The blonde woman shuddered, wracked with indecision, her hand in her purse, clutching.

“Do it, you stupid slut!” shouted Tom, throwing the closet door open.

Susan turned. Donna acted.

Susan stared, dumbstruck, at the syringe in her thigh. She looked at Donna with a cacophony of emotions in her eyes as she felt the potent drug rush through her system.

“Oh my God, Donna!” she cried in desperation. “What have you done?”

She tried to back away but stumbled forward when her leg did not respond, falling forward into Donna who automatically caught held of her and held her tight, helping her stand. Susan’s head lolled against Donna’s large breasts and she leaned heavily into her as all of her muscles surrendered to the drug. Donna stared at her friend in utter confusion and tears began to well up in her eyes at her friend’s plight.

“Why, Donna...Why?” whispered Susan. “I love you...”

Then the former campaign manager’s eyes rolled back into her head and she slowly slid down Donna’s body to lie in an unconscious sprawl on the floor.

Donna stared down at the woman at her feet, not knowing what to do. Not knowing what to think. She had to do it, didn’t she? It was for the best...wasn’t it?

She looked to Tom for reassurance that she had done the right thing.

The tall man was grinning broadly, a predatory gleam in his eye.

“So much for the wonder-bitch” he chuckled, pushing Donna out of the way and bending over to roughly yank the syringe from Susan thigh and unceremoniously heft the tiny woman over his shoulder.

“I...I had to do it, didn’t I Tom?” Donna stammered. “It was the only way...wasn’t it?”

“Of course you had to do it, you silly slut!” declared Tom without a hint of kindness. You have to do everything you’re told like the good little whore that you are. And next time I tell you do do something, you do it immediately! The bitch could have gotten away!”

Tears flowed freely now. What was happening to her? Nothing made sense anymore. She felt deliriously happy while at the same time being awash with grief and guilt. She trusted Tom with all her heart, but he was so mean!

And Susan. Oh, Susan! Love?

Tom snorted. Then his face softened a little.

“Oh don’t look so glum, my little trollop. Your would-be savior will be awake in a few hours and then I’ll have a little talk with her and explain everything. She won’t be mad at you once she understands things. Trust me—she’ll thank you!”

Donna gave him a fragile smile of hope at the words of comfort, in response to which he cackled cruelly and gleefully shuttled his burden upstairs. Donna bit her lower lip and shuddered.

To Be Concluded.