Scarlett had been a shy and introverted girl before her mother had brought her to the White House three months ago but the trauma she had suffered on election night had built a shell around her and she hadn’t said a single word to anyone since she had lost her virginity. Had it not been for her screams and her crying she would have not made a single sound, save the panic pleads that fell on deaf ears as the surgeon general removed her clitoris on the orders of President Samuel Millhouse Milford. Her life in the months that passed had turned into a living hell and her new goal in life was to avoid torture and pain as she looked for a means and a time to escape, either by running away or through suicide. She did what she was told without objection in an effort to avoid more pain. When the First Lady ordered her to eat her out, Scarlett did her best out of the desire to avoid the tortures that had become a constant part of her life. She didn’t complain when the Samuel ordered her to eat out her mother. All she did was scream from the pain when his fat son Greg stuck his cock in her ass without hesitation of lubrication. The men and women of the White House had taken out their frustrations and sadistic pleasures on the teen since her arrival and she had grown accustomed to it. In the months since Election Day she had programmed herself to please others as fast as humanly possible. Her life had broken down to one firm principle, to please others in an effort to avoid the pain that came with disobedience. And so, when her guard woke her up early Thursday morning and told her that the President had a special guest for her to entertain; she went through the motions without complaint. She took her shower, she shaved her legs, pits, and pussy, she put on her make-up in the manner that the president enjoyed, and she dressed in the clothes that had been set out for her. Months ago she was a virgin, months ago a man had never seen her in her underwear, let alone completely naked, but now she was accustomed to men watching her every move and hardly batted an eye as her guards watched her in the shower, and watched her again as she put on the garter belt, black stockings, and heels that had been waiting for her on the bed. She hated finding clothes like this set out for her; it meant that she was going to spend another day pleasuring some old man and possibly his wife. She was under constant supervision, no doubt because the powers that be were well aware that she was a flight and suicide risk. Her mother, who was dressed the same, was waiting outside Scarlett’s room and the pair walked dutifully behind the guards as they made their way back to the Oval Office. Scarlett’s bond with her mother was once unbreakable; she had once loved the woman like no one else in her life. Now she hated her beyond hate, partially because she had left her alone in the White House as she went to film another movie, but mainly because of the joy she obviously felt whenever Scarlett was tortured and defiled in front of her. She hated how her mother got wet when the two of them were told to fondle one another, and hated how her mother would squirt as she came whenever Scarlett was told to eat her out. Scarlett and her mother walked slowly into the Oval Office and knelt patiently by the door. They were little more than harem slaves now, or to be exact, Colleen was little more than a harem slave; Scarlett was a harem slave and absolutely nothing more. But this wasn’t an oddity, not in the least. Two generations ago James Milford and his son had successfully ran a campaign in the senate to take away women’s voting rights, then their right to own property, followed by a ban that kept girls out of school, a redefinition of rape, and by the time they were finished, the typical American woman was little more than a slave, first to their parents, then to their husband. It was only the fact the Colleen had gotten her into the movies that Scarlett was able to read and write and had previously enjoyed freedoms that were far from the norm. There were two new people in the room, two faces that Scarlett had yet to see. The first was a man around the same age as the president. He was an enormously fat man with a balding head and thick glasses. He wore a pinstriped blue suite that stretched to cover his massively obese body. He was clearly a captain of industry, Scarlett knew the type, she had met many men just like him since she came to the White House. Beside him knelt a slender young woman in her twenties with short black hair and small breasts. She was dressed in a tight leather corset, leather-t-back panties, and thigh-high black leather boots. The iron collar sealed around her neck, and the iron shackles around her wrists told Scarlett that she was the property of one of the two men, most likely the elder. The second man, however, stood out like a sore thumb. He was in his thirties, about the same age as the middle-aged men that Scarlett had grown used to seeing in the White House. He also had a fair amount of facial hair, not exactly a beard, but the scruff that came from going days without shaving. His red hair was tangled and unkept, and though her was dressed in a suit and tie, his clothes were wrinkled and hung off of him as if he had lost a lot of weight and fairly quickly. He wore boots rather than dress shoes, and the boots were scuffed, and looked as if he had only just cleaned them and had yet to find the time to give them a proper polishing. He was a big, but not yet fat, with heavy bags under his eyes and every inch of him gave Scarlett the idea that he had been on the road and traveling under far less than the luxurious conditions most of the President’s guests enjoyed. She was taken with him instantly, smitten at how unusual he looked. Here was a man that Scarlett had instantly associated with an air of mystery. President Milford was deep into his usual diatribe about how he got his start in politics managing the now world famous Cowboy Tavern. He didn’t associate his success in politics with his famous family, but rather with the skills he had acquired managing the nation’s first legal white slave brothel. It had made him accustomed to dealing with foreign politicians and taught him a great deal about human nature. The connections he made there, dealing with the world’s elite, had given him the first opportunity to enter the world as a political powerhouse in the character of his relatives. “Come over here Scarlett,” he ordered, snapping his fingers. “She’s the daughter of Colleen Soss,” he added as he patted the desk, bidding her to take a seat. “I’m sure you’ve heard of her, she’s the property of Worthington Studios and one of their biggest stars.” “I know she’s not collared,” Samuel said as he stood up from his chair and walked over to the teen, “But she is a movie star after all, or she will be.” He spread Scarlett’s legs apart, “You see this, I had her clit removed,” he parted her pussy lips, “I’m thinking about making it a new law for women. It’ll keep them from straying like a neutered dog; it will keep them submissive to their owners.” “Well that is a novel idea,” the older man said as he leaned forward to get a closer look at Scarlett’s pussy. “She’s a pretty little thing, just like her mother.” “I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Get over here Colleen.” He smiled as Colleen hurried to his side. “Colleen, I’d like you to meet Andre Cowen, and Mr. Rick O’Connell of the National Press. Excuse Ricks appearance, he had a fairly adventurous trip over here.” “It’s a pleasure,” Rick said as he stood up and shook Colleen’s hand. Scarlett had never seen anything like this before. Rick caught the disapproving look on Samuel’s face and quickly took his hand away. “I’m sorry sir, I’ve been away from America too long, and I guess I’ve made some bad habits.” “They will be staying with us, Andrea is the former chairmen of the Federal Reserve and my new economic advisor and Rick, well, Rick is going to document my time in the White House and write my life’s story. I want you both to make sure that their stay here is as pleasant as they can possibly be.” Andre simply ignored Colleen, as most men did when meeting women. He turned his gaze back to Scarlett. “You look like a young cunt. How many movies have you been in?” He fondled one of the teen’s breasts and she couldn’t help but shake with disgust. She hated being touched, especially when men as old as Andre and Uncle Sam touched her. “Three, master.” Scarlett didn’t look at Andre as she spoke; she kept her face to the ground. She had been schooled to call men “master,” from a young age unless told otherwise. She had always hated it, especially when she was a girl and had to address boys younger than her as “master.” They were the first words that she had spoken since she lost her virginity, but it had also been the first direct question that anyone had asked her since Election Day. Samuel grinned, obviously happy that Scarlett had caught the eye of his new economic advisor so readily. “Why don’t you take her up to your room for the night, Andre, we can continue this discussion later.” “I believe I’d enjoy that.” Andre said as he grabbed a handful of Scarlett’s hair and yanked her off the table. “Get a move on, bitch.” “I’m sure that the front lines have given you blue balls just as I am that you’d enjoy fucking one of America’s most beautiful starlets.” “I’d think I’d enjoy that.” Scarlett looked over her shoulder and caught the sight of her mother as she grabbed Rick’s tie and pulled him close. She gave the young reported a long deep kiss. She was disappointed to see the new stranger so readily take the President up on his offer to fuck her mother. Scarlett had, at least for the moment, believed that this man would be different, that at the least he would be gentle and considerate of a woman’s feelings. She knew deep down that he was raised in the same culture as all the other men that she had met in her short life, but there was still something about Rick that had made her think that he would be different.