Trained to submit

“What’s the matter, did you forget something in here?” Fidel was puzzled, looking around the room, empty except for the furniture. The door closed behind them.

“I want to thank you personally before I leave.”

He was about to say that it wasn’t necessary when the words stuck in his throat. She had kneeled down in front of him and her hands were already working on his belt and zipper. He said nothing as her hands moved with skill, his pants around his ankles, his shorts quickly following. His hands lifted her head up, ready to ask her not to when he saw her mouth, her silky lips opened wide in an oval, her hands gripping his cock only inches from her face. He felt her hot breath on his cock and no words came out of his mouth. Only the sound of pleasure when her hot, tight mouth engulfed the head of his cock, her tongue instantly going to work on him.

His hand was guiding her head back and forth as she tried to please him, tasting his essence in her mouth as her tongue raced over the helmet of his cock. One hand slipped beneath her skirt and into her panties, rubbing her wet pussy while her mouth continued to work her magic on his cock. It was big and strong, just like El Presidente should be. And demanding, his head holding her tight, but she began to enjoy it, letting her fingers masturbate freely while he used her for his pleasure. It gave her a perverse thrill to be taken by such a powerful man.

They both came together, Fidel attempting to pull his cock out of her mouth when he was ready to cum, but she would have none of it, only sucking harder. His cum jetted into her mouth, her body shaking, mumbled cries of pleasure from her lips as she came with him. Their orgasms seemed to last for hours, her mouth never tiring, her hand never stopped moving beneath her skirt. They finally pulled away from each other, no words spoken or expected. But he always remembered the look of contentment on her face, her lips glistening with his cum as her tongue came out and licked off the last traces from her lips into her welcoming mouth.

Fidel came back to reality, the story now just another memory. “I put her on the airplane that night, never to see her again, though I did follow her life, including your birth. I was sorry to hear of her death from such a senseless automobile accident. I regret never seeing her again, but our lives took us in different directions that would have made it impossible to meet. And then there came about this chance meeting of her daughter, unable to pass up this opportunity, afraid of living the rest of my life with two missed opportunities.” He looked up at Monika for the first time since he started the story. Her face was flushed.

“I’m sorry, was the story too risqué for you? I know it’s hard to imagine your mother as such a beautiful, sexual woman, but there is no other way to tell the story that it would do it justice.” Maybe he shouldn’t have told her the story.

“NO! NO!” Monika could barely speak. Not from the shock of hearing of her mother. It was the arousal. She had never been so aroused as she was now. It was almost as if Monika had lived through the whole thing as he was talking, her eyes catching every word that came out of his mouth, feeling everything that happened to her mother. Feeling everything she had done, the cigar in her mouth a poor substitute for a thick cock. “It’s not that. The story aroused me.” She wasn’t sure she should say that, but she felt a special bond with him. As though they were once lovers.

“I didn’t know that I was that good of a storyteller?” Fidel was surprised at her confession. Most people would have feigned shock at the story.

“It’s the story and the way your heart was in it. I could see it in your eyes as you told it. You were reliving it vividly. That is so special. And I almost felt I was there.”

His cock was hard, her moving lips reminding Fidel of her mother’s lips on his cock. “It’s almost as if it were happening again each time I tell it.” He quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about yourself. I have followed your growing up, but tell me of the real Monika.”

She felt so relaxed and comfortable with him, in spite of him being the President of Cuba. They had a bond that connected them, her mother, each holding special memories of her. Monika told him more than she had ever told anyone of herself, even the most intimate details of her life. It was as though they had been friends for decades, not hours, almost like a best girlfriend. She puffed on her cigar, another glass of wine magically appearing, the servant disappearing as though he had never been there. The more she sipped the wine, the more comfortable she got.

Fidel was impressed of her knowledge, especially of his own country. She was very opinionated, both of them clashing at times about the role the government should play in the lives of the people. But neither got angry or tried to push their opinion on the other, both of them allowing for differing sides. He glanced at his watch, noticing that two hours had passed.

She saw him look at his watch. “I’m keeping you.” She started to stand up, but he waved her back down.

“I have never been so enthralled by someone since I met your mother. There is nothing that pressing that requires me to take leave of such lovely company. But I cannot abide by your insistence that your form of government is better than mine,” he chided her good naturedly, hoping to provoke her.

“Yes, yours does have some values. You don’t spend much money on reelection campaigns,” laughing louder than she normally did, the wine beginning to take its toll on her.

“True, but we have a better caliber of Presidents,” touting his credentials. “Yet, I don’t get the respect your Presidents do. Hell, we make the finest cigars in the world, and I don’t get a young girl putting one my finest Havana’s between her legs like your President Clinton did.”

They sparred back and forth for several more minutes before they finally changed the subject, both too stubborn to change each other’s mind. There was a knock on the door, a soldier bringing him a note and then quickly departing. She looked at the clock on the wall, sure the others had already left and returned to the hotel. She took a big sip of her wine, sitting forward in her chair, the decision suddenly popping into her head with such crystal clarity. “Can I have another cigar?”

“So you enjoy my Havana’s. At least I have convinced you of one thing.” He opened the wooden cigar box on the table beside him, picking out one of his finest. He leaned over to her, handing her the cigar. He picked up the lighter.

“No, I won’t need that. We might disagree on ideology, El Presidente , but I enjoyed your company. And your story of my mother. I’m sure that she preserved that memory in her mind just as you did. I would like to leave you with a memory also.” She rolled the cigar in her fingers, looking at the five inch brown cigar with lust, finally laying it down on the table next to her. She stood up, feeling her head spin for a second. She reached back, unfastening the halter top, feeling it pull away from her breasts, sliding erotically over her nipples as it slid down until Monika could feel the cool air of the room on her bare breasts. She looked at El Presidente , his eyes glued to her rising and falling breasts as she tried to fill her lungs with air. Her hands went behind her again, finding the small snap and then the gentle hiss of the zipper pulling down filled the room. She felt the gown loosen, letting it fall to the floor at her feet, standing in front of him in only her panties. And she was sure they were drenched by now. She stepped out of the dress. She took a deep breath as her fingers slid into the waistband and drew them down her legs. She stood back up, her face flushed, her breathing ragged as she stood naked in front of him. What if he was insulted by my insolence? Stripping naked in front of him. She looked at him, but only saw a smile on his face as his eyes raced over her body. She looked down, his pants bulging from his obvious arousal.