This story is a work of fiction. Any semblance to actual persons or real world events is 100% purely coincidental, I promise. No cap.
The year is 2019, and the first female President of the United States has agreed to meet with the Supreme Leader of South Korea.
Before dipping her toes into politics, Lisanne Troth was most famously an underwear model. Early into the election cycle, Senator Arlene Gibson, the opposing party's own female nominee, created a smear campaign where hundreds of Lisanne Troth's sex tapes and nude photos were leaked to the public. This ended up backfiring greatly. It skyrocketed the already-popular supermodel to new heights in the eyes of horny men throughout the country. Gibson even tried to mitigate her mistake by "accidentally" releasing her own nude photos and sex tapes, but it was too late, the damage had already been done. America had elected a lingerie model as their first female President.
Now, Madame President had just landed in Air Force One and was prepared to meet with the leader of South Korea outside the capitol building. Unlike the jolly, Michelin Man-esque President up North, Im-Seong Eun was a ruthless tyrant. He was simultaneously the most feared and beloved man in the entire country.
Lisanne stopped at the bottom of the Assembly Hall's staircase. Everywhere around her, her bodyguards and cabinet members shuffled into position. A large group of reporters on the sidelines began to mutter things to each other as the Supreme Leader slowly descended the staircase.
Im-Seong Eun looked young enough to be in his late twenties or early thirties, something impressive for a man twice that age. His appearance was nearly identical to the Singaporean model Chuando Tan, except for the massive scar streaking down his left cheek and white prosthetic eye. Im-Seong was a veteran and he wore his scars with pride.
He met his American counterpart at the foot of the staircase. Both world leaders were 5'11, but Lisanne hovered a few inches above him with heels on. Lisanne reached out to formally greet him. Im-Seong responded with a kiss on the hand. This caused the surrounding news crew to gasp and mumble even louder. The non-stop shuttering of cameras flooded the air like a swarm of locusts as the paparazzi captured this historic moment on film.
Im-Seong led the lady President deep into his private office away from any outside influence. He asked his guest to take a seat on his sofa, while he poured her a glass of luxury soju. Im-Seong relaxed on the sofa directly next to the President, raising a glass of his own. He casually folded his arm out across the backrest of the sofa, just above the lady President's shoulders, while the two drank together.
"You know, Lisanne, this is my favorite brand. I'm glad I had the opportunity to share it with you," Im-Seong spoke to her in flawless English. The dictator never needed to take an IQ test, since none of his followers would ever doubt his intelligence, but most conservative estimates placed him at around 227. He had just passed the CPE test the night before.
"Lisanne?" the President scoffed, though she was slightly embarrassed by hearing her name coming from the handsome dictator's throat, "I didn't know you and I were on a first-name basis, Mr. Supreme Leader. Should I call you Eun then?"
"Fair enough, call me Eun," he said with a smug grin, before downing the rest of his drink. Though Lisanne intended to tease the dictator by calling him his first name, he responded unexpectedly. Between her failed attempt at mockery and the powerful soju, the President started to grow flustered.
"Well then, Eun, surely you didn't make me fly all the way out here just to crack open a soju," the President redirected the conversation, "What is it you wanted to discuss with me so badly?"
"Ah, I almost forgot," the Supreme Leader paused to pour himself more soju, "Tell me why I shouldn't blow you all to kingdom come."
Lisanne choked on her drink. She coughed up a few drops of it onto the marble floor. The President was already flustered by the man before, but now she was staring at him in shock, with eyes the size of dinner plates. Lisanne waited for a smile, a laugh, anything. Instead, he calmly sipped his soju, not a shred of emotion on his blank face.
After several seconds, she finally mustered up the will to speak, "Y-you... You're serious?"
"You thought I was joking?" the dictator turned to look at her with his good eye, his face still completely expressionless. "It's no secret that our two nations have shared a tumultuous history. But, I am not the same man my father was, nor my grandfather. If you can tell me why I should seek peace with your country, do so immediately."
Lisanne was still in shock. This one meeting determined the fate of her entire country. This megalomaniac had just threatened millions of innocent lives, and her choice of words would be the only thing that could protect them from annihilation.
American men had the choice between signing their lives away to either the U.S. Senator, who was a former lawyer and PhD, or an underwear model, and they chose the underwear model. Now her 2 decades of experience, posing in lacy thongs would be the only tool she had to stop this monster.
Lisanne couldn't bite her tongue any longer she needed to act, "Umm, surely there are a multitude of ways the U.S. can show our support to your nation. Ever since I took office, our economy has been great, the absolute greatest we've seen in generations, no doubt! We are the world's largest exporter of food, as well, you know. Perhaps we could offer fresh produce to your people in exchange for your loyalty."
"Then it seems our countries are more alike than I thought," the dictator chuckled, "True Korea has, without a doubt, the finest economy in the world. My countrymen have plenty of food and resources already. In fact, my men are getting too fat! They have too much food! ...But, I'm sure that a surplus of food wouldn't hurt though. Nothing wrong with emergency rations..."
"Then that's perfect!" Lisanne's eyes lit up.
The two world leaders continued discussing their trade deals until reaching an agreement.
Im-Seong brought their discussion to closure, "So then, it's settled, in exchange for our loyalty, the U.S. will offer my people 1000 tons of food each month, 10,000 barrels of oil, ammunition, 300 million dollars every month, and..."
"...And?" the U.S. President was confused.
"And, you will offer me your body on a silver platter," Im-Seong stared at her with a blank expression.
Despite his aggression, this wouldn't have been the first time Lisanne had heard a demand like this from a business partner before. Lisanne worked in the modeling business before she made her career shift into politics, so she had been exposed to plenty of HR-triggering perverts in her day. However, Im-Seong was a different case. Unlike the usual fat, disgusting "Rand Snyder" and "Barney Reinstein" types she met as a model. Im-Seong was fit to be a model himself, with the mentality of a warrior, and the scars to match.
The President spoke carefully to avoid tripping over her own words, "Mr. Supreme Leader, I am already... happily married."
Back home, Lisanne still had the First Gentleman, Douglas Labeau. Troth kept her maiden name after she married.
Like most supermodels, Lisanne was a gold digger. Douglas was an obese, wrinkly, old geezer, with wispy gray hair, and a massive schnozz and ears. He had the appearance of a humanoid elephant. Her husband had a bad habit of dozing off during her speeches, earning him the nickname "Sleepy Doug."
"So?" Im-Seong stared at her more, "You think I'm not as well? When was the last time one of your male predecessors hesitated to cheat on his spouse with another woman?"
The President paused to think about it. He made a good point.
When she and Doug first married, when she was 18, the old clown wanted to fuck the shit out of her every night. After 20 years with him, the pair had reached near absolute bed death. As Doug grew older his interest in sex quickly diminished, whereas now in her late 30's, Lisanne's sexual appetite had only grown to new heights. Sometimes it felt like Lisanne practically had to beg Doug to touch her.
The dictator wrapped his arm around his would-be mistress, from over the headrest, which almost made her jump in excitement.
"Madame President, Lisanne, your whole country knows you are the most beautiful woman in the world. That beauty is your country's greatest natural resource, unlike any other. That's why I wish to shake more than just our hands for the sake of diplomacy. Forge this bond with me, and our nations will become unbreakable allies," as the dictator flirted with her, he stared into her soul with his remaining good eye. Im-Seong brought the lady's hand to his lips a second time. His beautiful brown eye, sweet words, and kisses made her heart flutter.
The truth was, hearing Im-Seong make demands for her body had her soaked. Lisanne won the Presidency due to the entire country lusting after her, and yet, ironically, she couldn't retain the attention of her own husband. Her pussy had been drier than the Sahara for years, and this Korean warlord had just summoned the rain.
"If it's to serve my country... I suppose it must be done," Lisanne did her best to sound as neutral and unenthusiastic as possible.
Lisanne took the initiative and stood up without being asked. She started by removing her blazer, standing before the dictator in just her pencil skirt, white button-up, and heels. She slowly unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the ground to show off her long, bare legs in all their glory. Her white shirt contrasted greatly against her tanned skin and was just barely long enough to cover the crotch of her panties. Her fingers crawled down the front of her shirt, unlatching every button, one by one, until her matching lingerie set was fully on display for Im-Jeong to enjoy.
