So that the dear sometimes hyper literotica readers don't get their panties in a bunch when they read this, this story is 100% fantasy and does not, and is not intended to, make any political statement whatsoever. Nor is it intended to in any way influence anyone's position on any political issue or candidate.
When your main "talent" is that you're big and tough, like me, Brian, that doesn't qualify you for many white collar jobs. I'm 6'4", 285 lbs., and would have been the NCAA heavyweight wrestling champion my freshman year in college if I hadn't been disqualified in the finals for breaking my opponent's arm with an allegedly illegal hold. I dropped out of college shortly after that incident.
I honestly believe that I would have been a world class MMA fighter if I had pursued it, since I also have a black belt in Brazilian jujitsu in addition to my wrestling background. However, I have what I believe is a "pretty" face (I'm not too vain, am I), and didn't want to get it messed up so I had to find something else.
After a couple of horrible dead end jobs, I got a position as a bodyguard with one of the richest guys in the world (who I will not name, but merely refer to as "The Man"). In addition to being a great businessman, The Man also is passionate for various political candidates, has strong political views, and puts his money where his beliefs are. I became one of his favorite people when I twice saved his life by beating the shit out of three different attackers in one attempt, and two in another, including stopping a bullet intended for him with my Kevlar vest.
About two years after I started working for The Man I noticed that he was getting progressively more agitated about one of the Republican candidates for president, Michelle Bachman. He considered her dangerous and wanted to be sure she didn't get the Republican nomination. He trusted me to execute the plan he developed to insure that didn't happen.
The plan developed by The Man -- I wasn't smart or devious enough to come up with it -- was to buy the house next to a vacation bungalow she had in Florida, kidnap her in an obvious manner with a vehicle with plates traceable to a rival political operative, and then hold her captive in that house until after the Republican Convention. The Man spent about $500,000 case hardening, soundproofing, and electronic eavesdropping-proofing what we called "The Secure House." The Man spent another quarter million making it very livable, since his intention wasn't to make her uncomfortable, but just keep her from the nomination. I was to tell no one about the plan, and I was the only one he trusted to do the kidnapping and then to "babysit" her for months.
Michelle's "security" -- if you could call it that -- was a joke. She had two inexperienced bodyguards, and made her travel schedule well known. After the Iowa caucuses she had a planned return to her Florida house for a few days off. Her husband was already there when she arrived one night.
Making sure that the security cameras at The Secure House would catch it all, I dressed in a professional disguise and was waiting when Michelle arrived in front of her house with her two bodyguards. I pulled up the kidnapping vehicle of the same make and model and with the same plates as that of a rival political operative behind her car, got out, injected one of the unsuspecting guards with a knock-out chemical, punched the other one unconscious, put one hand over Michelle's mouth and injected her with the knock-out drug with the other hand, put her in my vehicle, and took off.
I simply drove around the block, parked the vehicle in a windowless, secure garage at the back of the property of The Secure House, and carried Michelle into the house.
I kept Michelle "out" until about noon of the next day. Of course the cops, FBI, and who knows what other law enforcement agencies were completely buzzing around Michelle's house at first light. About 7 a. m. there was a knock at my door. I pretended that I had just gotten up. It was a state cop and two FBI agents who introduced themselves and showed me their credentials. They wanted to know if I saw or heard anything.
"No officers, I slept like a baby last night and didn't hear anything. But I have a security camera that might have some footage that will help you."
"Really? Where's the camera?" one of the agent's asked.
"Here, let me show you," I replied, leading them outside to where the camera was located. It was intentionally camouflaged so that it was not normally readily visible.
"Was it operating last night?"
"I'm sure it was Agent -- Thomas, was it?"
"Yes, Thomas. Can you give us the tape?"
"No problem, Agent Thomas. Come on in."
I wanted the three of them to think I had absolutely nothing to hide, so I invited them in, led them right to the tape machine, took the tape out and handed it to them.
"Do you mind if we take this and copy it and return it to you."
"Hey I have plenty more tapes, so unless it has something on it that would be interesting to me just keep it."
"Thanks, we appreciate that."
Once things calmed down a little, I got Michelle up.
"What am I doing here?" were her first words once she regained complete consciousness.
"I just wanted you to take a break from campaigning so I brought you to my house in Georgia."
"Who are you?"
"Just someone who is interested in you; my name is Brian."
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked with tears starting to form in her eyes.
"I can assure you that you will not be harmed in any way and will be treated with respect. It's just that I can't let you leave until after the Republican Convention. Once that is over you will be returned to your family."
"But that will destroy my dream of getting the nomination," she sobbed as she broke into tears and her heavy makeup leaked down her cheeks.
I felt sorry for her -- but also felt something else. My dick was starting to tent my pants. I noticed for the first time "This is really a good looking woman, even if she is twenty years older than I am." I suppressed my rising boner, told her where her bathroom and changes of clothes were, and invited her to come to the kitchen for some food once she changed.
Understandably so, Michelle was depressed for the first week. By the end of the first week, though, she had figured out that there was absolutely no way I was ever going to harm her in any way so at least that no longer caused her any concern. By the end of the second week she started to relax and accept her situation. She also actually became very appreciative of the three meals a day I made for her, and started to help me with meal preparation.
She was actually "locked up" in her spacious secure bedroom only when I went out shopping, or at night once she went to bed. Even then I thought it was overkill because there was no way that she could even figure out where the Secure House was, let alone escape -- but that is what The Man instructed me to do, so I did it.
Spending almost all our waking hours together, obviously Michelle and I got to know each other very well. Our politics weren't similar, but we discussed political issues intelligently and respectfully. We worked out in the Secure House's full gym, swam in the indoor pool, played board, word, and video games, watched movies, read books and followed the presidential campaign on T. V.
At first Michelle didn't like it that I wouldn't buy her the heavy makeup that she was used to wearing. But her perfect diet, two hours a day of working out or swimming, and no stress made her radiant. I told her that she looked fantastic without makeup, and after a while she believed it -- because it was true.
After about six weeks we had the first discussion of sex. I remember it vividly. As we were chatting during dinner I was asking her about her view on people being able to "pray the gay away" when she shocked me.
"Can I tell you something in confidence, Brian. You'll never tell anyone else?"
This was the first time she had ever indicated she was willing to confide in me. "Sure, Michelle. I definitely will."
"I don't believe you can 'pray the gay away.' That's my husband's mantra. But to tell you the truth I think that's just to cover up his latent homosexuality."
I literally spit out and started choking on my food.
Michelle got up from her chair, started slapping me on the back, saying "Are you OK, Brian?"
I recovered in about a minute. "Sorry, Michelle, while I was expecting you to tell me something confidential, I wasn't prepared for that. Sorry I had the reaction I did, but I definitely will not relate that to anyone."
"I'm sorry; I've embarrassed you by being too honest, haven't I."