“Well, President Trump, you dodge phone calls as well as you dodged the draft.”
“Jill? What the fuck are you doing here?! If Melania finds out-”
“She’s out of town and you know it.”
Jill stares at Donald with an intensity that disturbs him. She has given signs of this before. He may be an egomaniac, but she is a true sociopath. It’s one week until his inauguration. He’s packing the personal effects from his office that he doesn’t trust the movers with. Family mementos, photographs, and things that might not necessarily be legal.
He looks at her frustrated, but with the slightest touch of admiration. “How the hell did you get in here, anyway?”
“That lovely little Latin number who answers your door doesn’t seem very interested in her job. I’m guessing you don’t pay her enough. Is she in this country legally?”
“Cut the shit, Jill.”
She smirks. “I want you back, sweetie.”
“Look, we can’t keep this up. I’m not fucking up a third marriage. I doubt Richard would be any happier about this than Melania.”
“Oh give me a break. She loves for your money, and Richard’s a militant atheist. You should see the silly little club meetings he goes to. It’s just a circle jerk about how human nature will prevail over religion. Put black robes on them and it’s the Church of Satan. He’s not particularly concerned about who I fuck.”
He puts his hands up, “I really, really can’t do this anymore.”
She grabs him by his tie and pulls him toward her, “Listen to me you silly little shit, you said if I managed to fuck up swing states for Clinton, you were going to break me off a piece of the power. I am not fucking around Donald! You try to screw me on this, I will make your life a living hell.”
He speaks carefully, “Jill… there’s a secret service detail here… you need to be careful…”
“Not anymore there isn’t.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
She trips him and pushes him to the ground, pulling on his tie. She steps on his back and keeps pulling. He’s desperately gasping for air. “Do you need to breathe, sweetheart? Want mama to let you up for air?” She lets go, he gasps desperately.
He feels a pinch in his right buttock, “What… what is that?”
“Something to help you sleep.”
Donald awakens naked in a dimly lit room. He is on a metal table with his hands and feet in leather restraints, spread out so that his sides and genital region are exposed. It takes him a minute to get his wits about him. What was he doing? He was packing. Did he get drunk and pass out? He struggles with this, he had a dream about Jill… why?
Jill walks in wearing scrubs and vinyl gloves. She’s pushing a small metal cart. On it is a scalpel, 3 sets of forceps of varying sizes, sutures, a needle, and 10 small metal rods, about 7” long, 8mm wide, and sharpened to a point on one side. She turns the halogen light on above the table. She looks at him as casually as if she’s greeting a patient, “Glad to see you’re awake.”
“What? Jill! Goddammit, Jill, where the fuck am I?”
“You’re in a recording studio.”
“Don’t worry. We’re not making an album of your tortured cries. You’d be amazed how many hack musicians backed my campaign. One has his own studio. It’s great. The room is soundproof. You can cry and scream all you want.”
Donald begins frantically pulling at his restraints, shouting out unintelligibly.
“That’s good. Go ahead and wear yourself out. This will go a lot easier if you just relax.”
“You fucking cunt!” He’s already panting with exhaustion.
“Oh, that’s a new one. You haven’t called a woman that word on television yet. Maybe if you play nice, you’ll live long enough to have the opportunity.” She takes one of the small, spiked metal rods into her hand, climbs onto the table and straddles Donald. She gently kisses his chest a few times, then leans forward and grabs him by his hair. “Do you know what my specialty as a physician is, President Trump?”
He stares into her cold eyes, eyes that are aflutter with joy, with arousal, with immense enthusiasm for what is about to take place. “N-No, I don’t… Why?”
“Internal medicine.” She begins gently dragging the sharp point of the rod against the left side of his face. “You see, you kind of have to know a bit about everything. My favorite cases were always diseases that spread from one organ to another. Human anatomy is just…. Well, it’s my favorite thing.”
“Look, Jill, be reasonable here. We can talk. Just… just let me know what you need from me. You name it. It’s yours.”
She steps back onto the floor. She ignores Donald’s bargaining. “See, I understand your anatomy very well. I know exactly where to put these without hitting anything vital. I want you to be alive a little longer, baby.” She starts to insert the rod between two ribs, he begins thrashing around, so she backhands him across his face. “I’m going to hit an artery if you don’t fucking hold still! Get your shit together, little man!” She hits him again and presses down. Blood starts running down his chest. Tears and snot begin streaming from his face. “Okay, that one shouldn’t go any deeper. Let’s see where else you’re sensitive…”
He’s struggling to breathe. She didn’t puncture his lung, but the shock and the adrenaline are taking over. “Jill…… please…. stop this…..”
“Let’s put a couple in your gut. You’ll bleed a little bit, but I can fix you. Although you are a bit fatter than that pig I sewed up on Thanksgiving.” He screams likes the day he was born, including the whimpers in between the pain. She feels more moist with every cry of agony. She begins placing rods into his shoulders, just below his collar bone, being careful to work around the arteries. She pauses briefly and licks the blood dripping from his left shoulder. “Does that feel good?”
He cannot speak. His eyes are revolving all around the room. He thinks to himself, Am I going to die here? Even if she’s not trying to kill me, can I handle this at my age?
She stops to stretch. “You know, I thought the blood of a supposed great ruler would taste different. Nope, it just tastes like blood.” She settles back down. “Isn’t this place great? My friend turned off all his WiFi equipment before I got here. That shit gives me such a headache.”
Her tone has changed. What now? He struggles to get words out of his mouth; they are raspy and uneven, “What… does WiFi… have to do with anything?”
She again ignores him. “So, you have this lipoma in your leg. I noticed it the last few times we had sex. It’s just a clump of fat cells, basically, nothing cancerous. It’s fucking gross though, let’s remove it.” She cuts his leg open with the scalpel, spreads the wound open with the forceps, and begins attempting to remove the lipoma from the surrounding tissue. Donald is sniveling slightly, shaking a bit, but he’s too in shock to really be aware of what is happening anymore. She drops the lipoma on the tray and begins to suture the wound shut. She steps away for a moment, closes her eyes, and breathes deep. She’s almost managed to shock herself.
“N-Now what? …..Jill?”
She exhales. “You know, I never liked that you weren’t circumcised.”
“No! No Jill! Please!”
“Oh quit your whining. Trust me, you’re going to want to hold still for this. I didn’t bring a ring block, so I have to do this the hard way.”
She slips her finger under his foreskin as a guide, and begins carefully cutting along with the scalpel. He starts letting out a high pitched squeal that could break glass. His lungs fill with air and expel into this horrific sound with each cut she makes. When she is done, she sets the severed flap of skin down on his lips.
“See? That wasn’t so bad. If it weren’t bleeding, I’d almost consider putting it in my mouth. I mean, you really don’t know what you’ve been missing, dear. Then again, you’re kind of insufferable when you get everything you want.” She snickers, “Oh that’s right, I already got your blood in my mouth tonight, didn’t I? Yeah, sorry, truth is you just don’t deserve it.” She exhales and wipes the sweat from her brow, “I have to tinkle. Be back in a minute, love.”
She exits the room and walks down the hall to the bathroom. After relieving herself, she realizes she can’t take much more of the excitement, so she begins masturbating. The violence already had her half way there, so it only takes her a few minutes. She exits the stall and stares into her reflection with a deep admiration. “I love you, you know.” She leans forward, staring into her own eyes, “I love you so fucking much.” She kisses the mirror. “Please, don’t ever leave me.”
She opens the door to the studio room. “I’m back, sweetie.” She pauses as she notices the table is empty. Suddenly, she is pinned against the wall with Donald’s hands around her neck.
“Tiny hands! That’s what they keep saying about me! I have tiny hands! Yes! Tiny hands that can slip out of your fucking leather cuffs, you fucking bitch! But they’re big enough, aren’t they!? They’re big enough to wrap around your fucking throat!”
Jill very carefully reaches down and shoves her finger through the wound in Donald’s thigh, pushing through the sutures. Donald lets go and backs up. She gags for a moment, he struggles to maintain his balance. Seeing that he has inadequate footing, she charges him and tackles him to the floor. She feels 5 small jabs against her as she does.
Jill looks down, Donald is coughing up blood. Shit. When she pushed him down, the weight of her body pushed all of those skewers the rest of the way in. Seems the one in his ribs turned an angle and punctured his lung. She straddles him, slowly grinding against his penis. “You poor, poor little man. This could have gone differently. This could have been a warning.” She leans over, caresses his face, and kisses him. With his blood on her lips, she continues speaking. “This is your sacrifice, Donald. The sacrifice they all said you never had nor would ever make. You are the first pin to fall in my wake. I already have a dossier on Michael. Oh, the ways I can manipulate him. If he doesn’t play nice, he’ll wind up the same way as you.”
Donald’s vision is becoming blurry. This demented, bloody faced woman will be the last thing he ever sees.
“Good night, my love. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” She gets up and leaves. Everything fades to black for Donald Trump.