3 comments/ 38694 views/ 6 favorites Electioneering By: JukeboxEMCSA Betsy stepped out of her shoes, let her purse fall to the floor right next to the door, and walked over to the couch as if someone had turned up the gravity in her house. She flopped down onto the cushions with a whoosh of breath, and quietly resolved to herself that she wouldn't even think about moving for at least a few minutes. Even something as simple as finding the remote could wait--all her shows were Tivoed anyway, which was a good thing considering it was seven o'clock and she'd just now gotten home from work. Betsy's stomach growled irritably, but she was in no mood to cook right now. "Screw it," she muttered to herself. Her diet could go to hell for one day; she'd probably burned off enough extra calories running up and down stairs to be able to scarf down a whole pizza without any noticeable effects. She closed her eyes. In a minute or two, she told herself, she'd get up, grab the phone, and order some food. In a minute. In just a... The doorbell rang. Betsy opened her eyes wide in the manner of someone who realized that "a minute or two" had already turned into seven minutes and was well on its way to more, and stumbled to her feet. She felt a moment of disorientation as she wondered if this was the pizza getting here, but she remembered as she opened the door that she hadn't actually ordered it yet; besides, the woman at the door was definitely no delivery driver. Internally, she groaned at the sight of the sharply dressed woman with her blonde hair pulled back into an immaculate bun. *Not another one*, she thought. Three days before the election, and it seemed like they were showing up on an hourly basis now. Betsy couldn't tell which party this girl was from; her campaign button just had a little display of blinking colored lights that spelled out 'VOTE'. Betsy hoped this one was just here to ask if she was registered--she'd had to get pretty snippy with the last one who'd wanted her to volunteer at the polling place. Twelve hour days (on a good day), six days a week, and they wanted her to volunteer? Even so, she opened the door. It always seemed to take less time to talk to them than to wait for them to quit ringing the doorbell. "Hi," she said, hoping that the bleary look in her eyes and the exhausted tone in her voice would help to cut this short. "Hi!" the girl said in a perky, yet somehow oddly forceful tone. "I'm Anna, and I'm with the Campaign To Get Out And Not Vote." She pressed a tiny stud on her button, and another set of blinking colored lights traced a circle around the word 'VOTE', then drew a line across it. They vanished, and began to trace again. "May I come in?" "I, um, what?" Betsy blinked away a little of the sleep in her eyes as she stared in confusion at the blinking button. Had she heard that right? She must have, the button was crossing it out, but... "What?" she said again. "Thank you," Anna said, stepping inside and taking Betsy's arm. "As you know," she said as she led Betsy to the couch, "at least a third of the country doesn't vote in the national elections every two years. We at the Campaign To Get Out And Not Vote think that if a third of the country doesn't care about something, it can't be that important, really. We're hoping on your support to not care about it either." "I, but..." Was she still asleep? Was this a dream? Was it a joke, maybe, some kind of weird performance art? "But, um...voting's important," she said numbly as she sat down. If she was really on 'Candid Camera' or something, she at least didn't want to look stupid. "Let me ask you," Anna said briskly, "do you know how many people live in the state of California?" Betsy started to speak, but Anna cut her off before she could even get out a word. "It's over thirty-six million. Your vote only counts as one three-hundred-sixty-thousandth of one percent of the electorate, Betsy. Statistically speaking, you're not important. You're insignificant." Betsy felt a surge of irritation at that, but before she could respond, Anna said, "Now obviously, you're not insignificant anywhere else in your life. Why should you spend so much time and effort on something that just reminds you of how little choice you really have in all the important decisions that affect you? Why should you make such a long, tiring journey out to the polling place, work so hard and make all those decisions, when it's really not going to matter how you vote? Someone else is going to run your life, Betsy. It's easier to just accept it." Betsy stared in blank incomprehension at the blinking lights on the button as they traced their endless circle, around and around. She'd had way too long a day to handle this kind of conversation. Her head felt all muddy and jumbled from too little sleep combined with the beginnings of a nap cut off as it was getting started, Anna was rattling off her speech so quickly that Betsy couldn't even get a word in edgewise, let alone think about what she was saying, and politics had never really been Betsy's strong suit anyway. "I--" Betsy hadn't even figured out where she was going with the sentence before Anna trampled on her train of thought again. "You've already got so many decisions to make as it is, Betsy. It's exhausting to think about how much you have to decide every day. Just by the time you get to work, you've already made decisions about what to eat, about what to wear, about whether to get up or just call in sick. And every single one of those decisions tires you out a little bit more. Just imagine how many choices you've made over the course of your whole life, Betsy. It's a wonder you can even think at all anymore, you're so worn down." Betsy was already feeling tired, like her head was full of cotton candy, but Anna kept right on going. "And now, think about how much effort it would be to make a choice about every single one of those candidates on the ballot, Betsy. Every one of those choices, wearing you down a little bit more, and none of it matters. You don't decide who wins that election. You don't decide who makes the laws. You don't decide what those laws are. Someone else already makes so many choices for you, why not go ahead and let them make a few more?" "Um..." It occurred to Betsy that she hadn't really said a single coherent sentence yet to Anna. She didn't really know what she would say if she could. She felt like she should refute some of the stuff that Anna was saying, but everything she could think of to counter Anna's web of words just sounded like empty rhetoric from her high school civics class. "I...you should go," she said thickly. She'd figure out what was wrong with all this later, she decided, after Anna was out the door and she'd had some time to eat and sleep and concentrate. "See?" Anna said triumphantly. Instead of leaving, though, she sat down right next to Betsy. "It took you all this time, all this effort to make even one decision, Betsy, and when you did make it? It didn't matter. Someone else made a different decision, and you're stuck with the results. For all the good it did you, you might as well have not even tried to think about what you wanted. You tired yourself out, wore yourself down trying to decide what you wanted, and you would have been so much happier if you'd just let me decide what you wanted for you." "But--but--but--" Betsy stammered helplessly as her brain locked up. She'd told Anna to go! That meant she was supposed to leave, not stay here and keep telling her things that confused her because they made sense in a weird way. "And now you're trying to decide what to do next, and that's only tiring you out even more," Anna said, steamrollering right over her objections. "Every time your brain tries to sort through your options, you get more and more exhausted, more and more numb, until your mind runs out of gas and your brain shuts down. And you know that none of those options are going to do any good anyway. None of your decisions mean anything. I decide things for you. So your brain runs on from choice to choice to meaningless choice until it finally gives up and lets me make the right choice, the choice that's going to happen anyway. Doesn't that sound so much better to you?" Betsy stared vacantly at the blinking lights, trying to find some way out of this. She could say no, but Anna would just keep talking. She could say yes, but that would mean giving up and letting Anna think for her. She could tell her to leave again, but Anna wouldn't do it. She could...could... Desperately, she cast around for any idea she could latch on to, knowing that each effort drained away a little more of her precious energy, but she already felt too sleepy to think. "Doesn't that sound good to you, Betsy?" Anna said firmly, pushing her back into the couch cushions with her left hand. Betsy's breath went out in a whoosh as her mind simply sputtered and died. "...yes," she said vacantly. Just saying it felt amazing, like someone was pressing a hand to the crotch of her slacks and rubbing firmly. She almost wondered where Anna's other hand was, but wondering was too much like thinking and thinking was too much like deciding and she was too tired to decide anything right now. Anna could do that. She'd rather simply agree with what Anna said. "And doesn't that feel good to you, Betsy, sitting there and letting someone else tell you what to do?" "...yes..." The rubbing felt even better, now, and Betsy arched her hips up into it. "It feels good when someone tells you what to do..." Another rub. "What to say..." Fingers on her nipples now, pinching and tweaking them through her clothes. "What to think..." "yes..." Betsy couldn't deny it--someone was telling her what to do, what to say, what to think, and it was swamping her mind with bliss. Her legs slowly drifted apart, and she smiled dreamily when she realized that even that wasn't her own decision; her body was doing it all on its own. "Feels so liberating," Anna whispered in her ear, her voice now a husky purr instead of a brisk chirp, "so relaxing..." She punctuated each phrase with an extra-firm caress, and Betsy's eyelids fluttered as she tried to keep them open, but then she realized that she didn't have any say in that either, and they slammed shut. "yesss," Betsy groaned out, not even sure of what she was agreeing to anymore, but knowing that whatever it was, she had to agree with it. Making choices was just too much work. It felt so easy, so good, so effortless and relaxing and liberating to simply obey. Why had she ever even tried to think for herself? Why hadn't she given in and let someone run her life long before now? She couldn't answer that question, of course. That would mean thinking. "Take off your clothes," Anna said, and Betsy found herself stripping naked almost before she realized it. That felt wonderful, she realized. It was like she was a passenger in her own body now, relaxing and enjoying the ride while someone else did all the work of driving. Anna could make all the hard decisions like what Betsy should wear, what she should eat, when she should "Lie on my lap, face down." It made everything so much easier. She felt Anna's left hand stroking her hair, her back, her shoulders, soothing her deeper down into this strange, empty trance while Anna's right hand found its way into her pussy and began to pump two fingers in and out. They slid so easily into her wet opening, and Anna's knuckle felt so good when it brushed up against her clit on every downstroke, and Betsy was so pleased to know that her grunts and moans of pleasure were utterly involuntary. Anna was dragging every sigh and whimper out of Betsy's sleepy, mindless body, and that meant she was obeying and agreeing, and that made the pleasure so much better still... And it felt so good to know that her body wanted more of the pleasure; her body arched up into Anna's touch, her butt rearing up in the air and quivering in need without her mind needing to involve itself at all. She could just watch and listen and feel, as Anna explained even more about how good it felt when someone else decided things for Betsy. Betsy wanted that, now, but she understood that the best part of all was that she would want whatever she was told to want. That felt so good that she couldn't help herself, she clenched her pussy tightly around Anna's fingers and came and came and came. And when she realized that she really couldn't help herself, she came again, even harder. "Good girl," Anna said at last. "Now, listen carefully, Betsy. I'm going to tell you what to do." ***** Jerry rolled his eyes when he heard the knock on the door. It was almost ten o'clock! Didn't these stupid volunteers ever get any sleep? He stormed to the door, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off because he was voting for the other guy, but his words died in his throat when he saw just how beautiful this particular volunteer was. "Hi!" the girl said in a perky, yet somehow oddly forceful tone. "I'm Betsy, and I'm with the Campaign To Get Out And Not Vote." She pressed a tiny stud on her button, and another set of blinking colored lights traced a circle around the word 'VOTE', then drew a line across it. They vanished, and began to trace again. "May I come in?" THE END Electioneering Helen was young and vivacious. Captain of the cheerleaders squad for her final year and, if she had her way, class president. She was quite pretty and her intelligence and charisma helped. As far as she was concerned, the election would be a mere formality. Who wouldn't vote for her? Michael was also young and charismatic. A born leader with the politician's trick of appearing to listen and respect the opinion of whoever he was talking to. Intelligent and a good sportsman, he was captain of the football team and intended to round off his final year by being class president. Who wouldn't vote for him? So the battle lines were drawn. Everyone was picking sides and trying to persuade opponents to change to the winning side. Helen and Michael didn't even talk to each other, firmly of the opinion that the other should yield gracefully. The faculty watched the show with detached interest. The consensus there was that Michael would win. He had a big advantage in having Martin, his brother, advising him on his campaign. Helen, on the other hand, had a distinct flaw in her campaign. She tended to ignore things that didn't specifically interest her, whereas Martin made sure that Michael didn't fall into that error. Slowly but surely, Michael was gaining the upper hand, and Helen was astute enough to know this. She considered ways and means to get Michael out of the race. She didn't really care how she was going to do it, but Michael would have to quit. Friday came and with it Helen decided to see if her scheme would work the way she expected it to. Michael was male after all. He wouldn't have a chance. Helen left school slightly early, slipping home to change so she would be properly prepared for her meeting with Michael. Then she headed off to the park so that she could accidentally meet him on his way home. Martin was crossing the park on his way home when Helen stepped out from behind some trees. "Hi, Michael," she purred. "I thought we should discuss the election, and it will be easier for us if there's no one else around." Martin blinked, and almost laughed. Helen was dressed in a mini flirty skirt with the edge of her panties showing beneath them. A boob tube and he'd swear no bra. She was obviously dressed to vamp Michael and charm him out of the election race. About to point out that he wasn't Michael, but Martin, his twin, Martin changed his mind. Best to find out what Helen had in mind before exposing Michael to it. "What's to discuss?" he asked. "I'm winning and you would be smart to pull out of the campaign." Helen moved right up next to him, almost leaning on him. "I haven't even begun to fight the election yet," she purred. "I just thought I'd give you a chance to back out of it and let me run unopposed." "And why should I do that?" asked Martin. "The way things are going I'll have a landslide victory." "Not if some rather nasty rumours start to fly," pointed out Helen. "I mean, accusations of indecent assault or rape could turn all the girls off straight away." Martin laughed. "That won't work and you know it. Everyone would just consider where the rumours are coming from and dismiss them as a standard election ploy." Helen nodded. "That's what I thought," she said. "So I thought a little bribery might not hurt." Her hands brushed the front of his crotch and lingered there for a moment. Martin nodded thoughtfully. That's her game, is it? He indicated the side path that Helen had used to waylay him. "Why don't we step off the main path to where we can have a bit of privacy to discuss this?" he murmured. Helen smiled and turned down the side path, confident that Michael would be right behind her. Men were so easy to tame. Away from the main path and with privacy assured, Martin addressed Helen. "Just what are you offering?" he asked. "You're interested?" asked Helen smirking, confident in her attractiveness. "Depends on the stakes, doesn't it?" suggested Martin. For a second, Helen hesitated, but her mind was really already made up. "If you pull out of the election I'll give you a blow job," she stated blandly, confident he'd accept. After all, who could turn down that sort of offer from the leader of the cheerleaders? "Tempting, very tempting," said Martin, smiling. "I'll tell you what. Take off those panties I can see peeking out below your skirt and make another offer." Helen flinched. Take off her panties? She hadn't intended going that far. Was he serious? "Ah, I don't really need to take my panties off to do you," she demurred. "You do if you want me to really consider your offer," pointed out Martin. As Helen continued to hesitate, he shrugged. "OK. We'll forget the whole thing," he told her, turning to walk away. "Wait," called Helen quickly. "Just wait a moment." Martin stood there, relaxed and waiting, while Helen chewed on her lip. Then sighing, she lifted her skirt and slipped her panties down. "Satisfied?" she asked. "Now, about quitting the election." Martin reached down and lifted Helen's skirt. He nearly laughed as he saw Helen's instinctive reaction to slap his hand away, only to have her freeze her hand half lifted. "You shave very nicely," he said, "and you have some lovely curves there." At that, Helen did push his hand away. "We're not talking about me," she hissed. "What about you?" "Well, you're offer is tempting. I'll consider it and make a counter offer in a moment." Martin smiled at Helen's look of frustration. "I'll tell you what. You made the offer, so prove that you're in earnest. Unzip me and show me what you can do. If I decide I want you to finish, we can discuss terms before you do." "You just want me to do it without coming to an agreement," she snapped. Martin shook his head. "No. Just use your mouth to warm me up a little. Give me a reason to continue these discussions." Helen swore to herself. She'd have to, just to show that she meant what she said. She knelt down in front of Martin, reaching for his zip. Martin almost swore when he felt Helen's hot little mouth close around his erection. Then her head started bobbing up and down, slowly, savouring the torment and teasing she was handing out. He gasped when he felt her teeth rasp over the head of his cock, sending little lightning flashes into him. Then Helen was standing again, smirking, knowing that she'd won. Her smile faded when she felt herself being pushed back against a tree. "What are you doing?" she demanded, staring at him as he knelt in front of her. "Returning the favour," Martin replied, lifting her skirt and pressing his face between her thighs. Helen jammed her hand into her mouth as she felt her legs being eased apart and his tongue went sliding along between her lips, teasing her slit. Then her lips were being eased apart and his tongue was slipping between them, teasing her sensitive inner flesh. Her hands clutched Martin's hair wanting to pull him away, but lacking the strength. Martin briskly probed inside Helen's pussy, first subtly testing to see if she was a virgin (no) and then seeking and finding her clitoris. Finding it, Martin started lavishing some unwanted attention on it. Helen jammed a hand back into her mouth to stop herself squealing when her clitoris was ruthlessly assaulted. Then her hands descended to Martin's hair again, this time managing to pull weakly on it, trying to tell him to stop. Feeling relieved and disappointed when Martin rose back to his feet, Helen open her mouth to ask about their deal. Before she could speak however, circumstances changed what he wanted to say. Martin was pressing full length against her, and his rigid cock was pressing up against her pussy, leaning against her slit and apparently trying to enter her. "What are you doing?" she gasped. "I haven't agreed to have sex with you. A blow job was all I was offering, and you know it." Martin laughed. "If your starting offer was a blowjob, then you were prepared to go higher, and you know it," he replied. "I'll make a little deal with you. We both know you're prepared to have sex with me, and if you say yes I'll do two things. One is that I'll be driving into you hard and fast and you'll feel my cock all the way up to your back teeth. The second is that I'll write a note saying that I have no intention of contesting the election and I'll let you read it and countersign it." "How do I know I can trust you," gasped Helen, feeling his cock easing its way forward. If she didn't do something quickly the whole thing would be moot, because his cock would already have staked its claim. "I give you my word. You'll have to trust me to keep it," said Martin, feeling himself move a little deeper into Helen's nice warm pussy. "OK," gasped Helen. "It's a deal." "I can ravish your willing body now?" teased Martin. "God, just do it," cried Helen, pushing herself forward and feeling Martin's cock plunging deep into her. Holding Helen firmly against the tree, Martin rolled up her boob tube, exposing her breasts to his hands and mouth. Wasting no time, he bent and suckled on one, while starting a gentle rhythmic movement down below. He wasn't in a frantic hurry to take Helen. He was going to take his time and made sure he enjoyed her as much as possible. Helen groaned as she felt Martin moving gently inside her. She lifted one leg and curled it around his waist, holding him against her. She found herself rocking against him, matching his gentle thrusts. She drifted into a dreamlike state, feeling Martin surging deep within her and then slowly withdrawing, only to come sliding back, filling her. Marin drew Helen's head forwards, taking control of her lips. Tongue darting between he parted lips he teased her tongue, slowly building her excitement. His hands massaged her breasts, squeezing them and rolling her nipples against the palms of his hands. His hands dropped down to her bottom, clutching and kneading her cheeks, holding her, while all the time his cock continued its gentle administrations, sliding in and out, slowly lifting her and taking her away from herself. In her dreamlike state, Helen rocked against the cock that was filling her, obeying its demands, her heart seeming to throb to the slow stroke that Martin had established. Slowly but surely, Martin increased his speed with Helen instinctively responding. As the tempo of Martin's possession increased, so did Helen's heartbeat, thumping hard inside her, carrying Martin's message throughout her body. Helen was gasping, her breath mingling with Martin's as he took her. No gentle rocking now but a hard driving need, smashing deep into her and answered by Helen's own need as she matched Martin's relentless drive. Helen screamed, the sound swallowed by Martin, feeling him flooding her and sweeping her away. She clung frantically to Martin, the only solid thing left in a sea of feeling storming through her. Gasping, she felt the tide slowly draining away, leaving her lethargic, unable to speak. Vaguely she felt Martin withdraw, then felt her top being pulled down to cover her breasts. She winced slightly at that, her breasts feeling somewhat sensitive. Then Martin stood back while she gathered her senses. A thought crossed her mind and she gasped, looking quickly around. Spotting her panties, she hastily pulled them on. Looking at Martin, she could see he was writing something. The memo, she thought. He's really doing it. She waited expectantly. Martin smiled and passed Helen the book he'd been writing in. "If you care to countersign where your name is," he said, "I'll let you keep a copy so you'll know I'm not cheating you." Smiling, Helen grabbed the book and signed, where-after Martin tore out one sheet and handed it to her. Helen was about to fold it and put it in her purse when Martin stopped her. "Perhaps you'd better read it and make sure it says what you want it to say," he suggested. Helen blinked. He had a point. She carefully read through the message. It was as promised. Martin was stating that he had no wish to stand for the position of class president and had no interest in running in the election. Signed by Martin and herself. "That's fine, Martin," Helen said, all smiles. She paused, as a thought struck her. "Why do I keep thinking your name is Michael?" she asked him. "You're getting me confused with my brother. He's much better known than me, even though we're twins. He's captain of the football team you know." That information seemed to spend a long time seeping into Helen's brain. She knew it was important, but wasn't sure why. Then it hit her. "You're Martin. You're not Michael." Seeing Martin just standing, looking amused, Helen followed through on that thought. "Michael is the one running against me," she stormed. "This whole thing has been for nothing. You tricked me." Still Martin said nothing. "You think you're so smart, don't you? What happens when I complain that you raped me." "I can produce this little piece of paper you signed, showing that it was for services rendered." Taking his smart phone out of his pocket he held it up. "I put this on record while you were leading me back here. Your verbal agreement for me to have sex with you is on here. You won't complain, because you know that you'll come off looking worse than I will. If it gets out you were offering sexual bribes you'll have half the boys in school looking for bribes. Worse, if it becomes known that you did a cock dance with the wrong brother you'll be laughed out of the election and probably laughed out of school." Helen was lost for words. She was screwed. Literally, as it turned out. Martin was right. She couldn't even raise a peep over what had happened. "Well," she said, gathering the remains of her dignity, "if it worked on you it'll work on your brother. You wait and see." Martin shook his head. "No dice," he said. "When I tell Michael that you're mine he won't touch you, even if you danced naked in his bedroom at midnight. We're twins you know. We don't pinch our brother's girlfriends." "I am not your girlfriend," Helen snarled. Martin just smiled. "I'll see you home," he said. "I don't like you wandering around dressed like that. You never know who you might meet.