How to Become a Mayor

This is a fantasy. I am not sure if it is more Non-consent or rather Fetish.

Read, enjoy and tell me what you think.

PS This is my translation into English, originally I wrote it in Polish

*****

My name is Paula Domingues. For 11 years I was the mayor of a town somewhere in the central United States. I will not give its real name, let it be Greenville.

This town is surrounded on three sides by mountains. On their slopes grows a lush forest. A small river with clear waters flows through the town. Sometimes deer, bears and wolves venture as far as our suburbs.

But this is no ordinary mountain town, and I was no ordinary mayor. What was the uniqueness of this picturesque town? Read on and you will find out.

One day I woke up in the morning as usual. I stretched myself contentedly. I slept naked, just the way I like.

I thought, I will be 40 soon, but I am still attractive. Then I got up, looked at my shapely body, big breasts, wide hips, massive legs. Well, I'm not a teenager anymore, I'm heavier than I used to be, but I still attract looks from guys. And some women.

I lived alone. I got dressed, put on my suit, ate breakfast, grabbed my horsewhip, put on my knee-high black boots, and headed for the car.

On the way to the office I stopped at Chris's bar. It was a nice place and Chris was a mine of interesting information.

"Hello Chris," I greeted him as I walked in.

"Hello Madam Mayor," the 50-year-old knelt down and bent down to kiss my shoe as a sign of respect. This is how exemplary citizens of this town behave. It makes me very happy.

And if they can't behave, then I usually discipline them, for example with a horsewhip.

"Do you have any interesting news?" I sat down at the table.

He brought me cake and currant juice, just the way I like it, then he sat down at my table. He glanced fleetingly at my cleavage before directing his gaze to my beautiful face.

"Jeffrey McDeighton cheats on his wife with hairdresser Susan Bilevitz. The accounting department manager drinks. Oh, the day after tomorrow is March 5," he hesitated.

"Yeah, so?"

He licked his lips nervously.

"A contender has arrived."

My heart beat faster, but I continued to eat delicious cake.

"Who?"

"Her name is Terri Wallace, she's 25 years old. I don't know where she's from."

I nodded thoughtfully.

Eleven years ago I came here as a contender. I paid my bail and got into a duel with the then mayor, Veronica Darashian.

My town has an original way of electing a mayor, different from all other American towns, or most of them anyway. There are no elections, but duels. Interestingly, only a woman may become a mayor. Pretenders who want to face the incumbent mayor can apply 3 times a year, including March 5.

"Does she have a chance to win against me?"

"I don't think so," he smiled. To be honest, I didn't expect a different answer.

"That's good, because there's so much more I want to do for my city," I sighed, like an Important Person bending under the burden of responsibility.

"Yes, we appreciate the Mayor's hard work," he nodded. He peeked at my cleavage again, which I didn't mind because he did it discreetly.

I got up and left, Chris humbly bid me farewell.

I drove on, looking at my town. To make things better for everyone, I rule here with an iron fist. I looked at the clean streets and sidewalks, the green lawns, the cheerful people. My town. My territory.

In the office, everyone greeted me on their knees. My secretary, petite Stacey, brought me coffee and a newspaper to my office. She took off my shoes, I put my feet up on the desk and read the paper.

Every so often, I sighed and signed the papers brought in by my employees. Sometimes I glanced at what they were about, but generally I trusted my employees. It's hard for the mayor to have to read everything she signs. My eyes would get tired from all those difficult phrases like "zoning plan" and "bank writ of execution."

I have people to make sure they understand such things.

Later, a painter came to do my next portrait. It will depict me sitting commandingly in an armchair, with a horsewhip in my hand.

I like to pose for paintings. And I like looking at them. They hang in various places in my office, reminding me who rules this city.

And anyone who wants to please me can decorate their living room with my portrait. There are some exemplary citizens who show me enthusiastic support in this way. I appreciate it.

If someone hopes that I will employ him in my office, or his relative, or that I will issue a favorable decision for him, that person shows support for me. That is natural. Why should I be favorable to someone who doesn't like me?

And so the day passed.

In the evening I called the policeman Davis.

"Today you're on duty in my bedroom."

"Of course, Madam Mayor", he answered enthusiastically. "I'm on my way."

There are good sides to being an authority. Davis has my painting in his living room, you can see that he is a model citizen of our beautiful town.

The next day the school principal visited me in my office. He kissed my shoes, accepted my instructions, and left humbly. Later, the police chief, Samuel, paid me a visit.

"How many people are in custody?" I asked. The commandant is a handsome 40-year-old man. I ordered him to massage my beautiful feet. He knelt in front of me and eagerly did what I told him to do, and on his own initiative from time to time he tenderly kissed the top of my feet. He knew how to put me in a good mood.

"Seven people, Goddess"

"How many women?"

"Just one woman named Martha Firelli"

"Ah, I remember. What for? Shoplifting?"

"Yes, Goddess", he said with appreciation for my memory. The mayor of the whole town remembers what Martha is in jail for.

"Whip her up and let her go. Let her steal no more"

"Of course, Goddess."

"Keep massaging, but gently. Oh, yeah. Do you have pictures of Terri Wallace?"

He took the photos out of his briefcase and handed them to me. They showed a young, slim woman in the parking lot outside the mall. I looked closely. She looked energetic and ambitious, I could tell.

"Well", I put the pictures in a drawer, "I heard that Jeffrey McDeighton and Susan Bilevitz were having an affair, watch them and take pictures."

He nodded, but after a moment he asked:

"Bilevitz? Who's that, Madam Mayor?"

"Well, she's a hairdresser from Franklin Road."

"Uh-huh", he nodded.

For a police chief, his knowledge of Greenville residents was not impressive.

"And gather information, who, with whom and where, I want to know everything."

"Of course, Goddess." If humility could fly, Samuel would be a jet.

Later, Judge Quincy called to officially announce the duel.

"Tomorrow at 12, on the square, as usual, Madam Mayor."

"Thank you, Judge."

"Good luck!", he replied and hung up.

I glanced at our local newspaper. A year ago, an editor who had written critically about me left. His name was Inglewood. In my opinion, that criticism was unconstructive. And I can't stand unconstructive criticism because it puts sand in the spokes of my chariot that is carrying us into a better future.

So I set my options in motion. Police surveillance, fines for unwashed cars, arrest for swearing in a non-public place. And so on.

Eventually Inglewood took the hint and moved out of the town.

The new editor, Calotti, understood his mission well and stopped pouring sand into the cogs.

It was immediately more pleasant to read the paper.

Here you are:

"Thanks to our mayor, clinic hours will be extended by an hour. The delighted citizens cannot even express their gratitude to our most wonderful mayor".

Or this:

"According to well-informed sources, our Mayor visited our local lingerie store. She chose delicate silk panties and a lacy bra that barely contained Her alluring breasts. We are glad that in the midst of her busy schedule, our beloved Mayor has time to think about Herself. Each of us would like to be in the place of those panties and that bra.

But even so, we know that our Mayor is so kind to everyone that she would gladly hug every resident of our city to Her prominent breasts."

I blushed reading that. Is it appropriate to write such private things about an official person?

But I liked it. It's nice when people appreciate me.

I've made a mental note to call Calotti to my bedroom someday. He's skillful with the pen (I'm speaking metaphorically, of course I know he writes on a computer), maybe he's just as skillful in love matters. He'll be able to get this lacy bra off me, which, by the way, is really comfortable.

And I'll give him a subsidy, let him know that fidelity is rewarded.

Finally, March 5 came. I went to work, sat at my desk, feeling the excitement as usual. I was going to fight for power over my city again.

Out of this excitement, I couldn't even concentrate on the detective story I was trying to read. My subordinates knew not to disturb me. Only once did the head of environmental affairs come in to give me an urgent letter to sign. I was displeased, signed it, but made him kiss all my toes twice. After twenty kisses, he moved away on all fours facing me, holding the signed letter in his teeth.

Good thing he knew how to act.

By twelve o'clock I was out the door.

"Stacey, keep your fingers crossed for me", I said to my secretary.

"Of course, Madam Mayor, as usual", she raised both clenched hands smiling cheerfully.

I went to the market square. There will be the competition.

I walked, because it is so close. I think that my countrymen are obsessed with cars. They have to drive everywhere, they don't like to walk. I was different, I liked walking, although I didn't always have time for it.

A crowd has already gathered. I hope they will witness my next victory. On the square there were already two "St. Andrew's crosses". I stood by one of them.

After a moment, Terri walked over to the other one. She smiled at me. She looked just like on the picture. Young, slim, pretty. But could she compare to Paula Domingues, the longtime mayor, seasoned in battle?

Here, in this bustling square, my future and the future of this city, which is so flourishing under my happy leadership, are about to be decided.

I looked at the thickening, silent crowd. Are they cheering for me? Do they secretly wish me defeat? So far no one has dared to show me hostility, but if I lose?

No, there is no reason to think about it, you have to believe, as usual, in the triumph of local good over foreign evil. It is simply the right thing to do.

When Judge Quincy arrived, we took off our clothes and shoes, I was left in my bra and panties. Yes, that bra and panties described in Calotti's article.

It's nice to know that people admire my big boobs. But I hope they don't see them bare.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luke Chambers staring at me. Oh, I think I'm going to make him pay more tax, because he's insulting the majesty of my authority by staring at me! Well, he finally lowered his eyes.

And there was Calotti. He was wearing dark glasses, but he was certainly looking at me. Would he write another article about Mayor Domingues' victory, which again delighted the people? That's what I was hoping for.

The judge made a short speech, reminded the rules.

"The winner will become mayor and rule our city until another contender defeats him. God bless America and our city."

After which he let the police officers know to begin.

Policeman Davis tied my arms and legs to the cross, Leutner tied Terri.

My heart was beating fast.

"Tie well, Harry, just like usual," I whispered to the policeman.

"Of course, Madam Mayor. Good luck," he whispered and nodded.

I smiled. I would gladly call him on duty in my bedroom again, because I was very pleased with him. He was undoubtedly rising to the occasion without a whimper.

I was eager to win again, to see the disappointment on the face of this young and pretty vagabond. To hear the applause and see the admiration on the faces of the people... .

I looked again at the crowd. There stood the shy doctor, Rubinescu, the clerks, the teachers, Luke Chambers, the car mechanic, the drunks, the workers and saleswomen, etc. etc.

And Calotti. And so many other supporters of mine, having my portraits in their living rooms and even bedrooms, feeling grateful for everything I did for this city. For beautiful roads, for a well-equipped school, for a modern hospital, for a stately church, synagogue and pagoda. For green lawns and clean air. And for the firm hand of the authorities that punishes all excesses but knows how to reward merit.

"Let's get started," Quincy called out. "Today's drawing was - the traffic bill!"

Before my eyes appeared the text of the law, which Davis was holding. His colleague, Valdez, stood next to me and pressed the turned-on vibrator against my panties. I could smell the pleasant aroma of his aftershave.

I took a breath and began to read into the provided microphone, just as Terri strapped on the other cross.

"Act of... on traffic...", I read in a calm voice.

I had read ten articles when I began to feel more and more excitement. The vibrations were working very hard on me. No good!

I heard Terri reading slowly and quietly, even though she also had a vibrator working on her crotch. I tried to concentrate on the content of the act, but my body wasn't listening to me. I could feel myself getting wet.

What was happening to me? Why so fast? Impossible ...

I read the next five articles in a cracking voice, one was about priority of traffic... and I felt spasms of pleasure. I couldn't read. I tried, but my body had other plans. It wriggled subjected to the cruel vibrations of treacherous pleasure.

A moan escaped my lips. And Terri kept reading...

Valdez and Davis gave the sign to the judge. Quincy stepped up to the microphone... and announced:

"Paula Domingues - orgasm! Terri Wallace has won!"

I screamed into the microphone, flooded with a warm wave of compelling pleasure. Somewhere in there I felt shame and anger at the same time.

I had lost! After 11 years. My panties were completely wet.

You will ask why there is such a competition for the mayor's job. I honestly don't know. It's an old tradition, but where did it come from? People have said things. I once heard that if you can hold back an orgasm while reading a bill, it means that you put the common good before personal pleasure. It kind of made sense.

Finally, Valdez took the vibrator away. I slumped inertly, still shaking with pleasure, all sweaty. As if through a fog, I heard people screaming and applauding Terri.

Davis untied me, very slowly the spasms subsided. It was the first time I had ever had an orgasm in public, in front of the people of my town. So far, it had been them, my opponents, who had climaxed, showing their weakness. And this time it was me. Why?

"According to tradition, the winner will take the loser around the square. Paula, take off your clothes!"

I kept leaning on the cross. I felt weak. Everything looked so unreal, like in a nightmare. Had I really just climaxed, in public, and the people of my town had seen it?

Finally, I stood more securely on my feet.

Amidst whistles and cheers, I removed my bra and wet panties. I still felt weak. I stood naked in front of the residents I had served for 11 years. Maybe I had been here too long.

I covered my shapely breasts with one hand and my crotch with the other. After a moment, however, I lowered my hands. Let them look, I didn't care. I didn't look at them, I just tried not to cry. My nipples were ruddy, they betrayed me as did my body. Too bad, I wanted so badly to win again.

I walked over to Terri. She was already dressed. She put a collar around my neck and fastened the leash.

I remembered how I had experienced my first victory here 11 years earlier. Back then, Mayor Darashian had to acknowledge my superiority. Ah, I will never forget that, that sweet taste of victory.

And later, when I won against other contenders. Each victory gave me joy.

"On all fours, bitch!", said Terri loudly, interrupting my memories. I wondered, where is she from? Her accent sounded like she was from California.

I fell to the ground.

She pulled on the leash and I moved after her. I stared at the cobblestones and clumsily followed the new mayor. People were whistling, laughing. I walked on all fours, and soon my knees began to hurt.

"Let's go, let's go!", Terri said. The lady and her bitch. Unfortunately, I had to drink this cup to the bottom, such is the fate of a loser.

We went around half of the square. People were gathering around us, shouting at first timidly, then louder and louder, various insults (at me) and flatteries (at the winner).

So I heard: "bitch", "pig", "fat ass" and even "old whore".

This is how they addressed their former mayor. One moment and I was at the bottom.

My knees were aching and bleeding. Small stones entered the wounds. I groaned as I made the last paces. Finally, we did one lap. The torment was over.

"Come to the office tomorrow, bitch", I heard. She unfastened my collar and left me. She was gone. The new, young mayor.

I sat on the cobbles quietly moaning. My panties and bra were next to me, the rest of my belongings lay near the cross. Davis walked over to me and handed them to me, then without another word he walked away.

It was getting empty. People were walking over to the mayor's office, where Terri's formal induction into office would take place.

I sat, my knees bleeding. They hurt like hell. I fell into apathy - I didn't have the strength to move, the pain and despair immobilized me.

A shadow fell on me. I raised my head. Doctor Rubinescu was standing next to me.

"What do you want?" I finally asked.

"You are bleeding, I will take you home" he said gently

"I am already nothing," I said in a tired voice, "Maybe you can help me as a doctor?" I hoped silently that his conscience would not let him go.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met", I heard, "Of course I will help you."

I looked at him surprised. Now I noticed that he was smiling warmly at me.

"Oh old cow" someone shouted. It was Martin, he lived by the school. He approached with a mischievous grin. I'm sure he had my portrait in his house. But now everything has changed.

The doctor approached him.

"Go away quickly, because - although I usually treat people - I'm about to hurt you", he said emphatically.

Martin hesitated and hurriedly backed away.

Rubinescu walked over to me, took my clothes and lifted me up like a bride. I was no lightweight, so he must have been surprisingly strong. I was stunned.

"What is your name actually?" I asked, feeling safe in his arms. It was strange, I had such a great memory and I couldn't remember the name of the local doctor.

"Elton" he replied. He carried me, smiling, down the almost empty street, walked to the car and loaded me inside.

"Are we going to you or to me, Paula?"

"To me", answered dully. "Oh how it hurts!"

He drove me home. He put me on the bed, cleaned, disinfected and dressed my poor bleeding knees. It went well, he was a doctor after all. He gave me painkillers.

The tension was draining out of me. I felt that something was breaking inside me. Suddenly I cried. My world collapsed in one moment, in front of everyone, no wonder that I finally let out my emotions.

"Stay with me," I cried.

"With pleasure" he answered.

I cuddled naked into him. Maybe I was not a zero after all, if one person wanted to be with me?

In the morning I woke up in my bed, covered with a quilt but still naked. My bandaged knees still hurt, but less so.