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The Price of Power part 3 (f/f, m/ff, politics)

Kid Indy

TMF Expert
Joined
Oct 12, 2001
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367
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This story makes much more sense if you have the first two parts, so here's part 1:

http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?316975-The-Price-of-Power-(m-f-politics)

and here's part 2:

http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?316994-The-Price-of-Power-(f-f-mf-f-politics)

Once you've had a chance to read this one, be sure to leave a comment--we writers love to see your responses!







The Price of Power, part 3 (f/f, m/ff, politics)

by

Kid Indy

AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE, JULY 2020

One by one she had seen them rally to her: first the ancient socialist, then the law professor, then the rivals closer to her own age, then the multi-billionaire, and finally the last holdover from the Obama White House. One by one they had stood and backed her on national TV, here, the morning after the Democratic National Convention, Tulsi Gabbard was one election day from becoming the first woman to be the President of the United States of America, the most powerful woman in human history.

And yet she was in an unmarked vehicle headed out to the suburbs of Milwaukee, her location unknown.

Wendy Fleming, driving the vehicle, was the only one inside the campaign who knew why they were heading away from the public eye mere hours after the world’s attention had fixed on her for a five-month general campaign and then, with any luck, for a four-year administration. Wendy was thinking about the sudden doubling of her social-media budget mere hours after her ticklish morning in South Carolina, how she had obliterated the Boomers in the biggest states and leveraged Sanders and Warren into destroying each other in Massachussetts. Trade journals in the campaign business had claimed her time for interviews, when she had time free, and she had triumphally told them they’d have to wait--there was a campaign to run!

But she knew, and Tulsi knew, that nobody was telling August Butler to wait. The Apollo Group’s attache to their campaign, the political operator with an appetite for ticklish women, was waiting for them at another Apollo-Group-owned safe house on the shore of Lake Michigan, and this time the instructions involved Wendy’s packing a silk nightgown. And with the Apollo Group’s resources at stake, Wendy knew that she was not to say no. She was exhausted from the last evening of the convention, but here she was, just after midnight, driving her boss to the night’s big show, and Wendy knew what August Butler’s hands could do to her.

As Wendy turned the last corner that her GPS guided her to, she could see a garage door opening before she could even see the house number. Butler was waiting for them. She checked over her shoulder for anyone following--no, they were alone--and pulled into the garage. The door was already starting to close behind them, and she turned off the Prius.

Butler was nowhere to be seen, but as Wendy opened her door to step out, she heard a voice over an intercom: “Come in, and take the door on your left to the basement. We have some celebrating to do!”

Wendy looked over her shoulder at Tulsi Gabbard, still wearing her ball gown from the parties after the last evening of the convention and intoxicated by the evening and the prospects of becoming president. “Well, Madam President, let’s do this.”

“Wendy, I have to say it again: we could never have done this without you!”

Wendy looked down at the duffel bag in her hand. “Yeah, I guess it takes a dedicated team, doesn’t it?”

They went inside and down the stairs. On a giant-screen TV CNN analysts were going over the next several months’ likely debates and projecting the variables that might turn the election. August Butler stood and greeted them as they descended.

“Ladies! You’ve done it!”

Tulsi’s smile was a mile wide. “We’ve done it, August! And we’re going to get the rest of it done, too--and when I’m in that Oval Office, we’ll have you to thank!”

Butler held his hand up to signal a halt. “Stop right there, Madam President. As you know, there will be no thanking. We just need you to keep your promises to the voters. Apollo Group backed you because of who you are, not to sway policy.”

“Backed? Why are you talking in the past tense?”

“You’re right, you’re right. We’re still going to be partners all the way to November. And we’ve already got plans for that--we’re going to be in every midwestern Evangelical’s social-media feed playing sad stories of children at the border who need their mommies. We’re going to be hitting every beer-drinking father’s Facebook and making him afraid that Trump is coming specifically for his teenage daughter. But all of that is for the weeks to come. Right now, I’m ready to party! Wendy, there’s a room around the corner. You got my message, right?”

Wendy sighed and nodded. She stepped around the corner dutifully, preparing herself mentally for this maniac’s hands to be on her again. In the side bedroom she hung her suit carefully and folded her hose before she tucked them into her bag. As she slid the red silk nightgown over her body, its smooth fabric rubbed against her skin, and she could already feel the tickling that lay in store for her. In spite of herself, a shudder of delight ran down her back.

As she tucked her bag into the room’s closet to retrieve later, the door opened behind her, and Butler and Gabbard entered. Butler did not even bother to hide his leering as he looked Wendy’s young, lean, ticklish body over from her curly hair to her ticklish heels. He gestured to the bed, and suddenly Wendy realized that there were already fur-lined leather cuffs attached to its posts. They were standing in the room where the tickling was going to happen.

August Butler turned to Tulsi Gabbard. “Alright, Madam President, now it’s time for you to get ready.”

“I’ll be ready to start just as soon as we tie her up, Gus!”

Butler laughed. “No, Madam President, that was for primary-campaign money. This is the general election. The big leagues. I need you to strip down to your underwear and lie down so that we can get you ready to earn some real campaign funding!”

Gabbard’s face dropped into a frown of indignation. Wendy’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Gabbard growled: “There is no way I’m taking my clothes off for you, Butler.”

Butler backed up and put himself between the women and the door to prevent any premature exits. “You will if you want to be president. Just think of the history, Tulsi. As long as this nation persists, you’ll be the first woman to stand as commander in chief. Is that not worth a little tickle here and a little tickle there?” Wendy’s skin tingled as he said that word.

She walked to him and stood tall. “You must be out of your mind! I’ll win this election without you!”

“You and I both know that you won’t. The Bernie Bros resent you for taking away their guy’s last chance, and the DNC establishment isn’t going to get behind an anti-war candidate when they could let you crash and then build up Buttigieg for the next four years. But you don’t have to crash. We have the resources to take the evangelicals and the suburban moms and every demographic you need to win, Tulsi.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorpost. “All you have to do is seize this moment.”

Gabbard’s fists clenched. Wendy held her breath in anticipation. Tulsi’s dark eyes looked square into Wendy’s. “Unzip my dress.”

The social-media manager stepped behind the candidate. Gabbard’s spine stiffened. The rapid rip of a zipper descending was the only sound in the room. Gabbard’s hand shot to her own shoulder to start taking the dress off.

Butler’s hand went up again. “Slowly.” Gabbard’s indignation was palpable as she slowly let one shoulder-strap fall, then the other, then to shimmy out of the gown. Wendy, still shoeless in her own silk nightgown could not help smiling as Gabbard lowered herself onto the bed, and as she heard Butler click each cuff shut, she could remember in her own skin what Butler was about to do to the most powerful woman on the planet. One cuff. Two. Three. Four.

But the surprises were not done. Butler sat on the bed and turned to Wendy. “You do know what she wrote on that paper back in South Carolina, right?”

Wendy, suddenly aware that Butler was looking at her again, felt herself getting ticklish standing on the bedroom’s carpet. “Her secret phrase? What she was going to say if she gave up?”

Butler laughed and stood up. Wendy recoiled, her eyes on his hands. “No, Wendy, she was not going to lose, and if she did give up, she could just stop tickling you. No, the paper was a wager. Tulsi could have bet one percent of her Apollo Group funding or she could have bet all of it on whether or not you gave up.”

“What are you saying?”

“One hundred percent, Wendy. Before she knew that she was going to be tickling you, she bet every penny of her primary campaign funding on the fact that she was going to let me touch you until you surrendered. Nothing was going to make her call me off!”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned to the side to look at her hopeless candidate.

Gabbard’s neck strained forward, and she started to plead: “Wendy, there’s too much at stake to make this personal. With that money we beat Bloomberg! We shut down Biden!”

Wendy suddenly stepped towards Tulsi. “And you were willing to sacrifice me--my body--to satisfy your ambition, right?”

Butler laughed. “That’s right, Wendy! But you found out something about Tulsi Gabbard that morning, didn’t you? Just how much you could turn those tables if you had the chance, right? Just how ticklish she could be if she were the one tied to a bed…”

Wendy did not wait to hear any official instructions. She stepped around Butler and moved straight to Gabbard’s left foot. Gabbard’s defiance immediately turned to panic: “Wendy! No!” But the young social-media director was not going to lose this chance. She grabbed Gabbard’s ankle and began furiously to tickle her silk-sheathed sole. Gabbard screamed and twisted, but she had nowhere to go and no way to get Wendy’s fingers to stop. Wendy’s fingers ran wild over Tulsi’s skin, and Gabbard fell into a desperate laugh, discovering that she had no ability to hold in the giggling if she could not escape the touching. Wendy’s hands released, and she climbed onto the bed on all fours, her bottom in the air in a feline prowl as she approached Tulsi’s navel. Wendy Fleming sat back on her heels, and her hands went to Tulsi’s inner thigh and side. She attacked the sensitive skin here and the smooth hose there, and Gabbard squealed in an undeniable alto as her body writhed from side to side. Wendy was only half-conscious as she tickled Gabbard’s belly and ribs and eventually landed in her underarms, the young staffer’s hands wreaking revenge that she had dreamed of since South Carolina. Gabbard’s body started jumping like a fireworks show. Her eyes clenched shut and face reddened as every ticklish spot Wendy touched brought her laughter into higher pitches, then back down as she continued to work the spot.

Wendy’s hands settled in just below Gabbard’s ribs, squeezing and pinching, and Gabbard was almost out of body as she strained vainly to bring her arms down or her legs up or anything to bear so that she could just cover up that spot, keep her cruel social-media manager’s hands from forcing another laugh from between her lips. Gabbard’s hips bucked up and down with each squeeze, and Wendy drank in every ticklish scream that she let out, knowing that her student loans were not going away but that she would have this revenge anyway. She had seen Tulsi Gabbard tired and impatient and frustrated and--in those two fateful meetings with Butler, as she watched Wendy’s own ticklish torture--maybe even aroused, but this was something different: now Wendy Fleming had power over Tulsi Gabbard, the next president of the United States, and as her hands spidered their way down to her hips, past them to her inner thighs, then to her knees, she knew that there was a reckoning coming when she returned to Tulsi Gabbard’s feet. She had never done this to another woman, but something deep within told her that the feet, when she really focused on them, were going to be worth their weight in gold, something beyond money or prestige.

Wendy licked her lips as she got lower and saw Gabbard’s eyes widen. Now is my time! But tickling can give a girl tunnel vision, and when Butler’s hands dug into Wendy’s sides, she had no idea he had closed the distance behind her. She screamed as his fingers probed and poked and clawed at the silk covering her silk-covered skin. She fell to her side onto the bed, Tulsi’s right foot in front of her face, Butler’s hands squeezing her hips, more ticklish than she ever remembered being in Las Vegas or in Charleston. A paw pinned her shoulder to the mattress, and she could feel Gabbard’s foot against the top of her head, and the other hand turned into an iron claw, grabbing a fistful of her midsection. Wendy’s knees shot up, and her hands grabbed feebly at his strong arm, leaving her underarm open for him to slide a hand into her armpit and make her scream again. The hands withdrew like lightning departing from the strike and came down again, this time grabbing her sides just below the ribs and pulsing with frenzied squeezes. Wendy’s legs circled in a quick bicycle motion, kicking in vain at the air. Butler kept tickling. Ramped up by her own ticklish aggression, she knew that Butler had weaponized her own nervous system against her, and there was nothing she could do but laugh as he tickled her without mercy.

Wendy felt Butler’s fingers come to rest on her belly: four fingers grasped her side, and his thumb rested inches from her navel. She instinctively grabbed is forearm, but she could not budge it. His other hand once again pinned her shoulder.

“Oh, my, that was gratifying.” His eyes went up to Gabbard, and Wendy’s followed. Her terror was written all over her face as she watched her young protege tortured, unable to move to stop the torment and knowing that it could come back on her at any moment. “As you can feel, Wendy, you’re at this moment more ticklish than you’ve ever been. So I want you to listen to me closely.” His grip tightened for just a moment, and Wendy whimpered at the ticklish squeeze. “I’m going to let you tickle Madam President’s feet as much as you need right now to exact your revenge. In fact, you are going to tickle her until she promises to pleasure you with her tongue.”

Tulsi’s mouth opened in horror and disgust. “Butler! Don’t you dare--”

Butler squeezed Wendy’s side harder, and she let out a squeal at the tickling. “If you stop before she begs you to let her do so, I’m coming back over here, and I’m going to tie you to the bed, and I’m going to tickle your feet again while Madam President gets you back for this.” Wendy cringed as she remembered the truly monstrous way that his fingers on her soles betrayed her will and her dignity.

Wendy swallowed. “If she promises, do I have to let her…” Her voice trailed off.

“No, I just want her to make that promise. And I think your feet are ticklish enough that you’ll find the Candidate’s spots easily enough.” With that Butler sat up, releasing Wendy, and walked over to his chair and sat down again. “You may begin immediately.”

Wendy took a big breath in, then exhaled and grabbed Tulsi’s left ankle. Tulsi’s eyes were no longer defiant but desperate. “Wendy, please don’t do this!” But Wendy had too many reasons to do this. Her fear of Butler’s hands immediately joined forces with her wounded dignity as her fingers started to scratch a zig-zag waterfall down the sole, and they did not fail to drive her perceptive ears and hands to find indeed every spot on that foot that most tormented the future president of these United States. Gabbard screamed and laughed, squealed and giggled and begged, and as Wendy felt the power that comes from making such a powerful person beg, a third sensation joined in to reinforce the other two. She tickled that silk-covered foot until Gabbard was incoherent, but there was still no promise, no indecent plea that would give Wendy a reason to stop.

Wendy released the ankle and raised herself off the bed. She gave a hop and a twirl as she made her way to the bed’s other corner. “So what do you think, Tulsi? Do you want to experiment with me?” She gave Gabbard’s sole a ticklish, trailing stroke with her finger, a quick pass from toes to heel, and Gabbard’s face creased into a face that was struggling between pleasure and surrender and horror at what would come next. “Oh, you’re just too ticklish to take much more of this, aren’t you?”

“Please, Wendy!”

“Please what?” She used three fingers to tickle the heel, and Gabbard’s face could not stop the laugh that broke up her begging.

“Please…”

“Oh, I see! You really want to lick me, don’t you? You’ve always liked looking at me, but now you’re just so ticklish that you might just ask out loud, hmm?”

“Wendy, I never…”

“Never had the courage to say what you want when you’re with me? Come on, Tulsi. You know you can have what you want if you only ask!” She plucked Tulsi’s toe and pulled it upwards and backwards. Tulsi’s eyes followed her hand as Wendy prepared to launch another merciless round of tickling.

“Please! Let me do it!”

Wendy scratched at Tulsi’s sole, and she screamed. “Let me do what?”

“Let me pleasure you with my tongue!”

Wendy crossed her ankles and gave a curtsy Butler’s way. “I knew you always wanted that! But that’s not what I want, Tulsi!” And with that she started to tickle Tulsi’s right foot, and Gabbard was beyond torment. Wendy’s hands scratched and rubbed that foot, and as Tulsi’s humiliation added an undeniable savor to the sound of her laughter, Wendy began to tickle her ankle, then her knee, and then move up towards her inner thighs again.

And this time, when Butler grabbed Wendy from behind, Wendy was pretty sure she would have promised any humiliation to make his hands stop. Her body, sore underneath the silk from laughing, nonetheless fell onto the bed between Tulsi’s legs, and Butler hooked her knees to hold her still while he clawed at her midsection. Tulsi gasped to regain her breath as Butler tickled Wendy, and neither woman knew how much time had passed before he stood up, leaving both women catching their breath.

He pointed to Wendy. “Stand up, Wendy, and get ready to tickle her upper body. If you stop, I’m going to abandon her feet and restrain you, and you know you can’t take that right now.” Wendy obeyed instantly, taking her position. “Now, Madam President, Wendy is going to get you laughing until you can’t stop, and then, when you’ve got no will to resist, I’m going to start tickling your feet. I’m not going to stop until your will is broken, and then I’m going to keep tickling!”

“No... no…”

“Wendy, you may begin.” Wendy’s hands dug into Tulsi’s underarms, and she screamed. She had no sense of how much time passed before Butler began to tickle her feet, but it was everything that she imagined, terrified, back in South Carolina as she had watched him turn Wendy into a puddle. Her next memory of that night was watching Butler hand Wendy the key to the cuffs.

“Look for regular support from our Super PACs for the rest of the campaign. You’re going to hand this guy’s butt to him.”

Tulsi, through the haze, managed to feel pride at Wendy’s response. “You’re not going to get any policy favors for this, you know.”

“Nor would we ask for any. Apollo Group has substantial interests in keeping America out of Middle Eastern armed conflict. If another candidate were more likely to serve that purpose, we would have backed that candidate. But the video wouldn’t have been as good!”

Wendy stopped unfastening the cuff as she processed that last sentence. “Video?”

As Wendy started to unfasten again, Butler produced a large-screen phone from his pocket. After a few taps he turned the screen around so that the women could see. Their eyes both went wide as they watched Presidential Candidate Tulsi Gabbard of Hawaii tickling a young woman tied to a bed. Butler’s grin was unstoppable. “Of course, tonight’s video, with Tulsi getting hers and promising oral sex, is going to be even better.”

Gabbard was furious. “You’re not going to blackmail any policy out of me with this!”

“Of course we’re not. As I said, you were already disinclined to invade Middle-Eastern countries. And we just need you to be you on that front. But if you ever get the idea that you’re going to turn on Apollo Group, for hash-tag me-too or whatever else, I just want to remind you that men can get away with sex scandals. A woman president who’s into S&M? We wouldn’t want that getting out, would we?”

Butler pocketed the phone and dashed up the stairs with a speed that would have astonished the women, had they been paying attention. With the fourth cuff loosed, Tulsi Gabbard, in her underwear and hose, dashed up the stairs, followed by her young social-media manager in pursuit.

As they reached the top of the stairs, they saw that the giant-screen TV was no longer tuned to the news but displaying a video feed of the room, with a presidential candidate in her underwear and a campaign worker in a nightgown, in big-screen glory. Wendy spotted the camera and started to move towards it, but just as she did, the TV changed, displaying the South Carolina tickling session.

Across the bottom of the screen a chiron crawled: “CAN YOU IMAGINE THE HEADLINES?”
 
This series was quite lovely, not the least of which because Mommy Tulsi is so under represented.

Part 2 was obviously my favorite as Tulsi is an ideal domme

I love it so much, please tell me there's going to be more.
 
This series was quite lovely, not the least of which because Mommy Tulsi is so under represented.

Part 2 was obviously my favorite as Tulsi is an ideal domme

I love it so much, please tell me there's going to be more.

Many thanks! I'm not planning on continuing this narrative (I'm already drafting my next project), but I'm glad you enjoyed this one!
 
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