Position of Power

I’ve been obsessed with sex for my entire life, and I’ve never quite known why. I’ll skip my slutty high school and college days, because while fun, they were basic as hell. After a bachelor’s in neuroscience, and a master’s and a PhD in clinical psychology, I never could quite figure out what made me so hyper-sexual. I did, however, become one of the most educated high-class escorts in Washington D.C.

My primary clientele was, you guessed it: politicians. I’ve probably banged about half the house of representatives. People ask me if I let my political opinions affect my job, but I always just say: there is no partisan line when it comes to pussy.

I have a lot of stories I could tell you, but the craziest thing that happened to me actually happened this past November 3rd, or, Election Day.

Election Day is normally a pretty slow night for me because politicians end up spending time celebrating or mourning their defeat with their wives. So I decided to plop in front of CNN, open a couple bottles of pinot grigio, and silently pray that I wouldn’t have to keep listening to Republicans whine about “feeling conflicted” about what was happening in their party anymore. I could just get back to indulging in their freaky kinks without worrying about them suddenly becoming aware of their lack of moral compass.

But when I turned on CNN, I got a weird notification I’ve never gotten before on my TV. It said…

“Would you like to switch to *Secret CNN*?”

What? What the heck is *Secret CNN?* I was curious, so of course I clicked the green button on my remote. A new CNN station popped up, with the exact same logo only with the words “secret” above it and the colors inverted. Huh. Okay.

The news anchor was some blonde lady I’ve never seen before. She was relaying the results of some election… but… it wasn’t for the president. Was it one of the Senate races? A local election?

Then, I saw my name on the list of candidates. My name. And there was no mistaking it was me. How many Dr. Olivia Vandermeers do you think are out there? This couldn’t be a coincidence. And not only was my name on the list of candidates, I was currently winning with 88% of the popular vote.

“Well, I know a lot of people thought it would still be too close to call,” the anchor said, “But it looks like it’s a landslide. At this point, it’s not too early to say that our next Sex President will be Dr. Olivia Vandermeer.”

Hold up. *Sex. President?* What the heck is a Sex President. Soon, I heard a knock on my door. I was almost too afraid to answer, but my curiosity got the best of me.

I opened the door to two people: a man and a woman. Both of them were dressed like secret service agents, with suits and dark, opaque sunglasses.

“Ma’am, we’re your security until the inauguration,” the woman said, in a very serious voice.

“So you’re like the secret service?” I asked, incredulous.

“No,” she replied, “We’re the Secret Secret Service. We serve the Sex President.”

Surprisingly, not much changed the next few months. My Secret Secret Service agents were around and I could watch Secret CNN, but I still saw my regular clients. I asked my security team questions, but no one had any answers. Secret CNN was confusing to watch, almost like it had some weird code I wasn’t picking up on. The news stories were actually pretty normal, but there was still something off about them.

“So…” I asked one day in December, “What exactly does the Sex President do?”

Greg, the male Secret Secret Service agent, responded, “All information regarding the position is classified until after the inauguration.”

“When is the inauguration?” I asked.

Greg looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “Inauguration Day.”

At noon on January 20th, 2021, Joe Biden was sworn in as the 46th President of the United States of America. At 11:00 PM, I, Dr. Olivia Vandermeer, was sworn in as the 48th Secret Sex President of the United States of America.

I walked into my inauguration, and I don’t know what I was expecting. It was a small, dimly lit room with chairs set up in a small audience facing a tiny platform. There were only 12 people inside, and all of them were seated wearing masks except for a beautiful, elegant woman standing on the platform. She was wearing a tight, slinky dress.

She was sex personified. Large, wide hips. Thick thighs. Full, voluptuous breasts. I normally didn’t swing for the ladies unless they were paying me, but I wanted to fuck her right then and there.

She held her hand out to me, gesturing for me to come to the platform. I looked back at the agents who’d been watching over me since November and they urged me forward. Scared, I walked up to her. As I approached her, her gaze pulled me in closer and I instinctually embraced the tall, dark, beautiful Goddess that stood in front of me.

As we embraced, a warmth filled my body. With that warmth: a click. Finally everything clicked into place. My life, my purpose, why I had always been horny my entire life. My obssession with sex had led me to this moment. I didn’t fully understand in that moment what my duties would be as Sex President, but I knew in that embrace that it was important.

The woman spoke.

“As many of you know, I, Sex President Jamila Moore, have been serving as Secret Sex President for the past eight years. In that time, I have fucked through several of the nation’s toughest problems, resolved sexual foreign relations, and Commanded our legion of skanks with the utmost pride, respect, and loyalty to my country. While I will no longer be your Sex President, I am leaving you in what I believe will be very capable hands.

They say everything in this nation is about sex. Except sex. Sex is about power. The position of Sex President is one of the powerful in the world. Dr. Vandermeer, in your hands, you will have the capability to heal or destroy a nation. Please wield this power with responsibility.”

Jamila grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a kiss. When our lips met and it felt like my heart was set on fire. One of her hands reached for the back of my neck, her strong grip encapsulating me. Her tongue found mine and they danced as a safe, warm, familiar feeling started settling in my body.

As our lips parted, I felt… changed. Jamila had given me something in the kiss. A strange power I didn’t understand. The masked members of the audience clapped. For the first time, I looked at the other people in the room. To my disbelief, sitting there in the front row were Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. A few rows behind them I spotted Bernie Sanders. And far behind Bernie, I saw a familiar petulant orange scowl.

The rest of the inauguration went by in a blur. An old, serious woman grabbed me after the ceremony. Her name was Greta, and she was to be my assistant, and she’d been assisting Sex Presidents since before I was born.

“So what exactly is my job as Sex President?” I asked.

“You have a lot of jobs, but your most important jobs are being the Commander in Chief for the US Legion of Skanks and Fucking The Nation’s Problems. You’ll meet the Legion on Friday, but if you’d like, you can fuck your first problem tonight to get ahead on your day tomorrow.”

“Umm… okay. I guess I can fuck a problem tonight. What exactly do I do?” I couldn’t believe this was a thing.

“Let’s start you off with a more gentle problem: though I will caution you it can still get pretty rough.” Greta examined her clipboard, “Would you like to fuck Poverty, Child Marriage, or Cancer?”

“Wait… those are the gentler problems?” I asked.

“Well,” Greta said, “They’re gentler in that they’re the only problems in the US people generally agree are problems. And I say ‘generally’ because some people still don’t even think they’re problems. You’re not going to want to get into White Supremacy and COVID before we establish a safe-word.”

“So how does one fuck poverty?” I asked. None of this made any sense, but I was going along with it.

“You’ll get a lot of this in your debriefing tomorrow now that you’re sworn in, but to give you the short version. Back in 1787 during the Constitutional Convention, the Founding Fathers also made a Secret Constitution. You see, while Benjamin Franklin was figuring out electricity with his kite and lightning, he also figured out how to personify the nation’s larger problems and turn them into sex-hungry demons basically. They found that satisfying the sex-demons helped alleviate some of the greater issues America faced and created the position of Sex President, a legion of skanks, and a few other boring legislative policies. We have a really good PowerPoint that you’ll get to see tomorrow that covers it a lot better. So… do you want to fuck the poverty sex-demon?”

“Sure,” I said, “Why the fuck not.”

Greta took me into a long hallway with several numbered rooms. The hall smelled like lust and cheap perfume, with the sound of moans in the background. She brought me to room 213 and handed me a keycard.

“Good luck.” Greta walked away briskly.

I took a deep breath and unlocked the door. It looked like a nice hotel room on the inside. When I walked in the room, I saw a blue, humanoid creature with sharp features. It’s ears and nose were pointed, and it’s eyes were green. It looked at me, excited.

“Are you the new Sex President?” it smiled.

“Umm… y-y-yes.” I said. The demon cackled.

“Ah yes, I love a new pet. You noobies are always the best.”

The sex demon lunged at me. You’d think my impulse would be to run away, but I wasn’t phased. The demon was freaky, sure, but I bet politicians are freakier.

The demon grabbed me by the hair and started dragging me towards the bed. It threw me down on the mattress and started ripping my clothes off. If I didn’t take control soon, I’d never get it back.

I reached for the demon’s crotch and immediately found what I was looking for: his tender balls, swollen in excitement. I gave them a gentle but firm squeeze, sending the demon a signal of pleasure and a warning that I held his fate in my hands.

The demon and I locked eyes. I knew exactly what to say. I looked right at that fucker and said.

“Say ‘*I’m a little bitch boy.’*” I could tell that the demon wasn’t used to being a sub. That didn’t mean he wasn’t intrigued. He grinned for the slightest second and then gave in to his new role.

“I’m a little bitch boy.” He said. Good. I was getting control back.

“Lick my pussy, ya pussy-bitch.” I commanded. The demon got to work. I leaned back on the bed in a starfish position, clearly not giving a shit about this sex demon and said, “After you make me cum, I’ll let you fuck me.”

The demon got to work. I realized quickly that he had three tongues somehow. I’m not complaining. It wasn’t long before his triple tongue lashing had me in orgasmic bliss. I came so hard that I felt like it was going to knock my socks off. Fuck. I was still wearing socks.

“Take the rest of my clothes off. And tell me what a worthless little simp you are,” I said.

The demon started taking my clothes off, saying, “Yes ma’am. You’re right. I am a worthless simp. I act all tough but I’m just a little bitch baby.”

After I was sufficiently naked, I was ready to engage with the little blue guy. His cock had somehow grown throughout our time together. It was about 12 inches long and thick as all hell.

“Is that it?” I mocked, partially to hide my intimidation.

“Yes ma’am, I know it’s small.”

“It’s fucking pathetic.”

I started kicking his balls and his dick. He bent over in pain. I kicked and kicked and kicked. The demon began to moan in pleasure. I kept kicking until the demon was a curled up ball on the floor.

I untangled him and climbed on top of the giant blue tick and let it enter my eager pussy. It filled me up and stretched out my tight little hole. As it entered deeper and deeper inside of me, I felt my second orgasm build up, hitting surprisingly quick. I saw fireworks as the demon went into a frenzy.

The demon took back his dominant position and flipped me onto my stomach. He started pumping quick and rough, rocking me more and more to my core. After what felt like two or three more minutes, I orgasmed again. I must’ve orgasmed six times before I finally felt warm cum fill my tight cunt.

Exhausted, the demon and I finally laid back on the bed. I looked over to find him sleeping and laughed.

As I left the room, I saw Greta at the end of the hall. She looked surprised to see me.

“You’re back awful quick for a noobie,” Greta smiled. The smile looked on a face that had been so serious before.

“Yeah,” I said, “How long was that? Like thirty minutes? An hour?”

Greta laughed.

“Madame President,” she said, “it’s eleven o’clock in the morning. You’ve been fucking for over ten hours.”

I was taken to my new presidential chambers, took a shower, and passed out. When I woke up, it was six o’clock. I had a text from Greta.

Great news: the sex you had last night just created 200,000 jobs that pay a living wage and offer good benefits! Great job fucking poverty.

I’m not entirely sure how what I did last night worked. But I do know, that with Dr. Olivia Vandermeer as your Secret Sex President, it’s going to be a good four years.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/l2w3j7/position_of_power