Third Party Babe Rules

by Andrew Bushard

  Part of me wants to puke at the thought of entering a conservative VFW hall, but another part of me wants to check out this concert. But I will have to donate $5.00 to Trump. Groan!

  Chapter Forty Nine:

  I call Tiffany and unload the whole experience onto her.

  She reassures me, “My, you have quite a situation before you.”

  “Yes, girl, I do.”

  “So are you going to go?”

  “I think for some reason God is calling me to attend. Gag me that I’ll have to donate $5.00 to Donald Trump. I’d never hump that plump Trump.”

  Tiffany laughs, “You made me spit out my stevia soda!”

  “Girl, just don’t ever let me convert to Republicrat ways.

  “I will never let you do that. You can change anything, except your third party ways.”

  “Good deal I have such a strong will. I am a rock. Hey, why don’t you come with me?”

  “Of course I will come with you.”

  “Awesome! Unfortunately that means we will be donating $10.00 to Plump Trump. Trump wasn’t always so plump. In the 80s and 90s he was moderately lean.”

  “You are such a funny friend.”

  “I love you, girl.”

  “I love you too. This concert may suck, but hanging with you always rules.”

  Chapter Fifty:

  Tiffany and I arrive right as the show is starting. We reluctantly pay our entrance fees. The enormous crowd overwhelms us, but whatever.

  A middle aged announcer who looks just like Dick Clark opens the store, “Welcome, Republicans! Thanks for coming to support Donald Trump, the next dictator of the United States, I mean the next President of the United States.”

  Tiffany and I exchange what the fuck looks.

  The announcer continues, “Join me in giving a warm welcome to the Republican Dream Machine!”

  The band led by a fellow with a face and hair like Elvis and a body like Fabio. Dreamy Republicans?! Then I recall my crushes on those Republican Speakers of the House.

  My temperature rises and sweet floods my body. Attraction?

  He sings the most over the top song, “Republicans, vote, Republicans vote. Let’s smash the Democrats and third parties. We can beat the Democrats, then ban the third parties. All hail Donald!”

  Something possesses me because after the show I leave a note with my number on it for him. I’m feeling out of place. I don’t feel confident so I grab Tiffany and we scram. He seems hot.

  Chapter Fifty One:

  The next day I go for a walk. I’m not angry this time, I just need some air to refresh my brilliant third party mind.

  As I pass through the central market district, I hear a loudmouthed prissy woman barking, “Everyone, everyone, please buy our shirts!”

  I gawk at the shirts. You wouldn’t believe what they say. They actually say, “Third Parties Suck!” on the front and “If You Belong to a Third Party, Renounce Your Membership.” on the back. Who the hell sells this over the top shit?

  Is God trying to tell me something?

  I take a closer look. In small letters at the bottom of the shirts, it says, “Republican Dream Machine.”

  I silently scream. I think I have met my arch nemesis. Lord, God, please give me the strength to conquer these evil forces.

  I speed walk away. I started walking to clear my head; now I need to clear my head from clearing my head.

  Chapter Fifty Two:

  After an intense third party brainstorming session, I take a stroll through Austin’s Zilker Park. A megaphone jolts me from my pleasant walk.

  I hear HIS voice booming, “We need to ban third parties. They just get in the way. True Americans love the Republican Party. True Americans demand the imprisonment of all third party candidates. Let’s imprison third party candidates today!”

  I futilely try to shout him down, “Hey, third parties rule! Third parties can save this nation.”

  He actually heard me as he responds, “Hey baby. Maybe we won’t ban all third party members. We will not prosecute you just as long as you date me.”

  I shout, “Shut up, you creep.” But I feel doubt. On the outside I exude disgust. On the inside, I feel attraction.

  I’d rather not have everyone observe this, so I wait until he finishes his ranting. Then I approach him, “Let’s not shout about this. Let’s talk this over.”

  His macho ass responds, “Sure, baby. Let’s have a picnic.”

  “A picnic?”

  “Yes, tomorrow here at the same time.”

  “You have yourself a deal.

  “I’m going to bring steak and cheese sandwiches.”

  “I’m going to bring vegan cuisine.”

  “Veganism sucks.”

  “You suck. You bring your meat shit and I will bring my vegan cuisine.”

  “Alrighty then. What’s your name?”

  “Angela.”

  “Baby, I’m Jack.”

  Then he has the audacity to kiss me on the neck. Do I like it? Actually, somehow, yes.

  Chapter Fifty Three:

  I don’t know what has gotten into me, but once I again I stroll through Zilker Park later in the day. Mid afternoon to be exact.

  I smell smoke. So I have a feeling that means fire is nearby. Indeed, I am right.

  I see a bonfire!

  Jack the Jack Ass is leading a group of raving fanatics. Foam comes out of their mouths.

  Jack commands, “Thank you for bringing this third party literature. Now we will be burning the literature of every third party imaginable: the Green Party, the Libertarian Party, the Reform Party, the Constitution Party, the Socialist Party, the Socialist Worker’s Party, the Socialist Labor Party, the Communist Party, the Revolutionary Communist Party, the Workers World Party, the Peace and Freedom Party, the Light Party, the Natural Law Party, the Prohibitionist Party, the Autonomy Party, and the Vision Revolution Party.

  I clench my teeth. If it’s not bad enough he included all those awesome third parties, he had to also include the Vision Revolution Party! This means war!

  I charge at him, but he stops me, “Woah, baby. Do I turn you on?”

  Actually he does, but I better not admit that.

  Chapter Fifty Four:

  Finally, the damn picnic. Fortunately, we have nice weather.

  He taunts, “You want to eat some meat or would you rather eat me?”

  “Over my dead body!”

  “Just stick to your vegan shit then.”

  “I will.”

  “Why do you like third parties? They never win; in your face!”

  “Au contraire. In fact, I have won as a third party candidate for mayor of Round Rock and for Governor of Texas among other offices.”

  “But that’s it!”

  “You make it sound like I only won the Prom Queen election.”

  “You third party candidates are so minor league, no make that little league.”

  I slap him.

  He nibbles at my neck.

  Somehow kissing happens.

  He’s not afraid to slip his hand behind my bra and undo it. In public!

  We kiss some more, and then I get an idea.

  I offer, “I think you and I should debate, formally.”

  “I will kick your ass.”

  “I doubt it. How about you reserve your lame old VFW hall?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Oh, I got a challenge for you if you are man enough to accept it.”

  He slips his hand beneath my panties and fiddles my cunt. In public! He agrees, “Alright, I’ll accept any challenge.”

  Something has gotten into me, because I continue, “The loser has to be the sex servant of the winner for 7 weeks.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Fifty Five:

  I call Tiffany again and I tell her the whole story.

  She is in awe.

  I note, “When I got home, I found both my bra and panties removed.”

  “Oh, my God!”
<
br />   “So are you going to come and cheer me on for the debate?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “I’m going to beat him.”

  “Of course, you will!”

  “This is not only for my pride but for the benefit of third parties everywhere!”

  “That’s for sure!”

  “We got to go to that VFW hall again. I wonder if Donald Trump will attend.” We both chuckle.

  “I’m going to win. I’m so going to win!”

  Chapter Fifty Six:

  So the debate! I’m not exactly going to reprint the entire 2 hour debate word for word. That would make this book last forever and besides it would slow down the pace. If you are interested, however, you can buy a copy of the debate from the Third Party Press.

  Instead, I will share with you some of the highlights.

  5 minutes and 37 seconds, his opening address, “Third Parties ruin our nation. So we need to round up third party supporters and third party leaders. Third parties contribute nothing of value; we need to ban them.” The crowd boos for about a minute.

  21 minutes and 23 second, my opening address, “Democracy and freedom demand that we permit the existence of third parties. Not only should we tolerate third parties, but learn from them and advance them.” Cheers so loud I almost go deaf.

  1 hour and 24 minutes, my cross examination of him, “But wouldn’t the Constitution guarantee freedom for third parties, if through the First Amendment (freedom of speech and freedom of press) if nothing else?” The crowd goes wild. Cocky Jack manages to just stutter a “Maybe.”

  1 hour 39 minutes, his rebuttal, “Do we really need freedom of speech and freedom of press?” The crowd jeers.

  1 hour 49 minutes, my rebuttal, “We can never do enough to preserve our freedoms including the freedom to form a third party!” The crowd yells in support.

  1 hour 53 minutes, his closing statement, “If you have any strength, you will urge the ban on third parties.

  1 hour 58 minutes, my closing statement, “Envision the future. We can have a future of tyranny or a future of freedom. If we ban third parties, our entire American legacy is at stake. Banning third parties not only harms third parties, but harms all of us. Preserving the freedoms of third parties preserves the freedoms of us all! Long live third parties!”

  The crowd hoists me up and carries me around. I think I won. I don’t know for sure until they make the official announcement.

  Soon we find out. The announcer announces, “The winner by crowd ballot vote is Angela of the Vision Revolution Party!”

  I wink at Jack and then text him, “Your service to me starts at 11:00 p.m. tonight. Don’t be late. Prepare yourself for submission.”

  Chapter Fifty Seven:

  We are in my basement. I’m wearing my purple shirt and red skirt, and my nails have alternating purple and red nail polish. He is nude and I’m standing. He’s kneeling at my feet.”

  I command, “From here on out, you will call me Mistress.”

  He mutters, “Yes. Mistress.”

  “Close your eyes.” I blindfold him. I announce, “Time for me to claim you. Bend the fuck over.”

  Fortunately, he obeys. I grab not my tattoo machine, but my heated brand. I burn the brand “Third Parties Rule” onto his lower back. I hear the brand sizzling. What overwhelms me more: the sound of the sizzle or the smell of the sizzle? He screams at the top of his lungs. I shout, “Shut up!” Good thing this brand is permanent.

  He continues to whimper from the searing pain.

  Chapter Fifty Eight:

  Because I’m kind I let him recover a little bit.

  I say, “It only gets rougher from here. I am superior to you so you deserve this. In fact, you are lucky to have me to worship. After the 7 weeks are over, we might just make this a permanent arrangement. I have a feeling you will beg to make this arrangement permanent Inside you are a true submissive. This I know.”

  He mutters, “Yes, Mistress.”

  I continue, “You know that book Awaken the Giant Within? I am not going to awaken the giant within you. Instead I’m writing my own book through my actions. We'll call it Awaken the Submissive Within. Submit, submit, submit, you little shit. I love dominating submissives almost as much as I love third parties. So you will submit to the Third Party Queen! You will do everything I say. I reign over you! You are my indentured servant. I rule!

  Chapter Fifty Nine:

  I declare, “I am a queen yet I generously wax my cunt. As a queen, I don’t have to do that, but I still do. Your hairy cock and balls disgust me. Time to remove that hair. Time for pain.”

  He looks frightened, “Please no.”

  “Yes, I command it. Now lie on your back and spread your legs.”

  I pluck hair by hair with a tweezers just to teach him a lesson. He screams and cries each time. I do this for a little while, but it gets tedious, so for my sake not his I stop.

  I declare, “I’m not done. I want you to have a nude package, so now I’m going to remove the rest of your pubic hair with waxing strips. I don’t lie. I do as I say. He acts like a baby, so I taunt, “This is why I am superior.”

  To the fetal position he goes.

  Chapter Sixty:

  I announce, “That is enough for today. I’m getting tired. We had a late start today because of the submission debate. I have so much more planned. I’m going to hurt your pride and your body while at the same time making my pride and my body feel great. It sounds like a good deal to me. Don’t ever mess with me and don’t ever mess with third parties. Now, put your clothes back on and return tomorrow at 5:30 p.m. sharp. Don’t let the outside world change your submissive mindset. Always remember you bow down to me. I am the Queen. Never forget that.”

  Chapter Sixty One:

  I call Tiffany, “How are you doing, girl?”

  “I’m doing fine and you?”

  “Awesome now that I won the debate. I’m really liking this domme thing. I only wish I started it earlier.”

  “Aren’t you afraid that your opponents will use it against you?”

  “Nah. In fact, I make it public. I’m not afraid. The voters want cool people not prudes.”

  “You got a point there.”

  “I’m a nymph by nature, yet this domme thing is doubling the number of my orgasms.”

  “That’s saying something. That’s saying a lot.”

  “Well put, my good friend.”

  “You got to teach me this domme stuff. You know I may never win a debate like you, but maybe I can still make the fellas submit to me.”

  “Certainly. I can’t wait for my next session with my sub.”

  “Have a perfect night.”

  “You too, girl.”

  Chapter Sixty Two:

  I’m still in my 20s, but just barely. 30 will be here before I know it. I get worried.

  My young cunt will soon become an old cunt. 20 something cunts seem to be better than 30 something cunts.

  Will my soulmate like my 30 something cunt? Do old cunts perform as well as young cunts? Will I enjoy my 30 something cunt as much as I have enjoyed my 20 something cunt?

  Perhaps I’m thinking too negatively. Maybe my cunt will get better with age. Maybe my 30 something cunt will be superior.

  Maybe I need to pray to God that my cunt will improve with age rather than decline with age.

  I deserve to keep having the best cunt imaginable. My soulmate whoever he shall be shall enjoy this as well.

  Chapter Sixty Three:

  Fortunately he arrives on time and quickly disrobes.

  I bark, “Spread your legs.”

  He obeys, thank God.

  I announce, “I’m going to squeeze your gonads until either you pass out or I rip them off.”

  I reach my pretty hand around his scrotum and pull it downward. He balls. I squeeze harder. He balls harder. I squeeze harder yet. He balls harder yet.

  He vomits, but not on me, thank God. Then he p
asses out. He’s lucky because his passing out saves his gonads.

  Do you think I actually would have ripped his gonads off? Do you think even someone as strong as me could have done that?

  Well, you’ll just have to wonder. Do you really think I would be that cruel?

  At any rate, I love playing with him and hurting him.

  After an hour he recovers. Good thing, because I have something exciting in store, not for him, but for me.

  Chapter Sixty Four:

  After he recovers, I pull off my shorts and then my panties.

  I stick my ass in his face and command him, “Rim my ass, NOW!”

  He asks, “What do you mean, rim your ass?”

  “You don’t know what rimming means?”

  “No ma’am. I mean no, Mistress.

  “Well, since you are so dense, let me explain. Rimming means lick my ass! Rim my ass, NOW!”

  He licks and licks and licks. I feel feelings I never felt before. It’s as if God accepted me into Heaven and had me take Apostle Paul’s seat.”

  Ah, ah, ah. Oh, oh, oh. Ooh, ooh, ooh.

  Rimming is just as good as I dreamed it would be. No make that, rimming is infinitely better than I dreamed it would be.

  Wee, wee, wee. I am free.

  Chapter Sixty Five:

  I want to try something I have never tried before. I have only observed it in porn flicks, so I hope I can do it. I want to milk this motherfucker.