Down-Ballot

“Aaah! Celestia, yes! Don’t stop~!!”

Spoiled Rich’s hoof slapped over Mayor Mare’s mouth before she could finish, spectacles pushed further up by the appendage. Their sex session was frantic and furious against the fur-lined walls of the booth.

This was the deal though; the Mayor did it quiet, Rich went loud. She got that end of the bargain when she showed the equipment to exert it; equipment that was now sliding in and out of her flaxen folds. Yet Mayor Mare, despite the fireworks show before her eyes, dismally thought of how it could only be the second biggest tool in this booth.

Mostly because of what Mayor Mare knew would follow.

Not shame; any that was there had disappeared. Her current position in life held no quarter for those who displayed it easily.

No, it was fear. Fear that she’d fail again in the one arena she’d been trying to break into; the one Spoiled Rich had gotten to with Diamond Tiara. She was conflicted over enjoying this; over asking repeatedly for it; over making a sefl-made mare like Spoiled sneak under her family's snouts to have more of it!

And then Spoiled took away that shame with another full-bodied thrust, the pink-coated paradox of a pony she was. Spoiled had the most powerful stallion in Ponyville throwing himself at her from the second her teats developed, the savvy to run Ponyville’s school board, the best of both worlds between her thighs. And yet she was so haughty and unapproachable.

Which was likely why the Mayor had picked her all those years ago, if she was honest. Mares that standoffish wouldn't be asked questions of where they rolled off to at 3:30 in the night. Mayor Mare seized that thought, threw it into the forge stoked between her thighs. It burned much like the tears in her eyes.

“Could just… tell me to stop…” Spoiled grunted, seeing her tears. Neither pony did.

Mayor Mare would never warm her bed, never awaken to her face, never know the joy Spoiled had brought to Ponyville through her unsung deeds. And again Spoiled worked herself to the bone thanklessly here: her cock pumping between her folds with ruthless repetition.

But a mare could dream, couldn’t she? And dream Mayor Mare did, a sensation as easy to luxuriate in as those cider-sweet pumps of Spoiled’s dick between her legs. When Ponyville looked as simple to solve as the ticket for oversized cookie jars that led her to be Mayor.

Her mind waned back those several years, at an event like this that started the Mayor’s primary. She’d arranged so much to try and rebound from their disastrous first encounter after the collapse of the Ponyville Playground's foundations - ones she'd cut the ribbon on moments before. It was that fiasco that made Mayor Mare realize the crisis closer to her empty nest. So she’d gotten together grape-filled wines and fruit platters, right in her office. Again, it was easy to gather information; almost too easy.

And soon, the cat was called to its platter of cream - who better to cajole for this duty than the head of the Ponyville Schoolboard, Spoiled Rich? Once there, Mayor Mare waited until she'd gotten through two of the plates and all of the wine before speaking.

Past Spoiled had quirked an eyebrow, but Mayor Mare saw the fascination flicker in those eyes, and it made everything following that worth it. The flush as she’d taken over the Mayor’s curves, Spoiled’s eyes as they locked on her, the drop in her jaw as Mayor Mare switched the process to how good Spoiled was at keeping the ponies in her life well-pampered. Happy. Satisfied. So her offer came bluntly: her own body; as 'reimbursement' for the ruined grou-

“OH!” Mayor Mare’s white mane whipped about her, brought back to the present for a brief second by a particularly heavy thrust. Spoiled had brushed right against a pack of nerves. It was so tragically taunting in how it brought up her bliss, fueled her dreams as it was coated in pearly white, and sent it crashing down with shuddering red just shy of nine months later. Spoiled kissed her, keeping her from hearing a howl that was as much about despair as it was desire.

The comforting trickles of those sweets and pancakes, the heart-thrumming buzz of Zap Apple Jam and sharp grapes, seeped into Mayor Mare’s mouth. Spoiled held nothing back (when had she ever? thought the Mayor) turning her head and deepening their kiss as her hips stopped. Even now, her tongue was probing and relentless. As she suckled on it, Mayor Mare thoughts drifted to the past again.

That was a nice word, she thought. Drifted. As if her journey to that past was a run to instead of from reality.

Past Spoiled had almost choked on her own saliva over the deal Mayor Mare made for the collapse of the Ponyville Playground on her husband's plot of land. She'd known the backrooms of Ponyville for a while; naturally, she was certain this was a honeytrap, and sneered as much.

It fell to the Mayor to assuage those doubts; she didn’t care about getting any votes from this. If anything, she’d said then, she was happy to do a little bit extra for the Rich family, if Spoiled did this for her. No one needed to know, unless Spoiled made her scream loud enough to. A job that now was more commonly accomplished by Nurse Redheart now.

After a while, Past Spoiled’s eyes clouded over with lust. She told Mayor Mare to sit on her desk and beg her to get fucked, and she had. And she’d fucked her silly. Papers flew and tore under their bucking bodies. The smell of Spolied’s fine-wine perfume had sent her into amorous fits, her back tingling in bliss as Spoiled sprayed it as white as her mane.

Spoiled’s smooth thrusts in present time made her nearly lose control as they rutted against the voting booth wall. Mayor Mare had begged to be bred; and only this scenario did it, with proper preparations. Only this type of highly-charged environment got them going. Spoiled, ever the giver, was again happy to oblige her offer. It was the Mayor that was losing the will to keep asking.

Sweat poured down them both, the salty taste soaking into Mayor Mare’s tongue. It was a wonderful complement to her continental breakfast, she had to admit. Mayor Mare snapped her hips further into Spoiled with every deep thrust.

“Yes! Hurry! Fill me!” Mayor Mare’s cry nearly shattered the windows of the Hall they were in, eyes rolling into her head. Spoiled could tell the Mayor was close; she was shivering around her shaft, so Spoiled’s forehoof rushed to her teats. Pushing the peaks down with the frog of her hooves, Spoiled toyed with her nipples as the Mayor had done her testes an hour ago.

“Scream for me, Madam,” she hissed.

Mayor Mare, as always with difficult constituents, met her halfway as Spoiled's last thrust buried her deep into her folds. Her teeth sank into Mayor Mare's shoulder, and she howled as Spoiled came harder.

The Mayor smacked the diamond ring imprinted on Spoiled's flank, and she pulled out on command. Clamping her spluttering length between her forelegs, Spoiled waited until its flared tip was against Mayor Mare's open lips before releasing. The rest of her built-up cum shot into the Mayor's throat, the frosting a perfect play against the flapjacks she'd eaten earlier.

But as Mayor Mare's forehooves went to keep in the payload at both her holes, the last spurts of Spoiled’s virile contribution staining her snout, she had to thank her. It took her several swallows to get her honey-sweet dessert down, but her maw was soon empty enough to form words.

She had to give Spoiled something back. This couldn’t be like the other encounters; she’d either succeed or not, but this was the last time. Mayor Mare had the will to suffer setbacks in her anatomy during those times in the past; no longer. “Filthy’s … lucky to have you. I’m… lucky to have you.”

Spoiled already turning to exit the thin veil of the booth, stopped stiffly. “Yes. Yes, he is.” It wasn't obvious which pony she was trying to convince with this. And then she was pulling out, a lavish sigh escaping both their lungs as she did so. She had places to be as well; no one could see them like this, and especially not near each other like this.

Mayor Mare settled down on shaking legs as the curtain cut off Spoiled from view, huffing as her heart rate returned to normal. Spoiled was so damned lucky. She oversaw foals, contributing to their development. She was the herald of the future, and still gave so much to a Mayor like her. Ponyville couldn’t know how much they benefited from a citizen like her. Hopefully, the Mayor would be able to bear them proof soon. What kind of pony was she if she couldn’t?

Hopefully, the Mayor would be able to bear them proof soon. What kind of pony was she if she couldn’t? When the Apple family that bore the town on its back could bring so many more to so many other cities? Even an incorrigible, insatiable mare like Spoiled had done so once before.

Mayor Mare shakily rubbed the cum free of her thighs. She’d call a crew to clean this booth; probably blame it on a wayward young stallion she wouldn't name for hopes of 'learning from her learning'. For now, her speech was about to begin. When had she gotten so used to lying?

Quickly, she pulled out a card from the collar stuck to her neck with sweat. Despite the damp flecks, it was still legible.

Despite what many ponies thought of her, Mayor Mare’s had quite a photographic memory. She’d never needed cards for years while speaking. But lately, going through the motions had been so torturous for her. She’d needed reminders of why she did this. Her stomach rippled beneath her, at a paunch of bountiful sperm she knew wouldn’t be too visible to others.

She tucked the notecard away, then plodded back into the Hall. As she passed the booths, she soaked in the words, certain that this session would be the one that would propel her to a new position in life. This time, it would all work out. Neither the cruel fates, nor her body, nor Redheart’s life-shattering notifications in the maternity ward would plague her.

Mayor Mare swallowed thickly. She’d just have to see this next term through. She would see this term through. She looked down at her slightly swollen abdomen; her secret serenade and shame all in one. She’d known over the years not to trust this fullness.

Her eyes moved back to the slip of parchment. Even now, the last word at its bottom sounded perfect. Like she was made to be with her; play in that dust-collecting crib in her lonesome home; sing its first words in concert with her. She wanted to hope - but the four cross-outs above that name drowned it.

Four reminders that here, where friendship was literally magic, the flesh could still be weak.

Liane
Laurence
Ella
Maria
Cathy