Dreaming of Sin Ch. 08

Synopsis: This is the eighth chapter of an ongoing story. While I recommend reading from the beginning, here is a brief synopsis for those who want to jump right in or need a reminder where we left off: Saliah is a nearly all powerful demoness who feeds off moral corruption, and who had the majority of her powers unwillingly locked away inside an urn. Jack came across the urn by chance and instantly became Saliah's focus. She feeds off him with the ultimate goal of having him free her from the urn's grip. To better understand the urn and Saliah, Jack turned to his beautiful, brilliant, college professor Amanda Carpenter. She translated some of the urn's text and warned Jack that Saliah was not all she seemed. Saliah got to Amanda before she could complete the translation and, through threats and bribes, convinced Amanda to betray Jack, telling him that Saliah would become vulnerable only if Jack could make Saliah fall in love with him. Jack has used magic rings that Saliah gifted him to bring two women, Kerri and Natasha, into his mansion and compel them into a twisted sexual contest.

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Kinks included: this story has heavy themes of impregnation and trickery.

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Chapter 8 - Office Politics

There exists a moment of duality, where two states of being coexist for the briefest of moments. In one of those states of being, Jack was the most contented, satisfied, and relaxed he had ever been. He lay in bed, wrapped in sleep with the soft touch of feminine anatomy acting as his blanket. In the other state of being, his phone's alarm was beeping.

"Electronic assassin of joy," he groaned and fumbled for the phone. A woman's arm, or a leg, was on top of his arm blocking the full movement. They could make a voice assistant do almost anything but, "shut up!", or "I'm awake", or "ten more minutes" when the alarm was going off was somehow beyond the technology.

His eyes were struggling to work and instead of his bathroom he walked into the walk-in closet. 'New mansion problems', he'd get no sympathy for that. On the other hand, when he did find the bathroom, his grimy, fiberglass, bathtub and twenty year old shower head were things of the past.

The bathroom was marble, the floor warm and clean on his bare feet. The shower had three dials, one for the water's flow, another for the water's temperature in degrees, not blue and read swirls, and the last to select which of a half a dozen showerheads would activate. Water, at just the right pressure, and just the right temperature, cascaded over him from every direction.

As if the sound of the shower had been what woke her, Kerri made her way into the bathroom, her hands occupied in supporting two watermelon sized breasts that had yet to start to go down from the night before, she sank to her knees in front of Jack, sandwiched his knee between the two breasts, and engulfed his manhood without question, complaint, or consideration. Her tongue coaxed him even as he considered saying no. The magically modified tongue snaked around his slowly hardening dick, licking his balls even as it slithered along his dick. But the harder he became, the less his objections felt serious.

Time lost it's meaning. All that mattered were events. Kerri's tongue slid forward -- really around -- his dick as she licked the foot long muscle in and out of her mouth.

Saliah, walked into the shower, naked and swaying like a goddess. She moved behind him, her breasts pressing against his back, her hands running over his chest caressing him as Kerri... He had no idea what Kerri was doing, his dick was wet, and hot, and squeezed, and rubbed, but between the shower's hot water hitting his body, Saliah's hands on his chest, her breasts pressed against his back, and Kerri, he was completely lost in a cloud of pleasure.

"Your oldest fantasy?" Saliah asked as she massaged soap over his chest. Her fingers were small, delicate, and wandering, somehow feeling so intimate simply touching him.

He did still owe her from their deal the night before. "A woman..." he started, but just touching on the idea pushed him to the very brink of orgasm. Kerri froze, her tongue wrapped around his dick four times before cupping his balls, the tip resting lightly at the very base. Saliah's hands rested over his heart, holding his chest tightly to her. Jack balanced on a razor's edge, beat after beat of his heart, and then backing away, tides of pleasure pulling back by inches. "Someone I know... sophisticated, too good for me, unobtainable... But needing something from me desperately and offering me her mouth and pussy for it. And..."

Kerri started to move again, This time though there was no stopping it, his hands took her head, it was further away than a normal blowjob, but he was past caring or thinking, his orgasm was as unstoppable as a hurricane. "And I imagine getting her pregnant when I cum!" Saliah licked the side of his neck, her fingers caressing his chest even as he came into Kerri's open mouth.

To call it the best shower of his life would be a serious understatement.

Kerri helped Saliah finish washing him, and then left with her, giving him a moment alone in the shower to come back to Earth. He had done kinkier, wickeder things with Saliah in the days since they met, yet the relatively simple process of having two unspeakably gorgeous women bathe him left Jack feeling like a king.

When the water stopped, jets of warm air turned on, blow drying his entire body. Two at waist height were initially odd, but quickly became favorites.

A folded towel sat in a large glass box just outside the shower. It was warm to the touch, thicker and softer than any towel he had ever felt before. A small dial just beside the glass box had another temperature reading on it. He couldn't help but let out a long exhalation and roll his eyes as he wrapped the hot towel around his waist.

When he stepped out of the bathroom a maid, that he recognized from Saliah's speech to the staff, stood, statue still, beside the bathroom door, holding a silver tray with three white cups on it.

"Good morning, Sir. Would you care for a coffee, cappuccino, or espresso to start your day?" She asked. All three sat steaming happily away, waiting for his selection.

By the time he finished the cappuccino, and had Saliah's magically tailored suit on, his morning had officially climaxed. He let out a long, slow, coffee-hot breath seeing his car parked outside the mansion. It didn't fit. It didn't fit with who he was now, who he was going to be from now on, and he opened the door with a rusty creak and stepped back into his old life.

Somehow the inside of his car even smelled cheap. He'd never noticed it before. Was the air in his mansion perfumed somehow?

A good sleep, a good morning, a good cappuccino, and the world felt like it had a gloss over it. The traffic of the morning commute somehow distant, so what if he was stuck in traffic for a few minutes? The too narrow parking spots of the library's underground lot somehow wider, so what if he bumped into something as he tried to park?

He smiled to himself as he rode the elevator up to the third floor. 'Reference Offices.'

"You don't look sick," Becky Clark said from behind the reception desk. She clicked a pen in her hand and cocked an eyebrow waiting for him to reply. Technically she wasn't his boss, she was a summer temp on break from college, who answered phones, organized meetings, and ran errands. But when you're the boss's daughter, office politics trump org charts.

She was, for the moment, beautiful. If her mother was any guide Becky had another decade before the bloom was off the rose, but for the moment she had all the confidence of a woman for whom the world contained only admirers, and haters.

"I'm not, anymore. That's the point of sick days," he said, and walked past her. He would have worried about that kind of interaction before, what she would say to her mother, but it seemed so dull now. What could the possible consequences even be? The stakes just were not there anymore and without them the office looked and felt different.

That feeling almost extended to his desk. It looked a bit like the leaning tower of Pisa. Five feet of journals, periodicals, and compendiums were stacked up on a corner threatening to fuse the bottom entries, or perhaps compress them into oil if given enough time. What was the point of having sick days, and vacation days, if your work simply piled up while you were away?

He let out a sigh, turned on his computer, and got to work. Enter the new item into the collection database, print a label, affix the label, and onto a cart for shelving. Next. Enter the new item into the collection database, print a label, affix the label, and onto a cart for shelving. Next. Two hundred repetitions of that later and it was time for lunch.

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"Jack! Nice suit!" Emily smiled as Jack sat down beside her. If he was honest with himself, lunch was more than half the reason he bothered to come back. He'd stopped by the cafeteria to get his usual bagel but to-go. A block away from the library there was a park with a quiet reflecting pond and several benches. It was where he'd first met Emily and, not every day, but a lot of days, they'd find themselves there at the same time. She was probably having a good day, she had a much more elaborate sushi set sitting on the bench beside her than she usually got.

"Thanks! It was actually a gift - from a woman."

"Oooohhh," Emily cooed. "You met someone in Boston, and she was so smitten that she had to get you a present?" Emily asked, her almond eyes glittered, her teeth perfect pearls under her smile. She wore a floral print summer dress that revealed only the smallest hint of cleavage and stopped just above her knees. She would have looked totally in place taking a walk through the park except for a lanyard around her neck with a decidedly dull photo of herself on the ID card dangling from it.

"Let's say that it's complicated."

"Complicated is way better than pining over Samantha. Congrats!" She looked over Jack a second time, more slowly. "Who did that? It's seriously good work."

"I'll have to ask," Jack said.

"What do you mean you'll have to ask? You must have been into the shop, had a few fittings..." She reached over and pulled the suit jacket's front fold open, peaking inside to see the label. "Hwaaa?!" It was such a cute expression, Jack's heart warmed just hearing her make the noise. Emily didn't have any accent, she didn't use South Korean turns of phrase, but when she got excited, surprised, or confused, it was like flipping a light switch and she made the noises she would have made on the streets of Seoul. "Hugo Boss? That's a Hugo Boss? Was this girl you've met a tailor and she just modified something you had?"

Jack shrugged. "How do you know it's not just off the rack?"

Emily affixed a look she might use with a naughty child. "Oh Jack. I'm worried you don't appreciate how good I am at my job."

"Is a man allowed mysteries?" He asked, and Emily rolled her eyes.

"Oh. Amy wanted to know if we we're still on for dinner this weekend. With Samantha and you broken up we figured a double date might not be in the cards anymore. But maybe this new lady friend of yours could brag about her tailoring skills?"

He'd have remembered. It was in his phone after all. He'd just had so much on his mind. He couldn't introduce Emily... or Amy... so Saliah. As much as he wouldn't mind seeing Amy very much out of the picture, he wouldn't do that to Emily, and what Saliah might do...

A shadow fell over his heart. It was so easy to think of Saliah as... a person, a friend even. But she was danger incarnate. Even coming back to work, seeing Emily...

"Earth to Jack, come in Jack."

"Sorry," he said quickly snapping his attention back to the woman.

"Can I ask you a question? You know the monkey paw legend, where you find something that can grant wishes but it's kind of evil and has its own objectives? How would you try to use those wishes? Even knowing that they're going to be working against you?"

"Only way to win with something like that is to stop playing," Emily said.

"What if that wasn't an option?"

Emily thought about that a minute. "Then I'd want tools not outcomes. A hammer can stub your thumb if you use it wrong, but that's just a matter of learning to use it. Once you understand the nature of the tool you can do good with it, and it doesn't matter how upset the monkey paw is about that."

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This was her last chance. Saliah had made that perfectly clear. Vanessa's hands tightened around her BMW's leather steering wheel, and the car rocked as she brought it to an abrupt stop for the tenth time in a minute. She'd always looked down on the crowds of commuters, and now here she was, stuck along with them, desperate to keep within eyesight of Jack's car. She hadn't even owned a travel carafe and had instead made triple strong instant coffee sludge at the bottom of a tall white tea mug.

She missed the version of herself who could be indignant that Jack wasn't head over heels for her. Men, in her experience, were shockingly simple creatures driven by their penises and so very easy to manipulate.

Usually a low cut dress and eager smile were enough. If she really wanted to grab attention, she could simply give another woman a slow kiss, and a siren's song would be less effective.

But Jack... She had made an effort for Jack. She'd offered him her daughter. And yet he was so bored of her that he was going to put her into storage, like a fur coat. She clenched her teeth, teeth that she professionally whitened and had cleaned every month, and jammed the accelerator so that the car leapt into an empty half-car's-length opening ahead of her.

Saliah's advice had been simple, yet infuriating, 'Jack wasn't ready to go from fantasy to reality. He still thought he was a good person and was struggling to hold onto that.'

How the hell was that helpful? She'd spent blissful days with Jack. Him happy to prattle on about his perverted fantasies, her dutifully encouraging him. He'd rewarded her with shot after shot of ecstasy inducing cum. But then he'd gotten bored, and as much as she'd offered to help make his fantasies a reality, he just kept resisting.

She followed him into the underground parking lot of a dull government building and watched the elevator's numbers climb up to 3, then back down to 1.

She waited a half an hour, then followed. Third floor, "Reference Offices", the sign said.

"Can I help you?" a woman's voice asked with a decided untruthfulness to the tone and Vanessa saw the southern bell sitting behind the reception desk.

"Yes..." she said, walking over, "Jack Walker works here, right?"

The girl looked confused, puzzling out if she should answer the question or not. Vanessa very much did not look like a courier, not in a $1,400 vera wang dress, and wearing $2,500 shoes.

"My name is Vanessa Donaldson, widow of Frank Donaldson, you can google me if you want," she said and reached into a Dior bag rifling through it. The bag was large enough that it could have comfortably held a hard cover book, but an inch thick, full-sized manilla envelope poked out several inches above it's edge, the enveloped stamped in a prominent bold red "CONFIDENTIAL" and it bulged in its middle as though a set of keys had been added to the stack of paper. As Vanessa shuffled through the purse she made sure the envelope was clearly visible, and after a half a minute produced her driver's license. "I'd like to have lunch with you, ask you some questions about Jack. Nothing that would get you into trouble. And lunch will be my treat, pick the best place in town if you want."

"What do you want to know, and why do you want to know it?" Becky asked.

"Those are perfectly fair questions. But better not talked about here. How about I answer them first thing when we sit down for lunch?"

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"You're seventeen minutes late!" Carol didn't always sound shrill. But she could when she wanted to make a point, and she wanted to make a point. Jack closed his eyes, exhaled a half-lungful of air, and let go of the back of his desk chair - that he had just taken in hand to pull out so he could sit.

"Sorry about that, late lunch," he said turning to see Carol standing a few paces back, looking like some kind of mythical figure, Cronos combined with death, but in the form of a 37 year old goddess. On a second glance... Carol had been the subject of more than enough fantasies, but the last few days had introduced him to truly beautiful women and looking at her now she seemed... tired... worn... her skin not as tight as the beauties he had at home, her features not as refined.

Of course Becky, whose desk had been empty when he got back, wouldn't get a chewing out for her late lunch.

"And? I didn't think you'd run off to join the circus, of course you were at lunch, and I just told you that you're late."

He didn't have his rings on him. But that was a matter of timing. If he wanted Carol, he could have her. She was indignant, but the absurdity of just how powerless she really was struck him, and he smiled.

"This is funny to you?"

This must be how Saliah saw the world, how power changed perspectives. He didn't need this job, he didn't care about her criticism, she wasn't even playing the same game as he was. It was like he was playing soccer against someone trying to trim every blade of grass on the field to the same length and the score stood at 500 - nil.

"It is. You take yourself so seriously. Seventeen minutes." He waved a hand at the desk and the mountain of periodicals to be entered, "as though this matters so much."

"If you don't find your job important, I'm sure I can find others who would."

What was important to him? Saliah kept saying he was the most powerful man in the world, but what did that really mean? Was he going to spend his days fucking every woman he'd ever dreamed of fucking? Was he going on some quest to enslave the "eater of sins"? What was he doing? He looked at the stack of periodicals. He didn't know what the right answer was yet, but he did know what the wrong one was.

"You know, that's a good point. I think I've outgrown this job and there is someone out there who could enjoy it."

He'd taken his car keys and wallet with him to lunch, and aside from that the only thing of his in the office was a framed picture of Samantha tucked away in the second drawer of his desk - and he didn't need that back. He simply started to walk away.

"You're leaving??" Carol squawked behind him.

He got to his car when the sound of heels clicking quickly in an approaching crescendo turned him around.

Becky exhaled a lungful of air and smiled, tilting her head just a degree to the side and letting her golden yellow hair cascade from the side of her head. "Hey. I overheard that. Sorry about mom, she can be a bitch at times." Becky said.

Jack blinked back surprise, Carol didn't seem like the type to regret chewing someone out, even if they quit. Certainly not enough to chase after him herself. But sending Becky?

"Listen... I didn't get a chance to ask this morning. But I'd love to hear about your trip to Boston.

"Uhhh..." he did have the time, he was supposed to be at work for another three hours and forty minutes. But Becky had always been warm enough to cause brain freeze.

"My mom must treat you like that a lot. Me too. I just, thought we could hang out, actually get to know each other," she said. Jack tried not to elevator eyes her. Her pink high heels, her pencil skirt zipping down just below her knees but hugging the curve of her hips, the half-jacket she wore with one button that stopped just above her rib cage and did little more than squeeze her breasts together through a black tank top.