Lust's Price Ch. 08

Greg Myer browsed through a magazine in the waiting room of the mayor's office. The outmoded media publication absolutely fascinated him from top to bottom. The waxy feel of each page as he turned it, the time locked articles in a world of constantly flowing information, and the photoshopped images of celebrities -- he found it charming and inspirational. Things could be more simple if change stopped. Men and women could be beautiful, shaped to an ideal perfection without flaw or blemish. And everything could feel so delightfully sinful.

His eyes moved to the clock. Greg was not impatient, but he was curious if he was being kept waiting. From the secretary's initial reaction, he was not a welcome sight. Mayor Bill Hawthorne had been reluctant to take the meeting at all, but Greg and his associates had been quite insistent. The secretary heard his name before she looked at him which explained her initial blanched reaction. She had been expecting the typical type of greasy businessman who would rapidly buy up property and convert it to whatever industry could turn the quickest profit regardless of the long term effects. Greg knew the secretary, Carla if her name plate was to be believed, had pictured a short man in an ill fitted, cheap suit with a bald patch, greasy face, and sweaty palms. His actual appearance had flustered her immediately. Like so many women, her eyes were drawn to his biceps. Greg had considered wearing a suit, but didn't want to seem overly formal and instead opted for a short sleeve polo and a nice pair of slacks. The shirt had the obvious benefit of showing off his barrel chest and even showing a few rogue chest hairs sticking out from the neckline.

Greg's new power let him keep tabs on everything about Carla. He could sense her heartbeat rising. In a way, he could even hear her thoughts. The closer she came to sin, the more tangible her desires appeared to him. True mastery of his power remained out of reach, though. At first, he thought of it as mind reading, but he quickly learned that was not the case. The mind, he realized, was like a busy highway with thousands of conflicting thoughts, some conscious some not. Even if he could read a human's mind, it would be the equivalent of incoherent screaming, a sound all too kin to what he'd heard on his one trip to Hell. At best, he might glean a snapshot of a thought process, but they change too quickly to be of much use.

Instead, he saw things about his victims in flashes, like thoughts forced into his own mind. As he browsed the magazine, Carla clicked away at her computer, filling out a spreadsheet and focusing most of her attention on keeping track of numbers. But her subconscious was busy with other things. A small thought in the back of her mind lingered on Greg's presence. Greg concentrated, and the thought opened itself to him. Carla imagined bending over her desk while the burly stranger played with her pussy. She concentrated on two feelings, first Greg's fingers buried in her juicy snatch, and two, the feeling of Greg's thick cock pushing against her inner thigh. The image shifted slightly, like flicker in an old film, but Greg saw it as a door. Behind it waited other thoughts, things linked to her current fantasy. He saw an image of a young man, also Latino, her boyfriend. He saw other lovers and other fantasies.

With each image came a feeling that provided context. Greg thought if he were still human and not a sex demon, the feelings might overwhelm him, but as disconnected as he was from humanity, the feelings were yet another foreign object for analysis. One scene of sex with a young man had shame associated with it. If he chose, Greg could have prodded the thought and understood why, but he already knew enough about Carla to win her over. Another image showed sadness. It was not of sex, but of the afterglow, cradled in the arms of a man she had not seen in years. Beside the sadness was a profound feeling of love that Greg wrinkled his nose at. Carla loved the man greatly. Greg pushed the memory away as he browsed further into her feelings.

While he perused her deepest thoughts, his mere presence continued to have a profound effect on her. Carla was an attractive woman, the perfect eye candy for a mayor's office. Before his ascension to demonic servitude, Greg would have been embarrassed to be looked at by her. She was probably a little under thirty with a slim figure and a nice pair of breasts. A caramel colored Latina complexion gave her a smooth glow, and silky black hair framing her face nicely. While Greg could only properly be satisfied by one of his completely changed harlots, he still appreciated the uncorrupted beauty of an unsuspecting young woman. He knew that she was getting wet from her errant thoughts. Her breathing lost its normal rhythm, and the arousal caused her breasts to imperceptibly swell. Greg looked up from the magazine and smiled at her. She brushed her hair aside and smiled back. Greg laughed to himself. Sometimes he liked a challenge, but other times it was fun to find an easy one.

The door of the office opened. "Mr. Myers, won't you come in?"

***

The mayor's office looked like any other civil servant's office. Fatuous awards and pictures of Hawthorne shaking hands with local businessmen lined the walls. Greg strode into the room confidently as Hawthorne stood to the side. He'd not voted for the mayor and considered him a little too ingrained with the city's business sector. At the time, Greg had wanted to stand up for the communities, but now he was glad the weasel had been elected. Hawthorne would suit his purposes well. "Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Mayor."

"Certainly," Hawthorne answered as the two men took their seats. Greg irritably tried to get comfortable in a chair designed to be too short. Mayor Hawthorne clearly read some fool's book about power structures in furniture. "I'm always happy to meet with my constituents. If anything I need to apologize for being so hard to nail down. My schedule stays surprisingly busy."

Greg smiled. "Of course, I have the same problem. Always a different place that needs me."

"Yes, I see that you've been acquiring property at, forgive me for saying it, an alarming rate."

"I think that our town is a little overdue for some resurgence. Our local businesses have become entrenched and started to stagnate. I'm trying to inject some investment." Greg sat up in his chair, managing to look intimidating even from his lower position.

Hawthorne began to answer, but hesitated. He remember his father often saying someone had walked over his grave whenever an ill feeling passed over him. Hawthorne had never once thought of that old adage in regards to himself until he looked across the desk at Greg Myers. The handsome businessman falsely smiled back. "Ahem, we certainly appreciate any investment, Mr. Myers, but these things require process. The system makes sure everything is done so the public's voice is not ignored. And we must account for things like safety. These buildings you've acquired, like the old warehouse a few blocks over, you want to turn it into a night club or lounge, but it's not zoned for that."

"My people are bringing it in line with expectations. The only thing slowing them down is where an arbitrary line has been drawn."

"All due respect, sir, but those lines aren't arbitrary."

Greg cocked his head to the side. "I misspoke. You're right. They aren't arbitrary at all. Those lines are drawn to protect current businesses. If my club is allowed to open, then the others in the district will face competition. Or worse, they might see a different element of customer in their neighborhood." He let his power seethe out of him once again. Hawthorne was not an easy man to win over with Greg's brand of skills. The man was preoccupied by greed, but Greg felt he'd already given too many concessions to that other demonic tribe. Still, he was having trouble wriggling out the mayor's dirty little secrets. "And you wouldn't want any of your little interests to be damaged."

Hawthorne stiffened. "I'm not sure what you mean. Frankly, Mr. Myers, you're correct in that your businesses would attract an undesirable element." He flipped through a stack of papers. "This bar that you've purchased. You're wanting to convert it to a strip club. That would violate everything our city has stood for."

"It breaks no law," Greg answered.

"Then we will put it before the city council," Hawthorne was not veiling his icy demeanor any longer. The cold glare on the man's face made Greg wonder what had made him so hard hearted at such a young age. Hawthorne was only in his early forties, much too young to have such cynical drives. "We'll allow the citizens to hear your plans and see if they approve of your club."

"That would be unusual in the issuing of a normal permit. Maybe you would satisfied with testimony of a few normal citizens. Let's get Carla in here and ask her what she thinks of it." Greg wanted a distraction, but with the mention of Carla's name he saw the flicker in Hawthorne's thoughts. The mayor's life opened up for Greg to peruse. Greg saw a prudish wife more concerned with her looks and the opinions of her friends than satisfying her husband. They'd married out of convenience, and Greg saw no love in Hawthorne's thoughts. But it also seemed Carla wasn't the only one fantasizing about bending her over the desk.

"I'd rather not involve my secretary in your machinations, Mr. Myers."

"Then allow me to make the argument a little differently. I'm interested in seeing a strong night life return to the city. We have a young demographic that needs places to blow off steam. Ceder Pines is at a crossroads. You can isolate a few businesses with protectionist policies and keep them afloat for a few more years, but eventually they will fail. Your employers will leave, the economy will falter, and the city will die. I lost my job before I started all this. I was downsized, but they didn't hire a younger man to replace me. They just didn't replace me. My job was moved to a call center overseas. My neighbor's daughter was going to finish her degree and move off to a city where she could find a job, but we need people like her to stay here. She's at the top of my list to help run some of these clubs. We can open the night life. We can give people a reason to stay. Sure, some of my business ventures aren't exactly family friendly, but that's why we have suburbs, as havens to keep the pure and chaste away from reality until they're ready. I can fix this city. I can give people a reason to stay in Ceder Pines. That means they'll need jobs which I can also help with. That means they'll pay taxes. They'll settle down here. I have the means. All I need is for City Hall to get out of my way."

Hawthorne leaned back in his chair. Myers clearly knew more than he let on. In a matter of weeks, the seedy businessman had appeared on Hawthorne's radar out of the ether. Hawthorne looked into him as best he could, but quickly began to fear he might be meddling with something above his pay grade. The owners of the other companies in Ceder Pines paid him to keep the wheels greased. Myers was a significant obstacle to that goal. The mysterious new player had more money and guile than anyone else Hawthorne had ever met, but more disconcerting to the mayor was Myer's apparent lack of goal or motivation. Every property and venture the man pursued seemed to random. Hawthorne didn't believe the man's sad story about helping Ceder Pines one inch. Considering his options, Hawthorne concluded that his best path at the moment was to take no action and wait for more information. "Greg, I think you've done a good job making your case. But at the moment, I can't promise anything. These zoning restrictions are a lot of red tape and getting these lines moved and your permits approved will take some time to bounce around the bureaucracy."

Greg stood up without prompt. "I think that's the best I can hope for. Mr. Mayor, pleasure to see you, I think we'll meet again soon. With time to reconsider my proposals, I think you'll wind up siding me. I really do." Greg shook the man's hand.

Hawthorne had to resist recoiling at the man's touch. He watched Greg leave the room and close the door behind him. The mayor rubbed his eyes as his heart thumped quickly in his chest. He knew what he saw. As Greg Myer walked out of the door, his shadow lingered for a few seconds more. A shadow with eyes that watched, that had been watching all along. Hawthorne reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle.

***

"Carla, would you to have lunch with me?" Greg asked.

The woman looked up unexpectedly, "Oh, Mr. Myers, I didn't think that --"

"Please, call me Greg, and don't worry I already asked the mayor if he could spare you for a bit. There's a shop across the street, I think. My treat."

Carla looked nervously to the mayor's office door. "Alright, but it'll have to be quick, I have a lot of work to do."

"Of course," Greg said.

They made their way down the hall and into the elevator. The old lift creaked as they stepped inside. Greg smiled as Carla lingered near his arm just to catch a whiff of his scent. She was so close already. All it would take was a little push. He hit button for the ground floor, and the elevator jerked into motion. Greg concentrated as hard as he could. A trick his master considered as easy as batting away a fly would take all of Greg's strength. Carla wouldn't notice until she was capable of understanding it. Greg fell back on his master's power to bend the space and time around himself. The world outside of the elevator vanished and Greg sighed in satisfaction as his work came to fruition. With a flick of his hand, the elevator jerked to a stop. At least, that's what Carla thought happened.

"Oh no, not again," she said. "This old thing gets stuck all the time, but I've never been the one in it."

"That's ok," Greg said cheerfully. "I'm sure they'll start it up again in no time. If we'd brought a picnic, we'd just have lunch here."

Carla felt her body flush as a realization swept over her. She was trapped alone in the elevator with a man she'd been fantasizing about for nearly an hour. His scent grew stronger and more intoxicating. No one could see or hear them. and it might be hours before they were freed. "Let me call the maintenance room." She grabbed the phone in the door, but it clicked dead. She tried her cell phone, but it too had no signal.

"I guess we'll have to find other ways of passing the time," Greg suggested. "Carla, maybe we could skip a few steps."

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said with a nervous smile.

"Are you going to try and convince me that you haven't been swimming in that thong since the moment you saw me."

"Mr. Myers, please --"

"Greg."

"Alright then, Greg. I don't think that's an appropriate thing to say."

"Why not take what you want? It's obvious to me, but if you'd like to pass over the opportunity, I understand. But since you're wondering, it's long and thick and loves Latin girls."

Carla resolutely turned away to stare at the elevator doors. Her mouth watered, and she bit her lip. She tried to focus on her boyfriend, but they'd been in a rough patch for a while. She thought he was cheating on her. She'd even meant to break up with him two weeks ago, but she'd been afraid of being alone. It had been so long since she'd had any real fun. Greg could push her up against the wall of the elevator. He'd slide right in she was already so wet. What's wrong with me? I'm not normally like this. But god do I want it. She turned back to Greg. "Maybe I was thinking about that. What would you do?"

"Carla, what if I could give you everlasting beauty? What if I could change your life to one of pure bliss and ecstasy? All in exchange for giving yourself to me. For giving yourself to this." The glamor illusion started to fade. Greg's clothes disappeared as his skin rippled with new muscle and a red tone. His fangs came in quickly as the horns ripped through the top of his head. He felt none of the changes, but liked to show off. Carla gasped and backed away, but her eyes remained fixed on growing, thick cock between Greg's thighs.

"El Diablo," she whispered and crossed herself without conviction. Her mind was drenched in wanton lust.

"Not him, but a loyal foot soldier," Greg growled as he stretched his full form. He'd overestimated the size of the elevator and found his head brushing against the roof. "Join me and you can have a body like this. Never aging, always beautiful. And perfect for this cock to slide in every moment you want it." His clawed hand reached out to stroke her cheek. She leaned into his touch, enjoying the warm feeling against her skin. "Give in and become my goddess." Greg felt the yes before she could say it. The thrill of yet another victory rushed through his body as her soul tore from within her and vanished into the void.

Carla dropped to her knees. Her mouth opened as wide as she could and she shoved the head of Greg's monstrous cock into her mouth. Immediately, she tasted the sweet black cum as it started to coat her tongue. Her small hands wrapped around his shaft and started to jerk up and down as she struggled to fit more of the demonic rod into her throat. The stream of corrupting ichor oozed from the tip of Greg cock as he snarled. His tail slithered around her side and down her pants to prod at her puckered ass. She moaned around his length as the corruption took hold. Her brown skin darkened into a slightly deeper shade of red than Greg's other whores.

Feeling the new sensations taking hold of her body, she pulled off his cock with a wet slurp. A large glob of the black cum spit from the tip and splattered on her face. She instinctively tried to lick it away and was pleased to find a longer, forked tongue easily capable of cleaning the delicious fluid from her face. She quickly started to tear away her clothes as her tits swelled into obscene balloons and her as bulged outward into a bubble butt so bouncy that a normal man might cum from a few seconds of watching it jiggle. Her hand dove between her thighs to stroke her pussy. She'd always kept it groomed, but never clean shaved. The newly hairless mound was smooth to the touch. She squirmed as she pushed her fingers into her sopping wet pussy.

Greg pulled her up by the shoulders and spun her around. She had an old tattoo on her back that once said the name of her lost love, but even that had become twisted. The ink swirled across her skin as though it had a mind of its own. Greg watched it in amusement as the letters formed the phrase, "Please fuck me, daddy" and even provided an arrow pointing to her ass. Greg was pleased that his harlots could still surprise him with their tricks. He spread her legs and pushed her hand away from her pussy by shoving his cock against it. Her tail sprouted from the crest of her luscious ass cheeks as he started to push inside of her. "Ay dios mio," she whined as her demonic slit opened wide to accept her master's glorious cock.

"Is that what you want to be," Greg taunted as he pulled her against him by the root of her tail. "A Latina slut with a fat ass and big tits. You want to spend your day painting fingernails and smacking gum until you can play with yourself and swap the gum for cock."

"Oh yeah, papi. I can be whatever you want," she said through a comically thick accent. She looked over her shoulder to flash her new fangs at him as he began to saw in and out of her juicy pussy. "You just gonna stand there with that fat dick in my pussy or are you gonna fuck me like I deserve." Greg growled and started moving faster. His hips slapped against her ass causing ripples in the delicious flesh. Greg moved his hand down to push his claw into her virgin ass causing her to moan loader.