The New Sanning Promise Ch. 02

* * * * *

When Mel finally got home, the unfinished canvas carefully placed in her workshop, she suddenly realized how little she'd been breathing for some time. She was light-headed for one, off-balance for another. Thankfully the old musty couch was right behind her, and she plopped down and took deep breaths.

"Focus, focus, focus..." she said aloud. Opening her eyes, she looked around the room, a conservatory turned workshop with paneled windows from floor to ceiling on one side, and paint splatters everywhere else. Empty canvases, finished ones, buckets and bottles and boxes of opened and unopened paints filled the shelves and the floor. There were a few easels leaning about, and in the darkest corner her broken one from her first day in town.

This was her safe place. Her only place.

What just happened to me? Mel wondered. Some six months she'd been here, each day growing harder and harder to stay put. It was a miracle that she'd found it at all, yet still something drew her away in her heart. She looked at the broken easel in the corner, remembering the desperation under which it had snapped. The whole weight of her body leaning against it as she tried to work the lust out of her body. To work him out.

The couch she laid on now became her new place to masturbate midday. In recent weeks especially, she thought it smelled vaguely of her sex. A miracle she'd found New Sanning, a miracle she'd been invited, and a miracle that she could bring herself to stay with a memory ten years gone suddenly overwhelming her mind day in and day out.

She'd even been thinking about him while she worked at the park, delicately putting paint to canvas to commemorate the unveiling. Melanie could so vividly remember the taste of his cock, the feel of his fingers, the sound of his moans in her ear...

And then along came Brandon.

Poof went the addictive memories. Gone were the sounds, the sights, the smells. For that brief moment, all she saw was this new man standing over her, laughing, smiling, saying hello. And when he did not bow to the lies that Arthur Henning fed the town, Mel felt something warm in her chest. A sense of some sort, that this was no ordinary man. She felt the same thing when she met the Mayor of New Sanning, only then it came with an eerie foreboding. She felt the same ten years ago when that quiet boy had taken her body and...

"Huh," Mel huffed. She was thinking about him again, but not touching herself. Of course her nipples hardened and the wetness between her legs started trickling and soaking her panties. But for once, she was resisting the need to touch. And suddenly she remembered the dream.

Early in the summer, after many years without a single thought wasted on him, Mel felt a strange urge to submit once again. After her third night of intense masturbation, fawning over her youthful tryst, Mel berated herself, "We barely even had a thing... unf... three stupid blowjobs and... a-a-a couple dozen.... Haaa... fucks!"

But no matter how she reasoned, the desperation would not subside. And then one day she started driving. She'd moved up to NorCal after high school, and stayed for a long time doing school and odd jobs to keep her afloat. Without so much as a note for her roommate, she'd gotten in her car and started back for home in the south.

When she fell asleep in the motel that night, she saw a place like no other. Shining, isolated, warm. People smiled when she walked by and greeted her by name. She knelt in the garden of a cute little house and tended to her flowers, when the winds began to blow in strange ways. In a ring around a single tall Gladiolus flower, her lilies were bending and straightening with the breeze like subjects bowing before a god-king. And after some time, it leaned over to a beautiful pink Orchid, intertwining with it, bonding. And beneath them, a new bud began to grow rapidly. Small, and barely bloomed, a little Sweet William flower glowed, and the wind sighed and came to rest at last.

And suddenly she found the strength to stay away. Not to seek him out after so long.

But it was hard. She went back north, stayed inside as often as she could. Her eyes were glued to her computer screen. One moment she was searching for new suburban homes, the next she was scrolling through pictures on social media, seeing how he was doing and cumming at the same time. Once she even tried tracking down his number, and only stopped herself when her roommate knocked on the door asking about dinner.

Then at last she found New Sanning. And at once she knew this was the place.

But when she arrived, it was much different than her dream. People often looked at her with suspicion rather than smiles. Even in the summer the winds of the plains kept the town cool. It was a cute place surrounded by emptiness, and the only thing keeping her in place was the generosity of the Mayor.

"Everyone here would love to own some original art. It will take you years to finish the amount of orders people will place. And for triple of those prices I'll have you paint our town's history as it happens."

And so she did. And she lived comfortably these past six months. But it wasn't long before she could see why Arthur Henning had filled her with such dread from the first.

"You're feeling hot," Henning said to her at a wine tasting that summer.

It was an odd way to phrase things. Not a question, but not quite an observation. It was something of a mix between a statement and a command. She hesitated, sipping her wine and spitting before telling him, "No, it's actually quite breezy today."

He looked quizzical at that, but shrugged. And he carried on. "You don't feel any shame in being naked around people." Again, said like an observant command.

She was speechless, and she could feel the involuntary scowl on her forehead. Henning's eyes blinked into panic, and suddenly he was gone, walking away to someone else. He spoke to her very rarely after that, and only about her commissions. But when he started lying to the whole town, she knew. Henning was another one of them. Another one of him.

Another like Charlie Ellis.

It took weeks before she could convince herself that it was all true. But nothing else made sense. The way Charlie could spin any girl's thoughts and emotions until she landed on her knees, begging to be fucked... the way Henning could say absolutely anything and the whole town would believe every word of it. They were the same, whatever they were.

But unlike Charlie, Henning had no power over Melanie Jarowski. How he'd brainwashed an entire town to believe every word he said, she did not know. But clearly he'd already done it to her, and it had failed. And still now, six months into living in New Sanning, she remained untouched by his influence. Surely he had tried again, and failed again, and tried a new way, and failed just as easily.

It should have scared her away. Mel could have given it up, gone back west, and given into her urges to seek out Charlie and beg for him again. Even though it had been almost ten years. Eight years, nine months, and two days since the last time he filled me with his cum... she thought once over the summer, but who's counting?

But that was why she needed to stay. A dream had brought her here. One she still did not understand, but one that saved her from falling into servitude to a man she obsessed over but did not truly love. She needed to find the key to that mystery. The mystery of the Orchid, and the Gladiolus, and the Sweet William.

For six months she'd been losing hope and gaining desire, finding herself wet almost at all times. By the beginning of autumn she'd cum once in the morning right in bed, twice between painting sessions, and at least twice if not more right before bed. She needed nothing but her hand, and the memory of his heavenly voice telling her, "Good girl."

But not this day. She'd done it in the morning, yes. With two fingers pumping away and a breast in one hand. But along came Brandon, and somehow she felt the tiniest bit of control, for this moment at least. No doubt she'd be back to fantasizing about Charlie cumming deep inside her by the evening. But for now...

Mel got up off the couch and put her unfinished canvas back on the easel. She started to paint the statue, as intended. But the details she left blurry, and then around it she started envisioning the outline of a man standing in front of it, covering up the view of it almost entirely. And after the paint dried, she would start putting his body there.

But the face... she thought. I'll have to see his face again to get this right.

* * * * *

Brandon took the car home, worried about the mayor the whole way back. His father promised to walk back and enjoy the scenery. In some way it was nice to know his parents weren't totally forgetting about him. Still, it might just be another excuse to get him away.

Lana was sitting on her porch when he pulled into his new driveway. She bounded down her steps and nearly ran to him. "Brandon!" she shouted with a nervous smile. "Sorry we didn't see you this morning."

"That's all right," he said. Just act natural, nothing is wrong. "Thanks again for letting me stay."

"Stay as long as you need! We don't mind at all," she said, and then a sultry smile took over. "In fact, I could use a repeat of last night."

Then the idea struck, and Brandon played pretend as well as he could. "You mean the drinks? I usually don't partake two nights in a row, but I don't see why not."

Lana pushed at his shoulder with what little weight she had. "Ha-ha. You know what I mean."

"I really don't, Lana."

She frowned, scrunched her lips in a childish and pouty way. "We had sex," she said in no uncertain terms, and without a hint of shame. "I couldn't resist, just like you said. I can't believe you forgot."

"I think you're confused," he said. Then he snapped, hoping his face looked surprised enough. "I know. You dreamt it all."

Her button nose flared and then she reeled. "Oh wow," Lana sighed. "I think you're right. You must think I'm a total freak."

"No," he assured her. "Just the rest of the town."

Lana became serious quite suddenly. "This morning," she confirmed. "The statue."

"You thought it was weird too? Christ, it seemed like the whole town just bought everything Mayor Henning said."

She bit her lip with consternation, chewed it a bit. "It's weird... you know? I've never really questioned him before but... that was just odd. Um, do you think we could talk about it after the block party when you come over? If that's okay."

"Yes, please," Brandon said, sighing. "I must be missing something."

Lana squeezed his hand and looked up at him like a puppy that had been rescued. She managed to say, "Thank you," and rose up on her toes to peck him on the cheek. Brandon watched her as she strolled back up the hill to her own house, and kept looking at the door long after it shut.

* * * * *

"I'm shocked," Tiffany said over the phone. "You're not allowed to do these things without me, I need to take credit for everything good that happens to you."

"I'm sorry," Brandon told his sister. "But we're getting along just fine and you have nothing to do with it."

"The very idea!"

Tiffany Harper was wise beyond her years. A six year gap meant that Brandon was looking after her for a lot of her childhood, but by the time he'd moved out of the house and started college, she was practically an adult. He got her advice on everything from dating to reading to personal hygiene, and year after year he started to feel that she was the older sibling. Now at the end of her freshman year, he missed her more than ever.

"How's Spain?" Brandon asked.

Tiffany began spouting. "Haley is losing her mind, I'm starting to think this trip was a bad idea. I might just cancel the rest and come check out the new town for the winter."

"Can you get things refunded?"

"I mean, probably, but I don't really care. I'd rather lose money on getting the fuck out of here than lose money on being miserable."

"I can't argue with that," Brandon laughed. "We all miss you, anyway. That's right, I said it."

"You old softie," Tiffany quipped. "I knew you took a shine to me."

"I have to warn you, though, this place is a bit weird. I can't put my finger on it quite yet."

"Maybe everyone's an alien. Oh, maybe it's like a Cold War thing? Maybe both!"

Brandon snorted, which only Tiff could make him do. "You'll have to come and find out, detective. Just make sure you -- huh? What's that? Oh no, Tiffany they're here! They've come for me! Oh noooooo!"

He dropped the phone on the floor, waited a few seconds. He could faintly hear Tiffany playing along, using her Old Hollywood voice. "You just hang tight, kid! I'm comin'! I swear, I'm comin'!"

Brandon chuckled, put the phone back on the receiver, and turned to see his mother at the kitchen sink, gulping down a glass of water like she'd never had it in her life. When it was finished, she filled it up again and started guzzling that as well. "Mom?" he asked.

She turned to him, swallowed, and put the glass down. "What is it?" she said, out of breath.

"You'll pop if you keep drinking like that."

"I'm sorry," Nora said, placing a hand over her heart. "I've just never tasted water like this before. It tastes... delicious."

* * * * *

The Mayor had very little to worry about lately. It was easy to forget what problems he did have when his cock was buried deep inside the women and wives of his town.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck..." Misty sighed, sitting across the desk from him and fucking herself furiously with a cucumber from her own garden. She did love to have a show, and although she would never admit it in any specific terms she loved watching Janelle the most. The Mayor's aide had such perfect dark skin to contrast his own whiteness, and a beautiful mane of curly black hair. She was in his lap, back to his chest, bouncing up and down on his cock with her legs spread wide for Misty to see.

"Mr. Mayor," Janelle said between her pleasurable moans of impact, "Why is your wife... behaving like such a... pathetic whore?"

Don't you know Janelle? She is a pathetic whore, he could have said. Though as much fun as it would be to make her believe that Misty truly was a payable fuck toy, it would leave work to do later in correcting it. He had not come this far by being reckless, and in his past he had forgotten to correct certain playful Truths.

So instead, without using his special voice, he shared the fun instead of taking it for himself. "Because she's a bad actress," he said. "She can't pretend to be anything she's not."

Misty pushed her play thing as far as she could and rubbed at her clit. She began to beg. "Cum inside her, please... please I want to taste the both of you..."

The Mayor smiled at his wife, and grabbed his aide by the hips, and started to take control, holding her still as he thrusted up into her. Janelle lost control of herself and began screaming, arms grasping tightly on his office chair to keep from falling. He felt no need to hold on any longer. "All three of us will cum..." he said with his Truth voice, "... in three, two, one... now."

And so they did, the Mayor's Seed filling Janelle pump after pump, Janelle's pussy clenching around his cock with the waves of her orgasm, and Misty's sopping cunt squirting so hard it flew across the desk and covered Janelle's chest.

As he caught his breath, The Mayor's wife crawled under the desk and began to drink the honey of his infidelity. She moaned and giggled as his cum oozed from Janelle, and surely she tasted a little of herself as well as her juices rolled down Janelle's flat stomach and between her legs.

"Thank you, Mr. Mayor," Janelle said breathlessly. "You have thirty minutes before you have to get dressed for the block party on Pratt."

He almost grimaced. The Mayor could have changed her mind, made her not so eager to be a good employee. But he needed Janelle to have a clearer head, or else he'd never be able to run New Sanning smoothly. Lyle Vanit, the city planner, could take care of a lot on his own. Even things that were not part of his job description. So without Janelle, he wouldn't be entirely alone. But he would be far too busy fucking her day in and day out. If he didn't leave Janelle with a strong sense of duty, he'd never leave his office at all.

"Thank you, Janelle," the Mayor said, letting her stay on his lap for his wife to keep cleaning.

"Would you like any more entertainment before then?" she asked, only a hint of sultriness in her voice.

"Misty," he said sternly. "Dance for Janelle."

Misty bit her lip excitedly and hopped to the middle of the room. The Mayor let his aide sit in his chair while he stood. He opened the sizable armoire in the corner, reaching for the wipes he kept handy to clean himself quickly, and looking for the right jacket to wear for the evening. As he stepped into a clean pair of underwear, he looked back to Janelle.

"Do you have your notes on Brandon Harper?"

"On my tablet," she said, eyes glued to Misty's hips as they swayed back and forth. The Mayor always smiled at the hunger he'd given his aide for Misty. It reminded him of his own. "Would you like me to get it?"

"You're busy," he said. "Just give it to me verbally."

"He kept to himself for most of the unveiling, but he did approach Ms. Jarowski."

Arthur sighed happily. "Wonderful. Doing some of the work for us. Did it look congenial?"

"Very much so. I believe I caught her blushing at one point."

"Our new man works fast. He didn't seem very much like the ladies' man to me."

Janelle shrugged. "Probably not. Probably just her type. But he doesn't look half bad either."

"I'll give you a turn with him in a few days if you'd like," he offered. On what few days off Janelle took, she usually spent them with Ricky Moore, cuddling up for a movie night and a thorough tongue fucking while Lana stayed the night elsewhere, sating the cock lust the Mayor had given her. Not quite thirty herself, Janelle preferred younger men. Though evidently, Frank Sinnitz was not her type, and Ricky only barely passed grade, especially given his upbringing.

"If he's good," Janelle said, "I won't exactly be able to have him regularly, will I?"

"No," Arthur admitted. "Not unless I can figure out Ms. Jarowski's little problem."

Janelle pouted. "Then can we at least have Lana Moore start working here? You promised me a toy."

Arthur pulled his tie tight, and walked over to Janelle as the Mayor. He stood over her glistening body, looking down with austerity. He did not kneel or bend as he grabbed her curly hair and pointed her eyes back to the little whore dancing across the desk. "Let's put it this way. You get to play with Misty a lot, don't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Mayor."

"Misty never gives your orders, never dominates you, never talks down to you. Is Misty your toy?"

Janelle was quivering now, both with fear of his vicious tone and arousal for the same reason. "No, Mr. Mayor."

The Mayor pulled Janelle's gaze back to him. He watched her chest rise and fall, her eyes wide and suddenly submissive, lips parted ever so slightly. He loved the look of her lips like that. Already his cock was growing.

"No, she's not. That's my toy. I want to reward you for everything you do, and I want to do it right. I can't do that by giving you one of my toys. Whoever it is has to be yours, through and through."

"And you want to make Lana your toy," Janelle said, finishing the answer.

"That's right."