The Succubae Seduction Ch. 03

Chapter 03

Working Things Out

No sleep comes for me as I lie in bed, hating myself for what I've done to those two women. The worst part is that I actually feel good right now, which only makes me feel even worse.

I just wish I had some way of contacting Angela. Hadn't she told me that there was a way to give energy, rather than take it? How much longer is she going to be gone? If I had a keycard like hers, I'd be able to go to the Shadow World, and ask her. If, if, how, and if: my life has become nothing but questions.

When my alarm goes off in the morning for me to go to work, I'm at first tempted to call in sick, but then I realize that I might be able to get some thinking done while there, and I need to live life normally.

Yeah, right. . . .

Jumping in the shower, I feel a little refreshed, even though I've been up for well over twenty-four hours. The drive to work is surprisingly quick. The roads are packed, but somehow I keep finding a spot to slip in, and don't have to stop even once as I hit every green light. I closely monitor my energy levels, but I don't notice myself getting weaker at each chance of luck, and wonder if it's just something else that's new with my redesigned VW Beatle, the Orange Bubble. I'm not personally changing the lights, or moving people out of the way.

As I'm walking up to the security counter, I reach for my wallet, only to realize it's not there. Crap! Without my ID, I can't get in, but where did I. . . DOUBLE crap! I don't remember having it after last night. I'm tempted to see if it's still at the club, where it must have fallen out. That was the last place I'd used it. But if I do that, I'll be late for work, even though I'm early now. Mrs. Lance'll have my head if I'm late. Again, I'm tempted to just blow this miserable job off. I really don't need it, since my rent's covered for the next year, and I'm even getting a refund as well. Why should I put up with the austere Sheila Lance? And since it's Friday, it feels odd to come in for one day and then take the weekend off.

Because I've been told to live my life as normally as I can, and her advice is the only thing I can rely on right now, I think answering my own question.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Snow?" I blink at the question, as it pulls me out of my thoughts. One of the security guards is looking at me waiting for an answer. I actually know her a little bit. When I'd worked in the mailroom, she used to chat with me from time to time, while we were making our rounds. I never learned her first name, and always just thought of her as Guard Lansbury.

"Guard Lansbury," I say cheerily, giving her my best smile, "How've you been?"

She returns the smile, and replies, "Down five pounds, but that's probably just from the shit I took, about half an hour ago. I haven't seen you in this early since you were working downstairs."

Did I mention she's kind of raunchy? And massively overweight? She almost makes up for it with her huge knockers, but if someone were trying to get away from her, all they'd have to do is walk fast. I feel bad for thinking so lowly of her though; she's always treated me well.

"Yeah, traffic just seemed to work out for me, but now it seems I went and left my ID at home." I try to put on my most downtrodden face, hoping that she might just let me through, even though that's against company policy.

"No ID?" she looks shocked, as if I'd just robbed a bank, instead of forgetting a little identification card. "Well, now, what are we going to do about that?" She pulls out her nightstick, and starts twirling it in her hand. "Sure you didn't just hide it somewhere? I'd be happy to do a cavity search on you." Now she's smiling at me hungrily.

"Thanks, but I'm fairly sure I left it at the club last night," I hedge, not really sure how to respond to her.

"The club, huh? I'll bet you were dancing with some skinny sluts there too, when you could have had a real woman, like me." She steps closer to me, and I want to back away, especially as I can feel a slight drain in my energy, and I know that whatever has been happening to me lately is in effect again. I hold my ground instead. I really don't want to be late.

"Awe, but you know I couldn't handle a woman of your caliber," I say, hoping that she takes it as a compliment.

She steps closer, smiling hungrily now. "But how do you know, if you never try?"

She's always flirted with me in the past, but never quite this forward. I need to figure out a way to turn my new abilities off, before something happens that I'll regret..

"Maybe next time. Looks like I need to go get my ID," I say, and take a step back, towards the door, only to have her hand on my arm stop me.

"I don't think so," she tells me, and sudden worry fills me by the tone of her voice. "Mrs. Lance will have your hairy left stone if you're late. You need to get up there, and I think I know of a way to get you there."

Part of me is afraid, and the other part hopeful. If she escorts me through, then all is well. If she wants to exact a price. . . .

I follow her to a security door, and she opens it for me with her badge. Just as I'm walking through, she shoves me hard, and I stumble the rest of the way in. The door closing and locking behind me sounds louder than it probably is.

"Of course, I don't do favors for free. . ." she trails off as I turn to face her. There is an almost carnivorous look in her wild eyes, and her short brown hair frames her lust filled face.

"I thought you didn't want me to be late," I say, thinking fast.

"Oh, your bitch of a boss can have your balls when I'm done with them." She lets that hang there for a moment, and then bursts out laughing. "You should see the look on your face, Lyden. Relax, I ain't gonna rape you. Just head up those stairs to the second floor, and then you can take the elevator the rest of the way to your floor."

I can't help but let out the sigh of relief that escapes me, and I also can't miss the pain that I see it causes in her eyes. This woman just helped me out, putting her own job in danger for breaking one of the buildings numerous rules, and I'd basically just insulted her. Okay, no 'basically' about it. I'd insulted a friend, and hurt her feelings. I may not see her as a sexual prospect, especially right now with me draining whomever I sleep with, but there are other ways to repay a favor.

She turns to walk away, but this time it's my hand on her arm, stopping her. "Not so fast, Lansbury," I say in as authoritative voice as I can muster. "You broke one of the security rules, and even though it was to do me a favor, I have to exact payment."

She turns to look at me, pained confusion in her eyes, and I realize that she really thinks I'm going to turn her in.

"The price for my silence, will be one kiss," I tell her, and while the pain disappears, the confusion remains in her eyes.

"Mr. Snow, there's no need. I know what I am, and I won't put you through that kind of torture," there is a deep sadness in her tone, and my heart breaks to hear it.

"I didn't say I was giving you an option," I say, and know that I'm acting very different from my normal self, but something inside me says this is right. I then shove her back against a wall, and actually have to bend over her massive chest, to plant my lips on hers. I thought I'd be turned off by the thought of kissing this large woman, but she actually smells rather nice, and it only takes me a couple seconds to realize she's one helluva kisser. I want to help this woman feel better, and this is the best thing I can come up with.

When the kiss ends, we're both breathless, and I just leave her there, as I ascend the stairs. I don't even notice until I'm halfway up, that I feel a little weaker than I did earlier. I remember getting pumped from kissing Becky last night, so why the difference with Lansbury? Is it because she doesn't have the energy to give? Or did I actually transfer energy to her? If so, how the heck had I done it? Was it because I wanted to help her? Once again, more questions!

Despite the delays in getting to my office, I find I'm the first one there, though Thomas Johnson arrives only a couple minutes after me.

Seeing the older gentleman, I remember how Angela had looked when she'd first come in, and her telling me that her appearance had been in line with his fantasy.

"Lyden!" he exclaims as soon as he sees me. "I see your back on your feet. How are you?"

"A lot better, thanks," I reply jovially. "I know I usually look for advice from you, but if I can offer some, never run into a light pole. They're not as soft as they look."

He laughs at my half-joke saying, "I guess that's why you got contacts?" He's referring to my naked face, of course. Angela had somehow fixed my vision, so that I no longer need glasses to see. I just wish she could have done something about my colorblindness.

"Nope! That pole must have fixed my eyes," I tell him happily, and try not to laugh at his disbelief.

Then I see AnnaBelle Lewis come in, and immediately feel a somber mood enter with her.

"Laughter is the devil's tool," AnnaBelle says to us seriously, and I see Thomas roll his eyes. Unfortunately, she sits at the desk next to mine, between me and where Mrs. Lance sits. "It'll corrupt your soul, and He'll take over."

"It's good to see you too, AnnaBelle," I respond, long since used to her pious views.

"Only our Lord and Savior is good, Mr. Snow. Though I'm gladdened that He has seen fit to grant you your health." She looks at me sharply then, and I wonder if I have something on my nose. "I sense a dark and dangerous shadow over you," she says ominously. "What heathen things have you been up to?"

Now, I've never been one too much into religion, but if she can sense the changes in me, then there really might be an almighty, and after everything else I've learned, I realize I have a lot more to learn. Then again, for some reason her holier-than-thou attitude gets under my skin.

"Oh, not much. Just went to the club last night, banged a babe while her roommate watched, and drove home. But before that I was hitting a punk babe with blue hair and pierced—"

"Mr. Snow, that is quite enough," Mrs. Lance says right at that moment, walking in.

I can see AnnaBelle glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, as I sheepishly get behind my desk. She really didn't deserve that treatment, and I feel bad for my actions.

Debbie Jones is the last one to enter, and after sharing that kiss with the large Guard Lansbury, I look at the slightly chubby coworker in a different light. She's by no means ugly, but does have some rather nice curves to her. I wonder if she kisses as well as Lansbury?

Debbie gives me a shy smile, and I realize I've been staring and try to bury myself in my work. As I continue to compile data from various spreadsheets, I can feel my vitality draining. I also note that both Debbie and Mrs. Lance keep staring at me. The drain isn't great, but it is noticeable. AnnaBelle studiously ignores me.

'Blue haired, and pierced, huh?' A popup says on my desk, and I see it's a message from Johnson. Smiling, I nod to the older man across from me. 'Lucky!' is his next reply.

Guard Lansbury walks in, holding something, and leaves it at Sheila's desk. The guard gives me a very obvious wink as she walks past my desk. I can literally feel AnnaBelle's glare against my back.

"Mr. Snow, can I see you up here?" Mrs. Lance states firmly.

Great. . . . Did Sheila see those messages from Thomas?

As I walk up to her, I see my wallet sitting on her desk. How'd that get here? Then I see the look in Sheila's eyes. . . . Oh, great. Now I've really pissed her off.

Wait, maybe this is a good thing. If she gets pissed off at me enough, she'll fire me, and then I can still claim I was living normally.

"Mind explaining how you got into the building without your wallet, or ID?" she demands of me.

Now's my chance. Puffing out my chest, I look her dead in the eyes, and say in my most pompous tone, "I walked in through the doors. Is there supposed to be a back door for us flunkies?"

Sheila's jaw tightens, and I can see she's shaking from trying to hold in her wrath. I hear a number of gasps from behind me, at my audacity.

"The Devil's work," a mumbled voice says, but it can only be AnnaBelle.

My boss gets herself back under control, grabs my wallet, and stands up. "Come with me, please, Mr. Snow."

I let my smile show at her back, as I follow her out the door and into an unused conference room, far enough away from our office that I'm sure my soon-to-be previous coworkers won't hear her yelling at me, or anyone else, for that matter.

"Mind explaining yourself in there?" she asks me, her tone level. Her brown eyes are trying to bore into me, and I can feel my energy levels draining.

Just then I get an idea.

I know I shouldn't, but after putting up with Sheila Lance as a boss for around a year now, I want to get some of my own back. I'm not entirely certain how my ability works, but if I keep myself under control, I shouldn't hurt her.

At least, I hope I don't.

Today, she's wearing a dark suit jacket, over a white button up, and dark flowing pants. Her black hair is tied back in its usual bun, and I can't help but wonder if the reason she's always so ornery is because her hair gives her headaches.

"No explanation's needed," I tell her, concentrating on her body as I speak and allowing my instincts to take over. I notice a slight shiver run through her. I also notice a depreciable drop in my stamina.

"You've been with us for some time now, haven't you Mr. Snow?" Her voice sounds a little husky now, but I can still see anger smoldering inside her brown eyes.

"I've been working. . . under you. . . for a little over a year," I tell her, concentrating on the innuendo, and sensing her body becoming more receptive to me. Am I becoming a succubus? Is there such a thing as a male succubus? I'll have to look that up later.

I notice her eyes dilating as she contemplates me, tapping her finger on my wallet. "That still doesn't excuse your behavior in there."

Turning my back on my boss, I go and lock the door, then crank up my concentration on Sheila. "I think I know what this is really about," I tell her, and notice her eyes glazing over. Oops, maybe too much. I back off a little, and just in time, too, as true weariness starts to worm its way in.

She gives herself a shake, before saying, "M—Mr. Snow. What do you think you're doing?" She tries to protest, as I walk over, and start undoing the buttons on her jacket. She doesn't try to stop me though, and it only takes a couple seconds to get it off. "This is highly inappropriate," she tells me, but her voice is barely a whisper, and her eyes are closed.

Continuing to follow my instincts, I harden my voice, and command her, "I don't allow my slaves to talk, unless spoken to." Her eyes snap open, and I can see the anger attempt to reassert itself, but by now her shirt is unbuttoned and I tweak one of her nipples through her bra. She shudders again, closing her eyes. "That's right. I'm going to make you my own little cum slut."

I've never treated a woman like this before, but everything inside me is pushing me to keep going. By the way she's reacting; I think I might just get away with this.

"But. . . I'm your boss," she almost whimpers, then moans as I twist her other nipple.

"Hmm, you have a point," I concede as I slip my hand inside her bra, and gently rub her tender areola. "In front of others, you will continue to be my boss, but when we're alone, you'd better return to being my submissive slut. I'd recommend, however, that you treat me a little better out there, lest I have to exact harsher punishments from you." Unsnapping her bra, I finally get a good look at her bare chest, and smile. Her nipples are both hard, and pointing straight out from her chest. Her ample bosom is likely about a C-cup, some part of my mind informs me. "You will find I can be a gentle master, but only to an obedient slave."

I walk around behind her and marvel that I have this high-and-mighty woman at my whim. Not yet, some part of my subconscious informs me, and I realize that there's one more formality.

Reaching around her waist, I undo her pants, and gently slide them down her hips. Standing back up, I gently kiss the back of her neck, while lightly running my fingers up and down her arms. Her entire body is shivering now, and not from any cold that might be in this conference room. Slipping my right hand into the front of her black panties, I pinch her outer labia together, and then rub them against each other, eliciting a moan from her. I can feel how hot she is already, and know now is the time to ask my question.

"Are you going to be an obedient slave? Or am I going to need to punish you first?" My voice, whispered directly into her ear seems to spark one last bit of defiance.

"I am your boss, Mr. Snow. I will not be—" I cut her off by pressing hard against her slit, and painfully tweaking her left nipple again.

"Looks like you will need some training," I tell her, as she gasps in both pleasure and pain. I walk us over to the massive conference table, and bend her over it.

"What do you think you're—"

Whack!

She howls as I spank her, but I know there is still a bit of fight in her, as she resists me pulling her wet panties off.

Whack!

Her panties are now on the floor, and I can see a red hand print on her left buttocks. Some inner part of me feels bad for this woman, but then I remember all the times she's chewed me out, or given me impossible deadlines, and slap her other cheek.

Whack!

I can now smell the unmistakable musk of a woman in heat, and ask, "Are you going to be my obedient slave now?"

She whimpers as she nods, but that's not good enough.

Whack!

"Say it, so that there can be no misunderstanding, Sheila Lance." There is an odd sensation in the air as I use her name, and it actually feels like it settles into my boss.

"Yes! I will be your slave," she cries out, and I'm thankful that she chose a conference room far from any other offices.

"What else?" I ask, and lift my hand. I have no further intention of spanking her, unless she pushes me to it, but a little motivation won't hurt.

"I'll be your obedient little cum slut," she says hurriedly. "I'll do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just. . . Just please, master, command your slave. What can your slave do to please her master?"

If I hadn't already been rock hard, hearing those words would have gotten me there. I bring my hand down, and she flinches, but I don't strike this time. Instead, I gently rub her red rear. I do this for a couple of seconds, but a weakness in my knees informs me that my energy levels are getting low. It probably doesn't help that I got no sleep last night, either.

Dropping down behind her, I say, "My slave deserves a reward for being obedient." Licking her from slit to asshole, I make her moan in further anticipation. Reaching between her legs, I place my right thumb at the nub of her clitoris, and shove my tongue as far into her as I can.

She cums instantly and I feel new strength flood into me. I continue to apply pressure to her clit, while simultaneously throwing up a mental wall, blocking further energy from leaving her. I don't need too much from her right now. Perhaps if I just sip a little off each orgasm, I won't really hurt her.

She continues to writhe on the table, moaning loudly, and I realize I'm still pressing hard on her sensitive point. Standing up, I back away from her, and sit down on the largest chair in the room. She quickly turns and looks at me, wondering what I have in mind next. Is that hope in her eyes?