Kapitel 25: Memory Insights
Why couldn't she have taken two breaths to let me explain?
Wait, maybe I can email her. I know it's not as good at doing it in person, but right now I think it may be my only chance of getting her to understand my intentions.
Great! Now then, what are my intentions? I wonder as I pass the checkpoint into the building–noticeably absent of Guard Lansbury—and head for my office. When I'd asked if she wanted to screw, I'd been serious. It was only after viewing into her past that I became hesitant. My intentions were never to hurt her.
"You failed to come to church yesterday," AnnaBelle greets me as I walk through the door. "Your eternal soul will never be cleansed and free of the evil that surrounds you if you don't make the effort. Our Lord and Savior is willing to help you, but you have to be willing to meet him halfway. I know Reverend Michael Chilton can help you come to terms with God."
This is the wrong thing to say to me at the moment. I spin on her, piercing her with my gaze. My mind floods with images and thoughts, while my mouth begins speaking without me consciously forming the words.
"Is that what you tell yourself when you lie awake at night fantasizing about your college aged neighbor's son? Or what about that one time when you were in college and your roommate invited you to join her and her boyfriend?" There is heat in my tone now, but I don't let up, as knowledge about this pious woman flows into me. "Maybe, when you're sitting in the pews at your church, you can convince yourself that you're the epitome of godliness. That you don't covet your neighbor's large screen TV. Or how you have to lie to yourself about how happy you are in life?"
Tears, brimming in the older woman's eyes, pull me from my anger, and I shut my mouth. I know I shouldn't have said all that, but her high and mighty attitude, coupled with the last few days really tipped me over the edge.
"I may not be perfect, Mr. Snow," she tells me, and despite the tears in her eyes there is steel in her voice, "but I'm trying to be better." Without breaking eye contact with me, she stands, grabs her purse, and finally looks away before heading for the door. "Tell Mrs. Lance I'm sick today." And with that, she's gone.
What the hell is wrong with me? I wonder as I sit down at my desk. Both Thomas and Debbie refuse to look my way, and I don't blame them. I feel like scum right now. I used language that I prefer not to use down in the garage, ended up hurting a friend of mine, and then came up here and aired AnnaBelle's dirty laundry for all to hear. Brooke and Angela abandoning me doesn't give me the right to act like this. Maybe they were right to do leave. I'm turning into some kind of monster.
But maybe I can make amends to at least one of them right now. Logging into my computer, I type up a quick but heartfelt email to Jennifer Lansbury. I check the box for a read receipt so that I'll know when she's read it.
Sheila Lance walks in, just as I hit send. She gives me a slight smile as she walks to her desk, but otherwise doesn't say anything.
Debbie tells her that AnnaBelle called in sick and leaves it at that, though she shoots me a dark look.
A popup on my screen informs me that my email to Guard Lansbury was deleted without being read. Dammit! No. . . darn it. I need to stop swearing, even if it is such a minor word. I may not be able to change the past, but I can at least control myself.
"Mr. Snow," Sheila's voice rings out, and I realize I'm getting sick of being called by my last name today, "I need to talk to you about your last report."
My last report? Yeah, right! She's trying to look stern, but there's no mistaking that gleam in her eyes. I'm actually kind of glad that AnnaBelle isn't here at the moment. Thomas and Debbie across from me can't see her face, luckily.
As I stand up behind my desk, I see my boss grab a stack of papers before walking out the back door. Following her, we head for the same conference room that I'd taken control of her in last Friday. She's wearing one of those tight light-colored skirts that hug the hips, then goes slender down the legs, and a pair of black pantyhose underneath. Her torso is covered by a white, frilly, sleeveless blouse. I know what she's after, even before the door closes behind me, and I feel her plaster her body against me. Her lips press against mine, and I feel her tongue try to force its way in, but I just stand there, neither helping nor stopping her.
After a few futile seconds of this, she steps away with a bewildered look on her face. "What's wrong?"
I could tell her about my very long weekend, or about the scene in the parking garage, or even my conversation with AnnaBelle, but I decide not to. I probably shouldn't have followed her back here, but I can feel all of my frustration and anger come together, and before me is a way to release it.
"I didn't tell you to speak." My voice is soft, but firm and I see a spark of defiance blossom in her eyes.
"Now Mr. Snow, last time was all well and good, but—" My boss yelps as I cut her off using my additional strength to pick her up, sit in an armless chair, lay her across my lap, and deliver a solid smack to her behind. "Mr. Snow!"
Whack! Some of my frustration leaves me. This is better than therapy!
"I'm your master," I remind her, and she slumps in my lap, shaking slightly. "Now then, are you going to be my obedient slave, or do I need to remind you of your place?"
"No master," she says breathily, weakly. "I will obey."
I smile, even though I know she's not looking, and gently rub her behind. Her skirt displays her slender contours nicely, and I can feel myself growing harder under her as my hand explores her buttocks. Moving my hand to the side where the zipper is, I slide it down. She lifts her hips to allow me to remove the clothing, and I'm shocked to see she's wearing a G-string.
"Did my slave wear these sexy panties just for me?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Yes master," she purrs. "Your slave only wants to please her master."
"I am pleased," I tell her evenly as I slip my right hand under the thin string and rub along her crack. I easily find her already wet snatch, and slip my pointer finger inside.
She moans as I use my thumb to rub across her anus, and slip a second finger into her front. "Mmm, yes master! Your slave thought about you all weekend, wanting to serve her master."
The third person speech seems a bit odd, but I don't let it get in the way of my enjoyment. Or my relaxation.
"If you've been wanting to serve me, then why are you the only one getting pleasure?" I ask, pulling my hand out of her and giving her a light tap on her right butt cheek.
Without hesitation she jump out of my lap, turns, pulls down my zipper, and reaches into my underwear to pull free my hard penis. She shudders slightly as she lays eyes on my member, before slowly moving her hand up and down. The feel of her fingers wrapped around my stiff wood elicits a moan from me.
"That feels better, slave," I tell Sheila, "but I want you to suck it."
"Your slave has missed the flavor of her master's cock," she announces right before swallowing the head of my snake between her lips. My rod conforms to the shape of her mouth as she sucks me in deeper to her throat. I can feel her tongue moving around my shaft as I grab the back of her head and moan at how good she is. I can sense her beginning to choke, and I pull her hair back, until she can gasp for air.
My cock is covered in her slippery saliva, and the look in Sheila's eyes is not one I expect. A combination of adoration and subservience pours from her, and my mind seems to enter hers, before she gobbles my prick back down her throat.
All of a sudden I understand why she is the way she is. A lifetime of trying to climb the corporate ladder, always taking charge and being in command. She had approached sex the same way, always finding it dissatisfying and even sometimes like work. She'd been worried that there was something wrong with her, something that was stopping her from enjoying sex. She couldn't even get herself off.
So instead she had devoted that energy to her job and become a bitter woman, receiving little satisfaction in what she did, but moving up in the business world.
That is, until I'd come and turned everything upside down for her. Last Friday I hadn't accepted her control, and instead took charge. At first she'd been angry with me, but as I spanked her, she'd found herself getting turned on, until her pussy was veritably dripping from excitement. She'd decided to see how this would play out and had been shocked when she'd been able to get off while her employee had watched. What's more, she'd been even hornier after he commanded her to suck his cock.
I now know that she has even undergone laser hair removal on everything below the neck, because she couldn't stand the thought of anything on her not under her direct control. She didn't truly understand herself, but with my help, she is beginning to.
All weekend long she'd been looking forward to today. Only when the time came, she'd kissed me, and felt nothing. Disappointed, she'd been about to walk away, when I'd taken control again, and she knows now that she will do whatever I want, as long as I continue to evoke this delicious response in her. As long as I will tell her what to do.
In short, as long as I make her my little cum slut slave.
My mind becomes my own again, and I moan again as Sheila's mouth is rapidly bobbing up and down my phallus, my length entering her tight throat. I know exactly what I need to do to please this subservient woman.
Too late my mind flashes to my girlfriends, Becky and Lisa, and while I know I'm cheating on them, I remember something Angela had told me back at the beginning. She always tried to help people with her talents. Just because the succubus has abandoned me doesn't mean I can't follow her advice.
Grabbing a handful of hair, I pull back sharply on my boss's head, until she's looking me in the eyes. "I am pleased with my little cum slut," I tell her and see pleasure fill her brown orbs. "I want to give you a reward."
A broad smile splits her lips as I stand her up and lead her over to the conference table. Sitting her on the edge, I kneel before her and waste no time in pulling the thin fabric covering her sopping slit aside, finally getting a taste of her. She cums almost instantly as my tongue dives into her hole, and raw pleasurable life flows into me. I know I don't need to block any of it anymore, as what I'm taking isn't enough to hurt her.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein