If there was any change in Mr. Rowe's behavior, Joan didn't notice it. 'Sinful Things' was doing things to her mind and she knew it. Joan was constantly distracted, her mind always filling itself with the lewdest thoughts. The first time Mr. Rowe touched her back, she felt such a jolt of sensation she had never felt before. The harder she tried to deny her lustful impulses, the fiercer they came back on her. However, what could she do? There was nowhere to turn. She was trapped and more and more of her was surrendering to sin.
She started dreaming about having a man's cock in her mouth. Her full, red lips gliding on the shaft as she was told what a good whore she was. This always pleased her in the dream. Joan would wake up feeling ashamed and dirty. No amount of bathing could wash it away. The dream felt so real that she could taste the man's cum when it was shot into her mouth and she was commanded to swallow. She obeyed so well in those dreams, eager to demonstrate her whorish skills.
In the mornings she woke up wet and wanting. She fingered herself to climax, bathed, dressed and took the trolley to work. Joan barely ate anymore. All she wanted to do was read her pornographic filth and dream feverishly of sinful things. More than that. She wanted to engage in those sinful things. Joan had a desperate need to. It was overwhelming, but she was able to suppress herself just enough to get through her days at work.
One afternoon, she was called into Mr. Rowe's office. She was wearing a tight green dress with an ivy pattern and a tasteful set of silver earnings that she had bought the other night. Mr. Rowe had commented to her about decorating herself a little more and before she knew it, she was in a jewelry store without a single thought of her own. Joan needed Mr. Rowe's attention. Really, she needed the attention of any man. So she sat in the chair in front of his desk, arching her back a little so as to stick out the swell of her massive chest a bit.
"Joan," Mr. Rowe began, "I see a change in you as late."
"Oh?"
"You seem more scattered and airy," he said. "Now you are wearing jewelry and dresses that flirt with being appropriate. This is a professional setting, girl."
"Of course, sir. I do hope you forgive me. I'm not trying to cause a scandal, sir. I was just hoping to make myself a bit more attractive is all."
"Attractive for whom?"
Joan stammered, unsure of how to respond. Her mind raced for a suitable answer. All she could think about was having her mouth stuffed with cock and it was driving her mad. Her face flushed and she felt suddenly warmer. "Well," she stammered out, "not one in particular. Oh, Mr. Rowe! I'm not wicked, I swear it! Please don't be cross with me. I'll do anything to please you. To ensure my employment here."
"Joan, what are you propositioning to me?"
"Nothing, sir! Nothing at all! It's just that I'll dress and act however you want. I do want you to be pleased with my performance, sir. My work performance, of course."
"What other performance would there be?"
Mr. Rowe wanted to grin but didn't. He was enjoying tormenting her. He felt like a cat playing with a wounded mouse. He sat behind his desk and watched her squirm a bit in her chair. It felt incredible, the power that he had over this poor, confused thing. Intoxicating was too weak a word for it. How badly he wanted her right there and then. Bend the bitch over the desk and slam her hard. But he didn't, Mr. Rowe decided to hold himself back from that.
"None other," Joan answered trying to sound innocent. "Is there anything that you need specifically, sir?"
"Not right now, girl. Go back to your work."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Joan got up and left, going back to her desk by the window. Her stomach was doing somersaults. She sat down and took several deep breaths to calm herself enough to get back to work. A tickle in her spine made her glance up. A young clerk with black hair was staring at her with a strange grin. Joan didn't her best to ignore him and focused on her work.
~ o ~
When she got home, Joan went to the mirror on her vanity table and took off the earrings. She looked at herself and said, "this is not who I am."
Joan got up and picked up both of those awful books with the intention of throwing them away. However, as she held them in her hands, Joan couldn't bring herself to do it. So, she just stood in the middle of her apartment holding both books with a silly look of confusion on her face. Then, there was a knock on her door.
