You should wake up.
Eris's voice pierced through my dream like a pin puncturing a balloon. My eyes shot I open and I expected to find myself in that stone building, the flickering of candle flames casting eerie shadows on the wall. But I awoke to a sea of eggshell white—my ceiling.
Still in my room...and Amy's here.
What? Did you think that was a dream?
Her voice seemed both amused and annoyed. Eris, it seemed, had a clear talent for duality of expression.
You know if you're just going to lie there...
The voice mused.
Can you read my mind?
I asked.
Any response would be an answer.
Eris said lazily.
Anyway, I didn't give you power so that you could stay in bed all day. You
did
make me a promise.
An image of me stroking a tortuously rigid cock flashed in my mind, a humiliating image of Nancy at the center of my fantasy.
That's a promise I'm happy to fulfill.
I thought.
I nudged Amy. "Hey baby, you awake?" She twisted away pulling a pillow on top of her head.
"No. Not awake." Came her muffled reply. I grabbed The Coin from under my pillow, slid out of bed, jumped into a pair of jeans, threw on a shirt, and walked to Amy's side of the mattress.
"I'm thinking of going out for a while, can I bring you anything?"
"Asleep, adjective. Meaning not fucking conscious." She growled, face still obscured under the pillow. "But if you're going out bring me the coffee."
"Which coffee?"
"Yes."
"So a big coffee?"
"You have my request, now be gone." She lashed a foot out from under the covers, kicking me in the stomach.
"Ouch. Tea it is."
"I can kill you and make it look like an accident." Amy threatened matter-of-factly.
I grabbed my keys and scurried down the stairs. It was well past noon, and the hustle and bustle of down town was already well into play. I walked a block to Jenny's Mustang and took the thirty minute commute to my old office with a smile on my face.
Xiphias Consultants
was a small town company with big town aspirations. It employed roughly fifty people. The company's way of making a profit was a lot like a pyramid scheme. Everyone had a monthly quota of billable hours. The quota for new employees was set exceptionally high. So high in fact that most newcomers burned out within the first two months. This worked in
Xiphias
's interests for three reasons: firstly, the new supply of blood meant new people with family businesses to hit up, energized new hires, or people with one strong lead that the bigger fish, like Nancy, could quickly devour and place on her billables. The second reason was that it kept prices low; if you don't meet your quota no bonus. The high turnover also meant that the company almost never had to issue raises. Luckily, I worked in IT and I was, up until recently, immune from the insanity.
This brings me back to Nancy. Nancy controlled about twenty people or two "pods" (consultants who theoretically work together). She loved to fire people. She would make a big show of getting the "Team" together and listing who had and who hadn't made quotas. Three weeks of not making quotas meant you were out. She made a public show of shaming people. "Two weeks down, one to go, kiddo!" She'd threaten in this saccharine singsongy voice. She'd fired me in a similar fashion.
"Team, say goodbye to Ry. The company is cutting tech support and unfortunately Ry was chosen to leave the island. Sad face." She announced without telling me first. It was humiliating.
Now it's her turn.
I smiled happily at the thought as I pulled my Mustang into my old parking spot in the company lot. I got out and made my way to the security check-in desk. A place like this needed security; wouldn't want any disgruntled employees getting to close to the management.
"Hey Jim. I'm here to grab something I left yesterday. Would you mind buzzing me through?" Jim was a pleasant enough guy, we occasionally ate lunch together. He was a retired NYC cop in his late forties. Still in great shape, he mostly kept to himself and he only really spoke up when things were about to go out of hand.
"Sure. Sign in." I quickly signed my name. "Now, don't start nothing. I like ya' but it doesn't mean I won't throw ya' out of here." He said in a gruff voice. I nodded in acquiescence and he escorted me to the elevator. I stepped in and pressed four.
Once out of the elevator I made my way quickly to Nancy's office, avoiding being seen as much as possible. Luckily, this was the busiest time of day and most everyone was diligently (or desperately) working the phones. I reached Nancy's office and walked through the door. Nancy sat behind her big oaken desk. At the sound of the door opening she looked up startled, a phone receiver held to her ear. I casually locked the door and took a seat in one of her leather receiving chairs.
"Yeah, no, I agree those yields are important. Listen, I'm gonna have to call you back something just came up with the Team. Yeah, of course. Bye." She carefully hung the phone up. "Ryan. What the fuck are you doing here?" I fingered The Coin in my pocket for a moment before responding.
"Nancy, here's what's going to happen, until I say otherwise you're going to be my puppet. You'll speak when I tell you to speak, move when I tell you to move. But you can keep your thoughts. Deal?" Silence. "You can answer direct questions."
"Fuck that." She spat, body frozen in a looming position.
"Mmm. Can't have that. Now Nancy honestly and politely answer me this: can anyone hear us outside of your office?"
"No sir. I had it sound proofed last year. I couldn't deal with the talking." She looked surprised that she had answered that way. I stood up from the chair and walked behind the desk to get a closer look at my new toy. Nancy was average height. Her hair, as always, was tied back into a bun. Her black suit hid most of the contours of her body, but it hinted at a shapely chest and beautifully long legs.
"Nancy. Do a striptease for me. Feel free to talk while you strip." I led her by the hand to the center of the room. Her hands immediately went to work unbuttoning the jacket, her hips undulating to an unheard rhythm.
"How the fuck are you doing this to me?" She said with more than a little panic in her voice. She threw her jacket carelessly to the side. Her hands started exploring the contours of her body of their own free will—groping at her chest, sliding between her crotch, running through her hair. When I saw her slip a hand under her bra I sent a command through The Coin
