I am a fan of JDSeal's work and I am continuing to explore the characters of his comic series "Debt" in a way that only a novella could. This story expands pages 4 through 9 of "Debt: Chapter 1". This scene continues to explore the twisted, tangled dynamics of the Argyris family by introducing Armonia.
If you haven't already, I would recommend reading the first scene in this story series, titled "The Negotiation."
As always, I appreciate any feedback! And please read JDSeal's original comic if you haven't!
JDSeal gave me written permission to publish this story.
...
Armonia Argyris was halfway to the entrance of Nikos's office building when she heard it--a sharp, muffled cry echoing from the alley behind her. It was frustration, cracked through with rage that threatened to escape before pride slammed the door on it.
Armonia turned. She saw Maggie step out from the narrow space between buildings, heels clicking too fast, hands smoothing her blazer like composure was something she could zip up. Her face was flushed. And for a heartbeat, her eyes met Armonia's.
They shared no words, just a recognition that something unspeakable had happened. Maggie looked away first.
Armonia turned back toward the building, a small smile touching her lips as she passed through the doors. So, her mother was finally cracking. Maggie had been playing the martyr too long. Pretending that this was all still salvageable.
Armonia didn't feel guilty, but she was curious. What exactly had Nikos done to bring that scream out of their mother? What had Maggie agreed to? Maybe it wasn't just the money.
Armonia pressed the lobby elevator button. If Maggie was unraveling, it meant things were working. And if Nikos was the one pulling the thread, she wanted to be the one collecting with the spool.
The elevator was private. Quiet. Armonia's reflection stared back at her in the brushed gold panels--not as statuesque as her mother, but poised and gleaming with purpose. The sundress she wore was pale blue cotton, loose and sweet, hem brushing just below her ass. It swayed softly with her stride, giving her the illusion of innocence.
Beneath it, she was armored.
Under the sundress, a glossy blue bandeau crop top hugged her breasts so tightly that her cleavage swelled around the compressed fabric, nipples slightly raised against the stretch. Her thong was the same glossy blue, cut high and tight at the hips. A thin black body chain looped around her waist and dipped beneath her navel, where a delicate pendant dangled just above the sharp vee of the thong's front.
Her legs were wrapped in sheer pastel blue fishnet stockings, the diamond mesh climbing to mid-thigh, held in place with just tension and friction by thick elastic bands that squeezed into her skin.
And on her feet: shiny, sky-blue platform ankle boots with knife-like heels that clacked with every slow, deliberate step.
At her neck, a matching blue choker transformed her vulnerable throat into a spectacle with which to control attention.
By the time she reached the top floor, her body was already humming--half from the friction of fabric on skin, half from the thought of what her mother had just surrendered behind that office door.
The door to Nikos's office was slightly ajar. Of course it was. He was less guarded, even careless in the moments after feeding. That was when Armonia liked him best.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room hadn't changed from the last time she'd been in it, and at first the air smelled like books and steel like it always did. But something in the energy had changed.
Armonia realized the ottoman in front of the desk still bore the faint impression of someone's weight. The scent of someone else's perfume still hung in the air like guilt. And under it--thicker, unmistakable--Nikos. The musk of his release still hung in the air, fresh and primal. Armonia's lips parted slightly, savoring the mix. Perhaps her mother had swallowed something more than pride. The thought made Armonia wet.
She moved toward the desk, taking her time. Nikos hadn't looked up yet. His sleeves were still rolled, the buttons of his shirt loose at the neck. That casualness meant he hadn't yet decided whether what just happened was conquest or a mistake.
But Armonia noticed something else.
He wasn't just undone--he was unsettled. Too still. Like his body didn't quite know what to do with what it had just felt. His fingers hovered near his jaw, not touching. His gaze wandered without landing. He looked like he'd come searching for power and stumbled into something needier. A kind of hunger he didn't know how to satisfy.
That's when Armonia understood. Maggie hadn't lost the negotiation, not really. Her absence affected Nikos somewhere much deeper than in his cock. And he was still trying to pretend he hadn't noticed.
Perfect.
"I saw her," Armonia said, voice light, as though observing a change in the weather. "She looked angry. You know how Mom gets when she wants to pretend she's still in control."
Nikos's eyes flicked up. He raised his chin in mock pride, but a tension tugged at his words. "She was. I expected as much."
Armonia met his gaze, unblinking, and walked toward him, heels clicking softly across the floor.
"I'm not here to ask what you did to her." She leaned against the edge of the desk, palms braced behind her, hips slightly arched. "But I'll take a guess. She cried, you got hard, and now you're confused why that doesn't feel like a win."
She watched him watching her. He was still deciding what kind of woman she was today. Innocent? Obedient? Slutty? Professional? She could play any of them.
Nikos sat back slightly in his chair, shoulders straightening. "You really think I'm that easy to read?" His voice was cooler now. Collected. "Even Mom never knew how to deal with me."
"I'm not our mother," she whispered, letting the last word curl in her throat like a dare. "I don't panic when I give something away. I know what I'm getting back."
Her thighs pressed together. She let her skirt ride up an inch.
Nikos drank in her exposure. "Are you sure about that? You give a lot away for someone so convinced she's keeping score," he said.
"And you think you can win by withholding everything. That's Mom's mistake, too."
Nikos didn't smile. He rarely did when he was serious. Instead, he pushed his chair back an inch and tilted his head, eyes falling to her thighs. That soft growl of approval in his throat was barely audible--but she heard it.
"Take the dress off," he said, casual as ever. As if she were a favorite book he'd read a hundred times and still loved opening to his favorite chapter. "Let's not pretend we're here for small talk."
She held his gaze for a beat, then reached for the hem.
The cotton slid up her legs, slow and fluid. Armonia didn't rush--there was power in the reveal. As the dress passed her hips and waist, the thin black body chain settled into place with a faint metallic jingle, the delicate links brushing against her skin. The fabric continued upward, stretching over the bandeau straining across her chest, then lifted over her head, sending her long hair cascading down in loose waves. She let the blue dress fall to the floor behind her and stood tall in the full design of what she had hidden beneath.
His eyes roamed her body like a collector admiring something he already owned. She knew he saw the resemblance--same rich brown hair, same high cheekbones and sculpted jawline, the same Argyris curves stamped into her hips. But the details broke apart the illusion.
Armonia was shorter than Maggie, and it showed more when she was naked--less towering, more deliberate. Her 22-year-old body curved in a different key. Her breasts were smaller, firmer, perched high and alert--meant to tease, not to hold. Maggie's breasts had weight, swing, and consequence. Armonia's had finesse.
Even their faces, nearly mirror images, told different stories when you reached the eyes. Maggie's gaze didn't just pull--it evaluated. Heavy-lidded and cool, it moved through rooms with the bored arrogance of someone used to being the most important woman there. There was pain in it, yes--but mostly disdain. She didn't forgive because she didn't forget, and Armonia had never seen her mother accept affection that didn't come prepackaged with status.
Armonia's eyes didn't pull. They pinned. Bright, shrewd, unblinking. She didn't demand attention the way Maggie did. Instead, she seized it.
Armonia's body held tension and invited risk. Maggie's had gravity, demanding reverence and drawing orbits. But gravity doesn't choose what it pulls. Even what Maggie never wanted--resentment, unrequited desire--was caught in it. And sooner or later, gravity collapses. Armonia was studying her family to locate the event horizon, so that she could stand just outside it when it did.
Armonia could see a flicker of hesitation in Nikos's eyes. He was looking at her, but thinking about Maggie. And trying not to. Armonia smiled inwardly.
She stepped forward, her heels clicking once on the floor before she sank smoothly to her knees. Her fingers moved with familiar precision--unzipping his fly, freeing the weight of him from his slacks. As she shifted forward on her knees, the chain punctuated her movement with a quiet chime. He was already half-hard, heavy against her palm. She gave him a slow pump, her eyes flicking up to meet his.
"You're so predictable," she murmured, kissing the underside of his shaft, just above the base. "Every time she walks out, I walk in."
Nikos let out a soft scoff, practically a moan. "You sound proud of that." His voice was low, dry, as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or flinch.
Her tongue traced the vein along the underside of his length. She felt where it meandered in a sinewy curve exactly three inches above the base of his shaft. Never breaking contact, she then slathered around to its topside until she flicked the velvety ridge of his glans. The salty tang of him bloomed on her tongue, thick with the taste of someone not quite finished from before.
As always, Nikos's thighs squeezed ever so slightly, his knees turning inward. Armonia knew his body. She spoke again, her voice a satin ribbon sliding between her lips and the head of his cock.
"Do you think she suspects?" she asked softly. She paused there, mouth open, tongue circling slowly around the head--then pulled back just enough to speak. "Mom, I mean. That I'm slobbering on your cock, minutes after she leaves?"
She sucked gently at the tip, just enough to draw a reaction from him, then pulled back with a quiet pop. As she looked up at him, Nikos seemed to awake from a reverie and focused his sharp eyes on her.
"Lift up your shirt," he said--not impatient, just inevitable. Like asking her to breathe.
Armonia began to pull her entire bandeau top over her shoulders, but Nikos gently clasped her wrists. "Keep it on, bunched up above your tits," he commanded quietly.
She took him deeper, slowly, purposefully. She wanted him pliant, off-balance, quieter than usual. That was when he gave the most away.
