Joan Ch. 03

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.

She nearly panicked. Joan scrambled to hide the two books. The knock came again. "One moment," she answered. She checked herself in the mirror and went to the door and opened. It was the young clerk with black hair. Joan was puzzled. She asked, "can I help you?"

The young clerk rudely pushed his way inside. Joan gasped in shock at his audacity. "Excuse me," she objected. "You are not permitted in a lady's home uninvited, sir."

"Shut up, bitch."

Joan went quiet upon command. She stood by the door staring at him. It was still open. The young clerk motioned for her to close the door. Without thinking she did. The black haired clerk had his hands in his pockets as he looked around her apartment. "My name is Jesper," he said. He started looking around, searching. He had a strange accent, one that even a cultured and educated woman like Joan couldn't place. He found the Stormwraith literature. "I followed you to the bookshop the night you bought this," he said while holding up 'The Submission.' He looked at her. "Do you know who Mr. Puddle is?"

She shook her head silently.

"He's an agent for Stormwraith," he explained. "Soon, you'll go back to Mr. Puddle's shop for a third book. He'll tell you that he can't sell you one. You'll plead and then he'll make you suck his cock for it. You will."

Joan flushed, putting her hand to her forehead. "You are disgusting, sir. To suggest I would dare to do such a thing shows how classless and immoral you are. You should be ashamed, sir."

He laughed at her. He looked down at the red books with black lettering. "The dirty, little secret of Vel Corte," he said. "Do you know what happens to the women who are found with these books? They go to the institution. They are locked away because there is no cure for what is happening to you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"To torture you," he said. "I'm going to tell you everything so that you'll know exactly what is happening to you as it happens. You'll know the despair of being unable to stop any of it. You'll feel every bit of humiliation as you are twisted and turned into an obedient fuck-doll."

Joan had tears in her eyes. She asked in a quiet, shaky voice, "why?"

"Cruelty," he answered.

"How do you know so much, sir? You could be lying just to get whatever twisted perversions you want out of me."

He smiled. "True," he said. He tossed them books on the bed and started for the door. As he passed, he gave her ass a good, hard slap. "I'll be back. You'll make an excellent fuck-doll when you're ready to be shipped up north."

He went out the door and left. Joan shut the door and locked it. Now she was more determined to get rid of the damned things, but she couldn't do it. Instead, she picked up 'Sinful Things' and started reading, unable to stop herself.

~ o ~

Several days later, Joan felt a compulsion to return to Mr. Puddle's bookshop. Try as she might to fight it, Joan soon found herself going down that narrow street. When she walked into the bookshop, terror seized her. At the counter was Mr. Pryce, purchasing a book on foreign markets. He waved at her.

"Ah! Joan! How splendid, what the devil are you doing here?"

She stammered, unable to come up with anything answer.

"No doubt buying the latest from Lady Crawford," Mr. Pryce said to Mr. Puddle. "Joan here is one of those independent women that the Lady promotes. She's employed at my firm. A very promising young lady, that one is. I'll shall be back for the next volume upon its release. Fantastic looking series. It was recommended to me by a young clerk at my firm. Most promising young man. Bizarre accent. The boy said he was educated somewhere abroad. A fantastic looking series. Good night to you both."

Joan stepped aside so that Mr. Pryce could get by. As he passed, he paused and quietly asked her, "has there been any movement on that delicate matter?"

"Which matter, Mr. Pryce?"

"The one about the missing five thousand imperials."

Joan was genuinely puzzled. "I'm not sure to what missing sum you are referring, sir."

"Has Mr. Rowe said nothing to you?"

"No, sir."

"Strange," Mr. Pryce said. "Most strange."

Mr. Pryce went out. Joan blinked and turned to Mr. Puddle who was grinning at her. Her skin crawled at the sight. Still, compulsion drove her forward to the counter. He asked, "another?"

Joan tried to fight it but said, "yes."

This time, Mr. Puddle locked the door to the bookshop, something he hadn't done before. Joan's stomach turned a little with equal parts dread and anticipation. She thought about what Jesper had told her was going to happen. Mr. Puddle motioned to her and she followed him into the back room.

She stood near the door nervously as he picked out another red book with black lettering. He turned towards her but didn't hand it to her. "I have another in the series," he told her, "but I can't sell it to you. No price is worth the risk of letting this infamous volume out into the world."

"Just let me have it," she pleaded. "I don't want it, but I need it. Please, Mr. Puddle. Give it to me, kind sir."

"I can probably let you have it," he said. He walked over and put his arm around her waist. She shuddered at his touch, though she didn't know if it was from revulsion or anticipation. All Joan knew was that excitement was building in her body. When she felt his hand grab at her ass, she let out a little groan. Mr. Puddle knew exactly what he was doing, how to touch her to drive her into mad, lustful passion.

He was behind her now, his hands groping her big breasts through her tight dress. She felt his hard cock pressed against her ass. Joan was feverish, wild with need. He whispered in her ear, "suck my cock and it's yours."

Unable to stop herself, Joan nodded. She was put on her knees in the middle of the back room. Her bright, green eyes looked up at him as he opened his pants.

"I've never..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Joan's mouth was stuffed with Mr. Puddle's cock. His hand gripped the back off her head and pulled her forward, shoving himself deep down her throat. Joan gagged and choked. He held her there, letting her choke on his cock for a minute before releasing her and letting her gasp for air.

Joan's head was swimming. She was dizzy and disoriented. She coughed and spit before she was grabbed by her red hair and pulled back again. Deep down her throat it went and she gagged and choked once more. Mr. Puddle held her there for longer this time, releasing her with a twisted grin as she coughed and gasped for breath again. He said, "suck, whore."

The whore sucked. Joan sucked his dick with a feverish intensity and passion. Her full, red lips glided back and forth just as in her dream. She visualized the scenes from the books and the techniques they featured. She put each of them to use as though she had been trained her this her entire life. Joan realized that the books had trained her. They had invaded her mind and turned her into a submissive, cock-sucking machine. She was being rewritten, replaced with a perfect fuck-doll and there was nothing she could do about it. Joan loved it too much. The books rewired her to love it. She needed it. She craved it. Now she was finally getting it and her mind was flooded with such pleasures that it risked going numb. Joan was trapped in a whore's body, slowly being overtaken by a whore's mind. At that moment, she knew she was lost and gave in to the power that had corrupted her.

Mr. Puddle came in her mouth and ordered her to swallow. Joan gladly did. She leaned back on her knees and stared up at him, unsure of what she was expecting. He handed the book to her. "You belong to me now," he told her.

She held the book tight against her breast and quietly said, "yes, sir."

"Mr. Rowe paid to have you corrupted and turned into this," he said. "He wants to fuck you. You will obey him as you obey me."

"Yes, sir."

He dismissed her. Joan left the bookshop quickly and hurried home. She couldn't believe what she had just done. The taste of cum was still in her mouth. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her reflection in the window. The gaslight of her apartment was hissing behind her. Slowly, Joan looked down at the black lettering of the book. It read, "The Manners of Whores."