When a magic ritual goes wrong, meek Jeffrey Corven is possessed by an unstoppable sex demon. Feeding on human lust and looking for a devilishly good time, the demon sets out to seduce every woman in Jeffrey's life. Powerless to resist Jeff's hellish mind control, they are filled with only one desire: Total submission to his lust!

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

She slammed her palms on the table. “You've got some nerve, Corven!”

“Mmm,” he said, enjoying the taste of her fury.

“You can take all the vacation days you want, you're not ever coming back here,” she said. Oh, it felt good, it felt very good to say those words.

“No, you're not firing me, Patricia,” he said. His voice jabbed her in the gut like a harpoon. Every word that followed twisted it deeper into her body — not painfully; the harpoon was hot and serpentine, and it burrowed down to her womanhood. “In fact, you're going to give Jeffrey Corven a raise, a promotion, and stock options — since you all seem to value this invisible money so much. And you're going to give Jeff — me — two weeks off. You see, my wife's family is having a reunion upstate and she is insistent that we go.”

“Y-yes,” said Patricia. Why had she said yes? She was going to call security. Wasn't she going to call security?

“Mmm,” said Jeff. “Tell me, what were your breasts like before your cosmetic surgery? Not A cups, surely. Were you not pleased with the Bs?”

“I…I…”

“I'd like to see them,” said Jeff. “Back in those dark ages of ours women used bustiers, but of course that illusion dropped once the clothes did. Do they make you feel powerful, Patricia?”

“Yes,” she panted, reaching up to unbutton her blouse.

“Very good,” he said. “From the dawn of mankind to its very end, the breast will forever be the bane and blessing of the male existence. But of course you're not just in it for the men, are you, Patty?”

“I…” How did he know?

“You don't like admitting your taste in women? It's part of who you are.”

Her whole life she had suppressed that part of herself, that part that felt attraction for women as well as men. She thought it was weakness, but all of her sexual fantasies involved women, despite her professional desire for a strong, dominant man. As she unbuttoned her blouse, she questioned again why she allowed this madness to continue. She couldn't help herself. Just staring into Jeff's bright — and were they golden? — eyes made her lose all sense of propriety. Nervously, she glanced out the window that overlooked the entire office through half-slitted blinds.

“If you'd like an audience, why don't we ask Miss Jacobs to join us?”

The muscles in Patricia's arms seized up. Jasmine Jacobs was her secretary, a petite Puerto Rican girl in her early twenties. Many was the night Patricia had fantasized about grabbing the girl by her black ponytail and kissing her fulsome lips. “Jasmine?” she sputtered.

“Oh yes,” said Jeff. He cracked the door and gently called, “Miss Jacobs? Your superior would like to see you, please.”

Gathering a pen and a legal pad, Jasmine hurried from behind her desk and slid deftly through the open door. She squeaked when she saw Patricia and dropped the pen and pad on the carpet.

Patricia had cast her blouse and coat aside and was standing behind her desk in her lacy black bra. “Ms. Cunningham!” Jasmine gasped. “W-what is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning is secondary to the purpose,” said Jeff, closing the door behind her. “And the purpose, is to get it on.” He gently massaged the girl's shoulders. “Can you help Patricia with her bra, dear? It looks very tight.”

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