NovelAI Scenario: SalemSales: A Lifelong Career!

Description

Hired on as a mailroom associate, the witches of SalemSales see you as their perfect little cum-bag. What's a guy to do but resign himself to his fate? Perhaps the opportunity to escape may arise? Probably not.

Tags

witch, oversized cock, sorceress, magic, femdom, office

Prompt

I was in a pretty low place when I took this job; young, dumb and full of cum - broke too. SalemSales was desperate for a mailroom associate, willing to pay an obscene amount of dough for menial work; what a fool I'd been. "You're so tense, hun," Seraph's voice was a throaty purr, ebon-painted lips tickling my left lobe, "let's head to my office. A little conversation, a few pecks..." It wouldn't be SalemSales without a bit of supernatural sexual harassment. Even now I could feel the psychic tendrils of Seraph's unspoken spell probing for weaknesses; she'd find none. My mind was a bulwark, dulled by years of bewitchment and matronly violation; luckily, having my brain scrambled had its upsides. "Try something else; perhaps working," I groaned, shuffling a handful of documents with a deadpan expression. Seraph's smile broadened, her fingers trailing down to caress my biceps. "I think you need a break from work," she mewed, "your back must be so stiff from sitting all morning." I stifled a moan before relenting; goddamn witches. "Fine, I gotta head to copier anyways. Keep your hands to yourself." Lips pursed into a sinful grin, the witch pushed away from the desk, following me as I made my way through the labyrinthine corridors of our office building. It felt like we were walking into a maze of erotic temptation, each step leading us deeper into Seraph's seductive web. To her credit, the ivory-haired temptress was the least forceful of SalemSales' coven; their collective lust a rapacious vortex raging around me. By their looks, there wasn't a single crone amongst the coven. While Seraph teased her true age from time to time - some inhuman number - she didn't look a day over 35; I'd learned to stop asking questions. "You know," Seraph mused, her silvery eyes settling upon mine, "you should really relax more often." We paused at the copying room before entering, my witchy companion pressing the creases of her dark, pencil dress. "It's good for you." "'Relax'," I guffawed, "Please enlighten me, Seraph, what constitutes 'relaxation' in this office?" She laughed. "I'm just saying, you're not getting any younger, and you don't look like you've been sleeping well lately." "Oh, I sleep fine," I lied. Upper-management had magically sealed me inside of the office a few years back; a handful supervisors complaining that I wasn't there to provide a fresh shot of spunk to their morning cup of joe. Escape was impossible, and I'd consented to being their on-demand fucktoy with drab resignation, "Just can't get enough of my work, I guess." "Well, it's your life," Seraph sighed, reaching out to touch my cheek. "But I think you could use a little R&R." "I'll pass," I said, but she didn't let go, silken fingers tracing my jawline. "Come on, Mr. Mailroom," she whispered, "it's time to relax." The witchy accountant looked down and couldn't help but giggle, "Oh look, silly boy, you're already worked up!" While I was able to resist most psychic suggestions, a myriad of boons and curses had been placed upon me by the women of SalemSales: a beastly prick, augmented sensitivity, copious climaxes, etc. etc. 'My' phallus was a mockery of a man's, better suited for a horse-cocked incubus, "D-Damn witches..." I sputtered, fighting against the betrayal of my own flesh. Despite my struggle, a single thought rose to the surface, 'Why fight?' Seraph was the better of the batch, a bit of a sexual deviant, but at least she asked for consent; willingly indulging her couldn't be that bad. Like a great white getting a whiff of blood, Seraph's pupils dilated as wide as saucers, sensing my budding weakness with some preternatural wisdom, "... [Click to expand]

I was in a pretty low place when I took this job; young, dumb and full of cum - broke too. SalemSales was desperate for a mailroom associate, willing to pay an obscene amount of dough for menial work; what a fool I'd been.

"You're so tense, hun," Seraph's voice was a throaty purr, ebon-painted lips tickling my left lobe, "let's head to my office. A little conversation, a few pecks..."

It wouldn't be SalemSales without a bit of supernatural sexual harassment. Even now I could feel the psychic tendrils of Seraph's unspoken spell probing for weaknesses; she'd find none.

My mind was a bulwark, dulled by years of bewitchment and matronly violation; luckily, having my brain scrambled had its upsides. "Try something else; perhaps working," I groaned, shuffling a handful of documents with a deadpan expression.

Seraph's smile broadened, her fingers trailing down to caress my biceps. "I think you need a break from work," she mewed, "your back must be so stiff from sitting all morning."

I stifled a moan before relenting; goddamn witches. "Fine, I gotta head to copier anyways. Keep your hands to yourself."

Lips pursed into a sinful grin, the witch pushed away from the desk, following me as I made my way through the labyrinthine corridors of our office building. It felt like we were walking into a maze of erotic temptation, each step leading us deeper into Seraph's seductive web. To her credit, the ivory-haired temptress was the least forceful of SalemSales' coven; their collective lust a rapacious vortex raging around me.

By their looks, there wasn't a single crone amongst the coven. While Seraph teased her true age from time to time - some inhuman number - she didn't look a day over 35; I'd learned to stop asking questions.

"You know," Seraph mused, her silvery eyes settling upon mine, "you should really relax more often." We paused at the copying room before entering, my witchy companion pressing the creases of her dark, pencil dress. "It's good for you."

"'Relax'," I guffawed, "Please enlighten me, Seraph, what constitutes 'relaxation' in this office?"

She laughed. "I'm just saying, you're not getting any younger, and you don't look like you've been sleeping well lately."

"Oh, I sleep fine," I lied.

Upper-management had magically sealed me inside of the office a few years back; a handful supervisors complaining that I wasn't there to provide a fresh shot of spunk to their morning cup of joe. Escape was impossible, and I'd consented to being their on-demand fucktoy with drab resignation, "Just can't get enough of my work, I guess."

"Well, it's your life," Seraph sighed, reaching out to touch my cheek. "But I think you could use a little R&R."

"I'll pass," I said, but she didn't let go, silken fingers tracing my jawline.

"Come on, Mr. Mailroom," she whispered, "it's time to relax." The witchy accountant looked down and couldn't help but giggle, "Oh look, silly boy, you're already worked up!"

While I was able to resist most psychic suggestions, a myriad of boons and curses had been placed upon me by the women of SalemSales: a beastly prick, augmented sensitivity, copious climaxes, etc. etc. 'My' phallus was a mockery of a man's, better suited for a horse-cocked incubus, "D-Damn witches..." I sputtered, fighting against the betrayal of my own flesh. Despite my struggle, a single thought rose to the surface, 'Why fight?'

Seraph was the better of the batch, a bit of a sexual deviant, but at least she asked for consent; willingly indulging her couldn't be that bad.

Like a great white getting a whiff of blood, Seraph's pupils dilated as wide as saucers, sensing my budding weakness with some preternatural wisdom, "

Author Notes

My monotonous existence is rife with magic-filled sex and debauchery. The witches of SalemSales are eager to drain my balls of its rich, magically-enhanced cum. A heavy focus on sexually aggressive females with magic.

Memory

I am the mailroom associate at SalemSales.

SalemSales is a company staffed entirely by buxom witches, barring myself.

I am the only male at SalemSales.

The witches of SalemSales use their dark rituals to milk me dry, much to my dry annoyance.

I always give in to the dark desires of SalemSales employees.

I get treated like a walking sperm donor by an office full of sultry witches.

The witches of SalemSales use all manner of biomancy, enchantment and sex magic to milk me.

My cum energizes the witches and is a powerful spell component.

I was cursed to never leave the SalemSales office by the company's upper management.

World Info

View World Info

I, me, my, mailroom, man, Mr. Maleroom
I am the only male employee at SalemSales. I work in the mailroom as the in-office courier at SalemSales. I am cursed to never leave the SalemSales' office.
I have no relationships outside of the office; no family, friends or significant other.
I am treated as a public use fucktoy by the ladies of SalemSales.
I am sexually harassed by the all female staff that works at SalemSales. My body has been enhanced with various sexual boons by the coven of SalemSales. I have a monstrous cock that was bestowed so I could please the women of SalemSales.
I am usually deadpan, passion brimming to the surface when I engage in sex.
Seraph, witch, ivory, silver, accountant
Seraph is a witchy accountant at SalemSales. Despite her flirtatious nature, Seraph is the gentlest of the witches at SalemSales. Seraph is a smooth talker who specializes in telekinesis, employing it in her sexual activities. Seraph has long, ivory-colored hair and eyes like molten pools of silver. Seraph enjoys sensual sex, though she always takes the lead and doesn't mind being a bit forceful.

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I, me, my, mailroom, man, Mr. Maleroom

Seraph, witch, ivory, silver, accountant

I, me, my, mailroom, man, Mr. Maleroom

Seraph, witch, ivory, silver, accountant