The 40-Day Doll 7
And then, past the blue crystal covering her anus, her pussy came into view.
A smooth, hairless white mound. Pink flesh within.
The hand that had been drumming the desk went still.
"With hips like that, it's definitely worth looking at."
I pulled my panties back up and faced forward again.
"What's your hip measurement?"
"...One twelve."
"Waist?"
"Sixty-four."
He gave a half-laugh, as if he couldn't believe it.
"Those proportions are insane."
"..."
"Right?"
I knew it too. A sixty-four waist was something any thin woman could manage — but those hips? Without an unusually wide pelvis, no slender woman could ever have that measurement.
Even if it was a compliment, I didn't want to hear it coming out of that bastard's mouth.
Still.
"Thank you."
I had to say it.
"Come here."
He beckoned me closer. I went as near the desk as I could, but he spun his chair and waved me in again.
I rounded the desk and stood in front of him. He rose from the chair, caught my wrist, and sat back down.
I was left in an awkward half-crouch — not fully standing, not sitting — and he pulled my hand harder still, settling both of them on his thighs.
An even more awkward crouch. Straddling the space between his seated legs in a half-kneeling, half-hunched mess of a posture.
"Shall we do it again today?"
I understood what he meant.
"...Understood."
I knelt between his legs and reached for his zipper, but he wouldn't let go of my hands.
When I tried to force it, he only tightened his grip and held me still.
I looked up. He was smiling.
"..."
He didn't say a word, but the intent was unmistakable.
With a deeply furrowed brow, I buried my face against his crotch and dragged the zipper down with my mouth. Only then did he release my wrists, unfasten his belt buckle and the hook of his trousers, and rest both hands on my head.
My hands were free — but I still couldn't use them.
All I could do was rub my face against the fabric, work space into the cloth, and tug his underwear down with my lips. A half-hard cock sprang free in front of my eyes, and I took it into my mouth.
I rolled my eyes upward without letting go, checking his expression. It wasn't the look of a man chasing pleasure. He was still wearing that same smile as before.
"No."
I'd managed to free it with my mouth, but he still wouldn't allow my hands.
"..."
I took him halfway in and used my tongue against the head from inside. I felt the cock in my mouth swelling, thickening. When it was fully hard, I sealed the path to my nose and sucked him up hard.
I kept my lips gathered so my teeth never touched him, and between the strokes of the piston I worked the glans with my tongue.
"Been practicing at home?"
I checked his face. There was a faint but growing flush of arousal.
I pulled off the cock I'd been holding in my mouth.
"No."
Then I went straight back to the blowjob.
"You've got talent."
Between strokes I watched his expression. Excitement was building beneath that smile, and the look on his face was slowly tipping into pure enjoyment. So I picked up the pace a little.
The wet pop of spit. The suck of a cock being drawn in. The choked, wet sound of it forcing its way deeper.
Those sounds spread softly through the wide office.
And then—
Knock. Knock.
A knock at the door.
I tried to pull off in a hurry — and he crushed my head down.
"Come in."
From far across the room came the sound of the door opening.
It was already too late to play innocent, so I dropped lower and tried to kill every trace of my presence. But he still wouldn't let go of my head.
Instead he pushed harder, driving his cock deep into my throat.
"Ngh..!..gh..hh..."
As it cleared my uvula, the gag reflex hit hard — but I had to hold it down.
The slightest sound, and I'd be caught.
Footsteps approached, and then Secretary Choi's voice.
"President. Where should I put the package?"
"Leave it by the standing coat rack."
From there, he might be able to see past the desk.
I squirmed without a sound and pressed myself tight against the desk.
"President. Have you by any chance seen Yeeun?"
"No. Why?"
The sound of the package being set down.
"I wanted to give her the cookies while they were still warm. She left her phone and I have no idea where she went."
"She'll be back soon enough."
"Would you like more cookies, President?"
"Too sweet. I'm good."
"Understood."
"You've got my card, right? Use it to grab some coffee and have some yourself. If you're going to the big café across the street, pick one up for me too."
"Understood."
"Good. That'll be all."
Footsteps. The door closing. Only then did he tip his head down to look at me.
And I looked up.
Tears and snot streaming down my face from forcing back the gagging.
"You held out well."
When the pressure of his hands eased, I yanked my head free like I was escaping. I wiped the tears and snot away with the back of my hand.
I knew it would amuse him, but I still glared up with a venomous look.
"Not much time left, is there?"
I knew.
Once Secretary Choi bought that bastard's coffee, he'd be sitting outside — so to avoid being caught, I either had to be back at my desk before he returned, or looking perfectly normal inside the president's office by then.
Either way, it had to be finished before Secretary Choi came back with the coffee.
There was no time.
I took the spit-slick cock back into my mouth.
As hard and as filthy as I could, driving him toward orgasm as fast as possible.
"You're suddenly damn good at this."
I didn't have the luxury of reading his face. I just moved fast, praying he'd come soon.
Bit by bit — but very quickly — I dragged his arousal higher. Because I was moving so fast, though, I completely missed the signs of climax.
Only when the distinctive texture and taste of semen hit, along with that fishy scent, did I realize he'd come. I tried to pull my head free, but he crushed me down and wouldn't let me escape — and kept pumping more into my mouth the whole time.
"..gh.mm..ph..."
When he'd finished emptying himself, the hand pinning me finally loosened.
I pulled off his cock and reached into my skirt pocket for a tissue. He caught the wrist that held the tissue with one hand and seized my jaw with the other, then squeezed both cheeks.
"Ahh~."
His grip forced my mouth open slowly, and there was my tongue submerged in white cum.
Sticky spit and semen marked a clear boundary, and air bubbles rising from my throat frothed white across the surface of the load.
And he was thoroughly enjoying the sight.
"Swallow."
He released the pressure of his hand. But I still couldn't close my mouth.
I wanted to say something — anything — but the semen in my mouth made speaking nearly impossible.
"Swallow."
There was no time.
"..."
I closed my mouth and swallowed the cum the way you'd swallow spit. Then I opened my mouth again to show him it was gone.
What I hadn't quite managed to swallow stretched with the spit like a stalactite. But the pool that had been sitting on my tongue was gone. Only then did he let go of my wrist.
I fixed my clothes in a rush and stood in front of the desk. A knock sounded at the door.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Secretary Choi appeared holding a cup of coffee.
He didn't come all the way in, glancing between me and the president, reading the air in the room.
"Shall I come back later?"
"No. Did it look like I was scolding her?"
As he said it, he looked at me.
That was a silent cue. So I managed my expression carefully — and put on a soft little smile.
"He was asking whether I'd have lunch with him tomorrow."
"Is that so?"
Secretary Choi pushed the rest of the way into the office. The president stood and walked toward him.
"Tomorrow for lunch — galbitang. Come on, let's go smoke."
I followed the president out as naturally as I could, and Secretary Choi disappeared with him for a cigarette.
The moment I got home from work, I changed out of my clothes and cracked open a beer.
I stripped off the suit and slowly pulled out the anal plug.
"Fuck."
Looking at the plug brought the whole day flooding back.
The way my heart had been hammering, certain I was about to get caught. And having to swallow his cum.
Judging by his reaction, he was definitely going to keep feeding me semen.
Especially the look on his face when I held it in my mouth — and the way he reacted when I swallowed.
I could call that a certainty.
"Huuu..."
I downed the beer in one go and let out a long sigh. Then I pulled on a boxy T-shirt and shifted back into my succubus form.
Something felt off.
I lifted the shirt and checked the womb tattoo.
A heart shape in the center, with forms like fallopian tubes and ovaries branching out to either side — a mark that looked like a stylized vulva.
In my memory, the whole thing had been pure black. But the heart in the middle had turned a faint purple.
Like paint bleeding outward, a gradient of dark violet was spreading around the central heart, while the tips on either side were still black.
"What the hell?"
If I put the usual image of a succubus together with a changing womb mark, only one thing came to mind.
Swallowing the semen.
I checked the rest of my body for any other changes, but everything else was fine. Only the color of the womb mark had shifted.
Then it hit me — the Essence entry I'd seen on the status window.
I couldn't remember the other numbers exactly, but I was certain the Essence value had been 0.0. I'd even checked it that morning in the shower — still 0.0.
And now it had changed.
Essence had risen to 0.1. The womb mark had shifted, if only a little, toward purple.
I was sure both changes had come from swallowing the semen. What I didn't know was whether a higher Essence value was a good thing or a bad one. And why was "Essence" not yellow like the other stats?
A different color clearly meant something — but the possibilities were endless.
A ranking of importance relative to other stats. A category based on how hard each one was to raise. Just off the top of my head I could think of more than five. Still, one thing was certain: swallowing the semen had caused this. And the most likely culprit was the racial skill listed as [Essence Absorption].
But yesterday I'd taken a load on my face. Why hadn't anything changed then?
Does it only count if I swallow?
I still didn't have a clear rule.
Even so, the rise in Essence and the shift in the mark's color almost certainly had a correlation. So what did the color change itself mean?
...
The more I thought about it, the more questions piled up. The one solid thing I could hold onto was that all of this was still just speculation.
You can't map cause and effect from a single occurrence. A handful of observations wasn't enough to lock anything down. For now, all I could do was watch — until I had results I could trust.