Age Of The Villainous Author:All Hell Leads To Webnovel-Chapter 36: The Negotiation
Joanna froze in the doorway.
Her eyes wide. Taking in the scene: Kasia bent over the desk, dress hiked up, tits spilling out. Me behind her, buried deep, mid-thrust.
The air thick with the scent of sex, sweat, musk, arousal.
Kasia’s face flushed. Panting.
I didn’t pull out.
Didn’t panic.
I met Joanna’s gaze. Played it cool.
"You’re free to join us, Jojo," I said, voice steady. Casual. Like we were discussing a contract clause. "It helps build bonds."
Joanna’s mouth opened. Closed.
Her cheeks burned red.
She turned on her heel. Slammed the door.
Left angrily. Footsteps echoing down the hall.
Kasia whimpered. Pushed back against me. "Alex... she saw..."
I gripped her hips. Thrust again. "She’ll be back."
We finished quickly after that. The interruption added an edge. I pounded harder. Faster.
Clap. Clap. Slap.
Her ass jiggled wildly. Tits squished against the desk.
She came with a muffled scream, walls milking me.
I pulled out. Stroked myself twice. Painted her ass with thick ropes of cum.
We cleaned up in silence. Kasia’s hands trembled slightly as she fixed her dress.
Back at the table, Joanna was gone. Her champagne glass untouched. Coat missing.
I sat. Poured myself another drink. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺
Kasia joined me. "What now?"
"Now we negotiate."
I pulled out my phone. Dialed Joanna’s number from the Vektor firm contact list.
It rang twice. She picked up.
"Mr. Thorn." Her voice was ice. Professional. But brittle.
"Jojo," I said, warm. "You left abruptly. Everything alright?"
A pause. "What I saw was... unacceptable. I’ll be terminating our professional relationship effective immediately."
I chuckled. Low. "No. You won’t."
"Excuse me?"
"You won’t. Because you’re curious. Because you’re wet right now, thinking about it. And because I’m offering you three hundred thousand dollars. Just for you. One night. No strings. You join the team. Properly."
Silence stretched.
I could hear her breathing. Uneven.
"That’s... that’s bribery. Prostitution."
"It’s an incentive. For building bonds. Think about it. Three hundred thousand. Cash. Wired tonight. You walk away richer. Or you walk away wondering what you missed."
Another pause.
Kasia watched me, eyes shining with that twisted devotion.
Joanna’s voice, when it came, was small. "Where?"
"Here. Now."
The line went dead.
Ten minutes later, the elevator dinged.
Joanna returned. Coat over her arm. Face flushed. Eyes avoiding ours.
She sat.
I poured her more champagne.
She drained the glass in one go.
"Three hundred thousand," she said. "And no one knows."
"No one knows," I agreed.
She nodded once. Stood.
Unzipped her skirt herself. Let it fall.
Black lace panties. Already damp at the crotch.
She stepped out of them. Unbuttoned her blouse. Bra matched. She unclasped it.
Full breasts. Heavier than Kasia’s. Nipples hard.
She was experienced. No hesitation now.
She pushed me back in my chair. Straddled me.
Her hand found my cock. Stroked me back to hardness.
"Condom?" she asked.
"No," I said.
She didn’t argue.
She sank down.
Wet. Hot. Looser than Kasia, but in a good way. Experienced muscles squeezed.
She rode me slow at first. Grinding. Hips circling.
Her tits bounced. Heavy. Jiggling in my face.
I caught one. Sucked the nipple. Bit lightly.
She moaned. Loud.
Kasia watched. Then joined.
She knelt between our legs. Tongue flicked Joanna’s clit while she rode.
Joanna gasped. "Oh fuck..."
Faster now.
Up. Down. Ass slapping my thighs.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Wet. Sloppy.
Her ass jiggled with each drop. Soft flesh rippling.
I grabbed handfuls. Squeezed. Spread her cheeks.
Kasia’s tongue darted lower. Licked where we joined. Then rimmed Joanna.
Joanna shattered.
Came hard. Shaking. Screaming.
Squirted a little. Soaked my lap.
I flipped her onto the table.
Bent her over.
Slammed back in.
Fucked her like an animal.
Deep. Brutal.
Her tits squished against the marble. Sliding with each thrust.
She clawed the table. Moaned incoherently.
Kasia climbed up. Straddled Joanna’s back. Faced me.
I kissed her while pounding Joanna.
Pulled out.
Pushed into Kasia.
Switched between them.
Joanna. Kasia. Joanna.
Their moans blended.
Joanna was better. More skilled. She knew how to roll her hips. Squeeze at the right moment.
Kasia was eager. Devoted.
Together? Perfection.
I came inside Joanna.
Deep. Pulsing. Filling her.
She whimpered. Pushed back.
After, we collapsed. Sweaty. Spent.
Joanna lay there, cum leaking down her thigh.
She looked at me. Eyes hazy.
"Welcome to the harem, Jojo," I said.
She didn’t protest.
Just smiled faintly.
And asked for another drink.
//\\
To the authors who have stared at a blank cursor until it started to look like a heartbeat, this is for you.
They told us we weren’t good enough. They sent those cold, automated rejections that read like a death warrant for our dreams.
"Not a fit." "Lacks marketability." Every time you see Alex Thorn crush an editor in this story, remember: this isn’t just fiction. This is the scream of every writer who stayed up until 3:00 AM pouring their soul into a document that the world ignored.
It is for everyone who has struggled with low reads, low reviews, and those stagnant collections that make you want to quit.
The gatekeepers are human. They are flawed. And in this digital age, they are becoming obsolete.
They sit in comfortable chairs judging worlds they could never imagine, let alone build. They look at spreadsheets while we look at the stars. We don’t write for the approval of a corporate board in a glass office; we write for the person scrolling on their phone at a bus stop, looking for a world better than their own.
We write for the ones who need an escape from a life that feels like a dead end.
If you have a manuscript sitting in a folder named "Draft 1" that you’re too afraid to post—post it right now.
Stop waiting for permission to exist. If you’ve been rejected ten times, go for the eleventh. Use their "No" as fuel for your fire.
Alex Thorn had to die to get his second chance. You don’t. You just have to keep typing until your fingers bleed and your vision blurs. The industry thinks they hold the keys, but they forgot that we are the ones who build the doors in the first place.
Let them call us "cringe." Let them call us "amateurs." While they talk, we build. While they judge, we evolve into something they can’t control.
They fear the day we realize that their power is an illusion, a paper shield against a tidal wave of raw, unfiltered creativity. We are the architects of the impossible. We are the voices in the dark that refuse to be silenced by a "standardized" algorithm.
The system is rigged to favor the safe, the bland, and the predictable. But the reader’s heart craves the wild, the broken, and the real. Every Chapter you finish is a middle finger to the status quo. Every "Publish" button you click is an act of war against the people who want to keep you in a box.
We are not just content creators; we are world-shapers. We are the nightmare that the ivory tower never saw coming.
Current Motivation Level: 36%
Next Level: +1%
If this Chapter resonated with you, drop a comment. Let’s burn the old world down and write a new one together.
ALL HELL FROM WEBNOVEL STARTS FROM YOU!
— A.T.
