The Gamer Chapter 1045 – Many Small Issues (Patreon)

It was three days later.

Returning home had been eventless and he had spent Saturday in a success-induced rush of a near permanent orgy. Increasing Fusion’s territory by such a chunk, simultaneously removing one of the biggest thorns in his side, that raised his Libido more than most outright buffs.

Despite its significance, Monday had come and gone without any truly notable events. The Fusion-Illuminati alliance had finally kicked in. Cause for celebrations, it had pushed back his return to paperwork for a whole day, as he had entertained the public with speeches and events, ate with foreign dignitaries and generally went after his diplomatic, rather than administrative, duties.

The problem was that the two were connected. More and more established powers around the globe professed interest in having diplomatic relations with Fusion. It was, as with so many things, a sudden expansion. Interest with his person had long been established in the elite and particularly informed circles of the Abyss. His guild and Federation, however, had been left mostly witnessed from a distance. A few guilds had engaged with him, mostly those whose leaders he happened to know. Then a few more started to have interest. Then this whole Death Zone thing suddenly sparked international interest; everyone simultaneously looked into what he had to offer, talked to each other about it, and now he was swamped by trade offers, knowledge exchanges, and other kinds of requests.

Fundamentally, this was good news. Having relations to other guilds meant that he could offer favours or ask for some in times of need. It meant he could try to siphon away some more of the specialists that Fusion so desperately needed to create worthwhile things from its vast resources. All things being equal, as much as he wanted to take advantage of them, they wanted to take advantage of him. There were dozens of suggestions over deals on his table, each linked to its own set of negotiations, affiliated persons, terms, conditions, and outside factors.

One of those deals was with a guild located in sub-Saharan Africa, the Ivory Coast, to be exact. It was one of the many deals that came from a local power that was, even now, decisively weaker than Fusion. They offered a very nice deal, pledging to never enact any tariffs on Fusion goods, as long as their port would be the first stop trade ships made when heading down west Africa. It was a reasonable offer. However, as much as the offer itself benefitted Fusion, the guild in question still engaged in slavery.

Obviously, the Abyssal slave trade was on its way out. John was pacifying one of the major plots of uncivilized land in the current Abyss. The supply had dropped and would drop further and, thanks to the deal he had with the Abyss Auction, the primary means of distribution had also been eliminated.

Under these conditions, John could view this deal in three ways. First, he could ignore the surrounding circumstances and look only at the benefit for his Federation. Second, he could be principled and decline the offer, unless they agreed to immediately outlaw the slave trade. Third, he could be pragmatic, accept the deal even if they refused to do away with it, make their economy dependent on Fusion exports, and then threaten them in a couple of years to do what he wanted.

All three paths were valid, with their own benefits and drawbacks. He had dozens of such situations to think about and his regular paperwork to boot.

It was downright impossible to deal with any of that with a bored, nymphomaniac goddess under his table.

“Jesus fucking…” John gasped, holding onto the edge of his office table as if his life depended on it. His eyes were closed, lightning dancing below the lids, as he came for the third time in ten minutes, down Nathalia’s throat. While his seed pumped, the dragoness remained still. Her throat vibrated with pleased shouts. The sound of her fingers and a vibrator dominated the room between the Gamer’s groans. Once his orgasm subsided, she was right back to where she left off, slobbering all over his cock without slowing down for even a second.

Nathalia did not care for the usual etiquette connected to the under-the-table service. Where the other girls paused or slowed their cocksucking while John was doing something important, Nathalia just kept on going. This would have been okay, had things been less busy for him and more busy for her.

Having an hour a day where he got almost no work done was fine, thanks to how industrious he was otherwise. However, Nathalia had absolutely nothing else to do so, whenever there was an opening in the blowjob schedule, the dragoness took it. The effect was that John’s productivity had more than halved.

Attempts to educate Nathalia on the value of slowing down had failed utterly. Even if the dragoness consciously understood, after about five minutes her sex-drive took over and she was milking him for all he had. It was second nature for the nymphomaniac goddess to take all she wanted. Boxed in under the table, her submissive streak was more active than the dominant as well. One would have expected that to make her more obedient, but Nathalia was less of a true submissive than she enjoyed being used as a cumdump and roughed up. Following commands was more of a side-thing for her to encourage her man to plough her with savage fervour. In those moments, she could shut down her brain. When she was domming, she at least had to plan what she wanted to do next.

John was on the fourth hour of Nathalia service of the day. It wasn’t one continuous stretch, but it had halved his productivity for the day regardless. Vainly, he had hoped that he would get used to the pleasure. He managed to hold conversations while getting sucked off practically every day.

It turned out that he could talk. His conversations weren’t as smooth as usual, but he could hold them. Reading was more of an issue, but he could muddle through that at about half the speed. Writing was absolutely out. Either by hand or through the computer, anything he wrote was a typo-riddled mess that made no coherent sense. Even the things he could do had to be put on hold whenever he orgasmed though.

Turned out there was a bit of a difference between a casual blowjob and a bored goddess with ten thousand years of experience that could do literally nothing else other than deepthroating his cock with sex-addicted fervour. He came often and intensely.

‘How do I tell her to stop?’ John hated that he had to think that. He absolutely loved his lifestyle, but Nathalia wasn’t compatible with it. ‘She just doesn’t know how to slow down,’ he lamented. ‘Perhaps she can be… oh fuck…’ he came again and only managed to pick his thoughts back up a minute later, ‘…taught, but I really need that time now… fuck, I can’t throw her out though… I don’t want this to stop… I just need… less of it…’

John’s mind raced to find a solution. Should he institute a maximum number of hours for Nathalia? The dragoness would probably accept, but he hated to discriminate against one of his girls in such a way. Also, she would just be bored at home in the meantime. Maybe he could keep her occupied with Jack? Not the worst idea, but the double was also needed to deal with the current workload.

‘Keep her occupied… I need to find her something to do,’ John realized.

____________________________________________________________________________

“As long as it pleases me,” Nathalia reacted to the proposal. Dutifully, she wiped clean the space under the mahogany table. John had waited until the end of the session, unable to tell her to stop in the middle of it. “What do you have in mind?”

“To start with, I would send you along with some of the other girls. Maybe you’ll find something you like to do,” John told her and scratched his head. Domineering, proud and demanding as she was, finding a job that would suit her was going to be difficult. Typing the current situation into the harem’s group chat, he was quickly overwhelmed by suggestions. “How does helping the elemental girls with their government affairs sound?”

“Like I would sink the island the moment someone annoys me with their insolence,” Nathalia reported truthfully.

“I’d rather you didn’t…” John hummed and checked over the remaining suggestions. “Rave is checking on a couple of her pet projects at the moment. I don’t think you care about watching people lay bricks?”

Nathalia left the confines of the table and stretched. “No,” she answered simply once her arms dropped again. Her big tits jiggled while she sat down on the edge of the table. Drooling pussy juice turned that corner of the lacquered wood into a truly glistening surface in a couple of moments. Halfway turning, Nathalia grabbed her phone, laying on the table. She had gotten it just this Sunday.

Going back to the list of suggestions, John weeded out what didn’t even make sense to ask. Aclysia and Beatrice were doing government work, the former currently dealing with a minor problem in the Guild Hall’s Production District, while the latter was checking on the internal bookkeeping on the ministries. Neither was work Nathalia would be interested in. Metra was overseeing the Training Hall, making sure people didn’t slack off. In her current, weakened state that was the best use of her time she had found. Lee was attending university classes. Nia was training. Thana was holed up in her room doing something (probably eating chocolate and lamenting her existence). Lydia was still occupied overseas, but even if she hadn’t been, Nathalia tagging along for any of her work was inconceivable on multiple levels.

“Want to help Scarlett with running shop?” John asked, primarily because he had exhausted all other immediately available options. The technomancer was scheduled to take the next shift of cocksucking. Giving that hour of pleasure up to work in Nathalia would also give John an hour to exclusively concentrate on his work and catch up with what he fell behind on today.

“I can try,” the dragoness conceded, reading up on the chat on her own phone. Likely, this was the only thing that sounded remotely acceptable to her. For all of her proud or downright selfish behaviour, she did not want to be a burden on John, so she had to do something. “Any frustrations I live through, you will make me forget this night.”

“Works for me,” John agreed, just as the teleporter in the corner of the room flared up.

“I’ve been told I get a free worker around here?” Scarlett asked, stepping in and looking the naked Nathalia up and down. “We’ll have to get you into something more suitable.”

“I don’t own any clothes,” the dragoness reminded her.

“First stop is my tailor machine then, let’s go, time is money – especially my time.” Scarlett nodded towards the teleporter.

“Time is Tokens,” John corrected playfully.

Scarlett just mockingly blew air out of her nose, while Nathalia came strutting over. “Those clothes better be comfortable,” said the taller redhead to the considerably shorter, less athletic one.

“Best fabric the Guild Hall can produce,” Scarlett assured, before the two of them vanished.

John put his phone down and sighed. Turning in his swivel chair, he thought, ‘Let’s hope that works out.’ Then he stopped to consider what would happen if it did. ‘Might be a bit dangerous to the wider economy if Scarlett and Nathalia head the biggest conglomerate in the country… Especially if Nathalia decides to become the patron goddess of Fusion.’ He stopped rotating his chair and pulled himself back to the desk. “Well, if they’re the best at what they do, they’re the best at what they do… nobody can accuse me of nepotism if they keep outcompeting everyone without my help.”

What followed wasn’t just one hour, but a whole day spent purely in work meditation. Once John started to cut into the massive pile of deals on his tables, he realized just how much negotiating he would have to do. Aside from correspondence with the actual people that suggested the deals, the Gamer started to get swamped by ‘recommendations’ by various party officials and leaders.

Whether it was ideological overlap with a foreign power or bribery, some of John’s parties wanted Fusion to have closer ties with certain guilds, even if the deal was only mediocre. Political favours were suggested, threats made, and personal feelings emphasized. Luckily for John, he was pretty staunch when it came to his principles and secure in his station in life. That meant that a lot of the favours and threats could be dismissed as useless or empty. Sure, that miffed a couple of people, but it was better than allowing this background corruption to fester. The last thing he wanted was for a bill to pass or be denied not based on its content but because of what the pre-agreed result had to be.

It would inevitably happen, such was the nature of politics, but John could do his best to make such behaviour condemnable. With his position being a permanent fixture in the constitution and with his approval rating, he could put a lot of pressure on people. Generally, John did not speak up about specific candidates, but everyone understood that, if he disavowed someone, their chances of reelection cratered. John still had a ludicrous approval rating with the general public, fluctuating between 70% and 90% depending on the news cycle. The hard support, the kind that wouldn’t waver bare a country-shaking scandal, seemed to be somewhere around 55%. Those were the kinds of numbers dictators faked to get. John got them on the back of universal economic growth and expansionism.

Also, to be totally fair, Fusion had a habit of throwing the kinds of people that liked the previous paradigm (slavers and the like) into jail, so they weren’t counted in the statistics.

All of this meant that John could widely disregard what people tried to pressure him to do. They still tried though and that cost him time. He, his double, Aclysia and Beatrice, all four of them were on the phone for a whole day, just juggling calls from internal and external parties, while simultaneously re-writing parts of the deals to send to other parties. It was the first night John spent sleeping in the office. Even that was just a three-hour nap.

After about 30 hours of that hell, no sex, and minimal time to eat, things finally slowed down. Few of the deals were done, most were currently in the finetuning stage, but that was alright as long as they came back spread over time. Things were manageable that way.

‘I’ll need to get some qualified help soon,’ John thought. The administrative paperwork was generally on a downwards trend, as more local offices were established and took things out of federal hands. It would never go away, though, as there would always be things the federal government had to mediate or decide on. Now the foreign correspondence and economic deals layered on top of that and soon a whole host of ambassadors would arrive.

Most importantly, John would receive representatives from several of the Divided Gates. Prometheus, the Mandate of Heaven, the Sons of Odin, the Sons of Rome, and the Great Sultanate all were sending an ambassador. Out of these, the Mandate of Heaven and the Great Sultanate were particularly interesting. John hadn’t had any diplomatic contact with them yet. When it came to the other three, he had obviously dealt with the Sons of Rome before and had been in sporadic contact with Odin’s Sons (the guild used both names interchangeably, which was a bit confusing). Prometheus he hadn’t dealt much with, but they were largely aligned with Fusion when it came to values, so he expected that relationship to go well. They also shared an ally in the Illuminati.

All of that would be interesting to deal with, when they arrived.

Usually, John could lean on Aclysia and Beatrice for help in these things but, and the last day of negotiations had proved this once more, the weaponized maid was not up for the task. She was smart and able enough, but her particular temperament did not mesh well with these things. Too easily riled up by things that wasted her Master’s time, she failed on diplomacy several times by being brutally honest or aggressive. Simultaneously, she was too dependent on John for approval, not wanting to do anything she thought might hinder his plans.

Aclysia was the greatest housekeeper one could ask for; she was not a woman of state. What John needed in his prime minister was someone who excelled in diplomatic and administrative matters. Someone who he could really lean on to do things outside his periphery.

To find someone like that was very difficult.