Work Text:
Alright. Not long until your quick coffee break. You've been running yourself ragged over the entire week and now you were trying to drag yourself into the weekend without falling asleep in the damn office dresscode compliant heels as you walk the expansive halls of the building. A stack of forms were clutched to your chest, not wanting to risk any of them fluttering away and daring to fall out of order. They were too important. Too vital.
You've been adjusting to the new man in charge rather well, you like to think. He's ruthlessly competent—if all the reports you read through are factual—and it seems to be working in his favor. It's admirable, however the workload has increased because of it and these damn heels are not helping the day pass any faster. It isn't that you don't like your job, you've always been a good assistant and consistent good reviews thrilled you to bits. You're just…burnt out. Need a break.
You come to the thick, dark oak doors of the main office and knock twice, announcing yourself through the intercom as it lit up.
"Sir, I have the forms you requested."
A moment of hesitation, about twice as long as it normally takes, then a voice crackles through the speaker.
"Come in."
You slip into the room and approach the desk, hesitating to speak until yellow eyes lock on yours. You don't dare interrupt whatever work was going on, or the quiet occasional sipping from a glass with just a hint of amber liquid in the bottom though the bottle was nowhere to be seen.
"I have… five requests," You place down the papers in neat stacks as you speak, "three proposals and seven planned meetings, four of which are flagged as high priority."
The boss—Mr. J. Schlatt, but you typically think of your supervisor of just "the boss"—looks them over briefly, then back up to you. "Seems high." He sits back in his chair and wow, he seems far too relaxed for a man of his station. That was starting to get to you and you found yourself craving a trip to the break room even more, coffee and a bathroom break sounding like utter heaven as opposed to it being the mere checkpoint it had been minutes prior.
"Well, sir, the new policies you're proposing and putting in place have caused a few people to get… antsy, I believe is an appropriate term."
He scoffs and gestures for you to shut the door with a wave of his hand. You nod and comply, the clicks of your heels muffled by the thick carpet. Returning to your position in front of the desk you wait patiently for your orders. It was probably going to be a list of them and you knew the boss hated being interrupted.
Except the orders don't come. You stood, resisting the urge to fidget only by keeping it internal, chewing gently on the insides of your lips as you watched the boss scratch a few lines into a paper, take a sip of the whiskey, then return to looking through pages. He repeats the cycle a few times, letting the seconds turn into minutes as the discomfort in your gut grew to the point where you just had to shift your weight, placing one of your feet in front of the other to squeeze your legs shut tight. That shift in weight seemed to be what the boss was waiting for and he looks at you finally, the slightest twitch of his ear betraying that the look was from more than just your movement.
He’s handsome, the errant thought flicked across your mind and only years of professionalism keep you from flushing. Something about how the late afternoon sun filtered in through the windows and glinted off of his dark brown curls, turning them chestnut. The horns curling around his ears—polished and lacquered to a dark walnut shine, catching the golden ray and sending it splashing into his golden eyes. It was all you could do to not participate in the office cattiness day in and day out, not quip about the handsome man running the place with the latent sourness of alcohol on his breath in every other meeting and the faint scent of smoke and musk in his office. Dangerous. The rest of your brain catches up to the sheer pressure building inside of you and you let out a long, quiet breath.
“That’s your problem, y’know.” His voice goes off like a muted gunshot in the quiet tension of the room.
You jump in response. Barely, but it feels like you shoot a foot into the air.
“I… I’m sorry, sir?” Your voice is steady, somehow.
“Stand over here, would you?” He gesture to his side and you nod, stepping to the place indicated. He returned to his paperwork for another agonizing minute and thirty four seconds—you're counting—before looking back at you. “See?”
“I… don’t catch your meaning, sir.”
“You’re a smart girl, c’mon now.” Hot shame washes over you as eerie eyes lock onto yours until you’re forced to look away. “You’re a great assistant, you know that. You could be more. I think you’d have the potential, but you’re just too set in that…” the boss taps the end of his pen on the desk a few times. The silence stretches on (twenty three seconds, god can he please stop being so ominous you’re going to explode) until he sits up straight and started to arrange his papers.
“Do me a favor, grab the folders in the bottom drawer for me?”
You nod and then hesitate, taking a few brief moments to steel your body and mind so you can sink down on those heels to pull the drawer open. There’s a few manilla folders stacked neatly in an organizer and you pluck them free. As you go to stand, clutching the pages in one hand, you use the other to push yourself up into a warm hand. It brushes your hair gently, briefly, the barest bit of warmth. You freeze and look up into Mr. Schlatt's eyes, your cheeks uncontrollably red and his own bearing a horrible little smirk.
“Good girl.”
This is the worst day of your life. You finish standing and stare at the folders on the desk, tension building in your stomach again. Your discomfort had been forgotten in the brief shock moments prior but the shifting of the boss’s body in his expensive chair snaps you to reality once more.
You want to speak up but you can’t manage the words. The boss speaks first.
“You know what, I think I’m glad you don’t have that potential.” He’s now leaning back in the chair, casual ease all the more humiliating when you feel so gross. “Ambitious people come up all the time, I have to take care of them before they challenge me. But you? You’re perfectly happy where you are right now. Under someone.”
The noise that escapes your throat is half-splutter, half-choke. “Sir, I don’t—”
“Shut up.” And you do, immediately quieting your rogue words. “Good girl. Kneel down.”
“I—”
“Now.” the boss's voice is so light, like he isn’t telling you to do something wholly indecent. Your eyes track to his lap and your flush only grows hotter as you realize he's… aroused. God, no, it's too embarrassing to even begin to acquiesce you've thought about this. Errantly, never out loud and never at work. Never as your knees hit plush carpet and your bladder whines in agony. Your hands fold in your lap. The chair creaks and you're between the knees of the most powerful man in the world, unable to look at anything but the expensive floor.
"There we go. Look up at me, now, sweetheart," His voice croons and you hear the ice in his glass clink against the sides. "Come on. Don't be shy."
It takes all you have, but after a few hours long moments you finally raise your head. Your jaw is met by gentle fingers, dewy from the drink.
"Be a good girl and help me take the edge off, eh?"
Your fingers work at the button on his expensive slacks and free him from the pressure building there. It's thick, that much you can tell. The slight shake in your hands doesn't get better as you work your shoe off and try to subtly sit on your heel. It helps but only somewhat. This had to finish soon or else there was going to be a problem so embarrassing you couldn't fix it. Blowing your boss under his desk? You could at least claim coercion. Wetting yourself all over his floor? Not exactly an easy excuse for that one.
Your fingers delicately pluck Mr. Schlatt's cock from his boxers and it sits heavy in one of your trembling hands, bobbing and twitching every few seconds from his pulse.
"C'mon now, sweetheart," His words snap you back to the moment and you nod once, mustering all of your courage to start moving your hand. Slow, methodical—you know how to do this, and anything you know how to do you'd always strive to excel in. It was only after a little bit more praise, another murmured order ("use that pretty mouth for something") that you let the tip press against your lips. the boss settles his hand on your head, guiding your bobbing head down little by little until you can't go any further. You pull off with a cough but keep moving your hand, swallowing once to try and get into the mindset better. You were nervous and your mind was barely able to hold onto the rhythm, hand faltering as a sudden wave of need washed down your spine.
"...Nah, this isn't working. You nervous about someone walking in here, sweetheart? Here, let's help you." The ice clinks again and the noise makes you look up as the boss pours another glass of alcohol. He lowers the cup then, pressing it to your lips. You want to pull back, recoiling from the bitter flavor but the hand on the back of your head keeps you still. Whiskey pours down your throat and immediately warms your stomach, the burning tracing through your gut. The ice taps your teeth and the glass pulls back, settling on the desk once more.
"There we go. How about you get back to work then?"
The alcohol is strong, stronger than you're used to, and it's already starting to hit your exhausted system. It's been a while since you've eaten more than a snack, the buzz quickly settling over your mind. With only a little coaxing push from the boss's hand you fall back into a rhythm, feeling the thick heat of his cock rest against your tongue and the salt of his precum mix with the bitter drink still left on your palate. Swallowing around it goes from awkward to simple to natural as soft sighs and murmurs of praise float into your ears. Something inside of you puffs up with pride at the idea that you're doing this so well a man like the boss is making pathetic little whining noises as you're letting his cock drip down the back of your throat again and again.
You jump and nearly bite down as a knock on the door startles you out of the foggy, pleasurable haze you were in. You look up and drop him from your mouth, going to stand but instead feel the side of his leg pushing against your shoulder.
"Under the desk. Stay quiet."
"Hey Boss, I've got a real quick request from Payroll and I've been told to take it all the way up."
You just finish shuffling into place, the boss's chair moving in to trap you and hide his indecency before he speaks once more.
"Yeah, come in." He released the intercom, then tapped your shoulder with his knee. "Don't stop."
The door creaks open as you're sinking onto him again.
"What is it this time, Alex?"
Alex launched into some explanation, rustling papers around above you. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly you swore the young man standing not three feet away would hear it, hear the soft noises of your lips sliding back and forth as you tried to keep quiet and please your boss as best you could. Your jaw ached but you didn't dare pull off, fearing making a noise the boss couldn't cover for. The need to hide, forcing yourself into a cramped position makes your hips tremble and you can feel nothing but pain in your stomach as your muscles scream for release. You sit harder on your heel and nearly moan, all the pressure making you incredibly sensitive. It's all you can do to stay silent.
Alex mentions how he tried to find you. The boss tells him that you were busy working on a project for him, and not to bother you. After the boss signs a few things Alex finally leaves and you pull off, coughing and massaging your jaw. the boss pulls back and pushes your head back, looking down at your spit-slick lips all puffy and tender from being stretched. He's beyond smug, beyond proud, but the shame is nearly mitigated by the praise.
"You really are perfect for this job, huh. God, look at you," he strokes around your ear, delicate, feather-light, "so fucking pretty. How about you finish me off, and I'll do you a little favor?"
"Th-" You cough, unable to really speak with all of the saliva clinging to your throat, "That won't be necessary, Sir—"
"Oh no, sweetheart." The smile on his face is so dangerous, you knew you should've run twenty minutes ago. "I insist."
You meekly nod and take him back into your mouth, slowly allowing the boss to take over and casually fuck up into your mouth. You do your best to keep up with the pace, swallowing the best you can but you start to lose composure anyway. Lipstick is smeared on your chin, ruined by the sloppy job, and your eye makeup isn't doing much better. His favorite thing seems to be pushing your head down until you're shaking and then letting you free, quietly praising you in those breathy, raspy purrs he can't help but put out. Good girl, he moans, just for you, making that swell of pride in your chest grow each time. Good girl, obedient girl, perfect little slut. It isn't helping the pressure in your bladder but it's making the sensation far more pleasurable.
You start to feel the wobble of hips going out of rhythm as the quiet panting moans shift to deeper ones drawing up from his chest, planting your hands on the boss's thighs for stability and simply letting your mouth hang open for him to use. With a drawn out filthy moan he cums into your mouth, twitching forward to try and force it into your throat. You try your best to swallow, coughing as you pull off and wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.
His curls are just a bit messy and they get worse as he runs his hand through them, looking down at you and then towards the door briefly. As his eerie eyes lock back onto yours you can't help but give a little smile, a silent plea for more praise. Anything to soothe the shame filling your mind. You just gave your boss a blowjob and didn't even protest!
"I hope you know I'm adding this to your daily schedule." He idly patted your cheek then started moving papers, most of them already shifted from Alex's intrusion earlier. "Up on the desk."
Crawling was easy enough, no more uncomfortable than ducking under the desk in the first place. Standing, however, had you gripping onto the boss's knee and the edge of the furniture, the discombobulation exacerbated by the drink you'd downed earlier. A drink that decided to hit you hard just as you got to your feet, knocking your knees together in an attempt to staunch the bells ringing in your nethers that there was an emergency. You gripped onto the edge of the desk with both hands, trying to maintain composure as your eyes slowly looked back to the boss, hoping and praying he wouldn't notice your trembling legs.
Either he didn't notice or he didn't care. the boss picked up the glass and downed the melted ice and booze, looking up at you from where he sat.
"You alright there, sweets?"
You nod far too quickly. "Yes, sir, I'm alright. Just—stood up too fast, is all."
He nods back and stands, boxing you in against the desk. His face presses to your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume you'd put on that morning as his tongue dragged up the column of your throat. His hands pinned your hips to the desk and squeezed, knee pushing against your crossed legs. "Open up then, sweetheart."
"Really, sir, you don't need to—"
"If I hear another word out of your mouth telling me what to do I'm throwing you out that goddamned window, do you understand me?" The growl was said against the thin skin of your collarbones and you whimper quietly.
"Yes sir."
"Open, then."
Just five more minutes. You're already turned on; you'd gotten a bit too into grinding against your own heel. If you could manage to hold on for just five more minutes you could slip into the executive bathroom and— god, don't think about that. Just focus on getting through the next five minutes.
With a shaky breath you let your knees part and immediately draw in a sharp gasp as a warm hand pushes between them. the boss's fingers find the crux of your core instantly and he grips into the sheer of your hose, tearing the flimsy nylon so he could gain access to the damp fabric of your underwear. It was wet not only from your attempts to get off earlier but inevitably from your full bladder, any errant movements causing them to slowly saturate with fluid.
His fingers push the underwear aside as well and it's so natural to let the digits in, feeling two of them sink inside with a lewd noise as a quiet moan escapes your lips. It was torture; sheer pleasure as his thumb pressed up against your swollen and insofar neglected clit but utter pain as the insertion put more pressure on your bladder. His breath puffed against your neck and trailed up until he could take your lips fiercely, hungrily, as if he were trying to draw you into himself. It's a welcome distraction from your dilemma and you grab instead onto the boss's shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life as he fingered your trembling cunt with all the gentleness of a ramming goat.
Unfortunately, all good times must come to an end. Your point of no return comes sooner rather than later, however as you pant out little whining pleads for him to ensure you reach orgasm your body is begging you not to. But his fingers are so, so good and you can't help but love them, love how they crooked upwards and pushed your g-spot until you sobbed out a soft warning.
"Sir, S–Sir I—"
You came undone in moments. A powerful orgasm ripped through you, compounded by sheer relief as you finally released the contents of your bladder, unable to stop the stream as your body twitched and shuddered against the boss's own. Gold cascaded out of you and onto his hand, splashing onto the floor and soaking the carpet. After an agonizing few moments it tapered off, leaving you to come back to your senses slowly, then all at once.
Tears started to well up in your eyes as you realized what had happened and you pulled back, not wanting to be touched in the slightest. You felt disgusting, ashamed for how good that felt. It had been one of the best orgasms of your life.
"I'm sorry," you started to cry in earnest, fat tears falling down your cheeks and ruining your makeup even more. The sobs are near silent and you try to stand but your legs are nothing but jelly and your body couldn't bear the thought of even moving, much less walking away. "I just—I've been so busy and I was going to go on my break but then this and the drink and—"
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, facial hair scratching your damp skin. "You were working so hard for me you didn't even take care of yourself? Oh, baby," his clean hand touches your jaw, grabbing it so he could press another few smooches to your cheek. "That is so fucking hot I could—fuck,"
Something about your pathetic, soiled and debauched state clearly got to the boss and you couldn't parse the feeling it gave you. More shame? An odd bit of pride and relief? Whatever it was, the open wantonness of his voice rasping against your ear has your sloppy cunt throbbing against his stationary fingers. He responded in kind with a thrust of his hand, starting to slowly work you back to arousal. He didn't stop his groping, moving from your jaw to the soft breasts hidden beneath your office appropriate blouse. The boss's hand was so warm, your skin turning to gooseflesh as he worked his fingers into your bra and was able to squeeze your nipple.
Your arms stay gripped onto the expensive suit jacket until he pulls back, taking it off and throwing it haphazardly across the back of his chair. The boss loosens his tie and you find just a little bit of fire in you from the constant pleasure and the 80 proof liquor currently fogging your brain spurring you on to grab the red silk as soon as it's loose, pulling the boss back into a kiss. It makes him sigh against your lips as he grabs your hips, pushing your legs open and pressing the tip of his once more swollen cock to your sensitive hole.
"Sir," you just barely mumble a warning to stop, don't but the boss is not a man to be dissuaded. He's sheathed inside of you in moments and you're barely able to hold back a moan, stifling it with a hand over your mouth. It's fast and brutal but you can't get enough of the pride filling you knowing that he was doing this with you, his PA. It's enough to make you involuntarily clench around him and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, forehead pushing into your neck. One of his well maintained horns is pressed against your cheek and in a flash of daring you reach up to grab it at the base.
Something seems to shift in the boss as you take hold of the keratin, the thrust immediately following your move sinking so deeply it pressed against the deepest part of yourself. He let out something that seemed almost like a growl and sunk his nails into where he was grabbing you, keeping himself hilted.
"You're playing a dangerous game, sweets," he breathed into your ear, "let go, 'else I'm gonna have to fuck you for real, and you're not gonna be able to walk out of here."
There was only one option in your hazy, arousal addled and liquor-soaked brain. Your hand left your mouth, brushed one of the boss's loose curls behind his furry ear, then firmly took hold of the other horn. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, long lashes fluttering as he blinks,
"I guess you've got ambition after all."
With that he starts moving again, driving his cock into you so hard you can feel the ache starting to form on your cervix already. It's overwhelming, it's harsh and it's demeaning but there's nowhere you'd rather be than on the desk with your legs locked around your boss's hips. As he fucks into you your head starts to fall, resting against his shoulder as your arms tremble from the strain of holding onto his horns. Your cunt is making sloppy noises every time he moves and the puddle under you is only growing worse. Your underwear, nylons and skirt were all completely ruined but god, you didn't care. You didn't care. All you wanted, all you needed was to feel this good forever.
Unfortunately, the roughness was starting to get to you and that awful overstimulation feeling was creeping up into you again. Everything was starting to become too much, too fast, too hot too—
With a shudder and a tightening of your grip you sobbed out an orgasm, legs tightening to force the boss to the hilt inside of you. Fresh tears streaked down your cheeks and you couldn't say a damn thing, blubbering into his expensive dress shirt and soaking the fabric as pleasurable waves wracked your body.
Mercifully he'd slowed, still fucking you through it but not nearly as fast. It was getting to him too if the throaty moans resonating up from his chest were any indication. He was close and he told you so, told you that since you'd asked so nicely he'd fill you up. You couldn't form any words, much less a plea to finish anywhere but inside you, so you were fully at the boss's whim when he snarled your name and pumped you full as he came deep, deep inside. It was seemingly endless and so hot, leaking from your used and abused hole along with more of your own slick as the boss used you as his own personal cumdump.
With a heavy breath he pulled free and plucked both of your shaking hands from his head. You sat there, unable to meet his eyes and equally as unable to close your legs. It ached, burned. The boss stood straight and tucked himself away, turning to that empty glass once more and contemplating it briefly. Then he looked back to you, a wicked little smirk on his face.
"Add an hour meeting to the end of my schedule every day. Move whatever you have to. I think you've just been promoted."