Who’s the Boss?
Who’s the Boss?
Author’s Note: Thanks to Heini OK on Facebook for the inspiration for this story
Ryan took a long draw from his boba tea as his fellow administrative assistants rose reluctantly to their feet.
“Come on, Ryan,” Maggie said with a note of exasperation in her voice. “If we don’t get going, we’re going to be late, and the rest of us aren’t spoiled the way you are.”
“I don’t know how he gets away with half the shit he does,” Allie said as she dropped her empty cup in the trash. “Working for one of the top execs in the company and half the time his desk is still empty when I take the mail up at nine-thirty.”
“It’s because he sucks Prescott’s dick,” Lucas said. “Bet on it.”
“Actually,” Ryan said in a lazy drawl, “he sucks mine.”
Lucas snorted. “Yeah, that’s how it works. Come on, Ryan. Stop fucking around.”
Ryan stood with unhurried movements, then hooked his cup into the trash using a perfect layup shot. Drops of the remaining liquid flew up out of the cup and sprinkled the floor surrounding the basket.
“You’d think a guy like Prescott would want an admin with more class,” Maggie said.
Allie grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the counter and leaned down to swipe at the mess.
“Don’t do that for him.” Maggie snatched the napkin from Allie and handed it to him. “We’re not Prescott. Whatever you’ve got over him that makes him treat you like you’re untouchable, it doesn’t extend to us. Clean up your own damn mess.”
Ryan swiped at the liquid on the floor, then deposited the napkin neatly into the trash. “You’re such a mother hen, Mags. Don’t worry about me and James.”
“James,” Lucas echoed. “He calls the CFO James. The one time I had to talk to Prescott I nearly pissed my pants. What do you have on him, Ryan?”
“I happen to be a very good admin. I give the man what he needs, and he takes care of me in return. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes,” his friends chorused.
Ryan laughed. He really did give James Prescott II what he needed, but exactly what James Prescott II needed was his and James’s little secret.
Despite all the jibes, he was only a few minutes late getting back to the office where he found James in an absolute uproar, practically foaming at the mouth over a contract he couldn’t locate.
“Relax,” Ryan told him, striding into the lion’s den without fear.
A riled-up James Prescott II was a sight to behold.
His green eyes were like emerald lasers, and the short strands of his dark hair seemed to prickle with electricity.
His suit was as expensive and immaculate as ever, but the knot of his tie was askew.
Ryan straightened it for him. There. Now he was perfect again.
“I know exactly where the contract is,” Ryan told him. “Don’t I always? Sit down, drink some water, and I’ll bring it to you. What’s the big deal anyway?”
“Those regulatory vultures are trying to eat us for lunch. If I don’t have a detailed response to this latest monstrosity of a ruling by five o’clock, the two-faced asswipe down the hall will sell us out to the tune of millions.”
The two-faced asswipe down the hall was Drew Tate, their CEO—nominally James’s boss and definitely his enemy.
“So you’ll draft a response and it’ll be brilliant, as always. Don’t get yourself in a state.” He patted James’s lapels. “Go sit down like I told you to.”
“There isn’t time for me to draft a response, Ryan.
I couldn’t find the contract because you weren’t here, and now there isn’t time.
The situation is fucked.” James’s voice was approaching its full volume, which was impressive.
That was why most of the company considered him an ogre.
He had a tendency to get loud. It was all bluster, but no one except Ryan knew that. He went over and closed the door.
“What are you doing?” James asked with a scowl.
“Saving the rest of the floor from having to hear your tantrum.”
“I’m not having a tantrum, goddammit.”
“I know a tantrum when I see one. Now are you going to sit down and drink some water or not?”
“For fuck’s sake, Ryan. There isn’t time for fucking water. There isn’t time for anything! And it’s your fault. It’s a fucking disaster, and it’s all your fucking fault!” James took one of the folders off his desk and threw it in the air, scattering paper everywhere.
“All right, that does it. Over the desk.”
“What part of ‘there isn’t time’ don’t you understand?”
“That part where I don’t give a fuck whether there’s time or not.
” Truthfully, he’d checked the time, and the two hours they had before five o’clock were more than enough if he could get James settled down, which he knew how to do.
“Let’s go.” He clapped his hands briskly.
“If you’re worried about time, then there’s no time to waste. ”
“Ryan,” James pleaded.
“I know,” Ryan told him. “You’re all out of sorts. But I’m going to take care of everything, like I always do. You trust me, don’t you? You trust Daddy?”
James nodded tightly, still defiant but almost ready to let Ryan take charge.
“Good boy.” Ryan gave him a tender pat on the cheek. “Always my good boy. So come on, good boy, over the desk. Once you take what’s coming to you, you can get to work.”
Because he knew James was in a mindset where any kind of compliance would be difficult, he steered him around to face the desk himself, then gave the center of his back a push to bend him over it.
James braced his hands on the surface, his expression wavering between stubbornness and desire as Ryan opened the desk’s center drawer.
“Not the ruler.”
“You don’t get to tell me how to take care of you.” He extracted the ruler and gave it an experimental thwap into his palm. “Why are your pants still up? You’ve got a lot of misbehavior to pay for already, James. I don’t know why you’d want to make things worse.”
James glowered at him, still a long way from surrendered, so Ryan reached around him to undo the Italian leather belt which he sometimes used to administer correction. Today he left the belt in James’s trouser loops as he pushed everything down at once—belt, pants, boxers—to bare his boss’s ass.
“Since you’re in such a hurry, I’ll make this quick.”
James dropped his head onto his clenched fists with a preemptive whimper.
He knew quick meant no warmup, meant hard and hurtful right from the first go.
But he also knew—as Ryan did—that he needed it that way today.
He’d escalated from fine to meltdown in the twenty minutes Ryan had been away for break.
He needed to be settled back down just as fast.
James Prescott II had the weight of the company on his shoulders because Drew Tate was as big a buffoon as James claimed.
Without James’s constant striving, Tate would drive the company into bankruptcy.
And without Ryan’s help, James wouldn’t be able to survive the relentless stress of working for an incompetent poser who only occupied his position thanks to nepotism.
In Ryan’s eyes, James was a hero. Which made Ryan a hero-maker.
“You need a gag?”
Even with the door shut, James could get loud enough to be heard all the way down the hall, but James shook his head, still feeling stubborn.
“All right, but I’m not going easy on you.”
He followed that statement with proof he meant it by laying down a sharp, red line across James’s ass.
James had a luscious ass, totally wasted in suit pants. It quivered when Ryan struck it, whether with a hand or a belt or a ruler, all that muscle bouncing with firm tension. Ryan loved his job.
He’d stumbled onto James’s need for stress relief through pain and discipline accidentally, but he was the perfect administrative assistant to deliver it because he got a sadistic thrill from every thwack of the ruler, every slap of his hand, every whap of the belt.
He loved James’s flinches and moans, the way his skin pinked up rosy red or turned blotchy and purple.
Sometimes he thought he loved James himself.
“This is for getting on my case about being five minutes late,” he said as he administered a series of vicious stripes to the tops of James’s thighs. “I deserve a break, and you can wait.”
James moaned. Ryan knew that if he checked he would find James’s dick hard, but he never bothered with James’s dick. It was James’s ass he was interested in.
“And this is for throwing papers all over the floor. You’ll be cleaning that up, by the way.”
James grunted.
“What did you say?” Ryan put even more force into his next swing.
“Sorry.”
“Sorry what?”
“Sorry, sir.”
“That’s right.” Ryan gave him another particularly harsh set of smacks as a reward. “And these are for doubting yourself and me. We always get the job done, don’t we?”
“Yes,” James said with a gasp.
“And we’ll get the job done this time too. Right after you finish thanking me for taking care of you.”
“Ryan,” James whined.
“Oh, you need more?” He wasn’t letting James start going on about how much time they didn’t have again. He would beat the man until he stopped fretting. That was what he got paid for.
It took another dozen strikes, and James’s ass was a mess of red and purple before he was done, but when Ryan asked, “Are you ready to show me some appreciation?” this time James begged him for it.
“Can I suck you? Please?”
“You may.” Ryan dropped the ruler on the desk and undid his pants. He fished out his bursting-hard cock as James sank to his knees in front of him. James reached out greedily and Ryan handed over his cock to James’s able hands and mouth.
“There’s my good boy,” he said as pleasure raced through him. “My very, very good boy. So competent. Who’s the best CFO ever, hmm?”
James hummed back, his mouth full, his hands busy.
He slobbered over Ryan’s cock, his pants still down around his ankles, his eyes closed, his expression blissful.
Ryan closed his own eyes and threaded a hand through James’s short hair.
He didn’t thrust. He didn’t need to. This was for James, for both of them.
The softness after the hardness. The settling after the commotion.
Ryan was so aroused after the thrill of administering punishment that James had him coming in minutes. He flooded James’s throat, James drinking down every drop with appreciative murmurs, then thumbed at the corner of James’s mouth until James opened his eyes and looked up.
“Clean up the mess you made while I get the contract. I know exactly where it is. All you had to do was ask. You could’ve called or texted me, you know.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“Because you were in a state. But that’s okay. You’re better now, aren’t you?”
James nodded.
“Yeah, I thought so. Put your ass away and clean up.” He leaned down, gave James a soft kiss on the lips, then went out to the filing cabinets to grab the contract James needed.
When he came back in, James was sitting at his desk, tenderly but obediently.
The papers he’d scattered had been cleared away, the puddle he’d left on the ground from jerking off while he sucked Ryan had been mopped up, and he was raising a bottle of water to his mouth.
“The contract you asked for, sir,” Ryan said as he placed a folder in front of him. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, thank you, Ryan. I’m all set for now. You’re worth your weight in gold. You know that, right?”
“So you always tell me, sir.”
~~The End~~
Need more topsy-turvy discipline? Check out Tamed, where a big ex-marine gets the discipline he needs from a physically smaller but no less in control Dom