Disclaimers: The story below may contain scenes, language and situations not suitable to minors and is intended for mature reading only. This will also depict homosexual interactions between consenting male adults, although power play is heavily featured. If you are offended by the content of this story or under legal age, you are kindly asked not to bother reading further. This story is pure fiction and characters are not based on any real people.

 

This is part of a continuing story, planned to reach novel length.

 

If you have feedback, ideas and critique or had a good wank reading this, e-mail me at hvmsaywhat@yahoo.com

 

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OFFICE POLITICS: Chapter 2

 

 

The following morning could not have come fast enough, although Wyatt had come hard enough several times replaying the orgasm he'd received. He relived the shivers and shakes as he got dressed, which caused considerable difficulty when putting his dress pants. Today was going to be a demanding day, a new start and he took all the steps to make sure Mr. Gavin had no reason for displeasure.

He douched. He lubed. He considered sticking in a butt plug for good measure. It paid off to be stretched out when his new boss demanded a quick fuck - an inevitable fact that would happen sooner than later. Wyatt knew hot his ass was. The compliment had become etched into his brain after so many men pulled down his underwear to reveal its splendor. Best be prepared for daily railings.

With fifteen minutes until the workday started, the earliest he'd ever been in the office, he strolled through the familiar cubicle nightmare, frantic and agitated like a cat on a hot tin roof. Pained by the desire to be bent over and rammed again by Mr. Gavin.

However, his sense of superiority shone through as soon as Miller motioned him over to his personal office. No sooner the door clicked behind them both, the older man had his pants down without a single line creasing the trouser legs. Give a man an unrestricted access to sex and he'd learn to defy physics to keep on fucking. Miller might even have found a new way to press pants altogether to avoid the telltale signs of their removal.

When Wyatt didn't assume the position of supplication, knees firmly pressed against each other and leaving indents in the synthetic carpeting, Miller motioned to his erection with both hands. It bounced from the motion, already at 75 degrees and leaking a clear bead of precum at the piss slit.

"You forgot what you're supposed to do all of a sudden? Suck me off before the telephone starts ringing. I got a load to shoot and I want take care of before Frank comes complaining how I postponed his ridiculous meeting about the lunch thieves."

"Yeah, no. I'm here to tell you I'm not doing that anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not sucking you off. What's to get, Miller? I can write you a Dr. Seuss poem, if you're not grasping the core concept."

"This isn't how this works," Miller explained and sat bare-assed on his desk, grabbed his cock and shook it, spraying his precum on the carpet. "Come suck me now, bitch, or I'll put you on ass-sucking duty for an hour every day while I'm doing performance evaluations."

"My mouth is coming nowhere near your asshole, too, for that matter." Wyatt crossed his arms and though about naked dancing elderly women, all to keep his dick down. Seeing Miller this red-faced and matching his red cockhead pushed his buttons in the right places.

"This is why I hired you! Don't think you can weasel yourself out of this."

"You better explain this to Mr. Gavin, then, because he's selected me as his personal assistant, effective immediately. This is my heads up your way to arrange all the paperwork that reflects my change in position."

Second to sucking Miller, Wyatt enjoyed watching the erection deflate with each word he delivered. Wyatt was right. Miller lacked the balls to touch marked territory and looked on with impotent fury without any motion to pull on his pants. As parting gift, Wyatt closed in the distance, crouched just enough to get to the still dripping cock and wiped off a glob of it to take in his mouth. Taking his time, he licked it clean and headed for the exit.

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm expected," he said with a smile and yanked the door wide open before Miller could do anything about it. The ruckus he heard behind his back as the HR chief scrambled behind his desk gave Wyatt a thrill.

#

Mr. Gavin's big office resembled a poorly selected transplant from an altogether different building or dimension as far as Wyatt was concerned. Stare hard enough and a person could see the crude lines where the delirious mint space ended and his walls began. The door, thick, black and made from actual wood, dwarfed anyone who stood where the wings met. Their polished chrome handles glinted and taunted Wyatt to pull them open, if he dared. Even the freakishly tall water delivery guy, Carl, would appear small and insignificant standing here.

Wyatt gulped and hesitated before wrapping a sweaty palm on the vertical handle before he pulled. The first thing he saw was the floor-to-ceiling windows that substituted the fourth wall and framed the sun in such a way, Wyatt thought the entire day's worth of sunlight had been collected here. As his sight adjusted, he distinguished a large desk and a Mr. Gavin, already in his chair. Pissed, judging by the way his brows had knitted together in consternation.

"You're late," he almost barked without lifting eyes from his laptop's screen.

Great, it's going to be one of those days and just when I'm in a good mood, Wyatt thought and entered the office, letting the door sigh a click. Under other circumstances, he'd marvel at the understated, modern, slick. It must have taken a whole crew to make every surface glint with not a dust particle to mar the polished wood and metal. What would if feel like to get naked on a floor like this?

"I'm sorry. I went by Mr. Miller in HR to announce the changes in my duties. I thought I'd get this out sorted out before coming up."

"Thinking is good and all when you're paid to do it. This job is about following every command I give you exactly as I give it. If Miller has a problem, he'll come to me or you'll explain yourself when approached," Mr. Gavin said without making eye contact and the chill in his voice gave Wyatt's dick such a frostbite, he lost any traces of arousal and remained by the door. What the fuck did I get myself into? This is some Secretary bullshit scenario and my boss acts like fucking James Spader.

When he didn't move forward, Mr. Gavin gazed up and lifted eyebrows tentatively.

"Are you going to stand there the whole day? I need to break you in this position, if you're going to be of any use to me."

This Wyatt interpreted as an invitation to take his clothes off and take it from behind, so he paced up, steps soft on the expensive carpeting, and unbuckled his belt.

"What are you doing?" Mr. Gavin asked and leaned in his leather chair.

"I'm getting ready for you to break me in," he answered with hands frozen on his belt.

"Did you really think every moment with me is going to be spent with my dick in your ass? I picked you because you showed you had some smarts and initiative. Your ass is sweet and the attention I get is flattering, but I do work. Buckle up and take the seat at the front. The next two weeks are going to be a rough ride for you."

Shit, Wyatt thought. I miscalculated so badly.

He wanted to walk away, admit this was a mistake and return to Miller. Better the devil you know, but Mr. Gavin was not a man you could toy around with, certainly not one you can tease and then ditch. This Wyatt had learned. He might play along, but the man maintained control in every situation. No going back from here.

"Yes, sir," he said and dashed to the seat.

The next few hours dug a hole halfway to China so his heart could go the extra mile and sink into the Earth's core. That was how much work was expected from him. He received a new private phone he'd use only for work calls and keep synced to Mr. Gavin's calendar and itinerary, and the keys to a silver Chevrolet a car made to race against lightning.

In any other circumstance, these perks would have led to immediate Instagram photos to show off and possibly attract guys to bang at the back of the Chevy, but here and now, they meant only one thing.

I'll run errands...

#

All work, no play (no decent sleep or satisfying lunch breaks for that matter) made Wyatt a sexually frustrated young man. In only two weeks to boot. Mr. Gavin pulled no punches when it came to putting his assistant through the paces and Wyatt jumped whenever he was told. He complied to every command, if he ever wanted to taste his boss' cock the one thing he'd yet to scratch off his list. The memory of his scent, musk-heavy and thick, dissolved day after day since the first time Mr. Gavin claimed his asshole.

I bet he tastes bitter salty, he thought as he took the elevator down to the parking lot. I need to ask Sylvia about it. Hope she got to blow him.

One press of his car alarm's button. The Chevy beeped twice in the murky dark.

Dry cleaners' receipt for the suit? Check.

He ran through the list of errands he had to complete before Mr. Gavin took the stage later in the evening as a speaker at some business function for board members and their families.

Copies of his revised talk to hand out to organizers? Check.

A dull pain throbbed in his stomach for some reason. Just nerves, he figured. Save for a few low-key lunches, Mr. Gavin had kept Wyatt at the office. Pass this test and he'd not only keep the job, but get taken out more often and get the cock he salivated with great delight. His cock twitched at the prospect. The hand with the keys squeezed the bulge in his pants as he neared the Chevy. If traffic turned out light, he might even have time to rub one off on his way back.

Lost in his train of thought, he didn't hear the heavy breathing or the scraping of shoes behind his car's trunk. By the time he saw Miller rise from his crouch and close the distance, it was too late. The older man pinned Wyatt against the car with his meaty forearm against his chest, pushing out at all the air of his lungs. Startled, Wyatt only yelped once, before Miller forced his other hand in his mouth. A bitter taste filled his mouth as the four fingers slid down his tongue at hit at the back of his throat, coaxing bile and making Wyatt retch.

"You like the taste, bitch? I pissed on that hand the whole day. This is what a man tastes like, you little fucker. You don't get to cross me and walk away from this," Miller hissed and forced his hand further down. Wyatt's jaw burned from opening this wide and he only managed to breathe in short bursts to keep himself from vomiting.

The crazy bastard really pissed on his hands. The taste twisted his guts.

"You don't like sucking? That's a first for you, slut!" Miller seethed through gritted teeth and sprayed Wyatt's face with spit. The assistant trembled and used his elbows to push himself off, but the way his back was bent and the hold over his folder worked against him.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done here. Not until I tell you what's the new status quo. You're going to return to the fold and spread your legs to me whenever I tell you. You understand?"

Wyatt just stiffened and did nothing. In their years together, Miller had never shown a hint of aggression. This scared him.

"I said, do you understand?" Wyatt shuddered and just nodded.

"Good little bitch. You better. I'll text you with instructions." With that Miller lifted his weight off the lighter man and retracted his hand from his mouth.

"Now, if you excuse me, I need to wash my hand. I don't want to catch something," he said, shaking his hand of the spit and mucus, and walked away.

Wyatt shook for a few minutes, until the adrenaline subsided and only then entered the car.

That man is insane. He just assaulted me.

He repeated these two sentences in his head to make them real. Miller had lost it and now Wyatt was neck deep in dangerous waters and no lifesaver. What do I do now?

Time ground to halt as he waited for his personal phone to buzz with a text message, until it did. Four hours later, Miller's ID appeared at the top of his notifications right in the thick of the business function.

Be in my office tomorrow at 7:30 am sharp to get your punishment.

The words made Wyatt shiver visibly enough for Mr. Gavin to notice, since they were close to inseparable from the moment they left they office to attend this thing. Him in the dark navy blue suit, rich and clinging to every fold of his body, and Wyatt in his regular fare, so he'd blend in the shadows of social interaction with ease, one step behind his boss. Visible only when needed.

"You all right?"

"Yes," he lied and hid his phone. Nothing could be further from the truth. His heart raced and if he did nothing, he's start losing it in public. "Nerves I guess. I want this to go well."

"It's normal to be the nervous for your first time. I'm tough on you, kid, but you did good this week and leading up to this. You follow direction well and there's been no breakdown in communication with the organizers. Don't get shaken up now. If you've set your eyes on going corporate, you'll need thicker skin and steel nerves.

"Something goes wrong, you've done all you can and have the proof to show for it, it counts for a lot. Someone attacks you, you don't stop to imagine the aftermath. This means you've accepted to be the victim. No, you attack back and you're so savage and merciless, the person who thought it was a good idea to push you around doesn't even dare set his eye on you after. Consider this your first lesson to growing up beyond an assistant. Now, relax and study the crow. These men and women will be your stepping stone later on when you want to move on up, unless you're dead-set on peaking as a personal assistant."

Mr. Gavin ended his pep talk, patted Wyatt on the shoulder and moved to speak to some grey-haired man, who looked indistinguishable from the rest of the guests.

Be savage.

Wyatt could be that. Yes, savage. A smile spread across his lips and his shoulders relaxed as the right idea distilled in his mind.

Miller, I hope to god you're ready, because I'm going to play hard.

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As I said, if you like it, send me a message at hvmsaywhat@yahoo.com