Three-prompt story: CEO, male assistant, blowjob addiction
He’d been a temp. Just some guy the agency had sent over to fill in until HR could find someone suitable to permanently replace Ms. Cunningham’s assistant. He didn’t impress on the first day - two days’ worth of scruffy beard, a tie that didn’t go with his shirt, and an overall air of aimlessness.
He called Ms. Cunningham ‘Melinda’ from the very first time he met her. She objected. He explained that he was only trying to foster a good, friendly working relationship with her. “If I’m going to be coordinating your personal calendar as well as your professional one,” he explained, “we should be able to speak to each other as personal acquaintances.”
Surprisingly, she agreed. She thought his point was kind of weak, but somehow found it difficult to explain why. It was uncharacteristic of her to simply give up on an argument - that’s not how you work your way up to CEO, after all. But for whatever reason, she let it slide.
The fact that she found herself calling him ‘Mr. Fisher’ a couple of days later seemed odd at first. He explained that, too.
"It’s fostering a good work environment. I call you by your first name because it shows that you’re approachable and available to your employees. They don’t need to be intimidated by you."
Melinda nodded. She didn’t agree - she felt that a division between herself and her subordinates was important. Their respect was necessary to be sure they were working hard. And yes, even intimidation had its place - she had a reputation as a hardass, and while she didn’t make it a point to encourage that, she did appreciate it. It kept people in line. She kept those thoughts to herself, though - Mr. Fisher was still making his point.
"You, on the other hand, call me Mr. Fisher. It makes sense for all the same reasons. It shows that you have respect for your subordinates, and that you take the work they do seriously. It lets everyone else here know that you don’t think of yourself as being above them. In fact, Melinda, if you wanted to start calling everyone else here ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’, I think that would be a great idea."
Melinda tried to remember why she’d come out here in the first place. Why she was standing in front of her assistant’s desk, confused and conflicted. He was looking at her expectantly, though, so rather than try and put together an argument, she simply nodded. “Yes Sir, Mr. Fisher.” she said.
He nodded, looking pleased. “Good. You can go back to your office now, Melinda.” he said as he turned away, returning his attention to the files on his desk. Melinda hesitated, the feeling of being summarily dismissed an unfamiliar one. She did have work to do, though, so she quietly turned back and entered her office.
Things only got weirder from there. Appointments started popping up on her daily calendar that she didn’t remember putting there. Small things at first. Notes about going to grab a salad for lunch, even though she would have sworn she was just going to grab a quick slice of pizza. Then there was the occasional hour or two blocked off for shopping. She’d leave the office and wander around the mall, confused as to why she’d schedule something like this. She mentioned it to Mr. Fisher a few times, but he insisted he simply kept her to the schedule that she gave him. The fact that she could be forgetful about her appointments was, after all, the very reason she needed an assistant, wasn’t it?
That all made a certain type of sense to her. The type that she couldn’t think too hard about. Lots of things about Mr. Fisher seemed to fit into that category - like why he was still around and nobody had found a permanent replacement yet. Or why Melinda wasn’t calling HR to encourage them to do exactly that.
The oddness of her scheduling came to a peak one Friday morning. She was working her way through a pile of emails when her appointment notification popped up.
"10:45 AM: suck Mr. Fisher’s cock."
Melinda stared at it. In the back of her mind, she was furious. This was, what, some kind of joke? Was he actually making a pass at her? What was this supposed to mean?
The rest of her, though, couldn’t seem to get worked up about it. She was confused, yes, but being confused at work was kind of the norm lately. So she did what she always did when she was confused at work - she asked Mr. Fisher.
"Excuse me, Mr. Fisher, Sir?"
"Yes, what is it, Melinda?" he replied without turning around.
"It’s about this appointment…"
He spun around in his chair, facing her. “Oh, is it quarter to eleven already? I lost track of time. Shall we get to it, then?”
Melinda stared at him, stunned. He was so casual, as though there was nothing unusual about… this. “Mr. Fisher, I… why is that on my schedule?”
He sighed, scratching his neck as he looked at the ceiling, as thought gathering his patience.
"I swear, Melinda, you’re so forgetful… You came to me last week and told me all about your-" he looked around, being sure nobody was nearby. "-blowjob addiction." He finished, voice lower. "I said I’d let you blow me, if it would help. You seemed to think it would. We’re both very busy, so we made an appointment. Do you honestly not remember?"
Melinda shook her head slowly. Blowjob addiction? Was that… was that even a real thing? “I… really don’t, Sir.”
Mr. Fisher glanced at his watch. “Well, we’re already two minutes late. Shall we go into your office? It’s a bit more private, after all.”
He stood up and strode past her, entering her office. All she could say was “Yes, Sir,” as he took a seat behind her desk.
Suddenly, something dawned on her. “Wait!” she said, stopping in the middle of the room, Mr. Fisher looking at her expectantly. “I can’t do this now! I have a meeting at 11:00! Mr. Trestman is coming in, I need to go over our budget figures with him, and-“
Mr. Fisher sighed loudly. He stroked his chin, looking thought. “Well,” he said, as though the idea was just coming to him slowly, “I suppose I could take the meeting. You go ahead and get down under the desk and blow me while I talk to him.”
"Why not? I know all the information. I prepared all of your notes for you, after all. Plus, you won’t be able to - with your addiction and all, I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to focus.”
Melinda had to admit that since seeing the notification on her computer, sucking Mr. Fisher’s cock was all she could think about. Of course, her thoughts were mostly things like wait, why do I have to suck his cock, exactly?, but still - they were definitely fixated. Maybe he was right.
Eventually, she nodded. “Alright, Sir.” she said, sinking to her knees and crawling under the desk.
"Good girl," Mr. Fisher said as she began to suck.
Mr. Trestman came in a few minutes later. She couldn’t hear the discussion well - the desk muffled the sound. At one point - Mr. Trestman must have been getting some paperwork or something - Mr. Fisher reached down and pulled her off of his cock. She had been bobbing in a quick, steady rhythm, one hand pumping his shaft gently. He yanked her away roughly, then pressed her mouth against the side of his shaft. She began licking slowly. Long, soft licks up and down his length. Soft lapping caresses of his balls. He patted her on the head and then seemed to focus on his meeting again. She smiled. She thought maybe he’d been too close to coming, and needed her to slow down. The idea made her proud.
Mr. Fished had been right, as well, about the fact that she’d be too distracted to hold a meeting. She still didn’t remember ever talking about a ‘blowjob addiction’, but it must have been true. Sucking Mr. Fisher’s cock was amazing. All the stress and confusion and doubt of the last couple of weeks washed away. This was what she was supposed to be doing. Sucking cock was so fulfilling, so perfect, so right. She didn’t notice when Mr. Trestman left - she could only tell because Mr. Fisher guided his cock back into her mouth, grabbing her hair and forcing himself into her throat. When he came, filling her mouth, she knew she could die happy.
Eventually, once Mr. Fisher’s cock was clean and deflating, Melinda crawled out from under the desk. He smiled at her. “Good girl, Melly,” he said, “now head back out to your desk and let me know if there’s any messages.”
Melly cocked her head to the side, confused. Her brain was still soaked in a blissful cock-sucking haze. “Huh?” she asked.
"I said, go see if there’s any messages for me. I’ve got work to do. Go be a good little secretary and I’ll let you blow me again tomorrow, okay?"
Melly couldn’t think straight. Something was odd. She always felt that way right after blowing Mr. Fisher, though, she recalled. She smiled. “Okay Sir!” She stepped lightly out of his office, taking her seat at her desk. She hummed quietly to herself and began filing her nails. She felt so lucky that Mr. Fisher was so understanding about her addiction. He was the greatest boss in the whole world.
(Thanks to the wonderful and talented fishandbimbos for this particular set of prompts!)