in which your boss gives you some very particular tasks that are clearly not stipulated in your job description (CEO!Harry, meanDom!Harry, lhh, longhair!Harry)
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Every time you swore you wouldn't let it happen again, but somehow you always ended up on top of your boss' desk. Or under it. On this particular day, he'd cleared his desk in one swift swipe of his forearm sending all the papers flying, to make extra room so that he could push you face down across it pinning you to the flat surface with one hand while he bunched up your skirt with the other.
"Why do you even bother with lingerie if there's barely anything to cover this weepy cunt?" he mumbled, more to himself as he fumbled with his belt and zipper and you braced yourself for dear life.
Against your better judgement, you found yourself mumbling in a low voice, but clearly loud enough for him to hear you "Why do you bother asking me to bring in paperwork if you're just gonna toss it-"
He pulled on your hair harshly, making you yelp and effectively shutting you up "What's that, pet? Got something to say? What'd I tell you? Don't wanna hear anything out of that pretty mouth except for yes, sir; please and thank you, sir. Understood?"
He yanked on your hair for emphasis and all you could do was gulp "Yes, sir"
"Thought you knew better by now, Y/N. Guess I'm gonna have to make sure you've learned your lesson for good this time around, hm? Let's practice, shall we?" He pulled on your flimsy g-string hooking his thumb under it and dragging it to the side easily and placed his rock-hard tip at your entrance "Ready for me, pet?"
"Yes" you whined, out of breath already in anticipation. You'd been sneaking around like this for quite a while, now. Every time it was somehow even better than the last. And that's what kept you coming back for more each time. He was degrading you, using you, and he made no secret of that, and you absolutely loved playing his whore. How could you not? When he was living up to his reputation and then some.
You barely even finished replying before his palm landed on your ass cheek harshly "Yes, what?" he shouted. You thanked your lucky stars that your boss was not only your boss, but the CEO of the company, his office at the very top of the building and large enough not to have to worry about anyone eavesdropping. Well, maybe except for his secretary but you doubted it'd come as a surprise to her, she probably knew way more than she cared for.
"Yes, sir" you were quick to correct yourself, cursing under your breath for having been so thoughtless. It wasn't that you were afraid of him, you felt safe with him always. You had your safe word and you'd discussed your boundaries thoroughly when you first hooked up after you'd been drooling after him for what had felt like ages. If anything, you were worried he'd tire of you and discard you for a newer fucktoy. 'Cause that was what you were to him, and you were fine with it. You had to be, Harry Styles didn't do "relationships", least of all with someone like you, just a measly assistant that you had no clue why he'd ever even given the time of day to, much less taken an interest in.
"That's more like it" he grunted as he pushed into you without preamble, and you were so wet that he'd slid right in easily "Fuck, such a good little slut for me, aren't you Y/N? You're not all that good, though, since you can't fucking remember the simplest rules, so I think going over them just isn't gonna do it. Think I'll have to punish you"
