“Well now Mr. Reese, you aren’t feeling the need to proposition me before an event, are you? We don’t exactly have time for much of anything, and you know as well as I do that orgasms are a reward. Have you earned a reward today, John? Especially one achieved by my mouth?” Pause. “Oh. See, I thought not. But you are incorrigible.” Slight tsking. “No, don’t start begging, Mr. Reese. It really won’t get you anywhere, and right now I find it unseemly. Take down your pants and bend over the desk. I think making you wear a plug to this little event would be… just right. After all, you’ll be thinking about me the whole time anyway, won’t you, Mr. Reese?”
“And just so you can avoid any awkward situations, John…” Leaning on his elbows, head ducked down toward the desk, every word that Harold leaves hanging on the air makes his stomach tighten. He hears the drawer open and knows exactly what his boss is getting, especially when the faint sound of keys tinkling reaches him. With his pants pulled down past his knees, Harold’s deft fingers tucking him into the chastity device make John shiver.
He knows enough to keep his mouth shut after being told not to beg, knows enough not to protest or ask for anything, or even push his hips toward Harold’s warm hand. The lock clicks and John licks his lips idly, staring at the desk between his forearms. “Thank you, Sir,” he breathes. Harold’s approval comes as a hand on the back of his neck for a moment, and somehow, John knows the smaller man is smiling.
However, the next part is something John can never quite keep silent for, especially when the sound of the lube being opened gives him goosebumps. He lays out further across the desk, forehead pressed to wood, and a moan hitches out of him at the feeling of Harold’s fingers. They fill him, stretch him, awarding his pliancy with aching touches to his prostate. “Lift your head, Mr. Reese.” Those marvelous fingers working in him, he does as he’s told, and he smiles himself at the sight of the plug. “Open up,” his boss tells him.
He takes the bulk of the stainless steel plug into his mouth, sliding his tongue down around it, whimpering in the back of his throat when Harold willfully pulls it from his lips and then pushes it back in. “My, my. The sounds you make, Mr. Reese.” Harold’s voice is low, breath close to John’s ear, and he can’t help but shiver again. When he’s satisfied that the steel is nice and warm, Harold draws the plug from John’s mouth and steps back, sliding his fingers out of him as well.
Shaking, John lays his head back on the desk, knowing they have work to do but desperately wanting to beg Harold to fuck him. “M-Mr. Finch! Sir!” He gasps out loud when Harold finally sinks the plug into him, right to the loop. Harold adjusts it only slightly, and John shudders. The way it feels, the weight of the plug inside him, the fact that he can wear it all day with minimal discomfort. There’s a reason it’s one of his favorite toys. “Pull your pants back up, John. Straighten yourself out.”
Following instructions so easily, John buttons his fly, turning to see Harold cleaning his fingers off. His boss looks him up and down, reaches to fix his collar, to smooth out his jacket, and then gives his very small smile. One that clearly says, you’re mine and I approve. I dressed you, I’m sending you out to do a job while you’re so solidly bound to me by the device keeping you at bay and the plug buried in you. You’re mine. Harold leans up to press a light kiss to his mouth, then smiles against his lips and pats his cheek. “Get to work, Mr. Reese.”