Boss's Bitch
#2 of The Boss
_Toonces, the Driving Cat, the Cat Who Could Drive a Car
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"What exactly is it that you do here?" the cat asked, rocking back in his chair as he chewed a pencil thoughtfully. A spreadsheet full of precise formulas was on his screen, his desk littered with loose papers and post-it notes which had long lost their stick.
"Oh, um..." the jackal blushed at the question, his nose turning down to the ground as he minimized his game of solitaire to display a game of minesweeper which he minimized just as hastily to bring up an empty desktop. "I... well... my job got shook up after the merger you know I mean... there were redundancies I'm sure you and everyone remember..."
"Yeah, I remember," the cat said with just a bit of bitterness in his voice. "Almost all your department got canned. They kept you on, and I gotta be honest, I don't think I've seen you do an hour of work since. You got pictures of the boss or something?" The tone of his voice didn't imply any kind of a joke. Maybe the cat figured himself to be playing detective. You could practically see the scenes from NYPD Blue playing out in his head as he questioned the jackal. "I mean I've got a lot of work here if you need something to do, I could send some right over."
"Oh, no, I- I'm fine." The jackal drummed his fingers on the desk, his brow furrowed. He chewed on his cheek, trying his best to look nonchalant. His movements seemed to come in stutters, even his neck jerking around looking for the eyes he suspected to be on him. He could feel his body getting hot and clammy as the cat's piercing gaze was kept on him, reading him, as if the eyes alone could turn the lock on his box of secrets.
"You know there's a rumor," the cat dropped. He had a smile on his face.
The jackal figured he must know. "W-Wh-Wha-...?" he didn't need to finish.
"You've heard it. C'mon. I know you heard it. There's only one reason boss calls you into his office all the time. If he's chewing you out every time you go in there, like hell you'd still have a job." The cat's chair was rolling imperceptibly slow towards the jackal, getting closer and closer through the long breaks of nervous silence until the two were close enough to whisper.
"What d-do you mean?" The jackal asked nervously. The cat dropped the smile on his face and looked around, getting his nose right up against the jackal whose shirt was clinging to his body in a nervous sweat.
"I want in," The cat said plainly.
"Wait- Wait, what?"
"Excuse me," a leggy blonde, naturally the boss's assistant, interrupted. "Boss would like to see you in his office. Again." She chomped on an old piece of chewing gun, a pencil in her hair. She hated everybody, the jackal especially, who wasn't entirely popular with everyone else who more than suspected his game. Thankful for the opportunity he got up to leave, the cat grabbing him by the cuff.
"I can deepthroat," the cat said urgently. "Tell him that. I don't wanna replace you, I don't even want less work-"
"I don't know what you're talking about, you're- you're crazy!" He pulled himself away and made a beeline for the boss's door, not slowing down until he rounded a corner and found himself out of the feline's view, though it was no respite from unwanted glares. He took a deep breath. He had that sensation, again. Everyone was watching him walk into the boss's office, again. Third time this week. The jackal sure as hell had no delusions of why he still had a job. It wasn't even because he had an amazing body, it wasn't because he gave great head. Neither was particularly true. The Boss had summed it all up quiet nicely before.
They had shown up to work prepared for a meeting he found canceled. The Boss had cleared their schedules for the day. Later, he was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, his fur an absolute mess, mussed and flattened and sticky with too many different materials. His throat was sore. His muscles were weak. Looking up from his spot on the carpet, the tiger looked just as robust as ever, his body plucked right from a Underwar catalogue (the jocks section, most likely). The thin veneer of sweat on his golden-orange fur just made it look shiny, new. The jackal was struck with pangs of whatever the hell that emotion was as he looked up at his Boss. He asked, "Why me?" The way he said it, he could have been handed either a novelty sized check or a death sentence.
The tiger laughed. "Simple version: I like you. I really do, honest. But..." the tiger's voice trailed as he looked up, searching his head for the method to articulate what exactly he meant. "The long version is a little more interesting. You're only really gay when you're in this office, right? I mean..." the tiger was unhappy with his words, but found the right track soon enough. "I mean you're gay out there, too. You ogle asses, you sweat nervously around cute guys, I see all that. And yet I've never seen you actually write your phone number on the back of a business card and hand it to a fella. Am I wrong?"
The jackal couldn't deny it. He couldn't even get a drink from the watercooler if there were other guys around.
"So, I mean, I pull your little ass in here, where you don't really have the power to play your little games of denial, and what happens?"
The jackal recalled the workday they had just spent together.
"Yeah. That's what I mean when I said you're only gay inside these walls, when you're bent over this oak desk right here. It's like I've got all of your little secret in my paws, and I know that's exactly where you want it. You come in here knowing you don't have to tell anyone about your desires so long as Big Mr. Tiger calls you into his office, because Big Mr. Tiger was the only guy with the balls to make you say what you still don't want to say. So you tell me. I've got a guy whose only wish in life is for me to call him into my office so he can spend an hour living out the desires he spends the rest of his days denying. I could find a guy with a bigger dick and a nicer ass, not that yours aren't fine themselves sweet cheeks, but find another guy who needs me so entirely? Not at all. I found that ass, I claimed that ass, I'm the only reason you've ever had a chance in the world to indulge in all the things that make you blush and hide your boner, and when I say 'come here' you've got nothing but your own lust and shame to blame for why you come, every time, tail between your legs and a tent in your pants with your eyes locked on my fat dick. Not to say you're a desperate little bitch..."
The jackal looked up from his pitiful spot on the carpet. He could still taste cum.
"But you are kind of a desperate little bitch."
The jackal whimpered.
"And that's pretty hot."
Still walking to the Boss's office, he held a stack of files at waist-height to hide his excitement, though his crimson cheeks told just as much as his pants would have. Everyone saw him. He suspected everyone suspected. He thought everyone knew. It was secrets upon secrets. He didn't want the office to know he was gay, let alone that he was fucking the boss, let alone that he let the boss fuck him like a little ashamed bitch. But everything on him projected just that. The way he slumped his shoulders forward and buried his chin in his chest: It must tell everyone he's going to be bent over the boss's desk. The way his eyes darted back and forth to each cubicle: It must betray the secret that even now he could taste the tiger's cock on his tongue.
Even the way his ears twitched broadcast everything he wanted to hold close to him as he picked out whispers and snickers so faint he might have imagined them. He was tagged. He might as well have a giant neon sign or a sandwich board. Might have taken all his clothes off at his desk and marched naked right into the tiger's office. He hadn't had the foresight to grab a file when he fled his desk from that obtrusive cat, and now he stared down at the bulge in his pants, as if keeping his eyes on it would keep everyone else's away. Oh God, he could already feel those paws on his body, could feel the cool air on his body as his stuffy shirt was peeled, could feel...
He bumped into a coworker, clearing his mind only temporarily, until the shock kicked in.
"Are you-"
"Meeting with the Boss, s-sorry, I have to go!"
He raced the few remaining feet to the boss's open door, closing it behind him. The tiger sat where he always sat, in his high leather chair, his shirt unbuttoned and tie laying limply over his shoulders. He twirled a smoldering cigar in his fingers. There was a single scented candle lit on the corner of his desk. "There you are," he greeted the jackal. "I've got everything all romantic for us. See the candle?"
"Y-yeah..." the jackal said, slowly making his way over.
The tiger laughed, his little joke a success. "It's Gingerbread. Doesn't it smell like gingerbread? Take a sniff."
He filled his lungs, but his senses were keyed in on the tiger's musk. Not that it was overpowering, rather that the jackal's mind seemed it trivial to even bother processing the smell of the Gingerbread. It saw a masculine body, it focused on that. "Smells g-goo..." he took another deep breath. "Great, sir."
"Would you believe it was thirty bucks?" he asked, pulling the jackal close, going first for the belt and button and taking the time to pull the pants all the way down to the ankles when he could have just let them drop. "That really is a nice little cock you get there, I almost feel bad I badmouthed it..." he mused, tracing a finger along its underside. "I'll have this bouncing off my stomach in just a few minutes. You're gonna shoot so much your cheeks might be a little sunken when I'm done." He felt up the jackal's cheeks, teased his hole with a finger. "I thought I was gettin' ripped off but hell I think I can afford to get ripped off once or twice, I'm not gonna stress it. I think it sets the mood nicely, doesn't it?"
"Oh, y-yes sir..." the jackal responded nervously, the paws now unbuttoning his shirt bottom-to-top, reaching inside the open garment to feel the slight figure, remind themselves of all the little bumps and dips on the slight body, reel it in and contain it. The jackal took deep breaths, trying to relax, but unable to suppress the vicious beating of his heart. The tiger put his paw over the spastic little muscle.
"Still gets ya racing, doesn't it? That's good to know," the tiger said as he loosened the jackal's tie, the excited little dog twitching with nervous energy, naked now but for the open shirt barely hanging onto his shoulders. "You know, I don't know what exactly you've always thought of me. Maybe you thought I wanted to make you afraid... are you afraid?"
"N-n-n-"
"Good good good," the tiger hummed, still feeling the jackal's slight body as he lowered his own pants down to his knees to display that might have been made of lead or some other material that gave the impression of being heavy. "I was always going for more of a thrill. Like a roller coaster, you know? I know guys like you, and you..." the tiger searched for his words as he held his paw out; the jackal spit in it, and the tiger used this to get his cock slick. "You get a certain kind of thrill out of this that I just can't, you know? You're not scared, I mean, you're not scared of little old me." The tiger lifted the jackal onto his lap, the tip of his cock against the jackal's hole, cheeks spread open by little paws. "You're just a little bit scared of yourself. Maybe of how much you enjoy being treated like this, maybe you're worried if this will last you long enough until I call you in again, or if maybe this time it won't satisfy quite enough that you're actually gonna have to march your ass out of here and start getting some numbers from the cute guys in the cubicles." The jackal was moaning now, trying to sit down on the large cock, grunting with exasperation and then relief as the head broke into him and he started to grind down the long, thick pole. The tiger took a moment from his little monologue to purr approvingly himself, his paws holding the jackal by the waist to guide him down. "Everytime you come in here and sit on my cock," the tiger began to finish, "you're gambling on just another day of being able to keep this between you and me-"
The door opened, the secretary from before walked in with her head buried in a fan of papers. "Sir, FRR has been calling all morning about- oh!" she said, looking up, spotting the jackal's back, seeing him spreading his cheeks to sit down on the tiger's massive dick. "Is now a good time, sir?" she asked flatly, as if she'd walked in on him eating lunch.
"Nah it's fine," he assured her. "What have they been calling about?" She hesitated, perhaps listening to the jackal moan with uncontrollable urgency. Staccato, shuddering little moans like something you might squeeze out of someone by their midsection. His eyes were shut tight, reveling in the unwanted bliss of a new guilt heaped upon him. He sat on the cock, filled to the breaking point with the thick meat, not daring to ride it but unable to keep from grinding in the tiger's lap as he milked the pleasure from this unexpected intrusion.
"They need those figures, second quarter of 2004, for their market research involving the arena deal." It was still the tone of everyday business. The jackal suspected she expected this. She was the one who had come to get him, after all.
"Shit, I got those around here somewhere..." he said, rifling through the papers on his desk. "Sweet cheeks - No, the jackal, Miss, I meant the jackal this time - Sweet cheeks don't worry about it, just start riding. Okay, got 'em," he said, holding out a file to the secretary who inched her way over with a quick pace. Her gaze met with the jackal's for a moment, too quickly for the jackal to discern anything from it. He simply rode the Boss's dick like he had been told to, bobbing easily up and down over the length, moaning with guttural expression, his head hot and light and his throat sore. He was moaning from the moment he heard the door creak open until the moment he heard it shut - and lock - behind him, when his moans finally broke into an almost exhausted gasp.
"Bitch could've waited, probably just wanted to make sure about you. You know she tells anyone about anything she sees in this office and I can fire her without severance benefits," the tiger reassured the jackal, though it didn't calm him at all, at least on the surface. "Don't worry about her," he said, pulling the jackal firmly against his hip, "Just worry about me for now, ok? Just be a good little bitch and ride my dick until I'm done with you." He gave the jackal a pump, lifted both of them off his chair, and let him fall back down. "Got me?"
"G-Got you, sir," the jackal moaned, leaning back - the hand keeping him from falling. He rode that dick like a jockey, the experience having enlivened him with a renewed energy. It was like a shot of speed to him. Every tactile sensation was magnified by the knowledge that someone knew. He wouldn't be able to walk out of that office without the secretary eyeing him, seeing him as a bitch, the boss's little personal manslut. She knew, she knew, she knew! He found himself almost trying to climb off the tiger, but the paws kept him still, kept skewering him on that long and thick rod with an impassioned moan.
"Sh-she knows!" he spat out, finally. He betrayed his own lust, the two conflicting emotions coming to a head and boiling over. When he thought of her, he wanted to grind down onto the Tiger's lap and moan, but he couldn't resist the urge to flee and never return again. At the time, he did both. He'd indulge in his guilt, slapping his ass against the tiger's lap and gyrating his hips, grinding the cock against his spots, moaning with lustful energy. Then he'd try to get up, to leave, only to have the paws hold him down, make him repeat his performance.
"Just relax, relax!" the tiger urged him. "Listen, she's just the secretary. This isn't the worst thing she's seen in here. And besides, I..." the tiger broke a wide smile. "I can tell that you like it."
"N-n-n-"
"Yes, yes, yes! Let's not have this argument again sweet cheeks, you know who always wins."
The jackal dropped his eyes down, sighed with defeat. It was true.
"You may be a bitch," the tiger continued, "But you're the right guy's bitch. If you're gonna be getting used and abused by anybody, I'm the one. If you're gonna beg anyone to fuck you senseless and fill you with his cum, make it this guy. What I mean..." the tiger paused for a second to slap the jackal's rump," is don't worry about a thing, just be a good little bitch and ride tiggy's cock, got it? Spread those cheeks and don't stop moaning."
The jackal got it. He bumped and bobbed, his now sweaty shirt hanging off his arms behind him, barely on at all. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around the tiger's broad shoulders, and felt the burly paws wrap around him. He hadn't stopped moaning yet, and now every so often his body jolted with a bolt of energy as he stabbed the cock into his most tender spots. He bit his lip, suddenly not quite so eager to plow himself down on the massive member, being dainty about it, particular.
"You're pretty close, aren't you?"
The jackal nodded feverishly.
"Don't," the tiger ordered, then took the reigns as he started bouncing the jackal on his lap. "Wait," he demanded coolly, the jackal steaming now as he whined with exhaustion, his dick tensing and spitting pre onto the tiger's stomach as he rode furiously, the masculine paws urging him on to go harder, faster. The urge to cum was overwhelming, he was already shaking with the usual pangs, was already clenching around the tiger's cock, his balls already tight up against his body and ready to loose their payload. "Wait wait wait!" the tiger shouted brusquely, sensing just how close the jackal was. "Waaaaaaaait..." he said, thrusting now into the jackal's efforts, compounding their lusts. "Hoooooo-" the word caught in the tiger's throat. "Wait wait wait!" he was still shouting as he shot his load, filling the jackal up to the brim as the trembling little dog settled slowly into the tiger's lap, letting himself be filled, letting the tiger hold him down as the thick cock spasmed and shot, its every little vibration resonating in the jackal's body, up through his spine and his teeth in the form of highly pitched moans.
"Now," the tiger relented, and with the jackal still sitting in his lap - shuffling uncomfortably around the massive member - those high pitched moans turned into a flood of urgency, and on cue the jackal's dick shot its load onto the tiger's firm stomach, shook without touch, spraying cum all over the white, black, and orange body. He was nearly fluid when he finished, the tiger holding him by the shoulders, slumping him forward to rest on the sticky body. "You're a good listener," the boss admired. The jackal was spent, unable to return the compliment, only capable of gasping in deep breaths as he slowly regained his composure.
Fingers at his lips finally brought him back to consciousness, his own smell on them. He licked at them, tasting his cum. The tiger wiped it off his short fur and fed it to the jackal as the dog still sat on the now satisfied cock. Every last drop - a surprising amount - the tiger teasing him with meaningless little remarks all the while. "Eat up, sweet cheeks," or "Think ya taste good, do ya? You always know how I can help you make more." Having collected all he could, the tiger slipped the jackal off finally, put him on his knees before the chair, under the desk, and had the remainder sucked out of his fur.
He looked at his watch, buttoning his shirt and tightening his tie, his pants still on the floor. "I've got a meeting here in about fifteen minutes."
"I'll get back to my place, sir," the jackal said, reaching for his pants.
"Hold on there, sweet cheeks. You're already in your place. Why do you think you're under the desk?"