Work Text:
You're sitting in the green room when a Pippins taps your shoulder.
"Mister Tenna wants you in his office," the Pippins stated before shuffling off to God knows where.
A pit forms in your stomach as you get up.
You're in trouble.
You fucked up earlier and it was on air. You were supposed to write some of Tenna's trivia questions along with the answers, but you did them pretty last minute, so they were sloppy and some were even wrong.
There were certainly TV hosts out there who wouldn't care about this, but not Tenna. Tenna had standards . He knew what he wanted in terms of quality. And your work today wasn't up to Tenna's standards for quality.
And that was enough to warrant punishment from him.
You often faced criticism and degradation from him for minor slip-ups, but this was by far the worst thing you'd done. Your feelings of dread only grow as the large door to his office comes into your view. Eventually, after your attempts to stall the inevitable, you slip into his office.
You almost hope Tenna doesn't notice you, but the creak of the door was enough to notify him of your presence.
"Ah, there's my favorite employee," he remarks sarcastically as his screen tilts up from the paperwork on his desk to face you.
"I'm sorry, Mister Tenna. What happened today w-" You start.
"Come here. Now ," he cuts you off, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You circle around Tenna's desk, stopping in front of him. He effortlessly lifts you off the ground and bends you over his knee. This catches you off guard. He's never laid a finger on you before.
He roughly tears off any clothing or undergarments covering your bottom half, emitting a gasp from you. You open your mouth to question him, but he cuts you off with a harsh strike of his palm against your ass. A sharp sting radiates from the spot of newly inflamed skin on your backside. Once more, you try to speak, but he quickly interrupts with another abrupt slap.
Tears well in your eyes and leave your vision blurry as you feel the effects of his assault, your skin is burning and stinging, your legs trembling. He spanks you more times than you're able to count, your ass now numb, before he stops. Instead, two of his oversized fingers prod at your hole.
Tenna's fingers circle around your cunt for a moment longer before he lifts his gloves and discards his silky, white gloves with his teeth. You can hear him spit on his fingers shortly before he finally sticks them inside you, the cold metal of his digits leaving your insides uncomfortable, not that he cared. The pace was relentless, without regard for your pleasure.
After just seconds, he adds a third finger.
"Does that feel good?"
But you can't say anything. All you can do is whine, whimper, and cry.
"It shouldn't. You don't deserve to feel good right now. Do you know why I'm doing this?"
No response, once more.
"I'm doing this because it's getting me off."
He adds a fourth finger.
"I'm trying to find you a different purpose, since you can't even get a simple job done right. I think you'd be much more useful as a little pocket pussy."
He brings his other hand up to your ass, caressing it gently before giving it another one of his harsh strikes.
"You're so wet. Are you actually getting off on this?"
He actually waits for you to talk this time before spanking you.
"ANSWER ME," he growls. You can practically hear him bearing his fangs.
"Yes, Mister Tenna," you whisper, not having the confidence to speak up.
"Louder," Tenna demands.
"Yes, Mister Tenna," you repeat, this time in a slightly louder voice.
"Louder," he demands again before raising up his hand again, this time as a threat.
"YES, MISTER TENNA," you practically yell.
"Scream it," he says, grabbing your hair from the back, forcing your head to tilt back so that he was somewhat visible to you.
"YES, MISTER TENNA, I LOVE YOUR FINGERS INSIDE OF ME," You cry out loud enough for the whole studio to hear. You know exactly what he wants to hear.
Tenna's pace didn't slow down for a second, in fact, it increased tenfold as he felt your insides start to flutter around his fingers. You took this as a sign that he wanted you to cum, so you started to lean into the feeling, only for him to retract his fingers.
"Don't you cum. You don't deserve to feel good right now, remember?"
You whine in response to the loss of his fingers. Your pussy felt so empty. You wanted more. But you can't have more, you don't deserve it.
Tenna smirks, knowing how desperate you are. He doesn't care. He picks you up and places you down on the floor.
"There we go."
You're where you belong: Beneath him.
"On your knees."
You don't dare disobey him, not even in your wildest dreams.
He tugs the zipper of his slacks down, navigating his cock through the open fly. He quickly starts to slide his hand up and down his own shaft, his tip aimed for your face.
"Now, you're gonna take this like a good girl or you're gonna end up on the streets," Tenna speaks, knowing that without this job, there was no chance that you'd be able to pay rent.
"Yessir," You utter, accepting your fate.
After a few more pumps of his dick, he finally finishes, groaning as he does. His head tilts back, his hand continues to milk out every last drop, the staticky liquid that made up his cum coated not only your face, but most of your body (due to the size difference).
After his afterglow's over, he puts his flaccid phallus back into its confinements. Tenna gets up like nothing happened, despite evidence of the contrary littering your body, and he heads for the door.
"I'll be back in a few hours, I've got more filming to do."
And with that, he locked the door to his office behind him, leaving you to sit there like an abused doll.