Mason's Personal Subbie
Hahn OneShot Wednesday Poll Winner - Maya Mason/FTM Reader *Chastity* | Read More Maya Fics Here! | AO3 Here | Tip Jar Here!
-What happens when Matt hears the nicknames Maya calls you? What happens when he realizes you're her property to do so to?
Warnings: Maya Mason Boss/Personal Assistant FTM Sub Man / FTM Reader / He/Him pronouns used / FTM top surgery mentioned / Submissive Reader / Humiliation & Cruelty Kinkg / Maya is Dom Control Freak / Aftercare / Stimming / PTSD Triggered but Maya Takes care of you / Maya Fights for you / Hurt & Comfort / BDSM Lifestyle / Love and Kink / Anxiety and Gentle Kink / Maya Mason is Protective and Possesive / Chastity and Packers / Oral Sex as Therapy / Oral Fication / Power Dymamics / Contracts and HR problems / Matt tries to be a boss / Cages and Verbal Humiliation / FTM Author Writing FTM stories / 3k words / 18+
“Where’s my Dildo Boy? Get in here now!” Maya shouted just as you were holding out paperwork for Matt Remmick to accept.
His face soured instantly and you couldn’t hide the panic, which he immediately read to be fear. Not aware of your boxers sticking to your sex.
Grabbing the paper and walking into Maya’s office with rage boiling over her stared to shout.
“YOU CAN’T CALL YOUR PERSONAL ASSISTANT THINGS LIKE THTAT! THIS ISN’T OLD HOLLYWOOD LOT! THAT’S SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND HE’LL SUE US! MAYA WHAT, ARE YOU THINKING!” He shouted causing your ears to turn red. Everyone called you Maya’s Personal Property (a play on personal assistant no doubt but not very good), not even knowing your name on this lot. After his long it was almost sad, if it didn’t cause people to give you a wide berth. So you weren’t thrilled that today was the day Matt realized what was happening.
You winced at the volume as well as the open door that let everyone hear what was happening.
“Subby, get in here1” Maya spoke once Matt was out of breath and his face resemble the red of a fire hydrant.
You look around at the people leaning in to listen, huddling a little by the hallway, but you know what happens if she has to ask a third time.
So you grab your iPad and Apple Pencil and scurry into her office, waiting for what you know she already wants.
Maya’s not looking at you; she’s giving Matt a glare that could have killed him. As she reaches into her bottom drawer. Flipping open the folder, one that had your actual name on it.
You gulp, not eve seeing the folder or that drawer, on her large key chain its the black key, one you’ve also never seen used. Now you understand why.
“There’s my Bussy Boy? Close the door!” Maya tells you, and you were really hoping she wouldn’t use that particular nickname in front of Matt, but she does. Not that he didn’t know you were trans, but it was a particularly descriptive nickname, not that Subby, Cum Boy, Little Prince, Dildo, Hitachi Honey, or any of the other things Maya had no problem calling you in public (writing all over your body, or texting you in the middle of a meeting).
But it was particularly clear what happened in the privacy of Maya’s giant office when she yelled it in front of Matt, Sal, or…or the entire company.
You obediently shut the door with a click and took your position to the side of Matt in front of Maya’s desk, just where she wanted you. Although usually you were on your knees when you entered her office.
You shifted in your pants, the ones Maya had brought a tailor in to fit you with - just like the rest of your clothes.
Maya was thorough, down to your soap, cologne, hair cut, length of nails, earring (gold to match her jewelry always), boxer briefs….and the packer that sat in them. The one she always reminded you was hers…
Matt was sweating from his outrage, and you felt bad for the man.
Because you knew where the skeletons lived, that drawer you had seen, and this guy had no idea what Maya had at her fingertips.
“You can’t do this-You can’t- Maya!” He argued weakly, eve as a man with so much power, he was looking smaller in Maya’s office already.
The head of marketing isn’t perturbed in the slightest; she’s too calm, you wonder now if she’s got mental illness that needs to be checked. Not to say she was crazy, but beyond controlling, and that short temper had cose this studio more than just money.
Maya straightened her shoulders and smiled viciously at Mathew.
“He works for me, he’s not your employee.” Maya started flipping through the rather large folder, you wondered what else was in it with your name on it.
“This isn’t some Hollywood backlot-Yes he does! He works very much for me!”
Maya laughed at Matt, who was now turning less red and more of a maroon. Sorta like the color of someones ballsack after getting hit by a baseball. Or a particularly mean dominant with a boot was playing with his crown jewels.
Maya set leafed through the final page and set it out for him to see.
You lifted your chin just a bit to see them as well, having not worn your contacts today, instead, the pair of glasses that Maya picked. Noticing that you rubbed at your eyes too much when you tried the contacts (she didn’t do it as a present, she swore it was because it annoyed her to watch…no other reasons).
You saw your signature, but you were very sure you hadn’t signed any of those papers in that folder. Maya had most definitely taken one of your signatures on the first day of employment and simply saved it as a signature to sign whatever she’d required.
It should scare you, but it didn’t.
In truth, you had no one, had nothing, no friends or family, no degree or hobbies before. So as Maya took over your life, you found you saw more….fucking enjoyed more. Than ever before.
No matter how cruel Maya was, she took care of you. Got you medical help, hired a nurse after your top surgery….A lawyer for your name change…She injected you with Testosterone regularly, as you’d been nervous to do it yourself.
Maya didn’t ask, she simply called you into her office on a schedule, dropping your pants and boxers, giving you the shot. Fuck she even figured out you liked the cartoon Band-Aids. Putting it on and… you could have sworn she didn’t spank you for three days after because of it. Though you never confirmed.
So, as you saw the paperwork, you were in fact not in a legal contract with Continental Studios, you figured you should be upset.
But you weren’t.
Maya Mason had invaded every inch of your life, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to be concerned about that, not after people who were supposed to love you had thrown you away like yesterday's stinky fish.
“This isn’t-” He begins only to be cut off.
“You’ll see in the corner that it’s signed by my lawyer Harper Spiller, everything is notarized, and here-” Maya flipped two more pages where length NDA’s were signed.
“This is Continental Studios property! You can’t do your weird personal assistant turned sex slave shit here.” His mouth fluids flying was sorta gross.
“Why?” Maya’s left eye twitched; it was so subtle, yet you saw it. People didn’t really tell Mason couldn’t do this in this town. Even if Matt was a pseudo-leader, the clear disrespect riled the older woman up.
“I’m the head of the studio and-”
“How much coke is in Sal’s desk?” Maya asked, bored, already pulling the papers back into the file like she didn’t want Matt to get his spit on them.
“Thats-”
“Your best friend, and I’m some girl you hooked up with on shrooms. But you and I both know how that went, and what I still have proof of, the evidence I hold from that night's activity-”
“Stop!” He shouted and gazed at you then back at Maya.
“The studio could get in a lot of trouble for,” he threw his hand in your direction.
For the studio head supposedly standing up for you, it was clear he didn’t give a damn at you.
“If you can tell me his first and last name, I’ll let you take me to the lawyers office and we can have out my documents versus what I can bring- Oh and; Mason’s Man Thing, and Maya’s Personal Ass to Mouth or whatever else they’re calling him doesn’t count Mr. Remmick.” Maya had this got you look in her eye when she won. And you watched on as the man couldn’t remember your name if his life depended on it.
Mat was throwing his hands in the arm to stop her, but Maya was losing her patience.
“This is bullshit Maya! You can’t get away with this!” He’s shouting and your dominant has lost her ability to keep it cool.
“I ALREADY HAVE BEEN MATT! FOR FOUR YEARS! HE’S BEEN AT MY SIDE FOR FOUR YEARS AND YOU DON’T KNOW HIS NAME! SO GO FUCK YOURSELF ON SALS LIMP DICK AND GET OUT OF MY OFFICE UNTIL YOU HAVE SOME ACTUAL GUTS TO COME AT ME!”
“THIS ISN’T RIGHT!” Matt yelled back and Maya rounded her desk to get in his face and now you were a little concerned.
“I’M IN A COMMITTED RELATIONSHIP WITH AN IRON-CLAD NDA - YOU HAVE YOUR LAWYER CALL MINE! NOW GET THE FUCK OUT SO I CAN GET MY WORK DONE WHILE YOU PLAY ARTIST!” Maya’s screaming in his face, and it can be heard through the whole office; you wince just a bit.
Never one to enjoy yelling in the first place, the anxiety meds with your name in Maya’s locked liquor cabinet were there for when noises became too much, like right now.
But still, you stuck to the breathing techniques she gave you. Counting, Maya always promised she’s be able to stop yelling at whoever it was in less than a minute and a half. That it was important to add volume in the beginning to show who’s dick was bigger.
In this moment it was clear, as Matt actually stepped back.
“Maya, eventually you won’t get your way.” It sounds limp, because it is.
Your boss's face so close to the studio heads that it should be a kiss if it wasn’t more probable to be a headbutt.
“That day, I’ll make sure to take the studio with me, Matty. Now I have a 4 o’clock with Tarantino. And he can never operate Zoom without my help, so be a dear and close the door on your way the fuck outta my office.” The terrifying woman’s blue eyes could sear the flesh off the poor guy's face.
He turns to look at you, just as terrified as you’d expect, but he still asks.
“Are you here willingly? Like consensually? I mean, is this really a relationship?” He asks you, and you blink at him for a moment, a little too shocked at the question.
If you’d been asked before this, you would have said absolutely not it wasn’t a relationship.
Maybe you would have said it was kinky, some kind of BDSM thing.
The first month, you’d have said Maya was simply so controlling that it was a case of being paranoid. But when she was there for doctors appointments, dentists appointments, your birthday….getting you a car….Well then you guessed it could have been seen as a sugar Mama type thing.
Only you worked very hard for Maya Mason. You worked weekends and all kinds of hours, always by her side. Going above and beyond with the scandalous dirt you pulled, the add revenue marketing sheets. Holy shit, sometimes your eyes burned from the amount of spreadsheets you’d made for pricing. Maya had in turn made your life as easy as possible, 401k plans, amazing vacations when she went on them….private jet fun.
So I mean…maybe it was kinky and controlling?
Yeah, you slept in her house…but you’d been sure that was only so when she needed you to run to the store in the middle of the night, you were…close. Yeah, sure…. and when she moved you from the guest bedroom to sleeping in her bedroom…under her bed….ya know in the cage.
Okay yeah, maybe you were the idiot here.
Because you were her personal assistant…..as well as her submissive….What the fuck would you call all of this.
Maya arched an eyebrow at the length of silence for your answer. It worked as you turned back to Matt with renewed confidence. To tell him everything was above bar, he didn’t need to worry about you. You were in chastity right now, but fuck it didn’t slow your work ethic down.
You were professional, and all the rest wasn’t ever at his studio. That you were a good worker who did what you needed for Mrs. Mason.
You were opening your mouth to say that.
But what came out almost made your packer drop to the ground.
“I love her.” It comes out, and you’re pretty sure you black out for around seven minutes after that.
Because you’d never said you loved someone, fuck you hadn’t said it to your family members when you guys were on good terms, before they kicked you out of their lives.
You tried to remember if you’d ever said it to a stuffed animal as a child, but you were sure that you didn’t even have a stuffed animal…parents not approving of it. No you’d never said the ‘L’ word.
Before Maya can say something or react, Matt is turning and yelling again.
But you’re not able to listen, reeling from the reality of what you said, of how you really feel.
Maya is taking off her jacket and throwing it, talking about her desperate need for a god damn Xanax. Your knees shake, and you think you should go to the cabinet and get her one from her stash. But as you take a step, Maya holds up her hand at you, and you you stop like a good subbie boy. Even out of it, you can’t ignore a single command.
You’d rarely broken a rule, something that Maya was happy about, saying she didn’t have time to break you. She’d much rather spend her time doing…other things with you….
Matt is pointing at you now, and you look down at your button down that Maya had picked for you today to see lipstick stains on the shirt. Oh, that was from lunch, yeah, you didn’t even realize. But now the reminder of Maya licking her thumb and smearing it over your neck and face made sense; you were still too hazed out in sub space to remember such a thing.
Your ‘lunch’ having ruined your boxers, having your boss change them for you before going back to your desk.
Maya was saying something about Matt’s lack of passion, his two seconds before ejaculating in his own pants. Then something about how you were a real man, how you could please Maya in ways no one else has ever.
Still, you can’t let these compliments in, you blink as you seem to be floaty and not in this stress anymore. Your childhood trauma making it easy for you to simply leave your body.
You don’t hear Maya use your name and the ‘L’ word you had just used in the same sentence. You stare down at your chelsey boots that you’d loved so much this morning when Maya had picked them.
You try to ground, squeezing your toes and counting. Why was your anxiety doing this?
Matt fought back on saying this was all sex, had nothing to do with love. How you were some young impressionable guy who just wanted to fuck.
Maya threw something physically at his head, and then he ran out the door. Slamming it as he left, and that’s what broke you from your ptsd chill.
Maya’s already on it though. She moves to the liquor cabinet, unlocking it for your anxiety meds, then grabs bulky over-the-ear headphones.
She grabbed your shoulders, making you jump in her hold, Maya never liked that - it only happened when you were truly reeling. The dominant guided you to the sofa, where she took a cushion, throwing it onto the ground and then sitting on the chair.
She took the headphones over your ears, and the lack of noise, the compression on your ears had your shoulders sag in relief.
Maya carefully cracked open the orange pill container with the white top, her manicured nails easily lifting to the task.
She took the one that dissolved under your tongue and grabbed your face, you slink just a bit and her eyes turn kind. Petting your jaw, the little bits of facial hair she enjoyed playing with like you were some kind of cat to be caressed.
Though it was a toss-up if your pubic hair was more fun or your facial hair to play with for your older boss. Maya eased your mouth open now, as though she knew when to grab roughly and when to stroke gently.
You open your mouth, and Maya manhandles your tongue, lifting it like the pet you were.
Dropping the pill and then closing your mouth, you started to blink faster, like you were trying to come out of it. But Maya’s in no rush, she knows what you need, and she won’t force you out of this. Not one to apologize, but to always make it right by actions for you.
Your dominant unbuttons your shirt, ridding you of your top, your surgery scars on display used to make you subconscious. But Maya had touched every inch of you, lotioning them every morning and every evening before bed. Holding your hand when you got the stitches out, and the cool air on your skin grounded you faster.
The lipstick-stained shirt was thrown onto the sofa, as your knees on the cushion was comfry, sturdy even.
Maya sat back onto the expensive leather armchair, her fingers through your hair, as she guided your cheek to rest on her thigh.
You couldn’t hear through the headphones, but she spoke outloud, sighing at how stupid that all was.
Your headphones a little clunky, but your face finding its normal spot on her lap felt good now.
Simple.
Safe.
Maya pet your hair and you breathed slow in for four out for five.
As Maya’s long fake nails scratched at your scalp soothingly, hypnotic even. Causing your eyelids to grow heavy, your body to get tired.
Years before Maya, this panic attack could have lasted the whole day, destroying you in the process.
Now your eyes closed as the older woman you had admitted to loving held you, creating this space of peace.
You’d never known such peace.
Time passes, and suddenly you jolt, causing Maya to jerk at your movement.
You take off the headphones, seeing your boss looking upset at your actions.
“Your meeting?” You question, having not known she had a meeting with Tarantino or his people, but clear that it was you who had to be the mans tech support for zoom.
“Sweet Pet, there’s no meeting. Matty just needed to get lost,” Maya uses her free hand to rub at her forehead like she’s exhausted.
You move your face to her inner clothed knee and kiss.
Causing your boss to uncover her face with her hand and look at you.
“Do you want something?”
You’d been on your second week of chastity, and it was killing you. Maya would edge you just to the top and then stop. Causing you to sob and become an absolute mess, only to be used as a toy for your dominant to orgasm with over and over. Somedays her libido took over, and you’re jaw needed to be iced.
“Please, please, can I lick you?” You whisper, still anxious that she’ll deny you of your soothing action.
Maya had clocked your oral fixation early and had made sure to nurture it into a downright problem.
You’d suck on her clit like a candy under the table, just warming her - practically cockwarming her cunt.
Maya sighs dramatically like she’s so put out by your needs, but lifts her hips to pull down her pants, keeping her thong for you to have to lick for until you lost your mind and begged with everything to move it and get to tongue fuck her.
Maya grabbed both of your ears and tugged you forward to lick at the lacey material until your tongue went numb.
Her right boot-clad foot moved on to your packer and stepped on it, pinning you. Reminding you where you belong.
You’d surely ruin your dress pants, then be verbally humiliated for such a mess.
All part of Maya’s delightful evil plan, humiliation, edging, and then aftercall.
Truly the perfect three for her stress relief.
Her head fell back on the cusion as your first long lick up to taste the wetness already there was sinful.
Tonight, before you went into the undercage of her California king bed, Maya would taste your sweet sex just to enjoy you, like a fine dessert wine before bed.
“Good subbie, just like that.” Maya sighed and relaxed back in her seat as your eyes closed in delight at your task.
You wouldn’t cum this week, but maybe next, yeah, maybe next.
Darkfic +DeadDove List |Requested Stories | My Stories MasterList | Agatha + Reader List | Agatha + R + Rio MasterList | Agnes + Reader List | Maya + Reader MasterList | Claire + Reader MasterList | AO3 | Read More MultiFandom Fanfics Here
