Hattie, Dear

Note: Hello! Just a smutty little oneshot for your 'reading' pleasure. I have to concede that the idea isn't entirely original. If you haven't seen the film "The Secretary" I suggest you do so, if you're into this sort of thing. It would be lovely of you to leave a review, but if that's impossible, I understand.

Harriet Stillwell was perturbed. It was already half-past, and Mr. Malfoy still wasn't back from lunch. Ministry employees were given precisely one hour to dine and were expected back in their respective offices at one in the afternoon. It was now two thirty. Mr. Malfoy's tardiness didn't surprise Harriet; he was almost always late coming back from lunch. He never offered her an explanation—and why should he? After all, she was only his secretary. She only had to sit there idle for an hour and a half waiting for him to stroll back in, as though he wasn't blatantly flouting Ministry rules. Of course, the rules never did apply to Mr. Malfoy. He came into the office wearing the same clothes he had the previous day, arrived late and left early, and often took an afternoon siesta. But Harriet couldn't help but respect the man. He was incredible with numbers, capable of multiplying large sums in his head, and possessed an uncanny ability to find surpluses in the budget.


On this particular day, Harriet was feeling bolder than usual. Mr. Malfoy's tardiness allowed her to analyse the situation and come to the conclusion that she would be doing both the Ministry and the wizard a service by speaking with him about the matter. Mr. Malfoy was a rational man; surely he would understand that wasted time was wasted profit.


"Hattie!" Mr. Malfoy called out. Harriet cringed at the sobriquet. She had tried to explain numerous times that it was "Harriet" or preferably "Ms. Stillwell", not "Hattie", not "Stillwell", and certainly not "darling" or "dear". She had graduated top of her class and received a degree from a very prestigious wizarding university; she felt as though she deserved at least a little respect. Unfortunately, money was tight, and the demand for Wizarding Anthropologists with a concentration in Wizard-Goblin Relations was at an all time low.


"Hattie," Mr. Malfoy called out again, sharper this time.


Harriet sprang up and walked passed the partition that divided her little cubicle from his expansive office. He had one of the best enchanted windows in the Ministry: a panoramic view of a white sand beach, water tinted a deep azure and sun setting just over the horizon.


"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"


He looked stunning. That was all Harriet could think as she approached him. A jolt of electricity went straight to her centre, and her knees weakened. It was incontrovertible: Lucius Malfoy was the most attractive wizard alive. His platinum hair fell just below his shoulders like slices of sunlight framing his face, his eyes were cold and grey, stormy, mouth thin and sensual. Harriet was thankful for the partition that divided their respective spaces, as she would hardly be able to concentrate on her work if Lucius Malfoy was in her scope.


Lucius was seated behind his desk, leafing through papers. He glanced up briefly. "Hattie, dear, take care of this for me." The wizard tugged on his collar.


Harriet tried to saunter over, but it turned out to be more of a totter; she had yet to truly grow accustomed to walking in heels. It was Ministry protocol, however, that secretaries were required to wear them, and Hattie wouldn't easily consent to break protocol, no matter how silly or sexist the rule.


There was a distinctive lip print on Lucius Malfoy's crisp, white collar. Harriet flushed and removed her wand from her robes. As she bent over to inspect the blemish, Lucius swept a tendril of loose hair behind her ear. Harriet almost swooned but quickly regained control of herself.


A quick scourging spell took care of the stain, and Harriet righted herself, carefully using her hand to block any cleavage that might have otherwise been exposed.


"I need to speak with you for a moment, Mr. Malfoy."


He glanced up from his papers and pursed his lips. Harriet's resolve wavered, but she steeled herself.


"You know that all the secretaries' wages are standardised; I would love to give you a raise, Hattie, but it's beyond my control."


"Oh no, Mr. Malfoy. That's not it at all."


"Well?"


"I—I wanted to talk to you about... about lunch."


"Darling, if you want me to take you out for a meal—"


"No! Mr. Malfoy, Ministry protocol clearly states that everyone has precisely one hour for lunch. You... you have consistently infringed on this rule, and I feel as though it is my duty to... report you if you continue to disregard it."


Mr. Malfoy's brows rose and mouth twitched. Hattie—Harriet, he mentally corrected himself—had grown a backbone in the two and a half hours he had been gone. Of course, her impertinence was distressing as well as surprising; it wouldn't do to have an uppity secretary prancing about. She would have to be put back in her place.


"Hattie, do you know who I was lunching with?"


"No, sir," she replied, her courage failing her.


"The Minister of Serbia, Irena Vlahovic, has agreed to initiate a free trade agreement with the United Kingdom... because of, to use her words, my 'orgasmic diplomatic abilities'."


Harriet blushed and mouth fell open. Irena Vlahovic, more commonly referred to as the Ice Queen, was a key player in wizarding-world affairs now that a large gold ore had been found in the country. This gold was of the rare sort that could be minted into galleons and innumerable nations were scrambling to secure trading rights with the country.


"Oh," she squeaked. "I'll just go back to my desk..."


"Don't move, Stillwell."


Harriet was rooted to the spot and nearly fainted when Lucius rose and made his way towards her.


Harriet cursed her fixation with rules and her compulsive need to have others follow them. Lucius's late lunches had never really hurt anyone; in fact, they had just ensured the United Kingdom's economic prosperity for the next decade. The witch was mortified by her meddling.


"Hattie, I'm going to have to write you up for insubordination."


"Please, sir, don't. I'm so sorry." Harriet was almost in tears. She had never gotten in trouble before. Ever. Not so much as a lost house point or a verbal chastisement. She had always minded her manners and followed the rules and dressed the way people wanted her to dress. She had never strayed from the straight and narrow, never stepped a millimetre out of line, never had so much as a hair out of place.


"Hattie, my dear little Hattie, you were disrespectful to a superior member of the Ministry. You must be punished."


"Please, Mr. Malfoy." Harriet met his cold gaze and whimpered. "I'll do anything." The witch was entirely unaware of the implications of such a statement, but perked up slightly at the smile that curved his mouth. "Really, just nothing on the books." Harriet couldn't bear the thought of having a mark on her record.


"What a naive little thing you are, Hattie." His words confused her. "Anything?"


"Well, yes, I should say so. I'm very good at tidying up or, erm, I would be happy to... help you after work."


"Oh? With what?"


Harriet didn't know and soon realised that she had very little to offer him. Lucius Malfoy had unlimited supply of money, women, and power at his disposal. The witch felt foolish thinking that she had anything to give a man like him. "I don't know."


"You don't know?"


Harriet fiddled with her glasses. Insubordination was a serious offence and could warrant a transfer, which upset her more than anything. Though she was loath to admit it, Harriet wanted to stay with Mr. Malfoy. Her life had become rather monotonous after she graduated, and only he sent that singular shock to her sex, only he made her think the most lascivious thoughts. She'd become so aroused just being near him that Harriet convinced herself that something was wrong. But he would never give her more than a passing glance. She was plain, with glasses, scraggly blonde hair, and she buttoned her blouse to the top. Lucius Malfoy did not pursue women who buttoned their tops that high.


"All right, Hattie. I won't report you. But I need you to prove to me that you respect the authority of your superiors."


"I do, sir. I swear."


"I said that you need to show me. Listen to me, Hattie: any word in protest and I'm reporting you. You are not to say anything other than 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir' from this point on. Understand?"


"Yes, sir." Harriet bowed her head.


"Take off your robes."


The witch was stunned, but obviously Mr. Malfoy had a rational explanation behind it. She handed him the garment and straightened her skirt and blouse.


"Unfasten the three—no, the four top buttons of your blouse."


Very slowly, she worked her way down. The starched linen fell away to reveal an expanse of pale skin, as well as a good amount of cleavage.


"You have breasts," Mr. Malfoy commented, clearly surprised and amused by the idea.


"Yes, sir," Hattie replied softly.


"And you try to hide that fact."


"Yes, sir."


Lucius tutted. It was his opinion that no woman should ever conceal her cleavage, and that it should be made a crime to do so.


"Take your knickers off, Hattie."


Well, Harriet couldn't deny it any longer. Lucius Malfoy wanted something to do with sex. She just hoped it would be soft and gentle, the way she had always picture it would be with him. Mr. Malfoy kissing her tenderly, telling her how clever she was, holding her, making love to her.


"Hattie!" The way he barked her name dispelled that notion rather quickly. His tone was impatient and cruel.


Hattie slipped her hands under her pencil skirt and with a good deal of effort, was able to remove them without exposing anything.


Lucius nearly gagged when he saw them: big granny knickers. "Incendio." The hideous excuse for an undergarment burst into flames and smouldered in the rubbish bin.


Harriet was so riveted by the sight of her undergarment burning in the bin, she hardly noticed when Mr. Malfoy slashed a good six inches off her skirt, shrunk it a size, and made her blouse creep higher up on her flat stomach.


Lucius stared at the witch and smirked, pleased with her scandalous attire. She really was a comely girl, he thought, underneath those bulky robes and even bulkier knickers.


"Hattie, dear," he began, walking slowly towards her. Lucius came up behind her, and Harriet shivered as his fingers gripped the nape of her neck softly. His body was only just touching her, the witch's bottom pressed gently against his fly, Lucius's breath warm against her neck. The wizard plucked the pins from the tight knot that coiled at the crown of her head and let the tendrils fall down her back and across her face. "Do you perchance have a ruler at your desk?"


"Yes, sir." Harriet was perplexed to say the least. Was he going to be taking measurements, the witch wondered.


"Excellent. Will you go get it for me, Hattie?"


"Yes, sir." She was about to take a step in that direction, but the wizard caught her upper arm and wrenched.


"On your hands and knees, Hattie, dear," he snarled through gritted teeth, pressing her to the ground. Harriet was mortified. On her hands and knees, like a dog, she thought miserably.


"Yes, sir." Her skirt stretched obscenely across her derrière, blouse fell open to expose her round breasts. Lucius tapped his boot against her rump, which sent her crawling towards her desk. Her cheeks and nose turned a ruddy red as she made her way over, inching along. Lucius watched her tight, round arse sway with every lunge forward.


Harriet retrieved the ruler from a drawer and made her way around the partition on her knees.


"On your hands and knees."


Harriet placed the plastic strip between her teeth and bowed her head as she crept slowly towards the intimidating wizard towering over her.


Lucius took the object from her mouth, grabbed a good portion of her hair, and tugged her up. Harriet scrambled to her feet and allowed Mr. Malfoy to to undo those last buttons of her top and push the material off her shoulders. She shut her eyes and stood there, slightly pigeon-toed, as he traced the straps of her brassiere.


The garment was only slightly less offensive than her bottoms. It really did nothing for her breasts, which the wizard felt would look much lovelier swinging free. But, the witch was clearly on the brink of fainting and any more embarrassment could do her in. So Lucius, being the generous wizard that he was, allowed Harriet to keep her bra on.


"Hattie, please bend over my desk. Cheek against the top, arms behind your back, that's it."


Harriet try to calm herself by rationalising the situation; there was little she could do about it and to disobey would only be another act of insubordination. A report to Human Resources would take weeks and would be humiliating. In any case, she'd still get a mark on her record, and the witch was sure the Ministry wouldn't give Lucius anything more than a slap on the wrist.


Lucius wiped the spittle off the ruler by tracing the plastic across her rear and offering her a few soft taps. "You're going to count them, Hattie, all right?"


"Yes, sir." She took a deep breath and braced herself.


Lucius brought the ruler down across her cheeks, and the witch twitched in pain.


"One," she squeaked.


"One, sir," he corrected.


"One, sir."


He raised his arm and brought it down again, harder this time. The witch pressed into his desk and gripped the sides, knuckles blanching. This was mortifying, she thought miserably. Harriet was an adult and deserved to be treated like one, but there was little that could be done by this point, and Harriet knew that all she could do was take it. That was, until the ruler strayed lower than her rump. Lucius angled the flexible plastic rod and snapped it against her sex, sending a shock to her system. Harriet moaned and rubbed her legs together.


"Mr. Malfoy—"


"Did I say you could speak, Hattie?"


"No, sir."


The humiliation continued mercilessly. Occasionally, he would give her a sharp smack on the rear, but mainly he focused on her sex. She began to snivel loudly as her juices coated her thighs, making them slick and wet. Lucius knew what he was doing to her, could smell her arousal, saw her legs glisten. Harriet had given up all hope of a gentle coupling and was now expecting the worst.


After a particularly forceful strike, the instrument snapped, effectively ending the castigation. Lucius dropped the fragment to the ground and wiped a few beads of perspiration from his brow. Harriet was crying softly, more out of shame than pain. Her sex ached for some sort of stimulation, for fingers or a fuck, it wouldn't discriminate. The witch tensed when Mr. Malfoy hooked his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and tugged viciously, ripping the material. The ruined garment fell to her feet.


"Mr. Malfoy, please—"


"Hattie, dear, shut up." Lucius thrust two fingers up into her slit and gripped her hip with his free hand. "You've done this before, right?"


Harriet, subdued by the stimulation, pressed back against him. "Yes," she replied softly.


"Oh? Who had the pleasure of deflowering my lovely Hattie, dear?"


She didn't respond. She was close, so close. Toes curled, fingers clawed. Lucius removed his fingers, and the witch moaned in disappointment.


"Who was it, Hattie?"


"Howard Greengrass."


Lucius smacked her abused bum, and the witch attempted to jump up. He held her firmly against the desk and replaced his digits, scissoring and thrusting.


"Howard Greengrass? That weasel of a man from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes?"


"Yes," Harriet replied meekly, distracted by the sensation of his fingers filling her, stretching her. It wasn't what she had dreamed it would be like: it was better. The witch's centre turned and churned and ached like never before. "I was drunk."


"And when was this?" Lucius continued his thrusting while fiddling with the buckle of his belt.


"The Christmas Party."


"Did you do it on my desk, Hattie?" The wizard tugged the belt from the loops of his trousers and managed to unfasten the button.


"No, sir!" In fact, Harrier remembered very little about the night, other than they had done it in a broom closet and that it was very painful. It wasn't really her fault. How was she supposed to know that the eggnog contained alcohol?


Lucius withdrew his fingers, unzipped, and allowed his three hundred galleon slacks to fall to the floor. He wasn't wearing anything else.


Harriet shivered as Mr. Malfoy let his erection slide against her thigh, her bum, her sex. She moaned and pressed against him, whimpering.


"Easy girl." Lucius rubbed her flanks and aligned himself. He pushed in, rolled his hips, and groaned.


"It's huge!" Harrier squealed. "Oh, it won't fit."


"Hattie, dear, just relax." He rubbed her lower back and continued his advance. He was incredibly thick and long, and stretched Harriet to the point where she was certain she'd never recover.


"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, please..." But the witch wasn't exactly sure of the reason behind her begging: for the wizard to stop or for him to continue. He pushed all the way into her, relishing the moans and whimpers that the action elicited, and began to thrust roughly into her. Lucius leaned forward and pulled her up, forcing the witch to brace herself with her hands. The wizard unhooked her bra, slipped it off her shoulders, and took a firm hold on both her breasts. He pressed her pink nipples between his fingers, squeezing the flesh and using her tits as leverage to thrust back into her.


Harriet balanced on the balls of her feet as he continued his assault. This was the most obscene thing she had ever done, beyond anything that she had ever dreamed. But it felt so good and so wrong that Harriet lost all control. They were breaking at least twenty six—no, twenty seven Ministry rules. The witch almost forgot that raising one's voice above seventy decibels was an offence, and Harriet couldn't help but cry out when Mr. Malfoy captured her earlobe between his teeth. He pumped into her, prick slamming into her dripping slit, hands still keeping their hold on her firm breasts.


"Are you enjoying this, Hattie?"


"Yes, sir," she moaned. Sensing her climax was approaching, Harriet thrust back against Mr. Malfoy.


"And you're my little slut, aren't you?" Lucius pressed his mouth against her neck, licking, nibbling on the skin.


"Yes, sir." The sensation was so intense that Hattie couldn't think straight. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't move. It was all so overwhelming and sexual and dizzying. Pleasure irradiated from her centre, coursed through her veins. Made her skin crawl and hair stand on end. Harriet came, panting and moaning and humiliated. It felt too good, so good that she couldn't stand it. The witch went slack.


Lucius Malfoy was fast approaching his climax, as well. Harriet was so tight, so sweet, so deliciously pliable. The punishment had given him one of those truly painful hard-ons, the sort that ache to be relieved at the soonest possible moment. Now that his Hattie had climaxed, Lucius sought his own completion. He pressed into the witch, slamming and pounding, savouring every whimper and whine. With one last thrust, the wizard spent himself, gripping her flesh, bracing himself against her.


Harriet winced as Mr. Malfoy withdrew and remained pressed against the desk. A bright flash caused her to jump up; Lucius was holding a camera, a dastardly smirk gripping his mouth.


"That's one for the scrapbook, isn't it?"


Harriet buried her face in her hands.


Two Weeks Later


Hattie Stillwell sat contentedly at Mr. Malfoy's feet, head resting against his knee, the wizard's fingers softly stroking her hair. Lucius had a spectacular view of the witch's breasts from his vantage point, her silk shirt only just concealing them.


"Hattie, go get me the MacPherson file."


"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," she replied amiably, crawling over to the file cabinets. Her tight black skirt reached just beyond her bottom, stretching over the round, pert thing. The garment was scandalously short and, of course, against Ministry policy but these days, the only rules that Hattie followed were Lucius's. There was only one: do as I say when I say to do it. And if Hattie was being honest with herself, she was delighted to obey. She wasn't allowed undergarments so he could have access to every part of her, she had to move about on all fours to demonstrate her implicit submission to his will, and she had to break one rule everyday so she could be punished in whatever manner he saw fit.


Hattie stood up to reach the drawer and jumped slightly when Mr. Malfoy came up behind her, rubbing his erection against her bottom. He breathed against her ear, nibbled the flesh, sucked on it.


"Take care of this, Hattie, dear."


END