Work Text:
You would think a girl trying to break into the world of Albuquerque law would be easy, after all, it seems they let just about anyone be a lawyer. However, a girl with somewhat of a criminal past that might make that path harder to stick to.
But the price of life, while manageable, does not come cheap at the hands of one Saul Goodman: the criminal lawyer known for his ability to get you off. Landing the internship was the easy part, he said you had the spirit of someone he once knew, in a different life. It was keeping it that was hard.
You wanted to be there, in your little corner desk staring up at We The People, sitting in on all these silly little cases, writing and researching your defences. It was a quaint little life, compared to one you previously had, but there was still excitement of course.
The man you worked for, Sir, Master, Mister, whatever you were to call him that day was making sure you were educated in matters like Sexual Harassment: Quid Pro Quo. Mr. Goodman wanted you to be well educated, it was everyone around you that didn't seem to want you in the law community. But, if anyone could make it seem like you had atoned for your past, it was Saul Goodman. He was real sweet when it mattered, he just liked to play, and it seemed he always got his way.
It started off pretty routine, the internship. You'd come to the office, sit down, take notes on cases and take consults over the phone, sometimes even get to ask the client questions. When you did well, there would be praise and reward. It started off quite standard, "great work today," he would say. However, within seemingly no time at all it devolved into a very plain and simple— almost tactful in its efficiency, "good girl.” So nonchalant you would never even know it meant something entirely sick and twisted to you. Though even so, you wanted it to happen. Every. Single. Day. It didn't help that he had a new honorific for himself to be called at the beginning of every morning. He had you hooked on the chase, and sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even realize it.
"I'm feeling.... 'Sir' today," he'd tell you. At the same time, he'd select a name for you. It seemed like a joke, it probably was at first. Until you started to abide by it, integrating it to the very nature of office life.
After a while, it was not so much about the work at hand driving your passion, but the praise. You wanted Saul to tell you that you did a good job, that you've done so well and are meeting all his expectations. He must have noticed this. Every now and then he would withhold his praise, and you'd be left to pout and look up at your Master in earnest, silently begging for recognition. It was a fun little game for him.
This went on for months as you grew closer, getting to know one another. He really is as charming as he seems, but has an entirely different demeanor on his own turf. It could be seen as off putting, given the behaviours are so unalike.
Lately had been much of the same, nothing notable about it until he finished his first coffee of the day.
"I'd like you to work on the floor today," he said matter-of-factly, face still focused on the files in front of him.
It shocked you somewhat, you didn't really understand, "excuse me?"
He didn't even look up, but you noticed him raise an eyebrow to your question of his authority. You corrected yourself, "I mean, I don't understand." You felt guilty to earn his displeasure, so whatever was about to happen, you were okay with that if it absolved the situation.
"I'd like you to take your work and do it on the floor, right where you are is fine. However you're comfortable, honey. Stand and do it against the wall, lay on your stomach, sit criss-cross-applesauce for all I care. But your desk and chair are not available today, answer the phone on the floor please."
Even still, after clarification you didn't really understand what was going on, but with such desire to please you sat down without another word.
He looked up and said, "good girl," with a chaste smile. It felt relieving, so relieving in fact you became excited to work again and garner more favor.
—
The next morning you arrived to the office fully functioning at the earliest business hours, and that was not the Saul Goodman standard. Typically few ever arrived before you, but the lights were on and it was business as usual upon your entry, so you went on as regularly as you could.
"Good morning sugar," Saul's greeting was warm and professional in terms of himself, the day prior being seemingly forgotten by him. Until he continued.
"Today, my dear," he grabbed his chin to appear as though in thought, "you will call me," a pause for suspense, "Mr. Goodman."
You nodded and went to sit down, though your office chair was no longer in its place, but a dog bed. Looking at Saul, confused, he gestured for you to take your place. This time you understood without question, sat down and got to work. You weren't an idiot, you knew this was much less than professional, but where else would you get a job with a resume like yours. And besides, it wasn't really so bad, dog beds are not necessarily uncomfortable, and moreover, you could work just as efficiently like this.
Saul left the office for a moment, and returned with a glass of water, he handed it to you before walking back to his desk silently.
"Thank you, Mr. Goodman."
His smile was blankly genuine, as if he really wanted you to stay hydrated.
It stayed this way for the following week, clients making their interviews would come to wonder what was going on, but dare not ask for fear the answer. He was known for a somewhat eccentric lifestyle and something strange always going on in-office. They would stare, it was somewhat humiliating, but after each client exit Saul would smile at you, silently acknowledging your efforts and that made it all worth it.
The next time you came into work, your bed was missing. You had become used to it, it was part of your work day now, it even seemed to promote better work by you. Now it was gone.
You stood in the office doorway, wondering what to do, when you saw it. Your bed was moved to behind his desk, next to his chair.
"Not every client is comfortable with your current working conditions, so now you will be here, beside me." Despite the content of the sentence, his voice was just as professional as you'd want your employer to be.
This new arrangement made you nervous, you would now be under the microscope of your Master, boss, teacher, what have you, but you soldiered on steadily. Clients weren't noticing you were even there, it's like you were a secret or office fixture. Though, it was probably better this way, the last thing you need is something as absurd as this tarnishing an already rusted reputation. The good part though, was you were closer to Saul, which made you positively gleam for reasons far less than professional. After each meeting he would look down at you with a smile, letting you know you've done well.
"You've been doing an excellent job lately," he praised, casually and paying no mind.
You smiled so big inside, your mind tingled at the excitement. He put his hand on your chin to tilt your head up, you looked at him with wide, trusting eyes.
"But you're a little pathetic," he finished. You gasped slightly, and recoiled away from his touch. He reached out and pulled you back to reclaim your gaze. "But that's okay," he spoke softly, "I like you like this." He smiled.
You liked that he liked you at all, so you smiled back and felt him pat your head before returning to his work. Feeling brave, you poked his legs every so often to get some attention, and at every opportunity he would oblige. He ran a thumb over your lips playfully, and without thinking you kissed it. You leaned back a little, embarrassed by your possible screw up. Though he didn't seem to truly care, refocusing on a phone call as if that were a completely normal thing to do.
As he started to finish up, closing up shop for the day, he turned to you and paused, admiring as you aimlessly worked away.
"So, how are you feeling lately? About your current situation," his voice was completely neutral. As inquisitive as a coworker might be, asking how you like the job.
You continued to write, not looking up from your task when you joked mindlessly, perhaps even having forgotten yourself slightly, "Fine really, it's not so bad at all. It could be worse you know, I could be in a kennel."
"Ya know," Saul mused, "that's not such a bad idea." You halted, pen streaking off the paper. "But," he started, "you can't hide a kennel so much, even as a small woman. And you don't need a kennel, you are perfectly behaved just as you are." He chuckled before saying a cordially goodbye and making his exit. You sat there for a minute, thinking about how that would play out. Working in a kennel, next to the man responsible for it, at his mercy.
—
The following day went without incident, most of it anyway. You worked away silently, sorting, filing, writing, faxing, whatever it was. It could not prepare you for your Masters question.
"What would you do, if I stood up, unbuckled my belt and pissed down your throat? Would you stop me?" You froze, no words, not even a breath escaped you at such a blunt posing question. Why would anyone say that, you thought. You didn't know what you would do, but it appeared he was genuinely expecting an answer.
"Uh-uhm.. Nothing I suppose."
"You suppose?" He questioned.
"Nothing, Sir," you relented.
”Exactly, nothing,” the lawyer whispered.
Saul stood up, "sit on your knees." He looked down at you with a knowing smile, pulling your chin taut to face him. As he held you in place he fiddled with his belt buckle a bit, readjusting. You opened your mouth in expectation and obedience, to which he chuckled and sat back down.
"Of course you would do nothing,” he repeated, laughing. “Silly girl, that would be disgusting! Besides, I would never bless you with nectar right now, it's quittin’ time."
Your mouth was still open, but this time in complete shock. A sick joke, to humiliate you and test your limits, ones you've shown to have few of. He was using the shock value of the very suggestion to see what you were willing to do! By now, you'd doubt if this treatment is worth it given the job description. But even in the midst of it all, the positives outweigh the negatives, especially given that not all the positives were moral ones. You knew no other employer would give you praise, give you attention and take the time to teach you everything he knows. Saul was a good teacher, so it appeared you would learn to take piss in your mouth if that was his will.
You spent all night thinking about what that would've been like, if you would've been meant to swallow, or if it would run all over the office, on your clothes and hair. The scent of a man seemingly so powerful. A really gross thought, you considered, but an effort you would make to please him. That's all that really matters.
The thoughts didn't stop coming on your way to work in the morning, imagining what that would be like, and what it would say about you if you let it happen, let alone enjoyed it. Saul could tell you were in thought, he could tell you were thinking about it.
"I would never make a mess of you I couldn't clean up, sweetheart. Never," he minded.
"How did you know I had even been thinking about that?" Voice accusatory, but it was a poorly formed front.
"You look like you're about to pee your pants, and not in a good way."
All of the nerves that had wound you up all morning prevented you from even noticing the return of your chair as you got settled in for the day. Thought the chair was not in it's original place, but beside Saul at his own desk.
"Today, I thought you'd spearhead some interviews, show the world all I've taught you," h gleamed, "well, perhaps not everything, but all the legal stuff, you'll get to give some real legal advice today, maybe have a case of your own."
"Really? Thank you, Sir. I will not let you down,” you said excitedly.
"You never disappoint."
All day you spent meeting with clients, Saul even kept the office open a little later in order to fit in more meetings and give people, and you, more time. You sat together and deliberated on ideas, people and their situations. It was a great day for you both. You felt like a real lawyer, not just someone who researches precedent and minds other paralegal tasks. You were feeling like the word ‘attorney’ actually could apply to you.
By the end of it you were somewhat exhausted, you were used to being so small, unseen and unheard by most in your real life. You weren't used to being in charge, especially in the presence of Saul. You resigned to his authority completely, it took some getting used to to gain comfort in speaking confidently. But that was his intention, to get you used to it, to show you how it was done. It was a real treat, one of the best rewards you've gotten since you started, to top it off, he thought you did well too.
"That was great today, you did very well, you sound like competent legal council. If I ever get into any more legal trouble, I know who I better call," he laughed.
With all hustle and bustle of the day, people in and out, you both neglected your paperwork, by the end it had piled up. You were getting prepared to stay even later in order to finish up before Saul stopped you.
"As a cherry on top to this fine day of legal work, I'm going to take care of the paperwork and leave all the messages needed to be left, you can go home, celebrate. You were a lawyer today, sweetcheeks."
You were so excited, too excited to go home and sleep, and had no desire to go out. You felt somewhat obligated to stay, you knew the menial work better than him, and you would get it done much quicker together. So, having mostly work on your mind, you decided to stay, attempting to gather some work for yourself when he shoo'd you away..
And with that his demeanor changed. His posture rose with the tension now in the small room.
"On the floor, please. If you're staying it is to do nothing more than keep me company, you're welcome to go home, but you will not be working for the rest of the evening. Thank you." Plain and simple. You obliged mindfully, taking your place on the floor next to him. Watching him work, the restlessness getting the better of you prompted you to crawl under his desk slowly, as not to disturb him. If he noticed, he paid no mind. You started to play with the hem of his suit pants, inspecting the pattern of his socks. Eventually, the threads of his outfit bored you, so you trailed up to his thighs.
They spilled while he sat, filling his pants. You squished them, finding entertainment in poking around and the sound of nails scratching his suit fabric. Still, he made no mention to you about what you were doing. It wasn't necessarily that you were even trying to get his attention, you knew the work had to be done, but you were bored. You really did want to help with the work, not being able to was quite the curveball.
You poked around some more, felt the leather of his belt and the cool metal of the buckle. If he could test your limits, maybe you could test his. It was a positive, confidence-boosting day. And if he really didn’t like it, eventually he'd tell you to cut it out. So, you pulled the belt out of its loop, and slid the whole thing clean off. Taking it as something to play with. You stayed under the desk, fastening his ankles together temporarily with the belt, chuckling to yourself.
After releasing his poor ankles, you took the belt and looped it around your own neck, pretending to choke yourself out comically for your own entertainment. Saul couldn't even see what you were doing, not that he'd care.
You were getting particularly eager, you wanted to do something, anything at all, and you were becoming restless. You wanted to be entertained. So slowly, you trailed back up his legs and to their apex, undoing his button and zipper simultaneously.
You could hear no note to your behavior, only pen on paper. At the same time, no request to stop. You were feeling a lot, on a high from your first day giving legal advice, half-grateful it’s not you putting your nose to the legal-grindstone, but even so you felt the need to serve. Something felt missing, which even more prompted you to pull on Saul's clothing. You tugged his underwear down to let his cock out, already hard. Which was somewhat surprising, but what could you expect from the man. You figured it was something to play with while you waited for Saul to be finished with today’s work, so you played.
Even while you had your mouth on his cock, letting your own spit slide down it and licking it back up, he made little to no sound. At this point it was kind of frustrating, you should be getting the attention you deserve by now, and he just wouldn't. But still, you continued to worship him, licking and sucking, kissing every inch you could. You were really happy like this, happy to service your employer with your mouth, for as long as he wanted you to. You had given up on trying to maintain any level of innocence in this scenario. Your nails dug into his thighs as you tried to take it deep, when you felt his hand come around the back of your head and slam you to his hilt. Only once, before returning to his work. You gagged and your eyes watered, surely making him smile above. You continued your actions, earnestly lapping up every bead of gathered precum. It was the ultimate cherry. Part of you liked that he paid no attention for this, as if it were a menial part of your work that was simply expected of you.
Long enough went by, of you revering his arousal before he slowly rolled his chair back out from underneath his desk.
"Sweetie, what do you think you're doing?" He looked down at you, with an innocent and curious smile.
Your eyes went back and forth sheepishly, not knowing what to say. "I thought you would've told me to stop by now."
"You want something to do, sugar?"
You simply nodded now, slowly, eyes wide.
Saul motioned for you to crawl out from under the desk, and you did, nervously. He cleared a small space atop his desk and gestured for you to sit on it.
"Take off your clothes, please dear, leave the belt."
You obeyed, slowly stripping yourself of your office attire.
The wood was cold on your ass as he placed himself between your legs. You put your arms around his shoulders, staring up into his eyes waiting for what he was about to do, as if you didn't know. His eyes bore down on you as he got closer, lining himself up.
"We've had enough foreplay, don't you think, sweetheart?"
You nodded again.
"Answer me, please." Words sterile.
"Yes. We have had enough foreplay, Mr. Goodman."
"So what comes after that, do you think? Do I fuck you like a virgin in a whorehouse now, or do we go home?" His voice going from comical to monotonous was eerie.
Your eyes went to the floor in defeat, he was doing this on purpose.
"I think you fuck me now."
"Like?"
"-like a virgin in a whorehouse."
"And what do you say to the kind esquire about to use you?"
"Please use me Mr. Goodman. Thank you."
His lips formed into a smug grin.
He did not go slow, he pushed himself to very limit making you gasp in your breath. He had you by the hips and was snapping his thrusts, each harder than the last. He was bruising you but you couldn't get a word in between gasps.
"Oh my god," you breathed. He put his mouth against yours, but waited for you to eagerly kiss him, eyes fluttering back. He gripped your jaw, coaxing it open before spitting right into it, then closing it promptly. You swallowed gratefully, with a smile even.
His smell overcame you, as if his pheromones were designed to do this to you, to make you crazy. Your nails dug into his suit jacket, you held on while he pounded your very soul. You cried into his neck, holding on with great effort to take everything he had to give.
"Is this what you like, dear? To be humiliated by your boss, by your mentor? You want me to make you love this and beg for it every. Single. Day?" He punctuated each word with a sure thrust that made you weep each time. "You want me to piss on you and keep you as a hump toy for myself? Hmm? That's what you want right?"
You nodded furiously, you could barely even listen because your body was being so aggressively enjoyed by your boss.
"I know, this is what you need isn't it?" He ripped you from atop the desk and spun you around, bending you flat over it. "You want to be bred by me? Yes? You want lawyer babies with Albuquerque's premiere criminal litigator? You need my cum to feel whole, don't you?"
Saul had the belt in his hand, looped around your throat holding you taut on his cock, unable to escape his relentless thrusts.
You couldn’t even verbalize a reply, being reduced to moans and eager nodding. Your body begged. He had you crying that it was so good before releasing you. Head now pinned against the desk top, he used every inch of you. And you were prepared to give him everything, your time, your devotion, your babies if that's what he wanted because it wasn't about you anymore because he held your pleasure in his hands. He was giving you your career, it felt only right to give him something in return, and this is what it was. But by now, you were begging for him to simply take it. And he was.
He took every piece of you, pulling in and out with ease. You had become everything he imagined you'd be, everything he wanted you to be. A competent lawyer, and a mewling slut at his mercy. Which meant you could argue any topic with any person in the world, except him. Saul had your body in his grasp, and he was abusing it beautifully. His grip leaving bruises from his finger tips, he bit into you while he punished, owning every piece of your skin.
You saw stars, the world was becoming dark and you could do nothing else but feel the pressure of a mans penis nearly in your stomach. It hurt perfectly.
Without warning, he pulled out. Your body deflated slightly as he pulled you to your feet. He sat down in his desk chair, cock waiting for you. He look at you expectantly.
You understood, nodding solemnly and out of breath. You straddled him slowly, nervous about riding something so intimidating. As you came up and down on him, he guided you with his hand, pulling you with his rhythm. You were still so eager, you needed him, so you started to fuck faster, arms wrapped tightly around him.
"Good girl. Good slut. See, you know what to do. You know how to fuck yourself on my cock. You like it like this, you like it when I have you humiliate yourself, cross-eyed and panting for me."
You moaned, breathy and tired. You could barely believe the words he was saying, but stayed determined to serve, bouncing continuously.
Saul's body began to tense up slowly, he was close and you could feel it.
His grip on your hips was pulling you down tighter and tighter, fucking into you faster and faster, before he pushed up into you for the final release.
You paused slightly, waiting for what was about to happen next, somewhat expecting that you would get to cum too. He looked at you with a knowing smile, "you'll cum when I decide you get to, when I think you've earned it." He punctuates with another touch of your chin. You frown slightly, but understand it is not about you, at least right now.
In which case you relax on top of him, catching your breath on his shoulders. He shifted you off of him, down your place on the floor. Your heart sank a little. But, you did not expect to cuddle of course. He stood up to retrieve his belt from you, looping it back through his slacks to walk out and go home. You felt used, good, sad, and exhausted at the same time. You were very quiet, without much to say. The building was silent.
As you just about gathered the energy to get up and get ready to go, Saul returned with a small cup of water, just like the one he had brought you once before, though this time with a straw. He handed it to you, with a small smile and drink it while maintaining eye contact. He nodded approvingly, taking the cup from you and setting it down on the desk. You located your clothes nearby, and as you were about to collect them, Saul scooped you up with seeming ease and carried you over to his small couch. He placed you on it, before sitting next to you, with your head in his lap. You sighed as you relaxed into him, and he pet your hair softly, looking around the room.
You rested for a brief moment before he spoke.
"See sweetheart, I would never make a mess of you I couldn't clean up. Never."
You hummed in acknowledgment, becoming rather tired in mere minutes on the couch.
"What do you think? Do we go home now?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"You think so?"
"Yes, Mr. Goodman, we go home now."