“Kneel.” Trott snaps.
The tone makes Smith’s breath stutter; his muscles tense. Trott’s pointing at the floor expectantly, and even though the order is strange, Smith can’t keep him waiting. He’s already in trouble as it is.
Slowly, shakingly, he lowers himself to his knees.
“Good…” Trott sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve decided you’re going to make it up to me.” He says, observing Smith with a vaguely interested expression. “I want you to clean my boots with your tongue.”
CW: BDSM and sex. Boss/Employee Relationship. If I need to tag anything else, let me know.