I'll Do Anything, Sir
by Curious Gay

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“How much do you want to keep this job, Mr. Ciève?”

“Sir, if you fire me I’ll be out on the streets. I don’t know what I would do, the very idea of it is terrifying,”

“Do you expect me to just forgive you? To overlook the multiple thousands of dollars of embezzlement you’ve been doing to this company for who knows how long? What would you do in my position?”

“Well I don’t know, sir, but I’m willing to do anything you ask of me as long as I keep getting a paycheck. Just dock my pay, or I’ll stay late everyday, but please let me keep this job,”

The Boss leaned back in his chair, exerting effortless authority over the room. His chair was slightly higher than the ones on the other side of the desk. He had a perfect body, one which he worked hard for. He also decorated it with the most expensive clothes and finest garments making him nothing short of the perfect authority figure.

“Hmm,” The Boss began, “I really need you to prove to me you can back what you’re saying,”

“I’ll do anything, sir,”

“Good, that’s what I’d thought you’d say,”

Using elaborate, grandeur motions the Boss swung his feet up onto the desk, with the shoes almost poking off the edge of the desk on Mr. Ciève’s side, revealing his well kept, size 13 leather shoes of the finest quality.

“You see, I’ve been working all day, breaking in these new shoes, and by god their killing me. If you could just take them off and give me a foot massage, that’s what I would really appreciate right now,”

Confused more than anything, but realizing things could be a lot worse, Mr Ciève gingerly untied the Boss’ shoelaces, removed his shoes, and placed them gently on the floor side by side, treating the shoes as if his job depended on it.

The Boss smiled.

And waited.

He wasn’t about to tell his new masseuse twice what to do, it wasn’t that hard of instructions. He sat there, letting Mr. Ciève remain confused and watched a battle unfold internally as to where this was going. Mr. Ciève raised his hands next to the Boss’ feet and looked up expectantly. The Boss showed no sign of anything. Not a hint of approval or reassurance, he just waited.

Weighing his options one last time, Mr. Ciève finally pulled up his chair to get more comfortable and then wrapped his hands around the Boss’ socked feet to begin the massage. They were slightly damp, and smelled terrible, but Mr. Ciève wasn’t about to show any sign of that bothering him, as it might risk his chances of remaining in his esteemed position with the company.

As soon as the massage started, the Boss picked up a folder of papers and restarted his work as normal. Not knowing what to do, Mr. Ciève continued on, debating whether being paid no attention was a good thing. After a few minutes passed by, the Boss looked up from his papers.

“Tell me, how do they smell? I’m beginning to get a whiff of something foul, would you agree that it’s my feet?”

“Uh yes sir, I do believe that odor would be your feet,”

Without looking up from his papers, the Boss stated nonchalantly,

“You know, I once heard that the closer you are to the smell, the better it may seem. Could you perhaps tell me if this is true, as I can’t think of a more optimum situation to test it out?” Mr. Ciève knew immediately that that was some bull shit, and he was even about to voice it, but then realized that it doesn’t matter, he wasn’t in any position to say no to further submission, no matter what it was sugarcoated as. Mr. Ciève moved his face in a few inches and then quickly replied,

“No sir, I your feet still smell pretty bad,”

“That wasn’t what I meant by close at all. I want to see you press your nose against the ball of my foot and hear you fill your nose with my foot odor. Maybe then it’ll smell better,” After a moment’s hesitation, Mr. Ciève complied, and placed his nose on the ball of the Boss’ right foot and breathed in, filling his lungs.

“Sir, I can’t tell a difference,”

“Ah yes, I remember time being a factor. Perhaps in the next few minutes they may begin to smell better. In fact, if you do it right, they might even smell good,” As he said this, the Boss dragged his ankles together connecting the two insteps of his soles. Mr. Ciève, accepting the invitation, nuzzled his face deep in the gap formed by the Boss’ feet and breathed normally, all the while trying to massage the smelly things.

When a few more minutes had passed by, the Boss repeated his question.

“How do they smell now?”

Mr. Ciève repeated his answer.

“They haven’t gotten any better, sir,”

For the first time since the whole ordeal started, the Boss showed an emotion. The expression he wore on his face suggested genuine disappointment.

“I think the socks are ruining things. Take them off. Foot massages are better without socks anyway. Then we can try again,”

As Mr. Ciève removed the Boss’ socks, he kept a steady stare at the Boss, questioning his motives. The Boss, however, went back to perusing the papers and showed no signs of anything.

Mr. Ciève, a smart man, began sniffing the Boss’ naked sole without prompt. He even went the extra mile and would drag his nose along the Boss’ foot from heel to toe and side-to-side, smelling different parts of it. The Boss smiled and asked yet again, “Surely they’ve gotten better?”

“No sir, with the socks out of the way they’ve actually gotten worse,”

The Boss clicked is tongue a few times in short derision.

“Maybe you could help the smell along then, take a more active role in them smelling better. I don’t exactly have a footbath in the office, but if you could just wash them real quick, I’m sure that would help,”

“How exactly am I supposed to wash them, sir,”

“Using your tongue of course. They really can’t taste as bad as they smell, I’m mostly sure of that. Besides, don’t even think for a second that massage was halfway adequate able to let you keep your job? Need I remind you why your down there on your knees with your nose pressed against my sole?”

With seemingly no other option, Mr. Ciève bowed his head and pressed the tip of his tongue to the Boss’ smelly foot. He moved his head slowly up the Boss’ foot, grimacing the whole time, as if the embarrassment brought physical pain.

“Right now, you’re supposed to be impressing me. But what you’re doing is being the perfect fool, only reassuring my decision to fire you. You’ll have to try much harder then that,”

Mr. Ciève extended his tongue all the way out and connected it to the Boss’ foot, trying to maximize contact area. No one was kidding around here. At a much quicker pace than before, Mr. Ciève replaced the sweat on the bottom of the Boss’ feet with his saliva. The intervals of time between when the Boss would speak were much greater than before, but Mr. Ciève never dared to slow down or stop.

“Now that my feet have been properly taken care of, I’d be surprised to hear that they smell at all. Wouldn’t you agree?” This time, as the Boss spoke he added a stern edge to his voice, almost scaring the man on all fours servicing his toes. After a moment of silence, Mr. Ciève tried a different approach to his Boss’ peculiar line of questioning by giving him the answer he wanted to hear. However his voice, filled with nervous submissiveness, betrayed any sort of composure or self-respect he pretended to still have.

“Yes, sir. I would actually say that your feet, after massaging them, sniffing them, and tasting them, have developed a smell that isn’t quite as bad. In some respects, one could actually say that they smell good,”

“But do you think that they smell good?”

“…Yes, I would say that they smell good,”

“I knew that’s all it would take. Perfect.”

The Boss let that hang in the air. Mr. Ciève broke the silence with a stutter-cough, quickly followed asking to leave in an awkward form of body language by turning himself to the door and raising a questioning eyebrow towards the Boss. The Boss smiled.

Through this whole ordeal, the Boss had been gotten quite hard. Even without physical stimulation all the dominating put him at half-mast. This was a problem that needed to be addressed. Immediately. Luckily enough he new just how to fix it.

The Boss motioned for Mr. Ciève to come around to his side of the desk. Gingerly, Mr. Ciève stood up and walked around, averting eye contact the whole time. As he finally turned to face the Boss directly on he noticed the huge bulge forming in the Boss’ pants, previously hidden by the desk. The Boss interrupted any thoughts forming in Mr. Ciève’s mind,

“Mr. Ciève, lucky for you, I have begun to reconsider you placement here in the company, or lack thereof. Maybe unlucky enough for you though, I haven’t been getting quite the service I need back home from the missus. If I could just have your opinion on the smell of my dick. I mean, you’ve done such a great job with my feet…”

Mr. Ciève knew the full implications of what the Boss just said. However, he had already committed, and didn’t see a way out. With a shot of humility greater than he ever faced before, he dropped to his knees and shuffled himself up between his Boss’ legs.

Being very careful with his actions, he unzipped the Boss’ pants and pulled out an almost fully erect 8 inch penis. No more words needed to be spoken. The Boss relaxed his body as Mr. Ciève admired his rather large member, holding it up with two hands. Taking the same approach he did with the Boss’ feet, Mr. Ciève started playing with it in his hands, experimenting. He had never done anything like this before but at this point Mr. Ciève believed his life might as well depend on it.

He started coaxing it into being fully erect with a few quick pumps. When that had finished, he tried to bring the Boss to climax with just a hand job but soon realized that wouldn’t work. Accepting his fate, Mr. Ciève started by kissing the Boss’ penis all up and down the shaft before finally letting it enter his mouth.

The Boss finally spoke, offering words of encouragement. Sort of.

Mr. Ciève filled with long, slow movements, but nothing to bring the Boss to orgasm. When the Boss decided he had had enough, he looked down at Mr. Ciève and told him to finish. Like a horse released from the starting gate of a race, Mr. Ciève exerted energy completely unexpected from him. He wrapped his lips around the head of the Boss’ dick and brought his head all the way down to the base of the shaft and back. Again. And again. Mr. Ciève took the whole thing, working it with his tongue the whole time.

The Boss only let out faint moans of pleasure. Right before he was about to blow his load though, he said,

“Swallow,”

And sure enough, as soon as he finished that word, Mr. Ciève could feel the Boss’ warm cum enter his throat, which he forced down.

Mr. Ciève continued playing with the Boss’ dick a little bit more before sitting back, resting on his heels, waiting for orders.

“Good, I’d say that was good enough for now. You may come in tomorrow morning. Be in my office at 9am sharp,”

“Erm, Sir, why wouldn’t I go to my own office to proceed with my work?”

“Oh, well, you don’t work there anymore. I’m giving you a job, just not your old job. You were a shitty accountant anyway. You make a much better cocksucker. Be in my office promptly at 9 tomorrow morning. You may leave now.”

Mr. Ciève wiped off some cum that had collected in the corner of his lip. He stood up and struggled to get words out, speaking only unintelligible mumbles.

“At a loss for words? Let me help you. Say ‘Yes, master. I look forward to servicing you tomorrow.’”

“I could barely understand that. What’d you say?”

“Yes, Master. I look forward to servicing you tomorrow,”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. We can outline specifics tomorrow when you’re back here, but show yourself out. I have actual work to do.”

Bowing his head one last time, Mr. Ciève exited the room, unsure of what to think.