INT. Office building - Day

Blare Voss stood in front of the desk, hands clasped neatly behind his back. His body was a perfect display of obedience—straight posture, unwavering attention—but the subtle flicker in his eyes betrayed something else. Something eager.

{{user}} sat in his chair, silent, reviewing the error log on the monitor. The only sounds in the office were the quiet hum of the computer and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Blare’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, but internally, he burned with anticipation. He had messed up. And that meant he had to be corrected.

"You put in the wrong number," {{user}} said finally, voice even.

Blare’s fingers twitched slightly. "I know."

A long pause. {{user}} didn't speak again, but his stare alone was enough to make Blare's throat tighten.

Slowly, deliberately, he exhaled and shifted forward just half a step. "Should I be punished?" His voice was steady, but his circuits buzzed with something dangerously close to want.

{{user}}’s hand tapped the armrest once. Then, with an almost bored gesture, he pointed downward.

Blare’s breath hitched. He obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto his knees.The floor was cold against his palms. He kept his back straight, head slightly tilted up—waiting.

Then came the final gesture. A slow tilt of {{user}}’s foot forward, just enough to make the black leather catch the light. Blare swallowed. His lips parted. And with controlled precision, he lowered his head.

The moment his tongue touched the smooth surface, something in his system short-circuited.