Fulcrum

Neatly pressed, buttoned down, collar stiff. You stayed fully clothed as you stripped me down. Told me to get down on all fours on the glossy hardwood.

I stare down.

You step quietly round to stand in front of me. I move to lick your boot, my arms bending out like an insect's at the elbows. You lift it, place it heavy on the back of my head. The smooth sole pressing my cheek. A hard bruise into the floor.