"That's right, Blondie!" snarled the man, emphasising the point. "You're my bitch and I'm your master. Now before you strip, kiss my boots. Lick them, Blondie. Show my friend what an obedient bitch you are. Kiss my boots then lick them. Lick them all over like a faithful dog."

This was so much more humiliating than the previous occasion. Being smacked and ordered about was degrading enough, but to have someone present to witness the indignity was hideous for Jarvis. And to be treated like a dog - the bitch that he had become - was another added layer of crushing mortification. Yet Jarvis did as he was told, perversely excited to be here again and have all his dignity stripped away - to be an obedient slave, used and abused, and hopefully get fucked good and hard by both men, which in the depths of his depravity was what Jarvis craved.

Pulling himself together, slowly accepting his disgusting nature, Jarvis placed his hands upon the damp cement floor that reeked of urine. He bowed his head at his master's feet and kissed the top of each of his boots. He shuddered to think of what a sight it must look - this act of submission, the ultimate in deference - to kiss a man's feet. Every social bone in his well bred body was screaming in repugnance, yet Jarvis continued to obey his master, revolted, but thrilled beyond measure as his tongue flicked out to lick the black boots, tasting the dust of the street and the office along with the tobacco like tang of the leather.

One boot then the other was washed all over, Jarvis getting ever more excited, panting out his lust as he lashed the leather, sniffing and nuzzling, rubbing his head against his master's legs, truly a bitch now brought to heel.

"That's more like it, Blondie," his master finally said, satisfied with the worship and the obedience being shown. "Now be a good bitch and do the same for my friend. Drag your tongue over to him - taste the floor."