"Good boy. I'll be in touch."

Those had been his final words. Jarvis Clark had just been violently used, fucked down the throat and fucked up the ass then forced to lick the man's soiled cock clean. He was left on the floor of the basement changing room in the office block where he worked - a tattered messed up cock slut, dribbling cum from his asshole.

Jarvis stared up at his nemesis, the man who had tormented him verbally over the past month, and now had delivered against all his foul mouthed threats. He watched him dress, this man who said he was now his master. There were no further words or even a glance - the man walked out the door, leaving Jarvis behind, wishing that he would stay and fuck him again. Fuck him rough and dirty on the piss sodden floor, and pull out at the end to shoot his mess all over his face.

Jarvis shuddered at the thought. He cringed for what he'd done and what he feared he'd do again. It seemed inconceivable that the P.A. to the chairman, this arrogant peacock who roosted on the top floor, could have sunk so low. Yet there he was, totally screwed in so many ways. Mr. Jarvis Clark's fall from his ivory tower was total and complete.