Best Foot Forward

"I sussed you out the way you responded to my feet, bitch. I used my feet to test you. I made you the test subject of my fucking feet and you passed the test, boy. King was pleased so the king decided to develop his subject further and you see the outcome today. You're now where you belong, a homeless beggar under my foot. I'm where I belong, in a huge palace of a home with cars and money. You're now in the proper place a northerner riff-raff like you should be, under an upper-class London kids' royal foot," Justin pressed his foot in and out on Roger's thigh to drive home the point.

Roger was now not even bothering to strain his neck to look up at the tall teen standing so close. His eyes were fixed in the distance, seeing cars moving on the divided highway in front, going in both directions. He sat listening to the sounds of a busy city street that was now his home. The sooner he got used to the sights, smells, and sounds of the city street, the sooner he'll begin to feel at home. Roger suddenly realized the weight had lifted off his thigh and only then looked up to see Justin had walked back over to the car and was getting something out the trunk. Justin shortly returned to Roger with a bag. The weight of Justin's foot also returned to Roger's thigh, this time the teen angling his foot so the tip of the shoe was pushing into Roger's balls through the thin pajama fabric. Justin resumed his lecture:

"In this bag, you'll find a familiar oak begging bowl, shoe polish tins in various colors, and several brushes. You'll earn your daily living by begging with the aid of the bowl I once used to use and by shining the shoes of those who take mercy on you enough to get their shoes polished by you. While my foot is still on your thigh, why don't you shine my shoe, loser? The final bit of training for my intern. You won't get paid for this training of course."

Roger found the best matching brown shoe polish tin and set about brushing Roger's shoe. Ironically, Roger found the best way to dull his negative feelings was to focus on the given task. He accordingly set about taking loving care of Justin's shoe even if he was made to do it awkwardly with the shoe held so close to him and Justin continuously rocking his foot to rub the tip into Roger's balls.

"Shine that shoe 'til you see your face in it, faggot," Justin taunted. "Oh, sorry, I again forgot you don't like getting called faggot, Dolly bitch."

That was exactly how Roger polished the shoe until it was gleaming with near mirror finish shine. Justin switched his feet, placing the second shoe on the other thigh and giving Roger's balls further reminding of their vulnerability. Soon the second shoe was also shining bright. Without being asked to, Roger demonstrated the correct conduct of a weakling under the foot of his superior by finishing off with huffing his breath out on the two shoes as he buffed them up with a cloth to a final sheen.

"Open your little purse, girl," Justin demanded, looking at the little pink purse Rosie had given Roger in the morning after tarting him up for Luke.

With a confused look, Roger opened his purse and held it up for Justin to look at the contents. Roger was puzzled but also hopeful thinking his king was about to bestow a generous tip for shining his shoes with so much dedication. Instead, Justin reached in and removed the only paper money he saw in there. A £10 bill. The rest were coins totaling a pitiful £2.70.

"I'll take this charge of £10 for imparting vital training that'll enable you to earn a lot of money. Everything has a price, loser. Remember what I said to you before I fucked your mouth in the sauna of my gym...? There's no such thing as a free lunch in life. Every penny needs to be earned. Everything has a price. Remember that forever, girl. You'll go a long way in life," Justin then looked around to see no eyes were looking in their direction, spat on Roger's face with disgust, and walked away back to the car. This time Justin was the driver for a change.

CHAPTER 20: How Times Change

Life was a blur for Roger for the next few months. His new life had begun in days of good weather thankfully. He got to make friends with many of Birmingham's other rough sleepers who taught him in good time how to survive the bitter winters. Many of his new friends were also Justin's old friends but they never got to know Roger was made destitute by that same blond kid. Roger never talked about that side of his past.

Roger's weekends getting his ass and mouth fucked by countless men wasn't nearly as glamorous a lifestyle as Luke had made out it'd be. Sure, Luke's agency did have many successful, wealthy clients but they could pay for and wanted the younger, prettier whores which Roger could never be. Most often, at the beginning at least, Roger would end up getting abused by and sucking the cocks of Black thugs or immigrants from all over the world. Roger put everything he had into sucking cock. He felt this was his best recourse to proving his worth to Luke's clients. If he wanted to progress to sucking cocks of educated, kinder men, he had to prove his mouth worth the privilege. There's no such thing as a free lunch in life. He took blond boy Justin's teaching to heart and made cocksucking his sacred duty.

In time, word got around about the amazing cocksucker on hire at Luke's agency. Roger's great cocksucker credentials began to attract some of the more refined clients that the other girls were getting. Some of Luke's whores started getting resentful and outright bitchy to Roger. They saw him gradually eat into more and more of the better-paid jobs that they'd been getting. They had no idea that for Roger, his time with wealthier clients just meant getting better wined and dined plus the chance to spend time in nice hotels. His earnings were all eaten up between Luke and Justin.

On the homeless side of life out on the streets, Roger felt a modicum of pride in that, unlike the majority of his homeless friends, he was shining shoes to make a daily living instead of just relying on his begging bowl. Though the begging bowl definitely did help boost his meager income. Roger learned to adapt and began enjoying the life of a rough sleeper. He played cards with his friends. They all looked out for each other and often pooled their resources to ensure everyone got fed.

Time flew by. Roger's old life had started to become a distant memory. He still loved his ex-wife and children but never saw them. He often thought of Rosie, the only woman he ever loved and could never have a place in his heart for another regardless of her dumping him for a kid and in the final degrading months of his life at his own home, butt-fucking him with a 10" black strap-on and making him a housemaid. Roger also spent much time thinking about his daughter, Isabel, and son, Jason. He hoped they were happy in their "chosen" careers as Luke's whores, though Roger knew in all probability, his two kids were cunningly trapped into a life of sexual slavery by Justin's scheming just like their dad had been.

Roger had broken off all contact with his old friends and business colleagues. He could never bear to be seen by them in his current state. Could never bear the indignity of them knowing it was a mere 18-year-old homeless boy to whom he'd lost his self-respect. Had his face rubbed in the dirt under a kid's bare feet who was now also fucking his wife at Roger's own home, in his bedroom, and on his marital bed. Roger could never bear such humiliation. No way. He could only ever pluck up the courage to meet Rosie and his kids if even they ever now considered him worth their time.

Soon winter set in and Roger and the other homeless were all issued a warm blanket each by a charitable organization. Roger and his friends would huddle together for warmth in some sheltered spot each night. They cracked jokes and told each other stories, real and exaggerated. It was a pleasant way to take their minds off their dire circumstances.

All was relatively good until one freezing afternoon when Roger was sitting on his given spot with the wooden bowl in front of him. In the extreme weather, people hardly bothered stopping to have their shoes shined and neither did Roger have any particular inclination to try polishing shoes with hands numbed by cold. His begging bowl had become the tool of choice for "earning" income in the winter. He often felt indebted to and deep gratitude for Luke's generosity and forethought in bestowing on him the useful gift of a begging bowl. Then he'd be touched by a feeling of deep shame thinking how it was that same kid who'd reduced him to a life of sucking cock and begging in the first place.

Roger sat wrapped up in his blanket, rubbing his arms with his hands, smiling at passers-by, hoping some will take pity on him and donate some change. As he sat lost in thoughts of his family, he saw a car pull up and come to a stop some meters away from him. A gold paintwork Bentley Continental GT. The sighting of a super-luxury car just outside of downtown Birmingham was hardly a rare event. The city had its share of millionaires but the parking of cars like these so close to Roger, away from major malls and the trendier restaurants wasn't a common event. Perhaps one of Luke's clients has come to pick me up? was Roger's first optimistic thought. Looks like a filthy rich client too. Perhaps I'm about to get lucky...

A handsome, well-built young man, well-dressed with neatly trimmed blond hair emerged from the driver's side door. His suit looked perfectly cut to fit him and his shoes not unlike the ones Luke would often wear, brown crocodile skin, a touch of unmistakable luxury. What was distinct from Luke's shoes, however, these particular shoes belonged to mighty-sized feet. Justin! But surely not? Roger thought. He couldn't have progressed to this level of opulence in just a matter of months. Or if it was indeed Justin, he was recklessly squandering the wealth he'd brazenly snatched from Roger.

The man walked over to the passenger side, opened the door, and in a regal, gentlemanly manner, extended his hand to the passenger. The passenger's delicate, light-brown skinned hand took the man's hand, and then out stepped a sophisticated, petite lady of oriental features, dressed in a short, cream-color dress covered in exotic beadwork. She looked an absolute stunner with her shiny, long black hair pinned up high in a pony.

No way, I must be dreaming! Roger's mouth dribbled with desire at the sight of his darling Rosie. He again realized all over again why she'd won his heart at first glance nearly 23 years ago and looking at her now, she seemed to haven't aged by a single day in all that time. If anything, she now had an air of grace and confidence about her over and above she ever had in the past.

Justin reached inside the car and brought out a luxurious fur-lined coat and held it open ready for Rosie to slip her arms in. Once Rosie was protected from the cold, she folded her arms and waited by the car while Justin walked with slow, confident steps the 30 or so meters over to where Roger sat gobsmacked, wrapping his blanket around him all the more snugly to feel protected.

Justin stopped close to Roger and looked down at him for a few seconds with a kind of thoughtful look. Then he raised his foot and held it in the air over the spot where Roger's thigh should be had he been sitting cross-legged, which he wasn't. Justin moved his foot in the air up and down as silent communication. Roger automatically, without pausing to think or challenge, released his knees from his arms and dropped his thighs to the ground, and changed to sitting in a cross-legged position. Justin pinned one of Roger's thighs to the ground and twisted his foot for the tip to scrape Roger's balls. Then he spoke:

"Well, well, bitch, for a minute I didn't recognize the filthy scumbag I was looking at. As you can see, I'm raising my status in life by leaps and bounds. What about you, foot pervert fag, how's your life been since I set you up on your new homeless career?"

Roger couldn't be bothered to answer the question. He knew Justin was just rubbing dirt in his face, humiliating him. Nothing more than that. Instead, he had questions of his own to ask Justin.

"How's my wife, son, and daughter, Justin?" Roger asked with a calmness and composure that surprised even himself.

Justin let out a loud laugh before he spoke, as he habitually combed his blond hair with his fingers, even though now he had shorter hair that wasn't dropping over his forehead. "You're a very silly little girl, aren't you, bitch? You don't have a wife. You once had a wife. She's now your ex-wife and my fiancé. We're engaged and getting married in a few weeks. I've chosen my 19^th birthday to make your ex-wife my bride. As fine a birthday gift any man could wish for, would you not agree..., fag? Oh, I almost forgot to mention, Rosie is now carrying my baby in her womb. Fertile at forty-one. Wow, that's some fit, healthy MILF I made my girl."

Justin continued debasing Roger both with his words and with the constant digging of his foot in Roger's thigh and scraping his balls as well as very deliberately tapping, with the tip of his shoe, Roger's CB6000 through the pants. "I celebrated my 18^th birthday on this very spot where I've got you pinned now under my royal foot. What a difference a year makes, do you agree, fag?"

Roger couldn't help but agree to the manifest truth of what the teen god was saying. Again, without thinking, he automatically nodded his head in agreement. He didn't even make anything of the fact the teen kid had made his mature ex-wife pregnant. A feat he'd failed to do for her after trying tirelessly the last 5 years of their marriage. All Roger wanted to know about now was his two kids.

"How are my children, my son, and my daughter, Justin? Oh, please tell me," Roger begged, writhing under Justin's foot.

Justin again laughed and then smirking, combed his hair with his fingers.

"Your son? Tut, tut, tut, Dolly faggot. I pity your stupidity. You only ever had two daughters. I made Jason realize her potential as a woman. After I and Luke finished fucking the shit out of her, I gave the green light to Luke to sell her to the highest bidder. She sold for a cool £250,000 to an Arab billionaire. We took an advance payment to have her gender confirmation surgery completed in Germany. She turned out a lovely girl. We gave her the new name, Juliet. How romantic. Then we exported her to her new owner in the Middle East. She's the pride of the royal harem, last we heard. The Sheikh's favorite concubine. If you want to see her, just look at my car. My car, you can say, is your daughter, Juliet. I sold her to buy my £200k car with a good few £1000s to spare."

This at least answered two of Roger's questions. He now knew how his son was doing and he also now knew how Justin had boosted his wealth so quickly. Roger's real daughter, Isabel was his most loved child of the two. It hurt him to see how the two teen boys had had her as their willing slut. He wanted to know how she was doing in life. He asked Justin.

Justin switched his feet on Roger's thigh and reflected a minute before he spoke:

"Isabel is a darling. I've not known any other girl suck cock with so much zeal and enthusiasm. She's the perfect porn material and I gave it some serious thought but I had a better plan for her. Once I had had my fill with butt-fucking her and getting my cock drained by her mouth, I was in the mind to impregnate her and sell her. But pregnancy would've significantly depreciated her market value. So, in the end, with Luke's help, I auctioned her to Russian businessmen. She sold for a tidy £110,000. She didn't make me half as much as Juliet but then, to be honest, Juliet is by far the hotter of your two daughters."

Hearing all this, Roger felt no anger. He'd been successfully broken down and remolded by Justin to accept the teen god's decisions without question or undue emotion. He learned to absorb all the abuse his god subjected him to. He had wanted to know how his family was doing and Justin had informed him. Simple as that. Roger was grateful and he expressed his gratitude by wiping Justin's shoe top with his hand while the teen dug his sole harder down on Roger's thigh. It then occurred to Roger to ask Justin if he could ever see his daughter again. Justin pulled back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal an A Lange Söhne watch, model Zeitwerk Date, the casing made of white gold.

"Of course, faggot. I'd never hold back a farther from his seeing his lovely daughter, would I now?" Justin said with a sly smile. "Anytime you want to see Isabel all you need to do is get in touch with me. I'll show you this watch. My new watch now is your daughter, Isabel. I sold Isabel and bought this watch with the money. Your little daughter spends her days wrapped around my wrist. Take your mind back to that day when I walked into your office, whore. I put my feet up on your desk and you said this isn't the way for an intern salesman to make progress. I told you there and then I already have all the qualities of a successful salesman yet you had doubts, didn't you, fag? By selling both your daughters at above-market rates, I hope I've dispelled your doubts."

Justin removed his foot from Roger's thigh and ordered him to again sit how he had been with his arms wrapped around the knees. Once Roger was ready, Justin used Roger's raised arms as a platform to reposition his foot higher and ordered Roger to kiss and lick the shoe. Roger didn't look around to see how many other people were witnessing him do this. The street was packed full of workers and shoppers, men and women of all ages. Cars were passing in both directions on the highway. Amid the sea of people and smells, sounds of a busy city, Roger bowed his head and, with genuine deference, kissed Justin's shoe all over and then, as he'd been commanded, licked his king's shoe. As he tasted the leather of Justin's shoe, it conjured up the flavor of Luke's feet. Justin's shoe tasted the same as Luke's feet. Justin then made Roger lick the other shoe too.

Once Justin had his shoes tongue-cleaned, he was done humiliating Roger. His battle against the older man in the tussle of life was over at last. He had avenged the old pervert's attempts to exploit Justin's youth and homelessness. He had no more use for the loser. Justin had taken all he wanted. He calmly walked back over to where Rosie had been patiently waiting all this time.

"Who's that filthy rat you've just been talking to, darling? I think I might've seen him somewhere before," were Rosie's words her husband of 22 years, the father of her kids.

"Never mind, honey. Don't think about that loser. He's just some dirtbag riff-raff I've used to clean my shoes now and then. I felt pity for him so I stopped by to see how he is and gave him a chance to lick the shoes of a superior man. That's all."

"Aww, poor little thing," said Rosie, removing a diamond-encrusted ring from her finger. "I too feel pity for him. We're so rich now, darling. I've got everything in life I could've dreamed of, thanks to you, Justin. I've got you, my drop-dead-gorgeous teen husband-to-be. I'm now a successful businesswoman with all the luxuries any woman could wish for. This ring was given to me by my faggot of an ex-husband when he first went down on his knee and proposed. Thank you for showing me what a complete waste of my time the loser was. I value this ring more than Roger so I decided to keep it even after we kicked his ass out of our house. Since I'm to be your proud bride soon, I think now's the time to get rid of it. Its value to me is negligible but for that poor beggar, it'll make his day."