Category: humiliation

Street vendor

Just a quickie…

You want what, sweetheart?  ‘Humiliation’?

Yeah… look, I don’t really do the freak
stuff, you know?  I mean… I’m still young
and attractive… got lovely big tits, arse, yeah?  I generally go with men who actually get
turned on by an attractive female body: I take my clothes off, they get hard,
we fuck and that’s it.

Trouble with a humiliation scene, is I
never know when I take my bra off whether you’re going to want to kiss my tits
or put it on yourself, you know?  And if I take my
knickers off you’d probably rather handwash them than fuck me, wouldn’t you?
There was a girl round here used to cater to perves like you, you know.  She didn’t like them either, but she had these… like, cold sores? So normal blokes didn’t much want to fuck her. She used to make her customers kiss her sores – said they couldn’t get enough of it. Horrible.
I mean, you must get diseases, right?  I expect you like kissing and licking shoes, yeah?  You’d like to get down on your knees and lick away at the lovely red leather on these, wouldn’t you?  Even though I’m out here on the street wearing them all evening. There’s probably not an inch of this pavement that hasn’t been pissed on by some beered-up bloke going home from the pub: you know that, right?  It’s not like I step in puddles of the stuff but would you really lick the soles of these?  Even if they, like, stank of piss?  Fucking hell, you would, wouldn’t you?

Look, darling, you know, two blocks down is where the
really old tarts hang out.  You go down
there and they’ll humiliate you all right – you can empty your wallet for some
sixty year-old alcoholic with severe halitosis, you know? Cos I’m not going to get any real customers who want an actual woman to fuck, while you’re standing here touching yourself like that.  
Yeah – don’t think I didn’t notice.

Oh god – you’ve got a stiffie,
haven’t you? Is that just from talking to me like this, you pathetic loser?  Jesus fucking Christ that’s sad.  How do blokes like you get so
fucked up anyway?  Did you, like, get
caught masturbating in your mum’s knickers or something? And then get hard when
she spanked you over her lap? Or maybe it’s some sort of repressed homosexual thing.

Do you know what street girls like me
call sad old gits like you? We –

Oh? Oh fuck! Are you coming in your
trousers?  Oh, you filthy fucking… is that just from talking to me?  That has got to be the saddest thing I’ve ever
seen… I think I’m going to have to offer a free fuck to the next real man who
goes past, just to get that out of my mind.

Yeah…

All done? 
Great.
Do you want a tissue?  No?  Sure – cos there’s a bit of a stain?  So if you’re going back to work, I’d… No?  Done for the week?  Oh – lucky you!  Weekend starts here, eh?
All right, sweetheart. 
Take care now, OK?  See you next week.

Until morale improves


There is actually a technique for pushing a pole all the way through a man’s alimentary canal without causing internal injuries.  Sadly, she doesn’t know it.

I would explain, but Someone doesn’t allow me to speak to strangers.  Or, indeed, people we know.

Residents staying for longer get a food dispenser too.  But you’ll be OK without – it’s only ten days.
 This is the lovely, clever and witty Tiffany Naylor, yet another Lady who has had the misfortune to encounter Servitor in ‘person’.
I’m surprised he can afford to visit her, on a teacher’s salary.  Still, he gets his money’s worth.

I’ve actually set up my loozr account so it automatically sends a message to any woman who spends longer than five minutes within ten metres of me.  I don’t know what the message says, but on the very rare ocasions it’s been used, it seems to have been quite effective.


Matronising attitudes

Well, all right. As long as I get to have my say on the subject.

That’s fair.
It’s so hard to choose sometimes, isn’t it?  Hmm… would I rather have a cock in my mouth or a turd? It’s so hard being submissive – I’ll bet other sexual perversions don’t end up causing such dilemmas.

It’s actually doubly unfair to set particularly hard questions to boys, because we’re stupider.

Hope she reads the instructions.  Apparently, if you exceed the recommended dose, it can cause quite a lot of discomfort. I mean, more than the intended discomfort, obviously.


That would be funny…

… if it weren’t so sad.



Actually, there’s a perfectly simple explanation. Just tell her you’re a pervert.





You can get quite sweaty dressed up like that.  Hope the other guests have brought plenty of liquids.


Hee hee. Brad might think he’s her favourite lover, but she doesn’t put the spotty socks on for him, does she?  I know where her true affections lie.  Anyway, better get on with it, there’s ironing to do (yum!).
Very true. We each have our special skill. Mine is ‘incompetence’.
Blubbolow fllabbo ploh?


The other was me and I’m a boy

Never quite sure what The Who were complaining about in that song. Looks to me like an idyllic childhood.

You can earn free hair grips and stuff when you spend money too – pretty cool, huh?


She tries so hard… but usually fails.
That’s a bit unfair.  I once told my SO that I could do any job a woman can do, so she arranged an internshp at a brothel, giving blow-jobs to oil rig workers on shore leave. To be honest, I wasn’t quite as good at it as the girls but I had plenty of clients once they priced me at a 95% discount.
Yeah, how about it Dave?  Equal pay for equal work.  Stand up for yourself and be a man, for once.  Or ‘you go, girl!’.  Whatever.

Our pillory’s my special place.  I can spend hours at a time in there, not really doing anything in particular, you know?


In the morning…

…when the madness has faded.

Oh, yeah, it was good, thanks.  Well, it was kind-of good, but it was kind-of
weird, too.
See, I picked up these two German guys – at Anaconda, you
know, that new bar by the river?  Anyway,
Kurt and Walter, they were and we got talking and one thing led to another, and
I asked them if they wanted a fuck and so off we went.
And I thought they’d take turns, but they wanted to do me
together – one at the front, one at the back, you know?  And they both had lovely big cocks, and they
were quite tall, so I’m actually impaled there, really, with my feet off the
ground with all my weight pushing them all the way into me, so that was great.
But I couldn’t really move, so I’m thinking ‘now what?’ and then they both just
start thrusting, using their knees to jiggle me up and down.  They both had really strong thighs –
cyclists, I think.
Anyway, I’m just gasping away as all this is going on, and
then I realise they’re talking away to one another while they fuck.  I don’t know what they were saying but they
were just looking straight at each other and chatting away, and when I tried to
kiss one of them he kind of brushed me away so he could keep on talking to his
friend.
And that’s when I realised, they weren’t really fucking me –
they were fucking each other!  A bit like
when I realised on our wedding night that you were more interested in my panties
than in what was inside them.  Remember?
Well… more fun than that, obviously.  But
it was a bit humiliating actually – I guess they couldn’t admit to themselves
that they were gay, so they just had to use a girl like a… like a plug adaptor
or something.
They took me from both ends after that, with me down on all
fours, and then I really felt like a piece of meat.  Hi guys – I’m Julie, I’ll be the tube
connecting your cocks tonight!  Enjoy.
Anyway, they’re leaving for Germany this afternoon, so I
suppose that’s that.   
It’s a bit sad,
really, don’t you think?  That they fancy
each other so much but they have to fuck girls all the time to express it?  It is a bit like you and the panties, isn’t
it?  Only less pathetic.    

Oh, that reminds me, actually – can we move your unlocked night to Wednesday next week?


Spousework

Very sensible of her to discuss it straight away, so they can sort whatever it is out and get on with their marriage.

I suppose it’s good that she’s finally getting more use out of them. Normally, she puts them on once a month at most and even then she only uses one finger and a thumb of the left glove.

Nothing humiliating there… move on.

Oh, Susan will blame him.  She needn’t worry about that. He should, though.

Mind what?  Why can’t the ladies featured on this blog just say what they mean?  It’s maddening, it really is.


When you’re in a fix

just call for the men in tights!






Well… those are two of her spanking aprons, anyway.  She has more.






You never know when you’ll need to do some sudden washing up in the middle of the night.




Hmm..  Turned out they don’t have a vibrator at the reception desk, but they sent up a couple of their room service guys anyway and they were able to sort the problem out, so that was OK.  Pretty impressive customers service, I’d say.



Now you see that’s just typical of my wife – she sends me out to buy the stuff but doesn’t tell me what she wants it for!  Now I’m going to have to buy both – she hasn’t heard the last of this, you know!

The magic’s still there.


Reality show





What am I wearing? 
You want to know what I’m wearing you fucking pervert?

OK, I’m wearing a check shirt and a pair of loose
jeans.  What?  No, I’m not going to tell you what underwear,
asswipe.  But it’s functional: cotton,
you know.
 
What, you thought I’d put on something sexy just to do this
phone sex call?  Fuck you!

Oh, I see, you want me to lie?  You want me to tell you I’m just lounging
here in some kind of fetish fantasy garb, hmm…? 
Leather bra… big thigh-high boots for you to lick, maybe?  You’d like that, huh?

Not going to happen, loser. 
You’re paying to jerk off, you’re gonna jerk off to me just as I
am.  Jeans, check shirt… no make-up.  And I’m sitting on a bus, I’m going grocery
shopping.  I need to stock up on tampons, cos it’s my period and I’m almost out?  And you have… oh I dunno, like
two minutes before it’s my stop and I end the call, so if you’re gonna jerk off
do it now, asshole.

Hmm?  Yeah, the bus is
pretty crowded.  You tugging?  Up-down-up-down-updownupodownup…

Hurry up, just pulling out from the stop before the mall.

Updownupdowntugtugtugtugtugtugtugtugtug?  Oh. 

There.  Was that
special for you, hun?  Hope so, cos it’s
all you’re ever going to get.

Oh, and tribute’s going up by another 40% next month,
creep.  And tell that fucking bank of
yours if they’re a day late again, you’re gonna have to go three months without
hearing your Goddess’s voice, yeah?

Yeah, I know you worship me, creep.  That’s because I’m female and talk to you
occasionally.  Don’t forget – 40%.   
Now fuck off.
“Hmm?  Yeah, sure I’m wearing gloves and boots. It’s cold here in Buffalo, moron.”
The lovely lady featured in this story is Goddess Rodea, of the American Mean Girls (they seem to have branched out beyond Miami and might even have rebranded again), who really do just sit around in sexy lingerie all day,  doing unpleasant things to males.  But this caller doesn’t need to know that and I won’t tell him if you don’t, OK?

They can beg and they can plead

…but they can’t see the light.



Are you sitting uncomfortably?  Then she’ll begin.

You’re actually already halfway through the session. Might as well finish off.

Good.  Good.  I expect she’ll be chucking away all those dusty old wine bottles in the cellar and filling up the racks with some nice fresh sparkling wine with cheerful labels, too.

If it’s any consolation to him, after her friend has finished the face-slapping session tomorrow, he will look like a house elf.

As it happens, the second guy from the front is the Financial Director of one of the biggest German pension and insurance conglomerates.  He’s wondering whether he should say something here – but by now he’s probably got more sense.