Stories in humiliation
10 stories · Page 1I got out of the car first, without even turning around, knowing he was watching me. The evening air was cool, but I was still warmed by the champagne and his hands under the table throughout the banquet. My legs wobbled a little, not from the drink, but from anticipation. I took out my keys, swayed, and he grabbed my elbow. - Be careful, Natasha. His voice was low and calm, with that drawling quality that always made my stomach turn. Viktor Petrovich, my immediate supervisor, forty-six years old, divorced, with arms like an athlete, and such a master of the tongue that I sometimes forget my own name. I opened the door and immediately realized the light in the hallway was on. That meant Kostya wasn't asleep. Of course, how could he sleep when his wife was at the office party? I deliberately didn't tell him I'd be coming with someone. Why? Let it be a surprise. “Come in, Viktor Petrovich, don’t be shy,” I let him go ahead and slammed the door. Kostya stuck his head out of
It all started with a leak. A very mundane one, even mockingly mundane. A pipe in the kitchen, right under the sink, had clogged and started leaking, and no matter how hard I tried to tighten the loose nut, the water only started dripping more quickly. My engineering efforts only elicited a condescending smile from Inga, my wife. "Pavlik, stop it," she finally said, standing in the kitchen doorway and watching my torment. "You don't know how to do anything with your hands. Not in the house, not in bed. I'll call a professional." She uttered those last words with a peculiar, slippery intonation. Inga generally loved to emphasize my masculine inadequacy. She was thirty-three, a striking blonde with a curvaceous but toned figure—the result of endless gym sessions and salon visits. I, a stooped, bespectacled man with perpetually sweaty palms and premature ejaculation, had long since resigned myself to the role of her lapdog. The next morning there was a knock at
It was my first party at university, and I felt out of place. I, Vlad, a first-year student—skinny, shy, and bespectacled, who blushed at every loud word—had been invited by Lera. She was a third-year student and a real star in her department: a tall, brunette with a nose piercing and a perpetually mocking gaze. I didn't understand what I'd done to deserve the invitation, but I couldn't refuse the attentions of such a girl. The apartment where they gathered was a rented two-room apartment in an older building, but tastefully furnished. Besides Lera, there were three others: Katya, a redhead with freckles and a scattering of freckles on her exposed shoulders; Alina, a short, perky woman with a pixie cut; and Sveta, a taciturn, plump blonde with a huge bust who constantly munched on potato chips. The occasion was Katya's birthday. Someone shoved a glass of some sweet disgusting thing into my hand, and the evening went downhill. The girls chatted about their own things,
All grown women have something to remember on a quiet evening... Hello. My name is Tamara. I decided to write something down while my memory is fresh. I'm 42 years old. My figure, as they used to say, is "blood and milk"—small but shapely, with heavy D-cup breasts and curvy hips that no skirt can hide. My hair is light brown, my own, and falls below my shoulders. I work as an administrator at a private dental clinic, and I'm used to being the face of the clinic—a smile, a manicure, a smart suit. I've lived alone: my husband died five years ago, and my son is in the army. Out of boredom, I sometimes allow myself small pleasures—wine on Fridays, dancing at an adult bar where you don't have to think about age. This story happened in November. I was returning from a company party. I'd stayed up late and had too much to drink. My boss offered to get me a cab, but I refused—I didn't want him to know my address. He'd been looking at my lap with unkind
Hi! About six months ago, something nasty happened to me. On the one hand, it was quite scary and humiliating, but on the other, I still sometimes think about it at night and have already come several times while furiously rubbing my clit in the shower. That's probably why I finally decided to post it here. My name is Anya, I'm 23 years old, tall, slender, and brunette (177 cm tall), with long legs, a flat stomach, and a fairly athletic figure—I go to the gym a couple of times a week. My breasts are a C-plus size, firm, with small pink nipples that stand out clearly under my clothes. My face is ordinary but pretty—guys often stare at me on public transport. I work as a manager at a Moscow hypermarket, but I live in the suburbs, in a small village about forty minutes away by commuter train. Every day after my shift, I take the last "work" commuter train at 11:40 PM. It's usually almost empty—just the occasional passenger and me in my short sports skirt and tight,
Olga worked as a senior manager in a large IT office in a business center on the outskirts of the city. She was twenty-five, and for the past six months, her back had been killing her: endless hours at the computer, poor posture, and stress. A friend recommended a private chiropractor's office on the ground floor of the same center. "There's a great chiropractor there; after seeing him, I felt like I was born again." Olga made an appointment. The first time, she entered a small but very clean office with soft lighting and the scent of essential oils. Instead of the woman she expected, she was greeted by a man of about thirty-seven—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a white short-sleeved T-shirt and scrub pants. He had a short haircut, light stubble, and a confident gaze. He introduced himself as Alexander and calmly explained that he owned the office alone, and that his partner was on maternity leave. Olga felt a little tense, but decided to let it slide. He performed a
I met Natasha through social media. We chatted about all sorts of nonsense—work, her husband, everyday matters. She seemed so trusting, so naive. I quickly feigned friendship while I got access to her phone. And that's where the gold emerged: intimate photos, videos with her husband, Igor. She looked so uninhibited and juicy in them. In short, it was prime blackmail material. I immediately realized this was what I needed. The game began. I told Natasha that I knew about her intimate life, and if she didn't do what I said, all the photos would go straight to her closest relatives—parents, colleagues, friends. The whole family would be in shambles. At first, she was shocked, crying in the chat, begging me not to do it. But I'm tough; if you don't do what I ask, I'll leak everything. I asked her to send me her husband, for sexual pleasure and to fulfill my dirty fantasies... But that bitch wouldn't agree at all... I had to involve my husband Igor, sending him sc
During his absence, Michael asked me, among other things, to tidy up the pool in the backyard, as I'm an expert in that area. This time, Amanda greeted me politely, mindful of the spanking. By midday, I'd tidied up the pool and the surrounding area, then returned to the house, thinking of ways to further amuse myself with the girl. Amanda was in the living room watching television. I noticed two voices coming from behind the door; her sister, Mary, apparently, was not alone. "Amanda," I began, "your brother asked me to fix the pool in your backyard, and I did it. I don't know if you can use it..." Amanda gasped in excitement, then clapped her hands and exclaimed: - Hooray!! Thank you so much! I can swim now! With these words she ran to the door, opened it slightly and called: - Come in, let's go swimming! “Amanda, who did you call?” I asked. - Mary, she has her friend now... "Amanda, when I was cleaning the pool, there were a lot of piles of feces
I stood in the middle of the room, feeling completely naked, even though I was wearing simple black shorts and a T-shirt. My stepmother's command rang in my ears: "Wait. And behave yourself." Svetlana, my stepmother, sat on the sofa like a queen on a throne. Her legs, tanned and well-groomed, were gracefully crossed. On her feet were open-toed sandals with sky-high heels, accentuating every curve. Her pedicure was perfect, a blood-red polish, like drops of fresh blood on marble. She sipped her martini, her eyes sliding over me coldly and appraisingly. The door opened, and she walked in. Svetlana's friend, Veronica. I'd seen her a couple of times—tall, with shoulder-length dark hair and a piercing, predatory gaze. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress, and on her feet were the same sky-high stilettos, black, with pointed toes. “Veronica, my dear, come in,” Svetlana said languidly, without moving from her place. Veronica looked me up and down, a slight, mockin
We sleep in the same bed... you, as usual, sleep at my feet... pressed against them... I wake up earlier... with the usual movement of my heel I begin to rub your face... you wake up... lick it a little to me, letting me know that you woke up and, out of habit, get up and suck my morning boner... you are, as always, gentle and magnificent in this matter... you swallow all the sperm and lick your dick clean... I push you away with my foot and stand up... We are going to the toilet... we are naked... however, as always after the night... you are my bedding... so you walk next to me on all fours, it turns out much slower than I walk, so I take you by the hair and drag you with me... it hurts... but you you endure... We’ve reached it... you lift the seat, take my dick in your hand and point it into the toilet... I’ve been pissing for a long time, because I’ve been fucking you all night, my faithful whore... Finally I’m done, you put the dick in your mouth, shake off the last drops