In my sordid bedroom adventures I have seen some shit that would turn you white.
Sometimes, it turns me white. And I’m already white.
But even though I’ve sampled a vast array of kinks, there are still some that I haven’t really experienced. Busy though I am, I’m also very young. And I recently hooked up with a partner who exposed me to something new for me:
The Humiliation Fetish
Now, I’ve played around with this idea.
One time, I was even railing a gal wide open. I was emptying my whole arsenal of foul names I could think of (Slut, whore, pet, cunt, meat, hole, etc…) and she took it all with a smile. But when I called her a bitch, then shit got real. She gave me that one feminine leer and said “Stop.”
I went from the alpha wolf to omega pup immediately and she said “You do not call me that.”
This is a valuable lesson. Even if you are about to distend someone’s asshole with your turgid penis while spanking your claddagh ring’s impression into their backside so they remember an irishman’s work, you should watch your mouth.
That’s where real pain comes from.
Point is, even at my humiliationist humuliationest, I never really cut loose. But just this week, I met up with an old friend from my alma mater. Through some exchanges that originated with a Christmas card, an old friend reveals that she has a FetLife account. That story is a different post about reconnecting with someone you’ve been after for a little while…
Suffice it to say, within 24 hours of her revealing her account, we were in the bedroom.
She had revealed to me that she was a heavy sub, she liked getting used up. Once the safewords were in play, I really cut loose.
She could take it. This girl was a fucking trooper.
I strapped her down and beat up her ass with every bit of wood, leather, and plastic I could dig up. And she took it as long as I kept calling her a “good whore”. I tried insulting her for everything. I called her a moron for wearing knee-highs when I asked for thigh-highs. I lambasted her lack of knowledge concerning early 90’s pop music. I even started humiliating her body, calling her a plump-ass heifer.
After a round of that, I strapped her arms out and irrumated her right down the throat. She coughed and gagged. She stopped when I challenged her by saying “I thought you were a good slut”, and let me stuff her neck full of hard dick. I was even able to fill her throat with so much cock that I could reach down into her panties and maybe give her a treat.
She was wet. Like…impossibly, jizzbombedly, panty-soakedly wet.
So I bounced up over her via a totally graceful, acrobatic maneuver and then started fucking her. I kept up with the dirty talking, and even slapped her around a bit. Then she asked me to do something nobody had ever asked me to do. She asked me to spit on her.
Now, I’ve had people ask me to pour chocolate on them, to finish on them, even to piss on them. But I never thought being spit on was something people ever wanted.
It was like the first time a girl asked me to fuck her doggy-style. All I could think was “People don’t do this in real life…only pornographic films!”
I’ve seen this move in porn before. It always seemed very unusual. Spitting is just such a utilitarian practice. I spit when I’m I could never see it in a sexual context.
Then I spat on her face. I spat on her asshole before I stuffed my cock in it. I spat in my hand and slapped her in the face with it. I spat on her back, between her tits, on her neck, at her eyes.
It was so hot.
I pulled out and emptied a hot load of come onto her face. Then I left her there; strapped down, messed up, with an ache in her backside and a face full of spunk and saliva.
After I cleaned her up and sent her home, I asked a few friends about their opinions concerning humiliation and I got some interesting insights:
- “You feel more of an affection for someone who belittles you; like a stockholm thing”
- “I was roughing her up and talking down to her a bit and asked her how she felt. She just said with a whimper ‘I want to hug you and give you kisses so you wont be upset anymore'”
- “I think some people are seeking to be embarrassed, or think they are, but there is a difference between embarrassment and being humbled”
- “Well, physiologically, being embarrassed triggers a rush of adrenaline. That’s why you get flushed and sweaty, and why your heart starts racing. I think people into humiliation are, in a sense, adrenaline junkies.”
Humiliation works on lots of levels, it seems. The aforementioned lady was friends with me when we were still in college. We were both ostensibly, painfully-vanilla students of the literature program. I was probably the more ostensible of us. I was a teacher at the Catholic school!
A few different times during the date, she remarked about how she couldn’t believe this was real. That I was out on a date with her and that I was going to take her home and that I was going to have a scene of raunchy inappropriate fun with her.
I told her I remembered how much I respected her writing. I respected her comments in the classroom. That’s why I wanted to do so much to her so bad. For me, humiliation is about respect.
It’s about having enough respect for a person that you can comfortably do or say something so pointedly disrespectful that they can get off on the juxtaposition.
It’s about respect.