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dr_mabeuse said:Yeah, I'm familiar with the "she's-a-whore" fantasy, but why should you need male humiliation for that?
I can get off on that angle in the story you describe (which does sound pretty hot. Something about all those men filing upstairs one after another...) but nothing about the situation of the poor schmuck's who's waiting downstairs does anything for me.
It seems to me it's more similar to F/m D/s, being Dommed by a woman. That kind of play often involves male humiliation and sissification (are those the same things?) The thing that doesn't compute for me is getting off on being told you're a lousy and inadequate lover. I just don't get how that works. I'd appreciate it if someone could explain.
I don't know, it's really hard to explain. I don't know if anyone can explain it. All I know is he gets turned on by the thought of his woman going with other men, and being teased and goaded about it. I don't think it's so much the being told he's a lousy and inadequate lover thing, although he does like to be told she enjoys other men. Maybe you're either wired that way, or you're not. It's much like I can't explain why I like to feel humiliated, and especially in public.
For example, this is an excerpt of the one I wrote last week (it's in letter form, it's written as a confession from me to him, so apologies for the second person form it's currently in - I'm considering re-writing it, to at least first person).
Now, this is the bit that "got" him, if you get me, nudge nudge, wink wink. I asked him why and he couldn't even begin to explain. He just said it's the whole thing about her being used and him being called a "stupid cunt" for allowing it to happen. He said it was all about him and his wishes being ignored and her carrying on, letting them play with her, while all he could do was stand there and watch.
I must admit, this greatly turns me on, too:
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You were then asked to get yet another round in and mumbled some words of complaint. “Louise, I really don’t think you should have any more to drink,” you said.
“Oh, don’t be a party-pooper! I’m fine, get me some drink!”
They all laughed at this and took the piss out of you. You didn’t like it, so you went. When you came back, I was looking rather embarrassed and pulling up the strap of my dress. You noticed my right nipple protruding and pushing at the fabric. The material was wet around my nipple. You glared at the guy on my right and he was smiling broadly.
It was all beginning to get a bit out of hand. They were drinking more and getting rowdier. By this point, I was beginning to have some serious doubts about the whole thing, but I also couldn’t see a way out of it by then, without things turning ugly. I had got all these guys to come here, on the promise of them fucking me. I knew I’d reached the point of no return and couldn’t back out now. So, I drank some more. The drink kind of took over, eventually, and I lost all inhibitions.
You knew I was uncomfortable and said it might be a good idea if we left, but you quickly got shut up by the seven men and their noisy banter.
“Oh, I’m going to the loo,” you said.
On your way back, you heard chanting, “Get ‘em off! Get ‘em off!” so you hurried back to the table, in time to see me, dancing on the table, with my skirt up around my waist and my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my knickers. I bent down and slowly removed them. The guys behind me got a great view of my ass and one of them reached up and gave it a slap.
Another guy, I think his name was Tony – one of the younger, cockier guys – was even bolder. He shouted at one of the guys near my head to hold my head down and keep me bent over. He brought his hand up, rubbed his fingers around my pussy, then forced two inside me. I gasped. “Oooh, she’s up for it lads! Very wet!” he excitedly exclaimed.
“Haha! Look, Jack, he’s fingering your woman. Oh, and she likes it, look at her face,” said another.
“Oooh, what a whore!” goaded another.
“Yeah, look, she’s gagging for it!”
“Go on, Tony, give it to her! Finger-fuck the little bitch, she’s begging for it.” Right then, I pretty much was.
“You stupid cunt, how can you let this happen to your woman?” one of the others asked you.
They all laughed, mocking you.
You didn’t like this and tried to protest, but I glared at you. I was enjoying myself then, in my drunken state, and you were not going to stop me having my fun. By that point, in fact, I was aching to be properly fucked and I didn’t care by who and how many. And I think you realised it.
You were feeling quite uncomfortable, as probably the only relatively sober one of the group and when you noticed the hotel manager approach, you snarled at them to get their hands off me, grabbed me and pulled me down off the table.
“Oooh, baby, you want a go at me first, do you? Well, tough, you’ve gotta get in line! They’ve all drawn straws. Hahaha!” I was off my head and you knew there was little you could do with me.
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