Humiliation Discovery
A Fictional Story by trinosborne.
His practice group’s paralegal quit, with no warning or notice, three weeks ago. As they throttled towards their trial date, the grunt work–in addition to all of his other responsibilities–fell to Griffin. He was the youngest and the least experienced. He was expected to rise to every task, to take on the challenges that no one else had the time, motivation, or humility to complete.
Without recognition, he soldiered on, taking on the most mundane tasks with the same vigor he used to push through law school two years ago. After a long twenty-four months at the firm, he knew that a good performance would give him a foot in the door for the vacant junior partner position.
Roughly an hour before he closed up shop, he texted two friends, asking if they were up for a celebratory drink. As he packed his brown leather messenger bag to leave the office, he saw only one reply:
Sorry man, already out with Dawn. Good luck this week!
He dropped his phone into his bag and thought for a second: why not go out alone? People do it all the time. It’s not weird. One drink, maybe make some conversation with the bartender, then head home early.
Besides, his job was already done. The senior partners made it clear: he was to organize trial binders, prepare all witness outlines, show up in his best suit, and learn. The outcome of this case would determine the firm’s future with one of its top business clients. Plus, the plaintiff’s attorney, recognizing he was in far over his head, had hired an out-of-state attorney to take them through trial.
Griffin opened the thick oak door of Bar 97 to find roughly a dozen customers. None of his coworkers went here, and Griffin had only been a couple of times himself. He noticed a younger couple nestled in a booth, anxiously gripping their drinks, clearly trying something new. A loud group of thirty-something guys guffawed from the far end of the bar, partially watching Monday Night Football but mostly bullshitting with each other. Griffin took a seat towards the middle, leaving three seats between him and the next closest person in a bar stool.
Her long blonde hair swiveled with the stool as she hung up her phone and placed it face down on the bar. Without meaning to, Griffin made eye contact. She had small features and faint freckles on either side of her nose. She wore an ivory blouse, perhaps made of silk. Her hands were wrapped around an old fashioned, her red fingernails faintly clicking along the glass. She wore no wedding ring, but sported an expensive-looking diamond ring on her right ring finger. She looked as if she may be twenty years older than Griffin, but kept a spark in her eyes that he could not find in himself.
Griffin ordered a drink from a bartender he didn’t recognize, and struggled to feel comfortable. For as long as he could remember, he was a curious person. He wanted — had — to know why. This hunger had opened up some amazing opportunities for him, but it also had burned him on more than one occasion. So for that reason, he had to know: why was this woman sitting by herself? Why did she not seem out of place in an environment that had no place for her? He reflexively pulled his phone out of his coat pocket to make it seem as if he was not analyzing the stranger next to him.
“I hope you’re not working on that phone.”
Nearly dropping his phone, as if he wasn’t allowed to look at the weather app, he replied: “What’s that?” He looked up to see the woman motioning him towards her. He inhaled as he walked over and took the seat next to her.
“I said, I hope you’re not still working. You look like you’ve been at it all day.” Griffin halfheartedly laughed. Her voice was so low, he had no chance to hear her unless he sat directly next to her.
“Since 7:30 this morning, yes, but I’m used to it.”
“And what job requires you to wear this suit for fourteen hours?” She reached over to pinch a bit of his blue plaid sleeve, looking up at him, awaiting his answer.
“I’m an attorney. I work at Schultz.”
“You have a look about you; I should have known.”
“A look? And what is that look?”
“Like someone who dressed up to sit in front of a computer for fourteen hours.”
He smirked. “Yes, today was mostly screen time.”
“And what does that consist of, for you?”
Now was his opportunity. Griffin could pull the whole ‘oh it’s boring, you don’t want to know’ spiel he always repeats when asked about his work, and then he could get some answers about his counterpart.
“Well, it’s honestly pretty boring–writing, researching, things like that. We have an important day tomorrow.”
“She nods her head, then pushes her blonde curls back. “You know, my ex-husband was an attorney: there’s no way your stories could be as boring as his.”
“Thing is, I’m younger, and I’m mostly learning. But I’m working very hard–not that anyone is noticing.” Griffin loved to confide in strangers. Back home, he had to hedge his answers, always stopping short of what he wanted to say, lest it be repeated to the wrong person. But in his new city, he could tell anyone almost anything, because he knew he’d never see them again.
She sipped her drink and continued to pierce him with her light green eyes. Her face had faint wrinkles, as if she’d taken care of herself, but committed to aging naturally. “Harry went through the same thing when he was your age. Proving yourself to someone who barely knows you is difficult. But if you get that opportunity?” Her eyes seemed to be looking through the dead center of his. “That is when you have to perform.”
“Very good advice…” Griffin met her gaze, waiting for her to fill in the blank so that he might have some idea as to who the hell he was talking to.
She paused, ensuring that he never took the lead of the conversation. “I’m Victoria.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Victoria. I’m Griffin. I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Are you here a lot?”
“No, no, I come here every few months. I guess I just felt some relief once I finished my trial prep. Having a drink felt right.” Victoria’s mind began to whir. He was so earnest, so naive, so ready. Anything about him, his life, his work–she could get him to tell her within 30 seconds.
“I’ve never been here. I’m visiting my sister, but she works the night shift at Memorial. So we can spend the day together, but the night is all mine.”
“That sounds fun. You know, the last few weeks have been so hard, having to step up for everyone. I just wanted to feel some relief.” Griffin felt his new acquaintance would understand the feelings he rarely shared.
“Relief?”
“Yeah, you know, relax a little bit. It’s been tense.”
Almost as if it were a coincidence, Victoria finished the last bit of her drink. Not the dramatic throwing back that most people complete before this type of proposition.
“Relief? How relieved you must be.” Griffin’s mind–for the briefest second–thought he picked up some innuendo for the first time. He motionlessly shook his head, remembering that he was out for a single drink, a short conversation with a stranger, before he took off to his apartment for a full night’s sleep.
“Griffin, I think you would feel much more relief if you came with me.” Victoria raised her eyebrows towards the younger man. She knew that he would fumble over his answer, but she knew what the answer would undoubtedly be.
“With you? Well, this is my only drink.”
“It’s the only one you need.”
She raised, left two twenty-dollar bills on the bar, and began to walk towards the door. Griffin froze, unsure if this was some sort of prank. Could it be? He’d had a couple of one-night stands after the bar, but he’d never gotten laid this easily. Still clearheaded enough to play it cool, he departed his bar stool and walked towards Victoria.
She was staying at the Lincoln, which was just down the block. The pair didn’t say anything during this journey, an unspoken agreement. Any doubt, any questions–they all swept away when she accelerated a few steps ahead of him. Her dark wash jeans accentuated her ass without being skin-tight. There was an elegance about her that he had only seen in the movies. Most men go through their whole lives without a chance with a woman like this, so why should he question anything?
As they stepped off the elevator, his heart pounded. He felt almost giddy, as if he’d won the lottery by accidentally buying a ticket. Her key card beeped to open the heavy hotel door. The bedside lamp was already glowing, and neither of them bothered to turn on another lamp. She slipped to the bathroom, and Griffin rested along the side of the bed. He began to untie his oxfords, convincing himself to take charge of the moment.
“Stand up.” Her command, given in that same low, hushed tone, interrupted his inner pep talk. He pushed himself off the bed and leaned forward to kiss her. Her full lips were so inviting. She welcomed his kiss, as if she had wanted him to do this when they first locked eyes. She unbuttoned her blouse as he continued to passionately slide his tongue over hers, just before she drew away.
A sleek, black bra contrasted with her pale skin. The same freckles from her face spread to her shoulders and chest. He reached around her to unclasp her bra, letting her breasts fall out of the B cups.
With the same deliberate intention, she dropped to her knees in front of him. This was it. Those green eyes peered up at him, never dropping their intensity. The LED light of the bedside lamp made her ring sparkle as she methodically began to remove his black leather belt.
“Let’s,” she untucked the excess of the belt.
“See,” she removed the pin from the loop hole.
“What?” she grasped the cold, slim buckle
“We’re” she slid the belt through the loops as if it would fall apart if she removed it too hastily.
“Working with,” she flashed her bright white teeth from her puffy pink lips; the most genuine smile she’d given all evening. She sat the belt next to her on the carpeted floor.
If he had not left his brain on the bar, he may have been alerted to how alarming this comment was. He may have backed away, pretended he had a phone call, and left the room. But she was like a thriller he couldn’t put down; he had to see what was going to happen next.
She undid the clasp on his light blue patterned pants and began to pull the zipper down. He could hear every metal tooth, cheering him on. As cold as it was outside, he swore he could feel sweat in the middle of his back, sticking to his shirt. Using both hands, she smoothly tugged at his waistband, allowing the last piece of Griffin’s uniform to fall to the floor.
At that moment, she glanced directly at what she had spotted when he first walked into Bar 97. Through the gray cotton boxer briefs, she spotted a small bump. She was very familiar with this moment. She’d put on a show of undressing her partners many times, always eager for the moment of truth. Typically, she was happy with the result no matter what, but tonight, underneath her calm exterior, she was ecstatic to affirm her suspicions.
The gray cotton disappeared at a moment’s notice, removing the last layer separating her from the secret that she already knew about. She smirked at it, watching it twitch. His eyes had been affixed to this scene the entire time, refusing to blink for fear of missing even a second of it. At twenty-seven, his life had reached its pinnacle. How could it get better than this? He thought.
“What’s that?” She leaned back, resting her firm ass on her heels, placing her hands on her thighs. Like an unprepared witness, they never know what to say to this question.
He chuckled. “What is it? Iiii think you know what it is.” He was unprepared for this turn of events.
“Yes, but I’m just–surprised. It’s not really what I’m used to, but it’s fine.” She knew she had him on the line, and he was ready to jump in the boat, whether he realized it or not. His curiosity couldn’t let the comment go.
“What you’re used to?” The unexpected turn of the conversation had redirected the flow of his blood. His brain was, for the first time since he left his office, firing on all cylinders. His dick, however, was steadily shrinking.
“Yes. It’s just a little…smaller,” she winced as she met his gaze, as if she was afraid to hurt his feelings. As if she wasn’t sure this was what he wanted to hear.
His knees began to weaken. Since he was a teenager, in the back of his head, he’d wondered. It was taboo—an unspoken agreement between him and his partners over the years. No woman ever said anything to him about it, but they’d never really said anything to ease his insecurity. He had seen women fawn over other men, begging to be impaled–but that was just in porn. And the Internet reassured him; it’s just acting, the women are putting on, and it’s not that big of a deal anyway.
His spiraling was interrupted by a warm touch. “Look,” she whispered, “at how neatly it fits into my palm.” His face was blood red at this point, but he did not withdraw. His fantasy had been flipped upside down, but it only drew him closer.
“Let’s run a test, shall we?” she asked, eyebrows raised, watching his reaction to the rhetorical question. Without breaking eye contact, she parted her lips and descended upon him. Without effort, her nose pressed against his lower stomach. He had completely disappeared into her wet mouth, the whole of his masculinity parked well short of her gag reflex. She let out a lone hmmm as if she were barely following along to a boring conversation.
The test took no longer than ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity in his psyche. This tantalizing woman had taken any remaining plausible deniability he had grasped onto since high school and swallowed it whole. She clarified every slightly disappointed look, every hesitant facial expression.
“Okay, so you’re a little small–it’s not a big deal. Size doesn’t matter.” Soothing his fresh wounds, it was nice to hear what the internet consistently assured him of.
He let out a truncated sigh. “Not quite what every guy wants to hear, but uh,” he laughed. With this assurance, his erection returned. All four inches raged against gravity, casting a meek shadow over her freckled cheek.
She let out a brief giggle. No more mind games, no more drawing him in. He was entirely hers for the taking. “I’m just kidding, honey. Size does matter, and you don’t measure up.” Before he could react, she placed him back into her mouth. Bobbing up and down, almost imperceptibly, working her tongue across his head, she let out rhythmic, sarcastic groans. She knew she had chosen correctly.
Backing away, a salty taste in her mouth revealed how pathetic he was. She could see the precum start to leak as he throbbed in front of her face.
“No, no,” he covered his face with his hands in disbelief. “I’m average at least, right?”
“Average? I’ll put it this way: When I saw you walk into the bar, I took a nice look at those tight little pants. If you had a bulge, it would have been on full display. But your little shrimp must have disappeared into one of the wrinkles.
“And once I got you back here, I wanted to really draw this out and tease you, to give you every chance to prove yourself. I thought there was a chance that maybe you were just a grower. Most guys that get my little belt trick are ready to bust their zipper. But not you.” Griffin was paralyzed with anticipation, desperate to know what was about to happen.
“And those tight gray boxer briefs are supposed to really show off a dick. But I could barely see yours. Once I swallowed you up, you had to know something was up, right?”
“I heard you moan!” he blurted out in an attempt to defend himself.
“That,” she laughed, “was not a moan. That was a ‘hmm’ as in, hmm, I wonder where the rest of his cock is.'” He finally removed his eyes from the scene at this midsection.
He was emotionally overwhelmed. He knew he shouldn’t like this. This shame being cast upon him, this ritualistic humiliation of his masculinity. Yet he couldn’t escape. She had so calmly torn him down, but all he wanted was for her to prop him back up again.
“Look, even if you don’t have exactly what I am looking for, I’m still interested in you. I can tell you have a great personality, and you’re quite handsome, in your nice, expensive suit.” She ran the back of her hand across his bare chest. “I can definitely tell you workout. You just have a small dick.
“And because of that, we may need some help.” She floated over to the other side of the room and reached into her open suitcase. Much like her jeans, her black panties hugged tightly against her round ass. He imagined her in the gym pouring sweat, thinking about taking control over a guy just like himself.
With two quick zips, her hand emerged with a small, teal device wrapped around her finger. “Real men make me wet on their own, but with you I just need a little assistance. So I’ll use this,” she pressed a button on the device with her thumb, and it began to buzz. “And you’ll sit and watch me, okay?”
He nodded as if he were understanding a new concept. He was so eager to learn, and so thankful to have someone so interested in giving him an experiential lesson.
“No, no, I need you to tell me: yes ma’am.”
As soon as he blurted out her command, she smiled, as she always did when she heard those two words that let her know she was in complete control. She relaxed herself, positioning her frame onto the pillows propped against the beige headboard. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slipped them off. The black lace flung across the bed and landed against Griffin’s thigh. “You want to put those on for me?” she teased. He shook his head, barely able to control himself.
“Maybe you should.” She placed the vibrator against her clit, allowing every muscle in her body to melt within a few seconds. “You could probably fit in them, couldn’t you?” She asked with her eyes closed.
“Yes, ma’am,” he reflexively grabbed the panties with his left hand, his right hand slowly stroking himself. He began to rise off the bed before she stopped him.
“Griffin, I was joking. I would only make you do that if I weren’t going to fuck you,” she laughed. He didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. Every twitch of his face was focused wholly on her, revealing only his desire to do whatever she commanded of him. He would do anything, in that moment, just to touch her.
The vibrator continued to melt Victoria, washing away all of the stress of the last week. She had a long day, and it was enjoyable to find someone to toy with. She slipped her left hand over his right breast and began to twist her nipples.
“Would you like to try and help me?” she asked in an encouraging tone. He nodded eagerly at the slightest hint of enthusiasm. As difficult as it was, she switched off the vibrator, slipped her finger out of it, and set it on cool white sheets next to her. “Come,” she beckoned him with her left index and middle fingers. “Come suck on my tits, but do not lay a fucking finger on me.”
As she sat at a ninety-degree angle, her breasts hung naturally. He climbed on his hands and knees across the king-size mattress, nearly falling over the oversized comforter she had pushed in between them. His head leaned down, gently sucking on her nipples, alternating between the left and right. It was clear he knew what he was doing with his mouth. Following her orders to a T, he did not touch her, keeping his palms on either side of her, flat on the mattress. Surprised by his adequacy, she slipped the vibrator over her finger again, clicking once, twice, three times to put it on its most intense setting.
“You’ve probably never seen a woman this turned on after she saw that pathetic dicklet.” He mumbled a stifled reply, her breast stuffing his mouth, but she could barely hear over the whirring.
“Fuck, keep going, do not change a fucking thing,” she rasped. The vibrator could have satisfied her on its own, but having him, so pitiful, so submissive, do anything he could to help her climax pushed her over the edge much faster.
Her curled toes drove into the bed, her left hand reached out and squeezed, as hard as she could, into his bicep. He was undeterred, continuing his task with laser focus. She could hold back no longer: she came, rising off the bed, panting, digging her claws into his firm shoulder.
After a few seconds, she clicked off the vibrator and looked up at her new pet. He had removed himself from her nipple, awaiting his next task with his dick completely enveloped by his hand.
“You did such a good job for me,” she smiled. “How about a surprise? Come closer.” She patted the mattress in between her spread legs. On his knees, he ambled over, but he froze, awaiting further instruction. He wanted desperately to know how she felt.
“You obeyed me so well, I’m going to let you fuck me. Normally, little dick guys get pouty. They become so focused on making themselves cum that they forget that I am the only reason they aren’t alone in their room, watching porn, struggling to stay hard. But not you.”
“Guys? You do this often?”
“Fuck small dicks? No. Typically, I like to be dominated and roughed up—someone who leaves me sore. I actually had a plan to do something just like that, until I saw you walk into the bar.
“Now, did you go soft yet?” She reached down, intrigued to find that he was rock hard. Her fingers easily wrapped around him. “Look at you,” she smiled. “Come on.”
Griffin came closer and looked down. The bedside lamp caused her pussy lips to glisten. He breathed heavily. He had never been this turned on. He placed his head neatly inside of her and pushed in as far as he could go. Even with his inadequacies, she wrapped around him very tightly.
“Is that…is that really all?” She giggled.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, you poor thing. You’ve been so good, keep going for me.”
He began to thrust inside of her with short, slow strokes. She propped her legs up against his torso in the hopes that he might get a little deeper, but he was beyond help. Every time he pushed into her, she could feel the power behind his thighs. He could easily lift her, but she knew he would slip out if he tried to do something the least bit daring.
While she was busy fantasizing, his face began to skew, and he looked as if he was struggling.
“It’s okay,” she assured him. He had only been inside her for a minute, but this would be the beginning of hours of entertainment.
“It’s okay?” he asked.
“I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel the pitiful load those little balls are holding.”
His mouth clenched shut, and he began to pound into her. His hands controlled her hips, pushing her back into him.
Her voice became stern, louder: “You can fuck me as hard as you want, but you’ll never be a real man.”
With that, he felt himself spill into her–one, two, three, four spurts. He opened his eyes to see her white teeth flash at him, proud of her work. She raised and gave him a longing kiss before he gently removed himself. She walked to the bathroom, hand cupped between her legs to catch what he had left inside her. The sheer amount of cum he produced impressed her, but she would not let on, not yet.
“You must have really liked that,” she said as she returned to the bed. “Did you know that you liked being humiliated?”
“I uhh, no–well, I do now.” She laughed. Griffin’s heart had finally stopped racing, but his mind continued to accelerate. No one had ever done to him what Victoria just accomplished. The entire time he had been under her spell, he was able to clear his mind and focus only on her. To be humiliated and reassured, accepted and rejected–he craved more. He could not let her leave town without at least trying to stop her.
The End.
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