Brought Down to Serve: Part 1
Sophie blinked hard in an attempt to stop the impending tears. Walking alone back to the flat from the station was always the low point of her day. For it immediately followed the highlight, her train ride home with Oliver. Tall, athletic, blond hair and blue eyes, Olly was a Teutonic god. Just turned 25, flirty, charming, charismatic, Olly was Sophie’s world. In that hour-long journey back from the city, Sophie was in a dazzle as she listened to Oliver talk. It didn’t matter the subject, Sophie feigned interest on all matters, from sport to his work. It didn’t matter, it was enough just to hear his voice.
Tonight had been different. Olly had spent the entire journey on the phone to some new Italian slut. Right in front of Sophie! Taunting her affections with every moment of disregard. And I just smiled away like a grinning idiot! Sophie resolved that she would not tell her flat mates Steph and Kate, they had already warned her off this ‘obsession’, and would only use this as further evidence. But they didn’t see what Sophie saw. For all his pretensions, when Olly smiled at her, she saw how he really felt about her. She had to keep trying for his sake as much as hers.
Making her excuses to the girls Sophie quickly retreated to her room and her laptop. She couldn’t believe it! That Italian bitch was already posting messages on Olly’s facebook page. Checking this new rival’s profile pictures, Sophie felt next to nothing. This girl was a perfect ten. Walking over to the mirror, Sophie lost all hope. She was not entirely unattractive, but she was rather plain looking. Short, not as thin as she used to be and pushing 29, Sophie’s one redeeming feature was rather large boobs, which she sought to exploit with padded bra’s and tight sweaters. She had once noticed Olly stealing glances at her chest and had since tried to make the best of this.
Resigning herself to today’s ritual humiliation and defeat, Sophie slumped onto her bed. As a facebook notification popped up, she dared to hope it was Olly, seeking one of his drink-induced late night chat sessions. Of course not, it was Hilary. The matriarch of the English-speaking community in this little Milan suburb. Hilary was a rather fearsome 50 year old English woman who had once been an artist of some renown. Retiring to this Milanese village, Hilary now tutored anyone with the cash in various artistic pursuits.
“Photography class. Saturday, 10am. Bring a camera.”
Saturday’s exploits was the last thing on Sophie’s mind right now. But it wouldn’t be the worst thing to meet a few new people. She had spoken to Hilary on dabbling in photography, it may be a welcome turn of pace.
“See you there. Sophie.”
With that Sophie surrendered herself to sleep, whilst mentally undressing Olly from that suit he was so fond of.
Olly was dizzy with lust. Eleanor was by far the hottest girl he’d met in this year in Milan! He’d couldn’t believe she’d said yes for a Monday date. By this time next week, she’d be his. Carefully hanging up his suit and stripping down to his boxers Olly checked his messages as he prepared the rest of his routine.
“Model required. Saturday, 9:50am. Usual rate.”
It was Hilary. Olly hated spending any time with that the humourless bitch who considered herself the Queen of Milan’s English community. Particularly after that summer incident… But that money was good, last time Olly had posed in winter clothing for some no-hope painters at Hilary’s and had made a hundred Euros. The extra cash could be flashed about come Monday with Eleanor…
“See you there. Olly.”
Two blocks down the road, Hilary smiled at the simplicity of it all.
-21:43 “See you there. Sophie.”
-21:56 “See you there. Olly.”
On entering Hilary’s apartment Olly felt it was rather cold for Milan in September.
“You do realise you’re five minutes late?” Hilary stood before Olly, hands on hips, white blouse and black pencil skirt, with her signature killer red heels. Despite being somewhat shorter than Olly, the matriarch’s acid tone unnerved Olly. She always treated him like a petulant child. The younger girls of their little Anglophile community didn’t show such disrespect.
“-Not interested. Get in that room and strip off.”
With that Hilary turned and marched off into the large salon that served as her model room.
Olly’s cheeks burned with the chastisement, he turned to the door; “I can just walk right out, that will show the sour-faced bitch.” But he needed that money for his date on Monday…just get it over with, easy money.
Entering Hilary’s bedroom (which always served as his changing room) Olly sighted the white robe laid on the bed. Usually he modelled a certain fashion genre, at least two or three outfits. Why would anyone want to paint a guy in a bath robe?
Olly flinched at her scream. He’d never come across her this tetchy – well, except once. Earlier in the summer Hilary had had him modelling some swimwear. Having spent the previous day at the pool with Sophie, Steph and Kate, he had, in the inertia of modelling, let his mind slip to the glorious cleavage he had seen that day; particularly Sophie’s heaving breasts struggling in a skimpy bikini far too small for those big beauties. Surely Sophie’s best (and only!) asset. In the heat of the moment, Hilary had walked over to him and thrown a sharp, hard, hand slap into his groin, smashing the erection he had unknowingly pitching through his short much to the amusement of the four girls painting that day. Hilary had been in a furious rage that day, and he had barely escaped with his clothes. It had been a good long while before she had invited him back to model.
Quickly stripping off, Olly stepped into the robe. He felt a little light headed, what with his cock hanging freely with just an ill-fitting robe to protect his modesty. He felt the very cold now, and trepidation of his little secret began to rise in the back of his mind. Ignore it. Don’t think about it. Please stay down.
Walking into Hilary’s salon Olly’s perturbed mind was met with utter confusion. The standard blank white backdrop was in place, but no easels stood opposite. Alone in the room stood Hilary, sporting a look of utter disdain for the boy.
“Just how long does it take you to take all your clothes off?” Hilary’s words came with a curt smirk.
Olly still didn’t understand, he tried to regain his composure, desperately trying to ignore the fact he was but a flimsy white robe away from being stark naked before this woman. Hilary was looking better than ever. To say she was probably past 50, she was in fantastic shape! Pert breasts with generous cleavage from her white blouse. Those red heels must have added at least four inches. Her steely eyes were fixed straight upon him. Olly suddenly felt like a naughty schoolboy who had been found out by the headmistress. The summer’s incident was flooding back to Olly, Hilary throwing a slap into his cock, then whipping him out of her door in a fury to the hysterics of the assembled painters.
“Hmm!” Hilary interjected sharply, “you don’t need easels for a photography class you stupid boy.”
Olly’s mind was spinning. He consciously felt the vulnerability of his position as his little secret twitched in fear. Pulling his robe tighter around his waist, he tried to get a grip of the situation. Painting or sketching was one thing, Hilary’s bunch of amateurs recreated nothing like his incredible physique, but photography? An actual digital bank of pictures, of him, permanent.
“Time up, TAKE IT OFF!”
Hilary’s words almost felled Olly. Off? Desperately looking around for his modelling clothes, Olly froze as Hilary marched towards him, heels stamping on the pinewood floor. Grabbing the robe with such force that Olly audibly grasped, Hilary did not hesitate, she yanked it down to his trembling knees. Boys were so overprotective about their precious dicks!
With her head barely six inches from Olly’s groin, what Hilary saw made her tremor in surprise. This 6ft, ripped hunk, the darling of the local female population, was MINISCULE. A tiny hint of a cock nervously peeked beyond a thick bush. A pathetic worm, finally exposed to the world if Hilary had anything to do with it. Olly’s legs buckled under the humiliation. He desperately wanted to cup his precious dick with his hands and protect them from the imperious Hilary, to pretend this had never happened, that she had never seen him for what he was, but he remain fixed with fear. Despite his stunning looks and athleticism, he had shied from ever revealing his little secret to a woman, until now. He had been forcibly exposed, in the light of day, shown for the joke he was. Frequent measuring had pushed Olly towards this enforced shyness, it was less than two inches when erect! His stunning features and lithe body would count for nothing when the female population discovered this pathetic embarrassment. And how Hilary knew it.
Hilary took in the glorious sight – not this little dick! But the Alpha Male brought down to a quivering mess. Men really were defined by their cocks, and almost all of them – Hilary had found – were pretty pathetic, a source of derision, if not scorn. The likes of Olly strutted around, leading on the likes of poor Sophie, on what basis?! This trembling little dick? They had to be brought down, emasculated even. And Hilary was the woman to do it.
Olly panted, hyperventilating, gazing down at the little bush that almost completely masked his ‘pride’. His legs shook, he was paralysed with the humiliation. Hilary didn’t waste any time. Time to complete a famous victory. Picking up her camera, she held it aloft in triumph to Olly.
“You do realise you have no choice. Submit to my photo session or submit to me telling every girl in Milan of your little dicklet. Such as it is! No girl will ever look at you again! Well – except to laugh! Gosh, how do you please women with that?!”
With this Hilary tried but failed to stifle a venomous grin. She had this naked prick over a barrel, and if he thought there was a way out, it was only to get worse. Why should she afford this arrogant macho any relief?
Olly was struggling to breathe at this point. How had he gone from planning a date with Eleanor to being stripped down to nothing but a worthless amusement? The shame was burning through him like a fire, in response he tried to shield his dick with his hands.
Big mistake. Hilary threw her heeled foot into his groin. BANG! Olly collapsed to the floor. Hilary crouched down and started snapping away. It wasn’t the portfolio she was planning, but ‘man brought to heel’ would certainly be worth an exhibition at some point. As Olly squirmed on the floor in pain, frantically trying to hide his pitiful modesty, Hilary moved quickly and systematically around him, capturing his naked, surrendered state at every angle. The new feminist gallery in London might well be interested in this impromptu display of male submission!
Olly gasped at the pain and complete humiliation. In one second, her red heel had reduced him to a prostrated mess, with Hilary snapping away, his pathetic state captured for perpetuity. His little cock was on fire with pain, evidently. Any fight had now left him, lying flat on his back, Olly laid his head back in complete submission to Hilary’s devices, flashes of her camera went unhindered. But Olly’s submission was barely beginning.
A knock on the door.
Olly was filled with warm relief as Hilary left the room, surely this surreal session of humiliation was now over. He had somehow survived, Olly dared to push himself forward, till he was seated upright, massaging his swollen, shrivelled dick, still incredibly hurt from Hilary’s single kick with her heel.
“Step right in Sophie, we’ve just started.”
Sophie took a step back, put her hand out to grasp the door frame as she gasped. Before her sat Olly. Completely starkers. His legs were apart, his groin facing towards her.
Olly looked up and felt what was left of his dicklet shrivel up entirely. NO NO NO! Not her! Besides Hilary stood Sophie, camera in hand, staring right at his little secret. Olly threw his hands in front of it, tears already welling up in his eyes. For a year this simple bitch had been his plaything, always good for an ego boost, obviously infatuated with him. Fury overcame him, why had Hilary brought HER!
“I’m so sorry” said a nonchalant Hilary, putting her hand on Sophie’s shoulder, “clearly he’s not the man you hoped. Well, not even a man!”
Olly risked moving one hand from his dicklet to wipe the tears away, he dared to look up for an instant, only to see Sophie still bearing right down on him.
“Now Sophie” Hilary began as she slowly walked towards Olly, heels clicking away “First lesson of photography; male anatomy.”
But Sophie couldn’t hear it. All her fantasies, Olly in the shower after football, Olly stripping just for her, Olly caught out changing – and here he was in all his glory! Well. Disappointment and confusion harassed her thoughts. His body was beautiful, as ripped as that time they had gone swimming together. But his…he had covered it up but it had looked, small. Very small. Surely with a physique like this he couldn’t possibly be – small? She had always imagined an eight inch dick inside of her.
Hilary stopped in front of his ankles. The naked Olly, desperately cupping his little cock and balls looked up at her with pure terror. She had reduced him to this on a whim, she stood there, red heels barely a foot away from another stinging kick, staring down at Oliver with utter contempt.
“We hired you as a nude model. We will have our money’s worth.”
Olly looked at the starstruck Sophie, camera in hand. Hilary was one thing, but submitting to this peasant bitch, he’d never live it down. He tried to believe that Sophie hadn’t yet seen it, that if he could just get out of here with his hands fixed to his little secret, she would never know.
“Remove your hands. STAND UP!”
-“I can’t, not in front of her.” Olly finally gave way, bursting into tears. This girl idolised him, but now she would secure his humiliation forever. What was left of his dick retreated into itself, Olly’s crying grew more heavy.
With a final look of sympathy to Sophie, Hilary threw all her strength into an almighty kick into Olly’s cupped hands. They broke free with a scream to reveal, well, nothing much. Another couple of Hilary’s expertly positioned kicks had Olly crying on his back, balling in pain and despair.
For Sophie, time was in slow motion. Less than a minute from entering the room and she had witnessed Mr. ‘unattainable’ brought down, naked in submission before her. Hilary’s swift and judicious actions had him on his back, a tiny little penis was just visible lying upon his panting torso.
“Don’t delay Sophie, I imagine you’ve thought about this.” Thank goodness for Hilary! She had presented Olly, stark bollock naked, on the floor before Sophie. “This is a Photography class afterall.”
Her head still spinning, Sophie raised the camera, what a picture that would be! Olly completely prostrate before her, little dick protruding from his thick bush. With a single click, Sophie realised everything, forever had now changed between them. The next five minutes made Sophie wet with ecstasy, moving around Olly, capturing forever his naked state. Close-ups of the little dick shivering in terror, her hands running across his torso, Olly on all fours, Hilary allowed her every angle possible, and Olly offered no resistance after Hilary had acted on the ingenious idea of shoving one of her heels up his arse to cut short his protests.
As Sophie went about her business uninterrupted. Hilary sighed with satisfaction. Sophie was obviously the girl to bring Olly to heel. She just hoped Sophie might be able to see past Olly’s horrifically small size to the potential of this now subservient male. Was it cruel? To push such a little dick upon Sophie? Had Hilary done the enterprising young girl a disservice? Only time would tell. No doubt a liberated Sophie would now put him through his paces.
Sophie collapsed onto the couch in exhaustion. Scrolling through the pictures on her camera made her feel drunk with lust and power. Olly really did look pathetic in this state. To think of how intimidated she had allowed herself to be around him, time to make up for lost time.
“You finished honey?” asked Hilary to Sophie as she absent-maidenly stroked Olly’s thick blond hair. For Olly was now just a prop. During the photo-shoot it had felt for him like time had stood still. His one attempt at resistance had been met with Hilary taking off one of her shoes and sticking the sharp heel up his arsehole. The pain had been excruciating as had the sound of Hilary’s wicked cackles as she pushed the heel deeper inside of him. Since then he had meekly complied as Hilary used her roving hands to bend him into all sorts of demeaning positions. On a number of occasions she took the opportunity of giving his balls a pinch which caused him to yelp like a little dog. These memories were burnt into his mind forever, whilst Sophie’s wide eyes drank in every inch of his body.
Observing that Sophie was simply too astonished to reply, Hilary tightened her grip on Olly’s head of hair and dragged him to his feet. Stepping towards the whimpering boy, Hilary put her body barely an inch away from his. Despite his ordeal Olly immediately felt a sense of arousal. Hilary’s lips were just a moment away from being on his, he could smell her intoxicating perfume as he dared a quick glance down to sight a white lace bra under her blouse. Hilary let that chauvinist glance slide, but speaking slowly to Olly she said “You have embarrassed yourself today. Do you really think I’m going to pay you for THIS?”
With that last word she grabbed his little cock and balls and squeezed with all her might. Olly fell under the searing pain but his cock remained in Hilary’s vice-like grip. He howled in agony as his legs took him down but Hilary pulled his cock upwards.
“Get the fuck out of here Oliver. Sophie and I have things to discuss.”
Tears rolling down his cheeks, Olly tried to stand, only to feel Hilary’s heel on his back, pushing him to the ground again.
“You will crawl in my presence.”
Refusal no longer entered his mind. He slowly crawled towards the door whilst blubbing uncontrollably. He crawled slowly as all his strength from those once-proud muscles seemed sapped from him. Sophie watched in awe from behind as she thought she could just about spot his little pink dick between his crawling legs. Her thoughts were interrupted by Hilary, who re-emerged from the kitchen with two large glasses of red wine.
“Now my beautiful Sophie, you and I can start planning little Olly’s future.” Taking the glass, Sophie took a deep long drink and smiled. Today’s reckoning had been but a moment, it would now be made permanent.
When Olly returned home he immediately removed all his clothes. He didn’t know why, but he somehow felt dirty in them. A dozen panicky thoughts invaded his mind but his first resolve was to check facebook; Sophie’s page. There was one new picture. But relief washed over him. It wasn’t even of him! It must have been taken afterwards, for staring back at the screen was a picture of Hilary and Sophie, arms interlocked with large glasses of wine. Olly stared hard at the picture, their eyes were alive with something. Malice? Triumph? Olly was consumed with hate, hate for what they had done. How easily Hilary had reduced him to nothing. But there was something else, his cock was rock hard, pointing straight up at him. Trying to make sense but failing, Olly slipped his hand around his cock. It was still red raw from Hilary’s combination of kicks and grabbing, but as he leaned forward towards the picture, he started to wank furiously. Scenes from his humiliation replayed in his mind, Sophie’s look of shock, then disappointment as she first came across his naked state; his tears as Hilary demanded he remove his hands; her elegant red-heeled foot smashing mercilessly into his groin; Sophie’s hands roaming at will over his torso as he lay flat on his back, legs wide apart; Hilary forcing him to crawl –
Spunk erupted from his cock all over his computer screen. Olly pumped his cock in ecstasy with total abandon. The orgasm blew his mind, it was on another level from the usual lazy wank to pictures of topless girls. As he wiped down his spunk-drenched laptop screen, the image of Hilary and Sophie stared back at him. Quickly grabbing his cock, Olly pumped away again, fixated upon Sophie’s ample cleavage. With just a dozen strokes Olly came again before Hilary and Sophie. He found himself fixed into this pattern for most of the night, devouring Sophie’s fb pictures, occasionally switching to Hilary’s profile pics and her imperious smirk.
He awoke the next day still in his deskchair, completely naked with one hand cupping his dick. His browser was on a picture of Sophie, Steph and Kate. It was one he had taken when they had gone to the pool together. Kate looked absolutely stunning as usual. She had an athletic frame, C-cup breasts that defied gravity and long blonde hair. Her perfect facial features were stuck in her signature pout. Olly desperately wanted to cum all over that pouting face; that would show the posh bitch. Steph was more average looking. Her hair tied back in a ponytail, whilst wearing thick glasses, Olly had never had any time for her, nor she for him, she was known as a bit of a crazy feminist, always banging on about bringing down ‘the patriarchy’ to its knees. And stood in the middle was Sophie, in a little two piece that struggled to contain her massive jugs, God! They looked even bigger. How he wished he could rip that little bikini off, to have Sophie’s breasts exposed before his eyes. Slowly yesterday’s event came lurking back to his mind. Oh no, no no no. Sophie, the pictures!
To be continued…