(Femdom Story) Wendell And How He Got That Way By free porn video

These stories are favourites of mine and would like to share.

Wendell would never forget the time he met Diana. Just eighteen years old, but street-wise and self-assured as a Mafia kingpin, she was sitting at a small table by the dressing room, leaning back in her chair with her legs kicked open wide. She was laughing with another dancer about something and smoking a cigarette. He’d always remember her white knee-high leather boots and white boy-cut panties and white lace bra; how tight her stomach was and how strong her thighs looked; her hair - shoulder-length blonde with bangs like Barbie’s - and large blue eyes he could see in the dark.
She was, and still is, his perfect One. Compare her to the girl who was sitting with her. The other girl, named Karolyn, was slightly shorter and stockier than Diana, with huge natural breasts and long blonde hair parted in the middle. She’d been in several well-known men’s magazines and traveled frequently as a feature dancer. Thousands of men had jacked off to her pictures. Next to Diana, she looked like nothing.
If Karolyn is the girl in the stroke magazine, then Diana is the girl you buy the magazine for. Karolyn is the opening act, the pictures you look at to get warmed up before you get to Diana’s. Diana is the girl that makes it unbearable for you to throw the magazine away. The one you will treasure forever. The One.

Wendell had never been in a strip club before, and he felt like he was in a dream. It was more like a fancy nightclub than the seedy place he’d imagined a strip joint would be, full of expensive wood and brass railings. The music was louder than Wendell was used to, making his teeth rattle. Strutting around to the loud music were fifty half-naked women selling lap dances to whoever wanted one. They were all beautiful, and for twenty dollars they would take off their tops and rub their tanned young bodies all over you, paying special attention to the bulge in your pants, for the duration of one song. It didn’t matter if the man was fat, old, or ugly; they all got the same cock-straining dance as long as they had money, and Wendell had plenty of money.
Still, after he first noticed Diana he was hesitant to approach her. She was just too good looking. Could it really be possible that someone like himself, scrawny and inept Wendell, could actually get a woman as flawless as Diana to be his private sex-toy just by handing her money?
When he finally got up the nerve to approach her table and coughed up a nervous “Excuse me, Miss? Could I get a dance?” the girls both acted like he’d coughed up a turd. Karolyn muttered something under her breath and took a long annoyed drag of her cigarette while she stared at him. Diana shot him a fuck you look - but he didn’t see it. He was too busy looking down at her legs. God, they were fabulous. Absolutely flawless. And the way her skin glowed in the candlelight -
“Like my boots, loser?” she sneered. Wendell’s brain, lost in an erotic dreamland, took a second to come back to reality.
“Um… yes,” he said, then added quickly, “That is, not just your boots. I mean, your whole outfit’s great. It really shows off your legs. The boots, that is. Your whole body’s great, don’t get me wrong, but your legs are really great.” Wendell could’ve died. Could he be more of an idiot? Couldn’t he think of another word besides great?
“Well, thanks, Mr. Pathetic,” she said, crossing her legs. “But the answer is Fuck No. I’m off for the night.”
Wendell stood there confused. She couldn’t be off. He just saw her doing a lap dance for someone not ten minutes ago. A fairly risqué dance, if he saw it right in the dimly lit booth. It looked like she was giving the guy a hand-job. “Oh. Well, sorry to bother you,” he said. Then, hopefully, “Maybe after your… break?” He couldn’t wait to run his hands over her body and feel her ass bumping against his cock. The thought of it gave him the beginnings of a chub.
“I’m not on break, I’m off for the night, shit-for-brains,” she said, with an exasperated huff. Everything she said to him ended in an insult, Wendell noticed. He also noticed how great her tits looked pushing up out of that lacy bra. Then, he saw her share a quick, unsettling look with her friend. “But…” she looked straight up at him, smiling. “If you beg me, I might… punch back in and dance for you. Right Karolyn?” Karolyn answered her by taking a long look at the small bulge in Wendell’s pants and smirking.
Wendell said “Beg? What do you mean beg?”
Diana said, “You know, beg. On your knees. Get down on your knees, lick my boots and beg me to dance for you.” She took a long drag from her cigarette and held it in, sharing a look with Karolyn and trying not to laugh.
Wendell stood slack-jawed.
“Oh,” she added, blowing the smoke out in his face. “And I’ll only do one dance, and I want a five-hundred dollar tip.”
Wendell was stunned, unable to answer. Five hundred dollars! Even though he was a millionaire (barely), thanks to his stock shares at ResearchPharmagenics where he was Vice-President of Incidentals (Government/Heavy Industry Division), it was still a lot of money. And begging? Licking her boots?
This was crazy. And unfair! Everyone else in here only had to give a woman a twenty-dollar bill and they would twist on their dick like a cheap Mexican whore, and he had to beg for it?
It figured.
Wendell just didn’t have luck with women. All of his life, even average-looking women disdained his wimpy looks (he’d never done a single bit of exercise in his life and his thin, soft body showed it) and wouldn’t even talk to him, much less date him. And the acne-scarred fatties that eventually would agree to socialize with him found his awkwardness around women more annoying than endearing.
He’d never had sex with a girl more than once (including the fat foreign-exchange student that he lost his virginity to), and his last sexual experience was more than five years ago when he was in grad school. It went so badly he was afraid to ever try again. Instead, his social and sex life consisted of stroking his small dick and dreaming about all the cute girls he remembered from high school and college, sexy girls he saw walking in the mall, half the secretaries where he worked -
“Well, dick-head? What are you waiting for?” Diana was really getting tired of this interruption. “Fucking whip out your cash, kneel down, lick my boots and beg. Or get lost, because me and my girlfriend here can’t wait to start talking about what a major dork you are, and we don’t want to seem rude by doing it in front of your face.”
If he did what this woman wanted, who wouldn’t talk about what a dork he was, thought Wendell. But he didn’t know anyone here in Tampa, so what did he care if they talked about him? And isn’t this why he took the yearlong sabbatical from his company and moved here in the first place? So he could “explore some life options” and have a “period of personal growth and risk-taking”? And pussy is a life option, isn’t it? Pussy is personal growth, right?
Fuck it. This girl looked like she was made in a sex-goddess factory. He didn’t care what he had to do. If he had to risk a little embarrassment to get her to stub out her cigarette and shake her ass for him, then so be it.
He knelt, too nervous to look up at her. Leaning forward, he ran the flat of his tongue over the top of her boot while he reached in his back pocket for his wallet. “Please Miss, please may I have a dance?” he mumbled, licking at her boot again. “Please?”
Wendell’s skin prickled with excitement. He as if the whole world was watching his debasement. He heard laughing and giggling around him. His penis grew fully erect and began to drip. He would never forget this moment - the taste of her boot-leather, the hot presence of her over his kneeling body, the overwhelming sexual thrill of his shame - for the rest of his life.

Diana was so mad at him for calling her bluff and ruining her cigarette break that, after kicking him the face and telling him to quit slobbering on her and shut the fuck up, she pulled him by his hair and jap-slapped him right in the face. “Fucking asshole!” she spat. Then, still holding a hand full of his hair, she yanked him behind her as she stormed over to the nearest empty booth.
Karolyn called after them, laughing. “Oooh boy! You’re in for it now, weirdo! Kick his ass, Diana!” she hooted.
Diana threw Wendell roughly into the booth just as a new song was starting and pointed a warning finger at him. “All right, freak, you win. You wanted a dance? You got a dance. Happy? Now just shut the fuck up and give me your fucking money,” she said.
Wendell, speechless and afraid, handed over five new hundred-dollar bills and a twenty. Diana snatched the money from him and then smacked his arms down. “Sit on your hands and don’t you dare open your mouth,” she commanded. He quickly obeyed.
Then, climbing up, she stood astride Wendell in the booth, lit a cigarette, and shoved her sweetly perfumed panty-encased twat right into his face. Holding him tightly against her, she smoked while she bitched at him.
“You fucking ugly cocksucker! Making me do this when I want to just sit for a minute and have a smoke? You needle-dick little faggot! I ought to fucking smack you in your fucking head!” And then she smacked him in the back of his head, keeping her pussy mashed against his nose, making it press her soft, white cotton panty crotch further and further inside of her. “Fuckin’ freaky retard!” Smack. “Pussy-sniffin’ dickless wonder!” Another smack, and so on, for the duration of the three-minute rap song that every other girl in the club was grinding dick to.
As for Wendell, he scarcely noticed the slaps to his head. All he knew was that his face was finally in a pussy - and not just any pussy, Her pussy. Well, not her actual pussy, really – it was still hidden behind her lace-trimmed panties - but so what? It was still better than looking at pictures of pussy and wondering what it felt like. (He’d never even saw the vaginas of the two ugly fat girls that he’s slept with. He only stuck his dick in them for a few seconds, nothing more.)
He’d waited his entire life dreaming of being up close and personal with a faultless shrine like this, and he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to always remember how clean and fresh it was, how soft it felt through the thin cotton. He never wanted to forget the feeling of her strong thighs pinning his head against the back of the booth. He’d never felt such bliss. He tipped her an extra thousand.

For the rest of the night, Diana thought about what she did. She’d been righteously pissed and shouldn’t have lost her temper, but when he knelt down and starting licking her boots it was like he was clowning her right in front of her best girlfriend. And then, after making him smell her sweaty pussy and smacking him in the head about twenty times, she realized he was getting off on it and got even angrier. When the song was over, she quickly grabbed the extra money he held out to her and made him crawl out of the club on his hands and knees while she followed behind him. She’d kicked him in the ass as many times as she could, all the way past the cashier’s stand in the lobby, screaming that he was a fucking pussy bitch-ass punk motherfucker. It wasn’t until after he left that she realized how much money he’d given her.

The owner of the club, an ex-dancer named Kari, tried to lecture Diana that night about her outburst. She’d put all of her savings (plus the money of some of her best long-time customers) into buying this place and making it into something she could be proud of. If she let the dancers beat the shit out of every guy that annoyed them, she’d be out of business in a week.
“Diana, could I talk to you in my office for a minute?” she said calmly to Diana who was back sipping a drink and smoking with Karolyn.
Diana smiled at her sweetly and followed her to the manager’s office, which was located in the back of the club next to the dressing room. She figured Kari was just going to come onto her again. She didn’t mind it, because as long as the owner had a crush on her she knew that she could get away with anything, and did. She regularly gave out hand-jobs and more in the back booths, as long as the guys tipped her enough, and had yet to get in trouble for it.
Kari surprised Diana with her businesslike tone. “Diana, something serious has come up. I know you’re rather new here, but you know the rules. The doormen say they saw you abusing a customer, and – “
Diana held up a wad of cash. “He wanted it! He paid me fifteen hundred dollars! Five hundred to start and a thousand dollar tip! C’mon! I can’t get in trouble for that, can I?” she pleaded.
“Oh,” said Kari. Well, it wasn’t exactly the kind of behavior one would hope for in an expensive gentlemen’s club like Kari’s, but she wasn’t breaking any laws, so…?
Kari thought it over. One of the secrets to running a successful strip club was to keep it full of beautiful girls, and Diana was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. She knew what Diana did in the back booths. Half the girls here did the same thing. Hell, Kari used to give head if the money was right.
She also knew how Diana kissed her that one night when she was drunk, and how she never shied away when Kari “accidentally” brushed up against her tits or let her hands linger just a little too long on certain parts of her tight little body. In her prime, Kari could’ve easily gotten into Diana’s panties. Now, though, she was starting to show a few wrinkles, and sitting behind a desk all day wasn’t helping her figure much.
Oh well. Every cop, judge, and politician in the city came to this club. No need to worry as long as the customers were getting what they paid for. Maybe Diana would remember this favor the next time she came on to her. “Never mind then. As long as you keep your bottoms on you can do whatever you want with him. I’ll have a talk with the doormen so they don’t bother you next time he comes in.”
As Diana left, Kari couldn’t help getting moist while she stared at her ass.

When he came back the next night at the very start of her shift, no one could believe it. It caused such a fuss that girls came rushing out of the dressing room to see how Diana would react.
She sat on a high stool at the bar, talking to Karolyn while she waited for the evening crowd of hard-ons to start coming in. He approached her nervously, holding a dozen roses. “Hello, Miss?” he smiled weakly. He still didn’t know her name. “I came to apologize for making you so angry last night.”
Well, how do you like that, she thought. She kicks his ass in front of a whole crowd of people, and he wants to apologize to her. That little troublemaking punk. Boy, she hated wimpy guys like this. But, if he had money like last night and he liked abuse, then he came to the right woman. Diana was never shy about showing her dislike for the weaker members of the opposite sex, going back to when she was old enough to talk. Getting paid for it would be a bonus.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, bitch?” she said, cocking her head.
“Huh?” he asked. “I mean, what… I’m sorry… I don’t know…”
“You’re not on your knees,” she snapped, cutting him off. She made up her first rule for him as she snatched the roses out of his hands and threw them to the floor. “There’s a special rule I have just for assholes like you, okay? When you come to see me, you have to enter the club on your hands and knees, and crawl to wherever I am. If I’m doing a dance for someone, wait on your knees next to the booth. If I’m in the dressing room, wait on your knees at the door. When I’m ready, I’ll walk over to you and you can start begging for my attention. Got that? You’re never to come in here unless you’re on your knees. Now get out and try again.” She was pretty proud of herself. It wasn’t a bad line of bullshit for right off the top of her head.
Wendell stood there, looking heartbroken.
“Well, asshole? What are you waiting for?” Diana was going to love paying him back for almost getting her in trouble with Kari. It was a good thing Kari wanted to eat her out so badly. “If you want me, crawl in and beg for it.”
Wendell left.
“Damn, girl,” Karolyn said to her, scrambling to pick up the broken bouquet of roses. “How could you do that? Isn’t that the motherfucker gave you a thousand dollars last night after you kicked his ass in front of everybody? And now you’re telling him to leave? Let me at that rich motherfucker! I’ll love him right and get his money. Shit.”
“He’s not leaving.” Diana said, smiling. “Watch.”
A moment later, Wendell crawled back in. Making his way past a trio of dancers and brushing past the legs of a half-dozen frat boys that had just walked in, he crawled up to Diana and placed himself on his knees at her feet. “Dag, girl,” said Karolyn. “What the fuck?”
Diana’s contempt for him grew. Diana liked muscular, macho, athletic men: hard-body jocks that could pound it to her for hours. Wendell was anything but that. Wendell was a sissy nerd with a body as soft and skinny as a flat-chested girl. She’d hated those kinds of guys ever since she was a c***d and boys like Wendell started to let her walk all over them. But, unfortunately for Wendell, she wasn’t a c***d anymore. Diana had learned a lot about walking all over men since then.
She slowly stretched out her right shoe to his face. She wore pink stiletto pumps that night, with a pink lace bra and panty set and a sheer pink wrap that went around her waist. After leisurely rubbing the sole of her shoe over his cheek, he purposefully shoved the pointy toe into his mouth and began to work it in and out, fucking him in the face while he stared up at her wide-eyed. Diana and Karolyn both noticed the undersized bulge forming in his khaki’s. Karolyn giggled and said “Ohmygod, he’s one of those.”
“Here’s rule number two, fag.” Diana said. She was starting to like making up these rules. “I fucking hate wimps, and judging from the way you’re sucking on my shoe like a cock-starved monkey, I’d say you were the biggest wimp in the world. So I’m going to charge you a special five hundred dollar homo tax every time you come in here. That’s before I even decide to dance for you. Five hundred dollars, cash, just to crawl up to me and beg me to dance. You got five hundred dollars on you, homo?”
Wendell shook his head yes, gurgling into her shoe.
“Well let’s see it.” She demanded. Wendell reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out five crisp hundreds. She saw a lot more just like it stuffed inside. Shit, she thought. This could work out great.
She pushed him away from her with her foot, knocking him to the carpet. “Now get over to that booth and wait for me, slurpy. I’ll be there in a minute.”
As he crawled away from her towards the booth, she shared a high five with Karolyn, and wondered what she’d gotten herself into. She knew one thing: Even though she hated wimps in general - and this wimp in particular – for five-hundred dollar tips she was going to make the most of it.

If Diana wondered what she was getting into, Wendell really wondered what he was getting into. He’d already put in a full days worth of masturbation going over the events of last night. He kept replaying the warmth and smoothness of her thighs, the scent of her wet panties, the way she yanked his hair and slapped him, the names she called him - he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. And now she was making him crawl through the club and fucking his mouth with her shoe? He couldn’t figure out why she was doing this. All he knew was that he wanted to be close to her pussy again too badly to say no. It was all making his head spin.
When Diana finally approached the booth, Wendell stuck his hand out and spoke up first. Maybe she’d be friendlier to him if they could just get to know each other as people. “Hi. I never introduced myself. I’m Wendell.”
Diana stared at him. “Wendell, huh? As in Wimpy Wendell? I’m Diana. As in Miss Diana. Where are you supposed to be right now, Wimpy Wendell?”
Wendell thought for a second. “Um, on my… knees…?” She answered him by staring at him silently. Wendell slunk out of the leather booth and knelt down in front of her. Without warning, she slapped him in the face so hard that he fell to the floor, crying. He’d never been hit so hard in his life. “Ow!” He yelped. “Oh god! What the fuck! That really hurt. Ow. Ow. Ow.”
“Shut up, you big girl,” she said, with surprising tenderness. She knelt down and gently put an arm on him and coaxed him up, speaking to him like a c***d. “Shhh, stop whimpering. Jesus. Shhh. Hey, it’s okay. Here, c’mon, get up. Back on your knees, that’s it. There.”
Wendell found himself kneeling again, looking up at the most beautiful teenaged girl in the world. The teenaged girl who owned the only pussy he’d ever been next to. She held his crying face in her hands. “That hurt, huh?” she said, smiling sweetly. Wendell nodded, sniffling. “Well, just remember that, okay Wendell?” She lovingly stroked his face. “Girls like me don’t like it when wimps like you don’t show us enough respect. Understand?” Wendell shook his head yes, blinking back tears.
“But I thought we could talk a little – “
“Look, Wendell,” she said, putting her face close to his, nearly making him swoon. Between her perfume and her soft hair brushing against his face, he was getting harder by the second. “The thing is,” she moved his face to the side so she could whisper in his ear, her lips curled up into a villainous sneer. “I need a fucking wimp like you in my life like I need a hole in the head. I’m embarrassed to even be seen next to you, you’re such a little nerd. You want to pay me for my time, fine. Pay me. But don’t expect me to fucking talk to you like I’m your friend. Got that shrimp-dick?” She was squeezing his face now, hurting him. “Maybe it’s because we got off to such a bad start, maybe it’s something about your face, I don’t know, but I fucking hate you. You want to touch me? You expect me to wiggle my ass on your teeny dick and rub my hands on your pathetic excuse for a body? Forget it. I’m only here to take your money, and you’ll take whatever I give you for it, understand? You don’t like it, get the fuck out and forget about ever seeing me again.” She let his face go and stood towering over him. “I said, do you understand?” she barked. “Or do you never want to see me again?”
“Y-yes,” he stuttered. Looking at her standing over him like that made his cock so hard. How could he ever give up this feeling? “Yes, Miss Diana. I understand.”
“Good. Now give me all your cash and scurry up into the booth. Sit on your hands, and tilt your fucking head back.”

Wendell had been completely subdued in the first week with Diana. He saw her three times that week, and thought about her constantly, jerking off to visions of her several times a day. The only reason he didn’t see her every day that week was that he feared he was going insane. He’d never felt such and obsession for anyone or anything. He knew that what he was doing wasn’t exactly normal and was terrified of what might come next.
During that first week, his nights with Diana pretty much followed a routine. First, he had to call her pager at least a day in advance to let her know he was coming in and at what time (rule #3). Then, upon arrival, he’d pay $20 to the cashier at the front door and immediately drop to his hands and knees. Next, he crawled through the snickering crowd, enduring catcalls and taunts, looking for her, finding her at the bar. After paying his five hundred dollar “homo tax”, he would crawl to an open booth, sit on his hands (rule #4 – he was never allowed to put his freaky, degenerate hands on her ideal, young body) and wait for her. Then, without putting her hands anywhere else but his head (rule #5 – she would never fucking touch his ugly ass), Diana would rub her panty-enclosed pussy into his face, r****g it until she came. In between orgasms, she’d make him kneel and lick her shoes and suck her toes. While he worshipped at her feet, she’d sit and smoke cigarettes, talking to Karolyn or one of the other girls about men she was currently fucking, or men she wanted to fuck. Then, sometimes without even asking her friends to leave the booth, she’d panty-**** his face again.
For her part, Diana should have been enjoying her time with Wimpy Wendell. All she was doing, really, was getting paid huge money to masturbate and drink with her friends. She never let Wendell talk to her, so there was no annoying conversation to put up with, and once she closed her eyes and started humping his face, she forgot he was even there. He was just a tool, really, not even human; a cash-dispensing face she could jack herself off on. What could be better?
But something was wrong. Wendell didn’t seem to be suffering enough for it. Having some idiot crawl and beg for a whiff of her panties was starting to do nothing for her. What guy wouldn’t like shoving his face into her pussy, she thought? Where was the thrill there? All her life she’d taken advantage of boys who were willing to make fools of themselves for her, so what? After she took Wendell’s money, the rest was only to fight the boredom.
There were other, more fun things she’d been thinking of doing to Wendell. She’d talk it over with Karolyn and some of the other girls, and the thought of ruining another person, really fucking them over, excited them on many different levels. She was a natural born man-hater, and those kind of thoughts really made her pussy wet. How far could she take it, she wondered. Where would his breaking point be? How much sexual power did she really have?
Tonight would mark Wendell’s fourth visit with her, and she was ready to step up the abuse another notch.


Wendell, crawling through the club looking for Diana, had decided that he’d had enough. First, he gets slapped, ripped off, and kicked out. Then, humiliated, slapped, and panty-****d. Then, for the last two visits: panty-****d and ignored. And now, like a sick robot, he was back for more.
He knew he had to stop this, but he didn’t know how. No matter how beautiful she was (and she was more beautiful than anyone he’d ever dreamed of) he didn’t know if he could take this anymore. He needed… he needed to touch her - or any woman for that matter. He needed to have some kind of normal human contact in his life instead of being taken advantage of three times a week by some bitch that hated him. And, it was getting expensive. Wendell was only a millionaire on paper, and this kind of cash and credit card spending spree was going to make a real dent if he wasn’t careful.
Maybe if he saw a ther****t. Maybe he could find some kind of sex-fetish Paxil that could cure him of his sick desires. Sick desires? Wanting to bury your face into a teenaged pussy was a sick desire? How about the things you were putting up with to be able to bury your face in the teenaged pussy? The money it was costing you? And wouldn’t it be nice to kiss someone too? Someone who really loved you? And hold hands, and marry? Maybe raise a family? Yeah, but not if she’s a fat, ugly cow! Nobody else gets him hard like Diana! He needed Diana!
He would make some calls to a couple of his friends at ResearchPharmagenics, he decided as he reached the dressing room door and knelt, waiting for her. He needed sound advice, at the very least. If they couldn’t give him advice, then they could send him some d**gs. He’d call first thing tomorrow; first thing in the morning; right after he jacked-off to the memory of Diana’s thighs wrapped around his face one last time.
Diana strolled out of the dressing room and smacked him hard on the back of the head. “Hey, pussy-face, guess what?” she said. “I got a special treat for you tonight.”

He decided to just come out with it and tell her what was bothering him. Surely, she’d let him talk with her just this once. “Diana, before we start, I’ve been thinking this whole thing over and – “ She cut him off by grabbing him by the hair and jamming a pair of old panties she found laying in the corner of the dressing room into his mouth.
“Shut the fuck up. Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you?” He reached up to try and stop her but she was so much stronger than he was. It was useless to resist.
“Mmmff!” he cried. “Mmmff! Mmmff!”
While Diana held his head, Karolyn reached out from behind him and wrapped a length of yellow duct tape around his mouth, gagging him completely. “Mmmff!” he screamed. Using just half the strength she could’ve used, she kneed him in his chest, sending him reeling to the floor. Karolyn straddled his legs and fastened a pair of leather wrist restraints on him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kari, the owner, walk up. Thank god, he thought. “How’s it going Diana?” he heard her say.
Diana put a knee on the back of his neck and smiled up at Kari. “Great,” she said as Wendell struggled. “You know, he just gets freakier and freakier.”
“Okay,” said Kari, ogling Diana’s firm tits. “Well, have fun. Just keep your bottoms on.”

Diana and Karolyn easily lifted up Wendell by his arms and dragged him to the stairs by the main stage. While Karolyn held him, Diana undid his pants and yanked them down to his ankles, removing his belt. He wore baggy white boxers, and his legs where thin and pale.
Next, she ripped his shirt open, popping all of the buttons off. In seconds his shirt was in shreds and ripped off of him completely. His flabby hairless chest muscles hung down like two small titties. “Sex-y,” sang Diana, giving them a jiggle and a pinch.
Finally, Diana fitted a pair of obviously worn silk panties on his head so that the still-damp crotch of them was directly over his nose. Uncontrollably, his small penis began to swell and the tiny head of it poked out shyly from the front of his boxers.
“Since you like sniffing my pussy so much, this should be good for you, dick-head,” she said. “I had them on about an hour ago while I was getting laid.” Then holding his wallet in front of him, “Of course, I’m going to have to charge you just as much as if I was doing dances for you since all you do is sniff my pussy anyway, so enjoy it.”
Wendell heard a new song start up as Diana and Karolyn dragged him to the pole at the center of the stage. A camera flash went off. Then another. Someone pulled off his shoes and pants. He was shoved down in front of the brass pole and his arms were taped tightly to it so that he was forced to kneel upright. Karolyn used his belt, and more tape, to tie his ankles behind the pole. He could move his hips slightly, and his head, but that was all. The DJ chimed in over the music as a new song started up. “Geee-entlemen, put your hands together for the lovely Diana! Center stage! Diana!”
Diana took center stage to a noisy round of whistles and applause. She was wearing a sparkling red mini-dress with red heels and red thong panties. After taking her first, introductory prance around the perimeter of the stage, Diana gestured towards Wendell to introduce him. People were laughing hysterically at Wendell and his predicament, especially since his teeny cock wasn’t just peeking out of his shorts but was dripping a rather huge amount of pre-cum as well.
Smugly, she sauntered over to Wendell and turned her back to him. Smiling at the crowd, she lifted her dress and pressed her bare ass into his face, covering it completely. His nose, already covered by pussy-wet silk, was forced deep between her tight ass-cheeks, rubbing against the sweaty moisture of her thong. She began vigorously bouncing her ass against his nose to the beat of the music. Wendell’s cock twitched up and down in frustration as she ass-smothered him, which caused the growing crowd to laugh and holler even more.
Diana pulled away from him for a moment, giving him a clear view of the crowd of dancers and customers gathering around the stage to get a closer look. Craning his head to the left and right, he also saw that his image was being broadcast on the large television screens above the sides of the stage. He nearly fainted.
Holy shit, this is all on videotape, he thought. If this ever gets out –
Another flash went off. It was Karolyn, standing near the stage with an expensive digital camera.
And on it went, for Diana’s entire three-song set. She ground the soles of her shoes in his face, kicked him in his chest, humped his nose, wiggled her butt-cheeks inches in front of him, yanked on his nipples, titty-slapped him, and generally made his cock scream out loud. In no time he was thrusting his hips like a madman, fucking nothing but thin air, desperate for orgasm and an end to his suffering.
As her last song came to a close, she grabbed the pole and lifted herself up so that her legs were wrapped around Wendell’s head, smashing it against the pole and his face into her sweaty pussy. “Mmmmmmmmmffffffffffff!” he screamed, as Diana rocked her pussy and ass up and down on his helpless face. Then, tightening her grip on his head so much that he thought it would pop open, she let go of the pole, arched backwards, put her hands on the floor and released her legs from his head, ending in an impeccably executed back-stand and a rain of crumpled dollar bills.
The pressure on Wendell’s head from his skull fucking left him woozy and faint. The panties on his face were askew so that he could only see through the right leg-hole with one eye. He saw Diana, not picking up her money, but arguing heatedly with Kari at the front of the stage. He couldn’t hear over the music and yelling, but Kari was waving her arms and pointing to the open fly of his boxers, where his pocket-sized penis-head bravely stuck out and dribbled it’s sticky clear slime. Diana held out her hands apologetically, kissed Kari on the forehead, and walked to Wendell, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
She knelt in front of Wendell and began muttering to herself while tearing off his boxers. “What-ever, bitch. State law says that all sexual organs must be covered or we lose our liquor license? Fine! I’ll cover up his fucking tiny wee-wee sexual organs.” Then, directly to Wendell she said “I can’t fucking believe that a small piece of shit pecker like yours counts as a sexual organ, can you?” Wendell could only stare at her, wild-eyed.
She took a large part of fabric from one of the legs of his now tattered boxers, and with some ingenious ripping and knot tying, fashioned it into a small pouch that covered his meager genitalia and nothing more. It left him bare-assed, and did nothing to hide the fact that his pint-sized penis was fully erect and oozing like an open sore. It was also tied so tightly that it threatened to cut off the circulation to his boyish balls. But, state law was state law.

Wendell was left there, kneeling and gagged, his erect Junior Johnson dripping an ever-widening stain into his makeshift pouch, until every dancer in the club had a shot at him. They all had their turn slapping, kicking, and teasing him with their asses and tits.
Instead of complaints, as she initially feared, Kari was pleasantly surprised to see the crowd spending even more money on drinks and tips than usual. They wanted every dancer that got up there to out-do the last one in their torture of poor Wendell. If one kicked him in the stomach, the next had to kick him in the balls. And none of them could risk letting his poor excuse for a hard-on go away for fear of getting booed by the crowd, so they had to tease Wendell even more than the last girl did. Then hurt him more than the last girl. Then tease him more. There was no end to the inventive ways that a large group of strippers could tantalize, abuse and degrade a man, and they worked overtime on Wendell, tearing a hole in his psyche that would never heal.
And they were all glad to do it, because Kari was making sure that Wendell’s credit cards were charged for every dance he was tied up for, maxing out one after the other until only his unlimited-balance AMEX card was left. Diana told her that Wendell wanted every girl up there to get twenty dollars a dance and a hundred dollar tip, on top of the money he was already giving to her.

When Diana finally re-took the stage, she marveled at her handiwork. Eighteen years old and barely out of high school, she’d arranged to break down a grown man so completely that she was sure he would do anything she wanted from this day forward.
And why? Because he was from a class of men she despised more than any other? Partly. Because he angered her by mistakenly goading her out of her break during one of the worst PMS attacks in her life? Somewhat. Mostly, she did it for the same reason she did anything else in her life: because she was a beautiful teenaged girl, and she could.
She leaned in to whisper into Wendell’s ear, letting her brilliant young breasts dangle in his face. “Ready for the big finale, candy ass?” she sneered.
Wendell nodded. He was ready for anything.

To be continued…