Futa Timestop Mania
- 2 years ago
- 49
- 0
DUMBinatrix free porn video
DUMBinatrix
By The Anonymous Bastard
Just thinking about that day makes me sweat. The chains, the whips, the leather,
the burning humiliation of it all still brings cold chills throughout my body. It
is an experience I shall never forget. Never, never, never forget. Ever. Not
ever. Not in this lifetime. As long as I am alive, there will not be a moment in
my day in which I am not acknowledging that the event took place.
It all happened the day before today. I remember it like it was yesterday. My
hands were sweating profusely as they gripped the handle of the telephone.
Previous attempts to call were unsuccessful, for the wiring had short circuited
due to profuse moisture. But this time I was prepared. I had purchased a new
ultra-grip waterproof phone, complete with a reinforced plastic shell to prevent
overenthusiastic clenching of the handle. I was ready. I was set. It was time to
go.
For a minute, I hesitated. Should I go through with this? It was a huge step. I
didn't know if I could handle the stress, the torture. Part of me wanted to keep
my life the way it was -wholesome, pure, slightly perverted. But another part of
me said that I had to go through with it. It was the only way I could ever know
the full boundaries of pleasure. I needed that experience. A third part of me
wanted a root beer, but it was quickly dismissed.
I sighed and made up my mind. I knew I had to do it. I took a deep breath and
dialed... 6... 5... 9... 2... 8... SLAM! The receiver clanged on it's perch atop
the machine. I was nervous. Too nervous. After I made that call, there would be
no turning back. I would have to endure the pain for hours.
Anxiously, I picked up the handle once again. I slid my fingers across the number
pad, pressing and releasing the numbers in order, until the last digit had been
pushed. It was... the number 3. The phone rang. There was a pause, as might be
expected between dial tones. It rang again. By this time, my sweat had already
broken through the waterproof coating and had begun to seep towards the inner
workings. There was a third ring, which was broken off by the sound of an earring
rattling against the receiver at the other end. I heard a pleasant female voice
break through.
"Domino's Pizza, is this for carry-out or delivery?"
"Uh... um... delivery," I stammered.
"Telephone number?"
"Uh... five...five...five...six-two...forty-nine."
"Alan Greensborough at 2839 Thisstreetdoesnotexistinreallife?"
"Yes... I'd like-"
"I already know. You want a medium, hand-tossed, pepperoni pizza, is that
correct?" she asked. I had ordered the same thing every time I called in the past
five years, and had grown to be something of a mini-legend at the pizza place.
"Um... actually... I would like to try something else."
There was a gasp at the other end. I faintly heard the woman calling her co-
workers over.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" I couldn't hear her voice as clearly as before,
probably because she was holding it out so everyone could listen to the
conversation.
"I said... I would like t-to order... s-s-something else."
Gasps all around. I think I heard someone faint. Murmurs ensued, followed by
hushing so that they could hear me once more.
"And, uh, what would you like to order?" the clerk asked.
"A large... ("Gasp!") deep dish... (more gasps from the clerks) ANCHOVY PIZZA!" I
burst out. Half the personnel went into cardiac arrest right then, and needed to
be hospitalized immediately. The others frantically began to go to work on my
order.
"That... will... be... *Pant* twelve... dollars... ninety... eight...*Ungh* be
ready... in about... f... f... forty... *Wheeze* forty-five... *pant* mih...
mih... *Gasp* minutessss... uuuuuuuoooooooohh..." She breathed her last breath.
Another casualty at Domino's Pizza.
I slammed down the phone, resigned to my fate. I checked my watch. It had been
thirty minutes since I called that dominatrix to come over. Where could she be?
My uncle had recently passed away and, leaving no will, he was an intestate and
required a dominatrix to administer his property.
"Wait a minute," I thought, "Wouldn't an administratrix be granted letters of
administration in such a case? Why, in that case, what is a 'dominatrix,' and
what does she do? And why am I out of root beer?"
Curious, I logged on to the Internet and typed "dominatrix". What I found was
disturbing, to say the least. Perhaps it was not too late to cancel the
appointment, but at that moment, I had bigger things on my mind. Like buying more
root beer. I decided that when she came, I would just have to tell her that I was
not intending to have a beautiful lady with magnificent tits sexually abuse me
like that.
And lo, did the doorbell at that moment ring. I steadied myself and opened it.
In rushed a woman in a trench coat. She was so fast I could hardly see her. Under
her arm was a large suitcase. I turned around, surprised and a bit thirsty. The
woman had somehow managed to take off the trench coat and pull out a whip before
I could even spin all the way. I was shocked at what I saw. There, standing
before me, clad only in a tight-fitting leather one-piece body suit was perhaps
the fattest, most unattractive woman I had ever seen. It was like she had twenty
gallons of butter injected into her. How did I not see her come in?
"I don't suppose you've got a pizza under that suit?" I quipped. Ha! What a silly
word-'quip'! I laughed out loud.
"I am Madame Shelia, and I will be ADMINISTERING you!" she stated firmly.
"I- I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked, referring to the second-to-last word.
She looked a bit embarrassed. "Oops, did I say 'administer'? I meant 'dominate'.
I always get those two mixed up."
"Common mistake," I assured her.
"SILENCE!" she screamed.
I decided to take charge. "You know," I said slowly, "this reeeeally isn't the
best time for me to get... anally violated, so if you could come back around...
never-ish... that would be greeeeeaaaat." I sighed.
"So... the mouse wishes to hide before the cat can start the chase? I think NOT!
We will begin! Take off your shirt!" she demanded.
"Can we sort of leave that on? It's pretty cold, and I'm just recovering-"
"NOW!" I did so. "AND everything else."
"Did anyone ever tell you you're a very blunt woman, I mean usually people will
sort of hint around the whole process, but you- you just want it all off n-"
"NOW!"
"...Now," I agreed. I removed all my clothes.
"AND the socks," she ordered.
"Geez, just trying to get a little warmth around here, but some people-"
"SHUT UP, WORM!" she screamed. She grabbed my flaccid penis in her fat right
hand. "Disgusting, absolutely disgusting. I've seen bigger penises on lab rats!"
"Actually, I checked, and it's average length for men of my age group..." I
trailed off as she raised her whip menacingly.
"It's SO small..." she started.
"...How small is it?" came a voice from the audience.
"It's SO small it looks like an enlarged clitoris!" she scoffed, "I guess the
only thing to do is dress you up in female clothing and humiliate you!"
How did she make THAT connection? I wondered.
Before I knew it, she had taken a huge wardrobe out of her briefcase and was
dressing me in women's underwear.
"Wow, it's like Mary Poppins, only you're a fat, mentally-disturbed bitch!" I
thought/yelled out loud.
She started with black lace panties (how clich??), followed by a well-padded
black bra. She rolled black stockings up my legs and attached them to a black
garter belt before pulling a black dress over my head. Then she put a black wig
on my head and told me to wear a pair of black high-heeled shoes. Then she made a
pot of black coffee, pulled out a black cell phone and began blackmailing people
on her blacklist. By this time I was sensing a definite pattern- this woman had
no taste whatsoever. Then she ordered me to look at myself in the mirror. As soon
as I looked in, I gasped.
It was the ugliest sight ever. I looked nothing like a woman. I was too tall, my
body was shaped all wrong, my face was totally manly, and my clothes were ill-
fitting.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you stupid? What kind of dominatrix dresses
her clients up like this? You suck! You suck balls!" I burst out.
"Hey, I'll have you know I happen to like balls!"
"Get out of my living area! Stat! Move your fat ass, fatso! Yeah, you heard me,
fatty!
"Move your fat legs as fast as you can carry them with all that fat, you fat
fatty fat fatso fatty fat fat! And your breath smells. FAAAAAAAAATTTTTTT!" I
yelled at her.
She fled in terror, her huge flabs undulating almost hypnotically as she tottered
out the door.
"That was quick."
The doorbell rang. "Who could that be?" I wondered. I answered politely.
"Domino's Pizza. I have your large anchovy here, sir. I'm sorry if it tastes
weird, but our cooks are all under heavy medication right now... that's gonna
come to $12.98"
"Here's thirteen. Keep the change." I winked.
"Yes, sir. And may I say that I love your dress."
"Yeah, thanks, it really isn't me, but, you know..."
"Yep. Well, see you tomorrow."
"So long, dude."
THE END
(Note: I will lengthen this story if anyone has any desire for me to do so. We're
also looking at a possible SWI here, too, people)
Brandy
- 19.11.2021
- 19
- 0
