Humiliation is the only word to describe it from start to finish. It begins with asking to be shaved. It moves on to kneeling with my head down, legs spread open, ass in the air. This posturing is almost more humiliating than the actual act that by the time I can feel the warm razor passing through my ass crack and over my lips I am almost relieved. The end was capped off by a photograph. Not a spanking, not fucking. Just a photograph of my freshly shorn cunt in the bright light of the morning, which might be the most humiliating part of all. 

It was pitch black in the theatre. The only light emanating from the porn on screen. We sat next to each other. He turned to me and said, "ok, it's on", grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. My lips chaffed from his stubble; my tongue slipping against his.

He grunts "suck my cock" and shoves my face down on his 8 inches. My inexperienced mouth tries to choke his dick down as I gag repeatedly. He does not care.

His hand reaches down to grope me and I feel his fingers enter my ass. This makes his hips buck up forcing his way down my throat.

I feel a hand wrap itself around my throat, another one slaps my face. He pulls me off as he jerks himself off and comes on my face. I wrap my lips around the tip and swallow the rest of his load.

We sit back as he examines my face to see his come mixing with my tears dripping down my face. I turn my attention to the fucking scene on the screen as he wipes my face off with his sock.

I don't know what I did to find myself tossed into this cold, dark jail cell. I don't know why I was asked to turn my back to the bars and stick my hands through but I did catch on that it was not in my best interest to comply when I found myself cuffed against the bars, my back to the world. I don't know how many pairs of hands were reaching through to grope, to fondle, to pinch and poke and prod. Each hand, encased in black leather found a new place to violate. My back, my sides, my stomach, my breasts, my cunt, my ass, my throat, my mouth.

When I felt my pants being unbuttoned, I lunged forward as far as my cuffed hands would allow only to find myself being yanked backwards again, my body slamming against the metal bars. Muscular arms from either side wrapped themselves around my shoulders. I felt one hand up against my throat, the taste of leather on my tongue as another shoved fat fingers into my mouth. I was powerless to fight it when my pants slipped down towards my ankles, my shirt yanked up.

My body ached from being locked against the bars. I can no longer see, with the tears streaming down my face from gagging on the gloved hand lodged firmly down my throat. I felt a pair of hands on my breasts, squeezing, yanking on my nipples. More hands. I felt more hands forcing their way between my legs, slapping my clit, my ass.

And then I hear it. It's the sound of metal scraping against hard leather. And then I feel it. It's the touch of cold steel on my skin. I did not have to see it to know that the implement parting my lips and entering my cunt was the muzzle of a gun. Everything seemed to stop and all I could feel was the pistol between my legs, fucking me.

I don't know how long it lasted. I don't know why they've let me go all of a sudden. I don't know why they couldn't have at least waited till I came.

There's something about kneeling on the floor of a public bathroom between the legs of a hot dyke. This spontaneous meeting arranged over text messages found me face deep in a wet cunt, hand wrapped around the back of my head listening to both the bathroom door for unexpected visitors and to the sounds of her orgasms. Five minutes later she walks out the stall to freshen up and I wipe the come off my face and head out the door with her g-string that she had tucked into my pocket.

Sweet glorious piss. Piss and ejaculate. I tried to drink it all in but it would always come just as I had my mouth wrapped around her clit and I can't catch it all in time. It rolls down my cheeks, through my hair, till I'm laying in a puddle. This gift makes me feel like an ungrateful brat for blocking and dodging her fists earlier. That crack I felt in my chest from the last punch she gave me before wrestling me down to the floor, pinning me with her knees and slapping my face just to hear my piercings jingle was worth it for every drop of piss and come she spilled on me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. It had been a long, frustrating day and my attitude was not appreciated. She is hitting much harder than before and more relentlessly. I tried hard to keep my back turned so that it would take the brunt of her force but she likes to watch me writhe in pain as she slams me against the wall, hand at my throat. Each successive slap gets harder but not as much as when she lets me go and throws both fists right at my chest. I try hard not to whimper because it only makes her hit me again. She wants to hear me cry but I don't want to give her the satisfaction. I fight to regulate my breathing and growl in both pleasure and anger when I cannot. I have gotten bold enough to sneer and smile back at her. She appreciates that there is no malice in this act, it is how I show my gratitude through the pain.

Speaking of gratitude; she takes a break from hovering over my mouth, sits up against the wall and rests the heel of one stiletto in my rib, the other across my chest. To thank her, I take the heel in my mouth and suck her off. This was definitely the right move because I soon found myself wearing nothing but my boots, flat on my back and a gloved hand buried deep inside me. She likes it when I bleed and she always manages to tear something so that I do.

How do you thank someone for an experience like this? This time, I buried my face in her cunt and made her ejaculate on my face over and over. I will have to think of something even better next time.

The cuffs came out of nowhere. I do not enjoy being out-muscled but there I was up against a wall with my hands shackled behind me. Of course I resisted. The result of which is that she doesn't bother putting on the safety. Every time I got tossed against a wall, the cuffs tightened a little more. It's hard to dodge punches without the use of your arms. It's also hard to break your fall when she takes your legs out from under you. My unwillingness to help her shove me around brought out the ropes. I'm not sure how she trussed me up so quickly but there I was with ropes cutting into my arms, tied up against myself. The ropes give her a convenient handle to pick me up, flip me over, throw me in the corner. There's not much you can do to resist when you find yourself faced-down and hog-tied. You take what you're given. In this case, it's a boot that required licking. At least I could make her come.

I didn't realize I would prefer having my legs trussed up if the alternative was to remain cuffed, bound, with my pants around my knees, face on the floor and too many fingers in too many orifices. You can only squirm so far with your face. It also made it difficult to fuck her cock, something she soon realized. With my arms free, I could sit on top of her and earn my keep. Turns out what I earned was a stint on my back and her relentless fist punching into my cunt. I did not even realize she had me bleeding until much later.

The evening ended with an hour long session of face-fucking which included her cock down my throat, her nipples between my teeth and my face buried in the crotch of her jeans. Today, I can still feel the resulting heel marks on my back and the nail gouges on my arms and the back of my head.

This is not a fantasy.

I arrived promptly at 9pm to be ushered into the back room.  I am asked to remove the contents of my pockets, my belt, anything that might get in the way of her fists.  And then it begins.  A few not-so-gentle punches to my back and chest, a few shoves, a few slaps to the face with her leather-clad hands, which makes me rage, and we're off.  She likes to push people around and chases me around the room.  I fight my instincts to dodge her fists, knowing that it would only make her hit harder and also knowing that this is exactly why I'm here.  My chest, back and face takes her hands and my legs suffer from blows from her knees.  She seems pleased when she's backed me into a wall and each punch results in two thuds.  Her knuckles on my body and my head against the wall.  

My shirt comes off so she can see the marks she is leaving.  It also gives her the chance to bite me.  When she does this, her legs wrap around mine, one arm wraps around my throat and the other fondles my nipple so I cannot squirm away from the death-clutch of her sharp teeth.  

She finds my weak spot, my upper thighs and punches me there until I start to crumple to avoid the blows.  She takes advantage of my position to whip out the cock I had been fondling whenever she got close to sink her teeth in me.  Her cock is gorgeous.  Black, red and sinister.  There is no need to prod before I open my mouth to take her.  There is no need for me to work on her cock.  All I can do is try to open up my throat.  She does not care if I'm enjoying myself, she just wants to fuck my face, so she does.  By my count, she came four times in my mouth.  

She takes a break on a nearby chair and shows me her shoes.  I feign unwillingness to her unspoken command but that doesn't last long as I lap up the proffered shoe with my tongue.  My satisfaction with the taste of leather gets her moaning and she works on her dick, watching me.  She comes and takes her foot away but I am quickly consoled as she guides my head to her cock.  This time, I get to work up and down her shaft, taking it in till I gag and then taking it in some more.  The sound of my gagging gets her off and when she comes a second time, she orders me to back up to the mattress on the floor and to take off my jeans.  

Have I ever taken a fist?  "Yes" was all she needed.  It's been awhile since I've been stretched to this extent but neither of us care.  The pain on my face only encourages her.  "Oh shit, I can feel your heart beating" tells me she's in and that she will be there for a while.  As with the rest of the evening, she does not stop until she orgasms.  Whether or not I do is irrelevant.  I would not have it any other way.

The moment a fist is taken out all I can feel is the gaping hole it leaves.  She understands this and orders me on my knees.  She grabs the condom I brought out, slides it over her ever-hard cock and fucks me from behind.  I don't know how many times she comes as I lock my legs behind her thighs to hold her in as deep as I could.  

Exhausted, she apologizes for being so dehydrated she couldn't piss on me to finish things off.  Next time.