Humiliation Author - agnethabound   Rating -   [ 3.80 actual/55 vote(s) ] Site Rank - 853 of 1352 Unique Views - 7143 Story Codes - M-f, consensual, bondage, humiliation, public, toys Post Date - 7/15/2010 PDF Download -

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Hi, my name is Agnetha and I am Swedish. Let me correct your immediate wrong image – I am not tall, beautiful, blonde, I am 5ft 5in, have black hair, and I am thin – scrawny some say – with not much hips but my breasts are large, too large for the rest of my body I think. I also have astigmatism, so wear big, black-rimmed glasses. I don't know if my mother wanted a boy, hated my hair or just hated me, but she always cut it short and dressed me as a boy, so everyone thought I was tomboy or lesbian. But I am neither and had a lonely childhood. We moved to England when I was twelve, which just made me even more lonely. I look like a geek, so it is good I am intelligent and work hard. I go to university in England, studying computing and mechanical engineering. Totally geek.

I also have a perfect ability to pick the wrong boyfriends. Maybe I am so thankful when anyone shows me some interest, I don't look deep enough, but all my boyfriends have been either liars, thieves or cheats – one boy I went out with, I caught him in bed with my best friend and he had the nerve to suggest I was being too possessive and should have a threesome with them ! I managed to have enough self-respect to turn that down, but later I forgave him and took him back, until the next time I caught him with another girl. When I finally finished with him, he called me frigid and said I would never get a man. I was worried this was true, because I had never particularly enjoyed sex, I'd only ever had an orgasm when I masturbated.

Roger was the worst bad boy in college. He was captain of the university rugby team, fit, handsome and popular. I met him at a house party a friend had dragged me to, he was drunk, I was drunk, he took me back to his room and I woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, no clothes on and no memory of the previous evening. He made me quickly get dressed and hustled me out of his room, clearly worried someone might see me leaving and tell his friends he had slept with an 'ugly' girl. I staggered back to my room and crashed for the rest of the day, and didn't expect to hear from him again – it was a drunken one-night stand, to be regretted, end of story.

A few nights later I was woken up about 11pm by someone knocking on my door. It was Roger and he pushed his way into my room, probably wanting to get out of the public corridor so no-one would see him. As I closed the door and turned to ask him what he wanted, he grabbed my arms, pushed me up against the door and kissed me hard on the lips, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I was only wearing a nightdress and I could feel his body pressed against me, his hand squeezing my large breasts, then going under my nightdress and forcing between my legs. He dragged my nightdress over my head and threw it on the floor, leaving me naked, then took my arms and pushed me down on the bed. I should have said no, done something to stop him, but I just lay there looking up at him as he unzipped his jeans and pulled down his pants, exposing his manhood. He spread my legs and lay down between my thighs, poking his fingers roughly into me and guiding his erection inside me. He held my wrists and pinned me down to the bed as he humped away. I was so shocked I didn't react or fight him, and it was over so quickly I had no time to get excited or aroused, before he came and just lay on top of me whilst he recovered. Now I couldn't think of anything to say, so we lay there in silence. Then he was up and zipping his jeans. He said "Thanks" and then he left; I looked at the clock – he had been there barely ten minutes. I went into my bathroom to clean myself up, too stunned to be upset.

This became our relationship over the next few weeks – I was really no more than his "fuck bunny". He never wanted to be seen with me in public and ignored me if he was with his friends when we crossed paths. When we did get together, it was only for sex, with conversation at a bare minimum to organise our next session. He was always in control and it seemed we were only there to satisfy his needs, not mine. But I was star-struck, I thought it was amazing that someone as popular and good-looking as him would want to be with someone as plain as me, so I would do anything for him, and he knew it. Maybe he was actually afraid of women, so went with me because I would not reject him – but then he resented me for being so weak and treated me badly to punish me. Something like that; I don't do psychology, so maybe I am wrong.

When we got together, he always made me strip naked in front of him, whereas he never took all his clothes off. I had to lie on the bed and be still while he held me down and did his thing. When I started moaning to try and convince myself I was enjoying it, he put his hand over my mouth to shut me up. Curiously, I found this very arousing, being held down and "gagged", and I found myself imagining this later when I masturbated to relieve my frustration.

One time he texted me and told me to go over to his room. When I got there I could tell he had been drinking. He sat in his chair and told me to strip, which I did. He made me lie on the bed and came over, kneeling on the bed over me. But instead of getting on top of me and fucking me, as he usually did, he held my arm and, as I watched in a state of shock, he slipped a noose of rope over my hand and tightened it around my wrist. I saw the other end was tied to the bedpost at the head of the bed. He did it to my other wrist, then got off the bed, grabbed my ankles and pulled me down the bed until my arms were stretched out and the ropes were tight. He put a loop of rope over my foot and around my ankle, then pulled the rope as tight as he could before tying it to the bedpost at the foot of the bed. He did the same to my other leg and I was spread-eagled, only able to struggle uselessly against the ropes. I wanted to say something but what could I say – I could ask him to stop, but I always let him do whatever he wanted; I could ask him what he was doing, but it was obvious. So I watched silently as he took a lady's scarf from a drawer and tied a big knot in the middle of it, then put it against my face and forced the knot into my mouth before tying the ends tight behind my head. Then he stepped back, picked up his drink and watched as I struggled against the rope and mmmphed into the gag. He seemed in no rush, but to be enjoying the show. Strangely, I felt more turned on than I ever had been with him before and struggled more, wriggling about on the bed and moaning pathetically and, I hoped, sexily into the gag.

I was surprised when he stripped naked – the first time I'd seen him with no clothes at all. He came over to the bed and sat astride me, then took one of my breasts in each hand and roughly squeezed and kneaded them like lumps of dough. He pinched the nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pulled and twisted them until he could see the pain on my face. I was moaning and crying into the gag now, but this was as close to foreplay as Roger had ever got and I was moaning from arousal, not only because of the pain. He reached over to his drawers by the bed and took out half a dozen wooden clothes pegs. I watched in horror as he clipped one to each of my erect nipples, making me really scream at the pain. He turned his music up loud to cover my cries, then clipped one either side of the nipple, then one either side of those. There were tears in my eyes and I was biting down hard on the scarf as the pain level went through the roof, before eventually dulling to a scarcely bearable ache.

Meanwhile, Roger had switched his attention to between my legs. It was very wet down there by now, so his fingers slid into me easily and I was so turned on by then I was raising my hips off the bed to meet him. He reached into his drawer again and I was astonished to see him bring out a huge, shiny white dildo. I couldn't believe what he was going to do, but he did it – he pushed that thing inside me, forcing it in until it couldn't go any further and then poking around with it, pulling it out and thrusting it back in. He had to turn up the music again as I screamed and thrashed about, initially in protest at this humiliating violation, but quickly becoming fantastically aroused and finally cumming in a gloriously huge orgasm, the first he had ever given me. As I came down from the climax, my body became super-sensitive and I wanted him to leave me alone, but either he didn't realise or he just wanted to make me suffer (I think the last one) but he kept fucking me with the dildo. At first it was painful, and then it was turning me on again and I was heading for an even bigger orgasm than before. As he kept driving it into me, the climax seemed to just go on and on, every thrust bringing a new high, until at last he stopped and I lay there, exhausted. But a moment later he was on top of me and his manhood was inside me, thrusting away. He had never satisfied me before, but whether it was the bondage or the pain, or the fact I had just cum, I was able to reach another climax just as he came. As we both recovered from that high, Roger took the pegs off my breasts, which led to even more pain as the blood returned to my sore nipples, but he made no move to untie me. Instead he lay down beside me, pulled the covers over us and we both slept. I woke in the night to find the covers pulled away and Roger running one hand over my naked body whilst he pulled at his fully erect penis in the other. When he saw me wake, he untied the gag and forced me to take him into my mouth, lifting my head from the bed and thrusting in and out. He quickly reached climax and made me swallow down his semen and even lick the last drops of it from his softening erection. Then he pulled up the covers and went back to sleep.

It was a few hours later when he finally untied me and, without a word between us, I got dressed and left. I was totally confused – I knew this was an abusive relationship and I really should end it, but I had been scared by my reaction to being tied down and abused – I could not deny it, I had been hugely turned on. Over the next few days I couldn't get it out of my head and I was desperate for Roger to do it to me again – or to do more. I got a text from him on the next Saturday, telling me to meet him at the Rugby club that night. Naively, I thought this meant he was finally prepared to show his friends that we were a couple, and I spent the rest of the day prettying myself up for this big event. I wore my best little summer dress, plus the closest thing I had to high heels and sexy underwear. I put on make-up, which was unusual for me, and left my glasses at home, which meant everything was a blur, but I looked a little less geeky.

I went into the club and the barman pointed me to a back room, where the team were having a few drinks after their match. As I opened the door I heard a loud cheer and realised all twenty men were looking at me with big grins on their faces. They were sitting around a horseshoe-shaped table, with several full and empty glasses in front of each of them. Roger came over to meet me at the door and led me into the centre of the table so I was surrounded by the players all staring at me. He introduced me, to a loud cheer, told them my name (another cheer), that I was Swedish (a bigger cheer) and said that I was there to entertain them (biggest cheer). I looked at him with a frown and a questioning look, and he leaned in close and said 'Take off your clothes'. There was a sudden quiet and I knew they had all heard this order and were now staring at me to see whether I would obey. I looked pleadingly at Roger and shook my head slightly – I couldn't believe this was happening ! He looked sternly at me, offering no comfort. Everyone started a slow handclap and as I looked around, they were all smiling encouragingly, except for Roger, who maintained his scowl. I know I should have refused, I should have run out of there – no-one was standing in my way – but instead of being outraged, insulted and indignant, I found myself shamed, humiliated, but turned on. Despite my feelings of revulsion, fear and confusion, I found my shaking hands fumbling with the top button of my dress. A huge cheer went up and applause broke out as I gradually unbuttoned the dress and, with a fearful glance around at the ring of eager faces, I slipped it off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. While I stood there, trying to cover myself with my arms and hands, Roger told me to carry on stripping. Reluctantly, I reached around and unclipped my bra, then took it off while keeping my breasts covered by my arm. But when I turned to Roger, I saw him move towards me with a length of rope in his hand. To more wild cheering he tied the rope around my wrist and dragged it behind my back, then grabbed the other wrist and tied them together behind me, pulling the rope cruelly tight. I struggled uselessly to free myself, merely adding to the excitement on the faces around me as they stared at my breasts swinging free.

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I turned to Roger and pleaded with him to untie me, tears now coming into my eyes, but instead he pulled something from his pocket and moments later had forced a gag into my mouth and strapped it tightly in place. My mouth was forced wide open by a metal ring jammed behind my teeth, allowing me to cry out as much as I liked but not to talk or even close my mouth. I soon understood why he had used this particular gag as the rugby players got up from their seats and crowded around me. I felt hands grab and squeeze my breasts, pinching my bottom and pushing against my sex. My panties were grabbed and pulled this way and that until the stitching gave way and they were ripped from me, leaving me naked. I cried out for help but I doubt if anyone outside would have heard over the general laughing and shouting of the men around me.

Suddenly I was forced down onto my knees and I was surrounded by a ring of bodies, staring up at their cruel faces. I watched as each of them unzipped and pulled out his manhood, each firm and erect and pointed at my face. It was only a few seconds before someone grabbed the back of my head, forcing me forward so that one of the shafts slipped through the ring and deep into my mouth. My head was pulled backwards and forwards whilst the cock was thrust in and out, making me choke and gasp for breath. Within minutes I had a mouthful of cum dribbling down my chin. My head was turned slightly and a fresh cock forced into my mouth to repeat the performance. One by one they fucked my mouth and shot their load, sometimes down my throat, sometimes in my face or across my breasts, and I was feeling physically sick with swallowing so much cum. It seemed to go on forever before I had serviced every one of them. By the end, there was semen smeared across my face and all over my breasts and stomach.

I was dragged to my feet and made to lie back across the tables. My legs were grabbed and I felt rope tied around my ankles, spreading my legs wide apart. I saw Roger standing over me, but there was no mercy in his face, just a cruel grin, as he stood between my thighs and forced himself into me as the rest of them watched, jeering and clapping. He was his usual self, quick and not thinking of me, but I climaxed anyway, the bondage and the humiliation I was suffering ensuring I was totally aroused before he even started. As before, he was followed by a procession of men fucking me, until it all became a blur. At some point they must have untied me and turned me over, before tying my ankles once more and taking me from behind. I had lost count of the number of men or the number of my own orgasms when I felt my buttocks forced apart and I was anally penetrated for the first time. It was shocking and painful but I was too exhausted to even cry out in protest. It was just one more humiliation in a long line.

At last they seemed satisfied and I was left alone. I lay there across the table, totally spent. I could hear them talking about going on to a nightclub and it seemed like they had totally forgotten about me. They started to leave and, frightened they were just going to leave me here like this, I let out a moan to attract some attention. Roger turned back from the door and, without a word to me, untied my wrists, then went to catch up with his friends. At the door, he turned to me and said coldly "Clear this mess up before you leave". With that he was gone and I was alone.

Wearily, I removed the ring gag and untied my ankles. I looked around the room but couldn't find my bra, and my panties were ripped beyond repair, so all I could use them for was to wipe the cum off my face and body. My dress had been splashed with cum and somehow a couple of buttons had been ripped off, but I put it on anyway. Dutifully, I wiped up the mess on the tables and floor with a beer mat, before returning the empty glasses to the bar. The barman gave me a filthy grin but I was too tired to care. I went back to my room and lay on the bed, wondering what I had got myself into. I was disgusted at having let myself be treated like that, but I knew how much I had been turned on by it. I wept in shame, but I knew deep down that I would want them to abuse me just as much again. I was already fantasising about my next humiliation.

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Please support the author by leaving your own feedback on the story, good or bad. Please be constructive in your comments and email the author directly with spelling and gramatical errors. Thank you! Saturday, July 17, 2010 Great story, Pretty enjoyable read. Perhaps in the next part to increase her Humiliation he makes her wear a collar 24/7? Saturday, July 17, 2010 well written but the story line is rather obvious and limited in scope. Giving a little more thought and detailed descriptions of situations and emotions the story would be greatly improved. similarly a little more elaborate plot might be very benificial. Recommend reading, but the text can obviously be greatly improved. Saturday, July 17, 2010 Great story, Pretty enjoyable read. Perhaps in the next part to increase her Humiliation he make her where a collar 24/7? Friday, July 16, 2010 Great Story, but don't let people take advantage of you like that. What they did is wrong. And who knows, you're probably a pretty girl. Just keep thinking that about yourself and you'll be fine. that right guy is out there somewhere just like that right girl will be out there somewhere for me. Friday, July 16, 2010 The story was well written, but it just wasn't 100% believeable. Some of the descriptions of the action could have been more detailed/explicit. The ending story line is not very original. I've forgotten how many stories I've read where the whole team does the poor girl.