Erotica
Public Humiliation
Your task is to stand where you are, not move, and hold on to the steel beam above you.
I had made a bet earlier in the evening and, of course, I lost it. Not that I had bad luck or anything. Quite to the contrary. Everything went according to plan.
We had this fabulous room with a huge balcony three floors up from the busy street life. During the first evening, I had checked out what fun games we could play. There were a lot of nice options. There was a steel beam on the terrace, just out of my reach, perfect for tying me up. The other intriguing option was the lights coming up from the floor of the balcony to illuminate the outside of the hotel. The perfect spot to combine a few of my favorite kinks, exhibitionism, humiliation, and a few more.
He had won three kinks that he could use one after the other, or all together. Exhibitionism, humiliation, and nipple torture. I picked the location — the balcony of course.
He was rarely quiet when it came to planning his next idea to satisfy my thirst for being his slightly perverted, kinky slut. He usually had more ideas than fit into a good date. Not so now. He walked along the corridor back to our room. I followed; a few steps behind. His ass cheeks were moving deliciously, like the rear of a racehorse trotting before a race. I wanted to grab him and rip off his pants. Only my good training as a slave kept me from doing so.
He opened the door to our suite and stepped inside. He turned around “…since you lost on purpose and get to have your favorite kinks for the evening, I’ll get to push you beyond your comfort level. You just be a good slave.” He shut the door before I could enter. Waiting outside a closed door in a hotel is mildly humiliating when other guests notice. To make things worse, we had a rule that I needed to take my slave position if Sir wanted me to wait. This was clearly one of those situations. Hoping that nobody would come out of the elevator, I got on the ground and did my best to take my position on the ground in front of the closed door. Only spreading my legs was a challenge with the pencil skirt that I had been wearing for the evening.
I tried to be as good a slave as I could be. While most of the kinks were right up my alley, and I could take quite a bit before feeling uncomfortable, nipple torture was one of my least favorite kinks. It was, unfortunately, one of the areas where he could get very creative.
A short while later, the door opened. It was dark by now; just the lights from the balcony provided some light. The sliding doors to the terrace were wide open and a nice fresh summer breeze greeted me.
“Take off your clothes.” Words, that never get old.
I was sure the next instruction would be to put on my new catsuit. Oh, how I was looking forward to it! He knows my fetishes and kinks and usually does his best to combine them. Why not tonight?
“Should I put my new catsuit on, Sir?” I always addressed him with ‘Sir’, when I was in a playful mood. Tonight, was definitely playtime for me and I wanted him to know it.
“No, silly, didn’t you pick humiliation and exhibitionism?” he responds quickly. In the dark, he begins to unbutton my blouse, a white silky, nearly see-through top with long sleeves. I had worn nothing underneath for dinner.
He reached around me, unhooking the top of my pencil skirt, and sliding down the zipper. It glided off me like melting butter off grilled corn-on-the-cob. My high heels stayed on; they always do when I’m with him.
I was now stark naked. Forbidden from wearing underwear. He likes it that way and I’m not complaining either. With the only lights to give us any sense of orientation coming from the terrace, he took me by the hand and led me to the wall-to-wall sliding glass doors.
“Nice view, isn’t it?”
It wasn’t really a question and I knew he meant the view we’d had just a few minutes earlier from the street below. He had used the same words looking up at our balcony. We had talked about how exposed it was to the street life below. What a perfect spot it would make for some ‘enhancements’ to the decor.
“Alright, we’re going to play a very simple game. You’re going to be the decoration for the evening, or at least as long as you can take it.” He knows how much I hate it when he presumes that I’m not tough enough. It brings out the competitor in me. This might be a long evening, no matter what he had in mind.
Somewhat predictable at this point, he asked me to step out onto the balcony and position myself right underneath the steel beam, facing the street below. Only now did I realize how the light aiming at the corner of the building would shine straight in my face. Everyone from below could see me, while it took me a few minutes to get used to the light and to begin to see the evening tourists strolling by our terrace on the street below.
“Exhibitionism. You think you’re pretty attractive, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Even when you look pathetic?”
“Yes, Sir, but I don’t understand?”
“You will soon enough. For now, your task is to stand where you are, not move, and hold on to the steel beam above you.”
I reached my hands upward to touch the beam and even though I can get one hand on it, I couldn’t seem to be able to reach far enough to hold on with both hands. He let me struggle for a few minutes before I gave up.
“Well, my little exhibitionist cunt, if you can’t even fucking do the first task, you’ll have to find a way to get more height. Don’t look for me to help you. Go put on your ballet heels and try again.” I had brought a pair of ballet heels. I’m not very good at walking in them, but if Sir wants me to wear them, I will.
The pair I have is ankle-high but does provide some support. Walking in them is really beyond my skills, but I can stand in them for a while if I have something to hold on to. Maybe the extra height would be just enough to reach the beam and I could support myself.
Sir motioned me to go back inside to fetch the shoes. He offered no help in getting them on. I had to sit on the cold stone floor of the terrace to put them on. Fortunately, I was skilled enough to get the laces tightened quickly, but getting up was a challenge.
I struggled to get on my feet. Sir was just watching and enjoying himself. I staggered, holding on to the railing, to my position under the beam. Now I had to let go and step over, away from the railing, to take my position and reach upwards.
With barely enough stretch in my body, I could now reach the beam and hold on to it. I had to because standing in the heels without any support would come to a quick end. This was an area I needed to improve. Then I stood there, facing the street below me, stark naked, and struggling between the task of keeping weight off my feet and pulling my body up by the beam above me. It was a true predicament situation, played out in full view of anyone who cared to watch.
“Fifteen minutes, shall we say? There is no way my pathetic slave girl can go any longer”. The challenge was set.
I was struggling from the very beginning, but I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me give up. I had never been able to stand in ballet heels for more than a short period of time. This was going to be painful. I could see people on the street below me. Shit, they could see everything. There was no place to seek any cover. Usually, when I mean exhibitionism, I mean going out for dinner in an elegant latex dress. I didn’t mean for Sir to put me on display, completely naked, in front of half the city! If that wasn’t bad enough, my fingers began to feel the strain from holding onto the beam just as my toes were beginning to feel the pain from standing in ballet heels.
A few minutes must already have passed, though, without any way to sense the time, every second was beginning to seem longer and longer. My stretched-out body was all I could think of, holding on to the beam, not losing my balance, not giving up. Knowing Sir, he would probably do anything to keep me from completing the fifteen minutes, and he hadn’t even begun with his favorite part; the nipple torture.
“You’re doing well, already five minutes.”
What? That was only five minutes? Shit, what had I gotten myself into? Without a minor miracle, my feet and hands were going to be a pain for quite some time. My first doubts were setting in. Maybe I couldn’t do it.
Sir stepped around me and looked me in the eye. With the ballet heels on, we were about the same height.
“You look lovely, I like the way you have your legs slightly spread to display your cunt. Good slut.”
Despite his degrading language, he was soft-spoken. That worried me. He must have been quite confident that I wasn’t going to last much longer.
A kiss. I loved kissing Sir. He knew how to caress my neck, my ears, my cheeks, before putting his soft lips gently on mine. This time was no different, except that he placed his arms on my shoulders, embracing my neck. Normally, that would have been nice, but now it just added more weight to my already tortured hands and feet.
His kiss got more passionate and I got lost in the moment. For just a little while, I forgot about the pain and just wanted Sir to use me. I wanted him to humiliate me, to use me for the cunt that I was tonight. I was on display, not to please onlookers, but to please Sir. If I could just survive a little longer.
“Ten minutes, impressive.” He let go of my shoulders.
What felt like relief was quickly replaced by one of his favorite ways of inflicting pain on me. My nipples were firm and my piercings on full display in the evening breeze. If it hadn’t been for the strain on my body, which required all the strength I had to maintain my position, I would have been cold. Instead, small streams of sweat were running down my neck and chest.
“Let me help you keep your balance.” Sir said with an evil, sadistic look on his face.
He grabbed my nipples, behind the piercings, and began to pull me toward him. There was no give in the position in which I stood. I couldn’t lean toward him; all I could do was endure the pain from the stretched-out nipples held firmly between his fingers.
I knew, if I could hold onto the beam, keep my position, he would continue to pull further and further on my nipples until I could no longer tolerate the pain. He stepped back from me, removing any obstruction from the view below. Still holding as tightly as before to my nipples, he stretched them further. I could feel my hands slowly losing their grip and without them, I would surely fall forward. The pull on my nipples became unbearable. The piercings gave him a strong grip and there was no chance of me pulling back — if he didn’t let go, my piercings would pay the price.
“Thirteen minutes.” Sir doesn’t like to lose. The next two minutes were going to be hell. He stepped behind me. Pulling down his pants, he took just a little spit from my mouth and shoved his finger up my ass. That was just for lubrication. Still tugging on my nipples as hard as ever, he pulled out his finger and rammed his massive cock up my rear. His arms around my waist. He could come quickly, and I was at the end of my strength. The pounding rhythm of his cock pushing deep inside me, the pain I experienced on every part of my body, it all was too much.
I collapsed. Sir was still thrusting deep into my anal cavity as I was kneeling on the hard floor. Just as I turned around, he pulled his cock out and shot his juice in a massive load over my face. He, too, was an exhibitionist. But a more sadistic one. He was also kind.
“Good slut, you didn’t let go until the fifteen minutes were over. You won.”
There was a certain sense of pride in me. The kind of pride you feel when you prove someone wrong, show your strength, your determination beyond what others had expected. This was such a moment. Despite my weak body, the cum on my face, I embraced Sir and gave him the kind of kiss that feels like a way to show gratitude, passion, and exhaustion. He’d given me the evening I was looking for, and then some.
