The Felicity Chronicles: My Exploits as a Humiliator

[Blondie]

Chapter 14: Bobby: Clothes Cut Away

After amusingly watching the naked Johnny scamper away and disappear around the corner, I set my sights on Bobby. At the moment he was on the soccer field, his shock of long blond hair bouncing up and down as he skillfully weaved past a defender.

But Bobby's fun and games were about to be rudely interrupted.

He spotted the four of us walking purposefully toward him when we were about twenty yards away. He hesitated for a moment, then concluded that it probably wouldn't be in his best interest to hang around and wait for us. He took off running in the opposite direction, toward the nearby baseball field. Without my prompting, Kayla, Natalie and Andrea took off in chase. I continued to walk briskly, my confidence in my cohorts resolute.

Bobby was pretty fast, but I could see that Kayla and Natalie were closing the gap. Andrea brought up the rear, but her determination was steadfast. Bobby had reached shallow center field when he was tackled from behind by the speedy Kayla. Natalie was only a couple of steps behind, and by the time Andrea arrived on the scene they had him somewhat subdued. I say "somewhat" because Bobby was quite feisty—he wasn't going down easily. He was kicking and clawing like a caged animal, but it was apparent that he would be no match for the three girls.

"Get off of me, you bitches!" he screamed. "Get the fuck off me!"

When he saw me coming, he turned his escape attempts up a notch, catching Kayla on the chin with a wild elbow. She did not take it kindly. In an instant, she had his arm wrenched behind his back, twisting it into a position that looked downright excruciating.

“Ow! Ow! Stop! Please, let go, goddammit!”

“Are you going to be a good boy?” Kayla asked, applying just a little more pressure.

“Ow! Oh shit! Yes! Let go!”

"Say please," she purred.

"Please! Oh, fuck! Stop!"

Kayla relaxed her hold without letting go. Natalie secured his other arm, just in case he decided to make a run for it again. I stood before him, calm and collected.

“Bobby, it’s so nice to finally catch up with you,” I said, my tone cheerful. He just glared without answering. “We stopped by the tree earlier. You weren’t there. What do you have to say for yourself, Bobby?"

“My name is Robert,” he snapped. “And I wanted to play soccer. Is that a crime?”

"It's not a crime. But choices have consequences. When I ask you to do something, I fully expect your compliance. You got your friend Johnny in a compromised situation with your disobedience. We got him very, very embarrassed. Now it's your turn."

I crouched and began untying his shoes.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!" He jerked his leg away, and Kayla twisted his arm harder. He bent over and tried to break loose, but Kayla and Natalie held him in check.

"Owww! Son of a bitch! Stop!"

“Are you going to stand still like a good boy?” Kayla asked.

“Yes! Shit! Okay!”

Kayla eased up, and I continued where I left off. After untying his shoe, I proceeded to unthread the shoelace from his tennis shoe and pull the lace completely free.

“Wh—what are you doing down there?” Bobby asked, clearly getting nervous.

“Helping you learn a little lesson,” I said casually. I untied his other shoe and unthreaded the shoelace as before. I then reached into my backpack and pulled out a medium-sized pair of scissors. Holding the laces up together, I called on Andrea. “Can you stretch these out for me?” I asked. She stretched the shoelaces taut while I snipped them in half. Then again. And once more for good measure. The shredded ends fluttered to the ground like confetti.

"What the...?" said the bewildered Bobby. I wasn’t finished. I grabbed the tongue of his shoe and snipped it clean off. "Hey! You've ruined my shoe, you bitch!" shouted the incredulous Bobby.

I cut off the other tongue and looked up at Bobby, who was fuming. I smiled. “And now I’ve ruined the other one.”

I peeled off his shoes and tossed them aside, focusing on his socks. He was wearing a pair of cargo shorts, so they were easily accessible. Starting from the top, I cut into his olive-colored sock until reaching his toes, then pulled it off before repeating the maneuver with his other sock.

“Goddammit, knock it off!” Bobby roared, his face flushed with rage.

I stood up and eyed his shirt, a quirky little Henley-style number with buttons all the way down. That wouldn’t last long.

"I was quite disappointed, and a bit surprised that you weren't with Johnny at the tree today," I said, snipping the bottom button clean off. We both watched the button pop slightly outward and fall harmlessly at his feet.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" screamed Bobby. "That's my shirt!" He made a feeble attempt to break free, but everyone—including Bobby—knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

"You really should have been there, Bobby," I said calmly while cutting away two more buttons.

"Goddammit, you're ruining my shirt!" he fumed, practically shaking with anger.

Unfazed, I gripped the shirt and cut a full circle around his torso. “Andrea, could you pull this tight for me?” She did, and I sliced the strip in half. Then again. After slicing once more, I took the small, shredded pieces and tossed them up in the air, watching them flutter leisurely to the earth. I strummed my fingers across his bare tummy, feeling him flinch.

“How cute,” I grinned. "Now you're wearing a crop top."

“Okay, okay, you’ve had your fun,” Bobby said, clearly rattled. “Now let me the hell go!”

"I don't think so." I moved behind him, sliding my hand into his right front pocket. "I don't think you've learned your lesson yet."

"Hey!" he said, squirming at the intrusion. "Get your hand—what are you doing?!"

Out came three dollar bills, a quarter, and a dime. I stuffed the cash into his back pocket, then yanked the emptied pocket inside-out. "You're not to wear front pockets in your shorts anymore," I said as I cut it off and tossed it aside.

"Son of a bitch! You're fucking crazy!" Bobby barked, eyes wide.

I reached into the other pocket and pulled out a key. Into the back pocket it went. "Crazy or not, I'm deadly serious. When you get home I'd like you to gather all your shorts and pants and cut the front pockets off, just like this," I instructed as I pulled out his left pocket and snipped it off.

"No fucking way!" was his response. I calmly walked behind him, grabbed a handful of his hair that had reached his upper back—about an inch's worth, maybe a tad more—and snipped it off. "What're you... hey, what the fuck!" he screamed in astonishment.

I opened my palm, showing him the clump of hair before I let it flutter to the ground. "I'll keep going if I have to. It's entirely up to you, Bobby," I said.

"No! Okay I'll do it!" he conceded.

“Do what, Bobby?” I asked.

"I'll cut the fucking pockets off my shorts!" he blurted, breathless and flustered.

“And your pants?”

"Yes! Goddammit, just let me go!" He pulled against the hold on his arms, and Kayla gave another firm twist. "Ow! Fuck!" he said as he again gave up on his struggles.

"That's a good boy, Bobby," I purred. I reached through the gap where his pocket had been and hooked a finger into the side of his underwear, tugging the dark blue boxer briefs through the opening. “Also—no more underpants. Ever.”

His eyes went wide as I cut away the material. I sliced up from the bottom, straight through the soft material and clean across the elastic waistband.

“Jesus Christ!” Bobby yelped. He turned a panicked look toward Andrea. “Is she insane?!”

"Oh, Bobby," Andrea grinned, "you have no idea. "I wouldn't test her if I were you."

"If I ever catch you wearing underpants," I said, repeating the maneuver on his left side, I'll simply do this again. And if I do, I'll be sure to give you a nice haircut while I'm at it," I said, looking up at his lengthy locks. “And if you think I’m bluffing, then you haven’t been paying attention.”

I reached for his zipper and slid it down. "Hey!" he shrieked. "Get your hands—what're you doing?!"

Without answering, I reached in and pulled on his boxer briefs, and with minimal effort the entire material came through the fly.

"May I?" offered the grinning Andrea, right on cue. She stretched out the material while I snipped through the middle. Two cuts later and the small bits of what used to be Bobby's underpants were scattered on the ground, unrecognizable.

Bobby, somewhat shocked by the proceedings, was temporarily speechless. I handed Andrea the scissors and looked Bobby square in the eye. "So this is what I expect from you from now on: no front pockets and no undies." I moved behind him, sliding my right hand into the newly formed opening at his right hip until I found his penis. "That way I'll always be free to do this."

"AGHHH!" said the startled Bobby, ever so eloquently. (giggle)

"Not bad, Bobby boy," I said as I felt around, sizing him up. Indeed, Bobby's penis seemed like at least a normal size—maybe slightly larger. He was definitely bigger than Johnny or Blondie. And I could feel his pubic hair. I made a mental note to have the three of them stripped together sometime so I could compare—and most assuredly make fun of Johnny and Blondie.

I slid my left hand through the other side and took hold of his balls. Bobby squirmed, but Kayla's firm grip kept him in place. I continued to play with his penis while fondling his balls, grinning as his penis began to respond. "Oh, Bobby, I'm so happy to see that you like me," I teased.

"Please... please stop," he pleaded softly.

But I continued my manipulation until I determined that he was completely erect. I guessed it was at least five inches long, with decent width—pretty good for a young fourteen-year-old.

Then I withdrew, moving to face him, savoring the blush on his cheeks as our eyes met. We both knew that I had just had my way with his genitals, something I was pretty sure no one other than himself had done before. That glazed, broken look in his eyes told me everything—he was mine. Subdued through humiliation, completely under my control. And it felt incredible.

"Kayla and Natalie are going to let go of your arms now, Bobby," I said. "You'd better not try to run away. If you do, when we catch you—and I think you know that we will catch you—I'll have the girls hold you down while I give you a free haircut. I don't think you would want that, because I'm really not a very good hair stylist."

I nodded to Kayla and Natalie, who then released their grips. Bobby winced and stretched his sore arms. At least two dozen people had gathered, captivated by the unfolding spectacle. He scanned their faces, clearly panicked, but he made no motion to try to run away.

I glanced down and noticed that the tent that had formed from his erection was beginning to diminish. I thought it would be fun to have Kayla rectify that. "Kayla, could you do me a favor and reach into Bobby's front pockets and describe what you find?"

Kayla, grinning, wasted no time. From behind, she smoothly slid both of her hands inside Bobby's shorts. I could tell from his wide-eyed expression that she had found pay dirt.

"Oh yeah," said Kayla. "There's definitely a penis here. And it's a pretty good size."

I smiled at Bobby, snipping off the last three buttons of what remained of his shirt.

"And it's a very active one at that," continued Kayla. "The more I play with it, the bigger it gets.

I cut Bobby's shirt on both sleeves up to his neck and pulled it the rest of the way off. Andrea and I quickly reduced it to scraps.

"And he has nice balls,” Kayla added. "They fit perfectly my hand. I'm stroking them now. They're pretty smooth, just a bit of hair. Oh, and he's definitely got a full hard-on now."

"How long do you think it is?" I asked. I crouched beside him and began cutting upward on the outside seam of his shorts—slowly, deliberately, inch by inch. I stopped just shy of the waistband, leaving a slim sliver of material still connecting the pieces. The exposed skin was a turn-on for me as I anticipated the end result.

"Oh, let's see," said Kayla. "I'd guess somewhere around five inches. Maybe more. And there's some girth. Pretty good for a young white boy," said Kayla, laughing at her intentional stereotyping.

"I think we need a second opinion," Andrea said, already reaching through the zipper hole. The startled Bobby tried to draw backwards but was inhibited by the exploring Kayla. He probably would have jumped out of his shoes if he was wearing any. Both girls held him now, measuring, comparing.

"I agree," Andrea said. "Perhaps more than five inches. Hard to be sure, though. What do you think, Natalie?" Andrea withdrew and the grinning Natalie eagerly plunged her hand inside.

"Hmm," Natalie mused, Bobby squirming deliciously beneath her touch. "It could be more than five inches. Does anybody have a ruler?"

While all that was happening, I’d already started working the scissors up the other side of Bobby’s shorts—once again stopping just shy of cutting them clean off. That’s when understanding dawned in Bobby's eyes. “No! Please! Everyone, stop! Oh, please, let me at least keep my shorts!” he begged, voice cracking.

Aww. Sweet desperation.

* * * * * *

I've gone on a bit long, so I think I’ll pause the story here for now. Don’t worry, though—there’s plenty more to come. Next up, I have a fun little story about an impromptu outing I had with Blondie. I’ll post that as soon as I get it written up.

But rest assured, we’ll be returning to Bobby. And since you probably know me pretty well by now, I don't think it's much of a spoiler to say that we did, in fact, get him naked. That's where Kayla's moment arrived—and she absolutely seized it. She put him through his paces in ways I hadn't anticipated.

I can’t wait to tell you all about it.

[TeenFan]

Bobby is the best victim yet in these humiliation chronicles.
Glad to see there will be at least one more chapter with Bobby.

[Blondie]

Bobby is the best victim yet in these humiliation chronicles.
Glad to see there will be at least one more chapter with Bobby.

It's funny, on the old site where I previously posted this story, it was pretty even between the favorite of the three male victims. As we've discussed, preferences vary widely. I'm glad you like this one!

[Blondie]

Chapter 15: Blondie: Driving in Tighty-Whities

Most of the time my humiliation exploits are planned out, with improvisations sprinkled in along the way. But some of my favorite sessions have been unscripted, and totally off-the-cuff. One of my favorite impromptu sessions involved none other than Blondie, my favorite patsy.

This particular adventure occurred just a few days after stripping Blondie at his locker. You may recall the instructions I left with him that day: to keep his body completely hairless from neck to toe, to wear tighty-whities exclusively, sport short shorts without socks, and don a short-sleeved tee to showcase his girly arms. His sister Becky had graciously volunteered some of her own wardrobe to help him comply. She delivered spectacularly. And so did Blondie.

* * * * * *

I found him the following day at his locker, back turned, unaware. I paused several feet behind him, taking my time to appraise what I saw. And what a sight he made. He was wearing tight white shorts that didn't come close to reaching mid-thigh. I'd estimate the inseam was about an inch, maybe an inch and a half, tops. His long, slender, utterly hairless legs were captivating. I stood and stared at them for a few seconds and found myself becoming stimulated—not just by his legs, but more so by the power that I had over him. I mean, think about it. Here's a 17-year-old boy who, at my command, had shaved his legs smooth, then endured the shame of displaying those denuded limbs throughout Roosevelt High. Honestly, the control I felt over him at that moment was positively exhilarating.

But back to Blondie’s outfit. His top was a snug little red tee, clearly a size or two too small. Deliciously, it didn’t even meet the waistband of his shorts, leaving a cute sliver of midriff peeking out. The abbreviated sleeves revealed most of his now-hairless arms. Desperate for coverage, he kept tugging the hem, trying to stretch it down. It wasn’t working.

"Oh, Blondie!" I bellowed, causing him to almost jump out of his sockless tennis shoes. "You look absolutely ravishing today."

He was already blushing. I'm guessing he had a constant blush going, thanks to his new condition and exposure.

I ran my fingers up and down his smooth thighs. "Pretty, pretty," I said mellifluously, accentuating the "t" sounds. Blondie flushed brighter. I glanced at his shirt and couldn’t help but giggle. Becky had outdone herself. Smack in the middle was a big “Hello Kitty” face with XOXO printed underneath. “Cute top,” I remarked. "And I love your girly little arms," I teased, stroking his clean-shaven forearm like I was petting a kitten. Blondie stayed quiet, nervously glancing around at the slowly growing crowd.

“Are you wearing your tighty-whities like I instructed?” I asked. I pictured him going to the store after school and purchasing them, because I told him to. It was a turn-on.

“Yes!” he said quickly, his voice pitched with panic. “I am. I promise.”

Of course, I had to see for myself. “Mmhmm. I believe you,” I said. “I know you would never defy me. But... I really want to see how you look in them. Especially now that your legs are all nice and silky," I added, reaching for his shorts' button.

Blondie drew back. “Please, Felicity,” he whispered, panicking. “People are... let me show you somewhere private!"

“We could do that," I agreed, turning to smile at our expanding audience. "But I suspect they'd enjoy seeing, too. You look adorable. Now hold still, and we'll get this over with quickly. If you move away from me again, I’ll have to punish you—and I’m sure you don’t want that.”

Blondie stood submissively as I unfastened his shorts and drew down the zipper. The shorts clung too tightly to fall naturally, so I tugged them to his ankles myself.

"Very nice, Blondie," I purred approvingly. "Let's get a proper look now." I lifted his shirt to his chest, stepped back, and savored the view. I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I was quite stimulated. He looked every bit as I could possibly have hoped—hairless, helpless, and hopelessly embarrassed. That blush was magnificent.

I let my gaze linger. I knew the answer to my next question, but I had to ask. "Did you remove all the hair around your little boy bits like I asked you to?"

“Yes,” he muttered, desperate. “Please... can I pull these up now?”

“In a moment,” I said, fingering his waistband. “First I need to see.”

“Oh God,” he groaned, going stiff with tension.

"Don't worry, Blondie. I'm not going to show everyone how bald you are down there. I just want to see for myself."

I pulled the elastic outward and peered inside. I giggled as I studied his little penis, which was now completely devoid of hair. I looked up, smiling, then slipped my hand inside. Blondie flinched, rising onto his toes as I explored thoroughly. The smoothness, combined with my responsibility for it, was utterly intoxicating.

"Good boy, Blondie. So nice and smooth down here. And your balls," I said, stroking them lovingly while maintaining eye contact, "they're delectable." I toyed with his penis briefly, withdrawing as it began responding. "Gotta go now," I said, turning toward my next class. "Thanks for letting me play with you, and for getting so smooth for me. You really do look lovely. I can’t wait for next time!"

And just like that, I was gone. It was a perfect hit-and-run.

* * * * * *

As I mentioned, this little spontaneous humiliation adventure took place a few days after I stripped Blondie at his locker. After school, preparing to catch my bus, I spotted him crossing the parking lot toward his family's car. I decided a ride home from Blondie would be pleasant. Naturally, I would have a little fun with him along the way.

"Hey, Blondie!" I called as he unlocked the vehicle. He glanced up, looking adorably uneasy as I approached. “Would you mind giving me a ride home?”

He wasn’t about to say no. “Okay,” he said, a bit warily.

“Perfect!” I chirped, sliding into the passenger seat. "Thanks, Blondie," I added cheerfully as he started the engine and pulled out.

Normally it would be about a fifteen-minute drive to my place, but traffic meant we’d be together a little longer. Lucky me.

“This is nice,” I said. “Just the two of us. We haven't had quality alone time since that night in Becky's bedroom." I was, of course, referring to my thirteenth birthday—the night when Blondie served as my personal plaything. Blondie remained silent. It clearly wasn’t a memory he was eager to revisit.

We drove in silence for several minutes. Then, casually, I ran my hand up his leg, across his smooth thigh. Predictably, deliciously, Blondie turned a marvelous shade of pink. My fingers glided over his bare arm before returning to his thigh. The silence stretched—comfortable for me, squirm-inducing for him. Occasionally I’d trace a fingertip along the inside of his thigh, once venturing so near his groin that he reflexively pulled back. I relished every moment. Those same tight white shorts had ridden higher with sitting. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

Finally I removed my hand, breaking the silence. “Hey, you know what would be fun?” I asked. Blondie flinched, shooting me a nervous glance—clearly dreading whatever was about to come out of my mouth next. He knew me all too well. “Have you ever driven in just your underpants?”

Blondie's face spoke volumes. He squirmed anxiously, speaking for the first time since we'd entered the car. “Oh God, no,” he said, his voice trembling. “Please, Felicity, not in the car.” He looked at me, hoping for mercy. Silly boy. “What—what if we get pulled over?”

"Just drive carefully, Blondie. And if you get stopped, whatever. I'll tell the cop you lost a bet. There's no law against driving in your underpants."

“Oh God,” he repeated, his breaths becoming quicker.

"Come on, it'll be fun. Where's your sense of adventure? Here, pull over to the side and let's get you undressed."

With a look of pure dread, Blondie guided the car to the side of the road and parked. He sat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if that would shield him from what was coming.

“Alright, Blondie,” I said, grinning. “Let's do this. Take off your shirt.” He hesitated, then slowly pulled it over his head. I plucked it from his grasp. “Good boy,” I said, patting his bare chest. "Now the shorts."

He glanced around nervously. "Felicity... please. Just let me take you home.”

“Oh, I will. I promise. But I want you to do that in your tighty-whities.”

Blondie squeezed his eyes shut, drew a deep breath, and slid off his shorts. I collected them. "I'll take the shoes too. Undies only."

After slipping off his shoes, a very nervous Blondie merged back into traffic. "This is nice," I commented, caressing his thigh from knee to underpants. "You look adorable. And now I have even more pretty legs to play with."

We drove several more minutes. I was in a state of delight. Blondie? Not so much. And matters were about to worsen. “Hey, could you do me a favor and pull into that drugstore on the next block? I want to buy some gum.”

“I have gum in my backpack,” he said quickly. “You can have it.”

"Is it Orbit Spearmint? I like Orbit Spearmint."

"No, but... I think it has mint. Really, just try it."

"Thanks, but I only chew Orbit Spearmint. Pull in here. It’ll just take a sec.”

Blondie, who probably wished he could shove some Orbit Spearmint right up my ass, turned into the drugstore lot. There was an empty space near the entrance. "Take that spot right there." He pulled in, and as I unbuckled, I reached over and plucked the key fob from the ignition. “I trust you, Blondie. I do. But desperate boys sometimes make desperate choices.” I piled his clothes onto my seat. “Don’t even think about touching these. And no ducking down, or your shorts and tee go in that dumpster."

Before exiting, I pressed a button on the fob. All four windows glided down. I smiled, watching Blondie stiffen. Then I pressed another button.

HOOOONK! The horn blared like a siren. Blondie flailed in his seat as if he’d been tasered. It was so funny! I let it continue for a few agonizing seconds before releasing. When I glanced back, he was sitting there with both hands clamped over what I assumed was a very red face.

I had no intention of buying any gum. I was just having so much fun that I wanted to prolong the humiliation session as long as I could. So I wandered over to the magazine rack, casually flipping through a copy of Teen Vogue.

That's when I noticed them—three girls browsing the candy aisle. They were wearing local private Catholic school uniforms—plaid skirts with white blouses. They were probably two or three years younger than Blondie. One was a cute blonde, one was a petite Asian with a sweet face, and the other a tall girl with long black hair. They were giggling about something.

Then I had an inspiration. I love it when I have these inspirations. (giggle) "Excuse me," I said. They turned. "I might be mistaken, but I have something going on that might interest you." I studied them; their curiosity was piqued. "A friend of mine—a boy—is sitting in a blue Honda right outside. For reasons not worth explaining, he's only wearing underpants. And he's quite embarrassed.”

I had them pegged right. Their eyes widened, grins spreading. "Seriously?" the blonde asked, gazing toward the lot.

"Yeah, for real. He's sitting in the driver's seat in his tighty-whities." Giggles erupted. "Not his choice—it's mine. And though he's quite embarrassed right now, with your help we make get him really embarrassed."

They were sold. The petite girl clapped her hands. Their enthusiasm was undisguised. "Tell us! What can we do?" the Asian girl asked eagerly. I gave them a quick rundown of the plan, and as it unfolded, their excitement mounted. The Asian girl seemed particularly enthusiastic.

"Remember," I cautioned, "pretend we don't know each other." I started to walk away, then turned back. "Oh, and feel free to tease him. You can make him turn bright red. The more you embarrass him, the better. And he embarrasses really easily."

The tall girl gave me a sly smile. “We won’t let you down.”

And oh boy, they didn’t. All three played their parts magnificently—and they clearly had fun doing it.

I’ll tell you all about it in the next chapter.

[Blondie]

Chapter 16: Blondie: Humiliated by the Catholic Girls

When Blondie spotted me walking back to the car, I could see the sense of relief on his face. Poor boy. He had no idea what awaited him.

"Thanks for stopping, Blondie," I said, settling into the passenger seat and staring straight ahead.

"May I have the key?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, of course," I said. I fumbled around in my pockets, then my backpack, feigning confusion. "What did I do with that thing?"

I noticed the three Catholic girls were standing in front of the car now, carrying on a phony conversation. Blondie was becoming more antsy by the second.

"Come on, Felicity!" he implored. "The key!"

"I know I've got it here somewhere," I said with mock concern, unzipping a side pocket of my backpack. "Just a minute..."

Right on cue, the blonde girl approached my window. Blondie quickly hit the button to roll up the windows, but to his consternation nothing happened.

"Excuse me," the blonde said. "Do either of you have change for a dollar?" She stood at my window, deliberately not looking inside yet.

"Let me check," I said. I continued going through my backpack. Blondie's level of trepidation had to be off the charts right about then. "No, I don't think I do," I finally said. I looked over at Blondie. "Sweetie, do you have change for a dollar?" Somehow I kept a straight face. Blondie looked like he was about to throw up.

The blonde girl leaned down and peered through the window. "Oh, my God!" she screeched.

"Please! Gimme the key!" Blondie screamed frantically, lunging for my backpack. I yanked it away, slapping his hand.

"Sonia! Rebecca! Come see this!" the blonde girl shouted, waving over her friends.

"Oh God!" cried Blondie. "Felicity! The key! We need to go!"

"I swear, I think I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached," I said calmly, while continuing to sift through my backpack, as if unaware of the rising storm.

The other two girls were fast approaching the car. "Felicity, goddammit, give me the fucking key!" Blondie shrieked.

I set the backpack on the floor and looked at Blondie sternly. I don't care how dire his situation might have been; I would never allow such impertinence from any of my victims. "That was a big mistake, Blondie. You know I can't tolerate you talking to me like that."

Three grinning faces now crowded my window. "Why is he only wearing his underpants?" the Asian girl asked.

"He's been a naughty boy," I replied, smiling. "He's being punished."

"Oh my," she answered. "How embarrassing. Look how red his face is."

Indeed, Blondie glowed like a Christmas bulb. I was in seventh heaven as the wonderful events continued to unfold.

"I know," I responded. "Isn't he adorable?"

"He is. Hi, my name's Sonia." She thrust her hand through the open window. Blondie, without looking up, removed his protective hand from his groin just long enough to offer a feeble handshake.

"His name is Blondie," I supplied.

The three girls giggled. "Oh, what a lovely name," Sonia said. "And speaking of lovely, check out his legs. I don't see any hair."

"They're really smooth," I agreed. "You should feel them."

"Really? Can we?" Sonia asked eagerly. I smiled and nodded. She made a beeline for Blondie's side, followed by her grinning friends.

"You're not to tell them that you shaved," I warned Blondie quietly.

"Oh God, Felicity," implored Blondie. "Please, let me have—"

"Hi, Blondie!" Sonia interrupted. Her face was in his window, and her hand was already sliding through, finding his thigh. "Ooh, you're right. They're like satin." She ran her fingertips across his smooth skin. "You must really be embarrassed. Are you, Blondie? Sitting here in your tighty-whities, showing off your pretty legs?"

"Please, just... just leave me alone."

She turned to her friends, grinning. "Feel how smooth his legs are."

Rebecca, the tall brunette, took her turn, her hand replacing Sonia's. "Oh, how adorable. Are you like this all over?" Blondie, now the depths of mortification, did not respond. Rebecca giggled at his silence. "Check it out, Mindy."

While Mindy explored his leg, Sonia was busy running her fingertips across the hairless skin of his arm. "Your arms are really smooth, too." She ducked her head to address me. "He's so soft and silky all over. I think he should be punished in a pair of panties instead of his underpants."

"That's a wonderful idea," I laughed. "I just might have to do that someday."

“Would you like that, Blondie?” Sonia teased. “A soft, lacy pair of panties for your silky legs?”

"Please," said Blondie. "Please just... can you just go away?"

"Hmm," Sonia said, turning to her friends. "He wants us to go away. We should talk about that." She patted Blondie's shoulder. "Don't go away. We're going to confer." Sonia was thriving in the moment, and I was enjoying every second.

"Please, may I just have the key?" Blondie asked me while they were huddling.

Sonia was already back at the window. "We've decided!" she announced. "We're going to leave." Blondie looked up at her, hopeful but unconvinced. "But before we go, we'd like a little memento to take with us. We were thinking those cute little undies will do nicely."

All eyes fixed on Blondie for his reaction. He retracted his head in disbelief, his mouth agape. I was amused he hadn't seen that coming. Just another reason why I love my Blondie humiliation sessions.

"So is that a 'yes'?" Sonia asked, smiling.

Blondie turned to me with a beseeching look—I guess hoping I would swoop in and rescue him. Not much chance of that. I looked him up and down, smiled and said, "I get the feeling that I'm going to have a naked chauffeur for the ride home."

Blondie looked down at his underpants, then at me, then at the three expectant faces of the Catholic coeds. Finally, he simply said, "I can't."

It was adorable how he thought refusal was an option. He certainly didn't have any leverage. By then he had to have realized that I wasn't going to be forthcoming with the key any time soon. And he had to have known that the girls weren't going anywhere until they had their way. So we had reached an impasse.

The thing was, only one of the five of us was out in public wearing only underpants. Only one of the five of us had it in his best interest to get the ordeal over with as quickly as possible. The other four were having a grand old time at his expense, and had no problem letting the scene play out longer if the underpants-clad boy chose to do so.

“That's okay,” Sonia said, stroking his thigh again. “I’ve got all day.

”Blondie pushed her wrist away, generating an admonition from me. "Blondie, if you dare put your hands on any of us again—trust me, you'll be sorry you did."

He knew what I was capable of and wasn't about to test my will. Sonia resumed her exploration while he sat suffering, contemplating his fate. At some point he must have finally realized that he was between the proverbial "rock and a hard place," and his only recourse was to comply.

"Do you promise to leave if I do it?" he asked Sonia sullenly.

"Do what?" she asked. I was really beginning to like her.

"Take off my underpants," he responded grudgingly.

"And we get to keep them, right? For a souvenir."

"Okay."

"Great, it's a deal. But we want to get a nice look at your goodies first. And we might want some pictures." Blondie winced and said nothing. "Then we'll go. After we get a good look, and get some pictures of you while you're naked."

Blondie bent forward, face in hands. Sonia grinned. “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. I promise I won't show them to anyone. Just the three of us." She glanced at me. "And your friend, if she wants." I smiled and gave her a thumbs up. "And I can send them to you if you want," she added with a smirk.

Blondie had another thought. It seemed then that he was resigned to doing the dirty deed, but he was still worried about the end game. He turned and faced me. "What about the key?"

"I promise you'll get the key when your new friends are finished with you," I said.

"What about my shorts and shirt?"

“I’ll leave them with you when we get to my house.”

"But... but I'll be driving... I'll be driving naked."

“Exactly,” I purred.

Blondie sat motionless, staring through the windshield, gathering himself. It was akin to an athlete psyching himself up before a big game, except he wasn't an athlete, there was no game, and he sat in a public parking lot wearing only underpants.

Then—and who knows what finally triggered it—he made his move. “Oh, God,” he blurted, grabbing the waistband with both hands. Lifting his hips, he hurriedly shoved his underpants down his legs and kicked them free before tossing them out the window into Sonia’s outstretched hand. It was one of the quickest strips I’d ever witnessed.

The scarlet-faced Blondie hunched over, his hands desperately covering what we would inevitably see—what he had to know we would see.

The squeals came instantly. "Oh, my God!" Mindy shrieked. "This is too much! He actually did it!"

"He's naked!" Rebecca cried. "Totally naked!"

Sonia poked her head through the window. "Look at you, all naked in here. You must be absolutely mortified!"

"If you think he's mortified now," I said, "wait 'til he moves his hands and shows you what he's hiding."

Sonia was so ready for that to happen. "We need to see, Blondie. We're not going anywhere until we see." He remained still. She grew impatient. "Last warning. Put your hands behind your headrest and spread your knees, nice and wide."

Blondie sat like a statue. But Sonia had an ace up her sleeve. She casually produced the key fob I'd given her earlier (oh, did I forget to mention that? ) and pressed a button. The horn blared.

A thirty-something woman walking past looked over. To say that Blondie was alarmed would be a true understatement. Wide-eyed and frantic, he looked at me for a sign of the key. I held my palms upwards and shrugged.

After about a dozen ear-piercing blares, it was quiet. Blondie, breathing hard, looked out to where Sonia held the fob between two fingers, just out of reach. "I'll tell you once more," she said. "Put your hands behind your headrest and spread your knees, nice and wide."

The unnerved Blondie put his hands behind his headrest and spread his knees, nice and wide.

Blondie had done a fabulous job of rendering himself completely hairless. Combined with his small package, the effect gave the appearance of a prepubescent boy. But of course, he was seventeen! I couldn't fully imagine his humiliation—well, actually, I was something of an expert, so I had a pretty good idea.

The merriment was spirited. The three girls, after jostling for position, all managed to squeeze their heads through the window and stare down at Blondie's exposed privates. Well, they weren't very private anymore, were they?

The comments came in fast and relentlessly.

"Oh, my God! Look how teeny it is!" I will say it was smaller than his usual size. I imagine the circumstances and his embarrassment had that effect.

"And he's totally bald down there!"

"This is too much! Is he really old enough to drive?"

"It's a cute little thing, isn't it? Cute as a little button!"

The hilarity continued, and Blondie's wretched expression verified every moment of his humiliation. How he was able to sit still with his hands clasped behind the headrest throughout the excruciating ordeal is beyond me. Pictures were taken from all angles. Mindy even jumped up on the hood and snapped a picture through the windshield. They made him kneel, face them, palms against the ceiling, then opened the door for more photos, laughing constantly.

"Ooh, let's get his butt," Sonia said eagerly. "Blondie, get on your hands and knees and face your friend." The beleaguered Blondie obeyed, and the giggling girls added to their photo collection. I think there was a bit of fondling going on, too, as it looked like Sonia had reached her hand between his legs. Blondie's eyes went wide, and he twitched his hips. It was delightful.

While he held that position, I leaned in and gave him a playful, wet kiss on the lips. I have to say, my state of arousal had been building up for some time. I was already damp, and I knew I could orgasm in short order with a little encouragement, so I slipped my hand inside my panties and began working myself. I don't think the girls noticed, but I know Blondie did. That he knew I was getting off on his humiliation only heightened everything, hastening my climax. I cupped his burning cheek with my free hand.

"Oh, Blondie," I purred. "You're the best." Then I came, staring into his anguished eyes. "Ohhhhhhh."

After, I withdrew my hand and wiped my juices on his shorts.

Eventually, Sonia called it. “Okay! We’re going now.”

Blondie scrambled upright. “Can I have the key?”

"Certainly." She held it out, and the ever-hopeful Blondie extended his arm out the window. "But you're going to have to come get it," she said, walking a dozen steps to lay the fob on a garbage container's edge. I grinned. That wasn't part of the script.

“Oh shit,” Blondie muttered, surveying the area nervously. He sat still, gathering courage to leave the car for a public, naked escapade. An elderly woman with a walker inched past the car toward the store.

"While Blondie's thinking, Sonia, could you hand me your phone? I'll send myself a text, so we have each other's numbers."

"Sure, good idea," she smiled, coming to my side.

"My name's Felicity," I said, extending my hand. After she shook it, I typed my number. "You've got a knack for this. Maybe I'll contact you, and we can have more fun with Blondie. Or someone else. I have others, if you're interested."

"Love to!" she beamed, taking her phone back. "And I'll send you today's pictures."

"Great," I said. "I'll share them with Blondie." We giggled.

Meanwhile, the foot traffic was non-existent, and it looked like Blondie was ready to make his move. "When you go out there, don't you dare cover up, or you’ll never get these clothes back,” I warned.

"Oh shit," he said again as he opened the car door and hightailed it toward the trash can. Hilarity erupted as he tripped over the curb, breaking his fall with his hands. Mindy captured it on video, which I later viewed countless times. Watching his little bits bob and weave during his frantic dash back to the car has brought considerable enjoyment over the years. The slow-motion feature produces a wonderful effect, as I'm sure you can imagine.

Amid our considerable laughter, Blondie fumbled the key into the ignition and started the car.

“Thank you, Blondie!” Sonia called, gleefully waving his underpants above her head as he tore out of the parking lot.

* * * * * *

The drive home was somewhat anticlimactic (well, it literally was after my climax). Perhaps not for Blondie. He seemed terribly nervous. You'd think he'd never driven naked before.

When we reached my house, I leaned closer and cupped his genitals. Looking him in the eye, I said, "I own you, Blondie. And your little boy bits. You know that, right?" He nodded silently. I was tempted to make him say it aloud, but let it go. My ownership was well established. I kissed his cheek, gave his tummy a playful pat, and dropped his clothes onto his lap as I slipped out of the car. “Thanks for the ride!”

I skipped across the lawn. I don’t think my feet even touched the grass, such was my state of bliss.

[Blondie]

Chapter 17: Bobby: The Naked Doggie

As you may recall, we had Bobby secured on the baseball field, firmly under our control. I'd sliced both sides of his shorts until they hung by mere threads. He wore nothing else. In short order, he would wear nothing at all.

* * * * * *

"No! Please! Everyone, stop! Oh, please, let me at least keep my shorts!" he wailed, desperately clinging to his last shred of dignity.

"What's the matter, Bobby?" I asked. "You don't really think I'd cut these off and leave you naked in front of all these people, do you?" He seemed somewhat mollified, evidently thinking that I wouldn't dare do something so outrageous. Poor deluded boy. Clearly he missed his buddy Johnny's naked jaunt through the schoolyard mere minutes before.

With a grin, I pinched a piece of material near his waistband, then glanced at my three partners. They got the cue. Each seized a corner of his doomed shorts, eyes fixed on me, awaiting the signal. I counted down with my fingers: three, two, one. We yanked simultaneously, four directions at once, and in the bat of an eye Bobby stood completely naked.

For two solid seconds, he just stood there in stunned silence, which was plenty of time for us to appreciate the raging erection our efforts had produced. Then it hit him. With a squeal, he dove into that "forced naked in public" pose—bent over, hands desperately clenched over his genitals, face a picture of helpless terror. It was a sight for sore eyes—that is definitely one of my favorite humiliation poses.

Fortunately, Kayla was quick with her camera and captured the moment perfectly. To this day I still delight in revisiting that photograph, which has remained on my phone all this time.

While savoring Bobby's predicament, Andrea and I made quick work of his remaining shorts. I preserved the square patch of back pocket containing his keys and money. Very considerate of me, wouldn't you agree?

Meanwhile, near-hysterical Bobby was beside himself, not sure what to do. He spun in frantic circles, looking around in desperation, first at what used to be his clothes scattered across the grass. They were completely useless to him. He looked to us, then to the entertained crowd, and realized no help was forthcoming. Not that anyone seemed particularly eager to rescue him. Judging from the grinning crowd, they were clearly enjoying the spectacle. Plus, I'm sure no one would dare try to interrupt my fun, as they had a first-hand look what I was capable of.

"Oh! Please! Anybody! I need some clothes! Oh, shit!"

I reached casually into my backpack and produced the very tighty-whities Johnny had sacrificed earlier. I spread them out between hands and held them up for Bobby. "Would you like these?"

Given his circumstances, the meager offer was irresistibly attractive. Beggars cannot be choosers. Bobby's eyes locked onto the underpants like a lifeline.

"Yes! Please! Anything!"

I smiled. “Okay. But starting tomorrow, you're not to wear underpants. Ever. And before you get these, you'll do something for me." I paused. "I want a nice naked photo. Stand straight, hands on your head, while Kayla takes some pictures."

Horrified, Bobby clenched his privates harder. "Oh God, please! Can I just have them?"

I shrugged, producing the scissors. "Andrea, be a dear and hold these tight. I'll cut them in half."

"No!" Bobby screamed. "I need those! Okay, I'll do it!"

Kayla readied her camera. Bobby, to everyone's delight, slowly raised his hands to his head, cheeks burning crimson. His erection had subsided—halfway, anyway, which somehow added humor to the situation. Kayla snapped several shots. Bobby, assuming she was finished, immediately covered himself again.

It was during the next sequence that I realized that Kayla might be even more depraved than I am—if that's even possible.

“I’ll tell you when I’m finished, Bobby,” she purred. "Let's see your goodies again."

Bobby reluctantly moved his hands to his sides.

"Hands on hips, please. Stand up straight."

He obeyed. Kayla continued her photography session.

"Good boy. You have a pretty impressive package for a freshman. How generous of you to share it with us. Now turn around. I want a picture of your cute little ass."

Bobby shuffled his feet and turned himself around, providing everyone with a view they had not yet seen.

"There you go," Kayla cooed. Click. "Now reach down and grab your ankles."

There was a long hesitation. I was growing damp watching her performance, stimulated by her inventiveness.

Bobby peeked over his shoulder, his face the color of a stop sign. “Please, can I just—”

“Do you want to stay naked?”

Defeated, he bent at the waist, gripping his ankles.

"Excellent," Kayla said. "I'm getting some nice pictures of your butthole. Hold that pose, let me get a close-up. Natalie, could you spread his cheeks a little wider for me?"

My, oh my, Kayla was on a roll and couldn't be stopped. I wasn't planning on going that far, but I certainly had no desire to rein her in.

"Thanks, Nat. Yes, keep holding them apart while I zoom in. Ah, perfect." Click. "Got it. Okay, Bobby, I want you to do one more thing for me, then you can have the underpants and be on your merry way. Get down on your hands and knees. Crawl around on the grass like a little doggie for me."

I was definitely damp then. I swear I was deriving more pleasure watching Kayla do her thing than when I was putting Bobby through his paces myself.

Bobby stood up, and, unsure if he could handle any more humiliation, he just stood there with his hands over his crotch, staring at the ground. I was wondering if Kayla would be able to get Bobby to continue any further. I shouldn't have doubted her.

“Come on, Bobby,” Kayla pressed. “I’m not going to ask again. You’re going to be my naked doggie.”

He seemed unwilling, or possibly unable to do Kayla's bidding.

"Do you want Felicity to give you a haircut?"

They both looked at me. I held up the scissors, opening and closing them slowly for effect.

Kayla had pressed the right button. Bobby let out a shuddering breath... and dropped to his hands and knees.

"Good boy!" Kayla praised, patting his head. "Now roll over."

He hesitated, then awkwardly flipped onto his side, back, returning to all fours. Laughter rang throughout.

"That's a good boy!" Kayla exclaimed. Then, unbelievably, she produced a small piece of candy, holding it up to Bobby's mouth. I almost choked on my saliva from laughing as I watched Bobby, thoroughly broken, open his mouth and accept the treat.

“Can you bark for me?”

"Arf!"” Bobby muttered, eyes squeezed shut.

“I prefer 'woof,' actually.”

I prefer woof? You've got to be kidding me! Oh my God, she's fantastic! I might be in love.

“Woof,” groaned Bobby, miserable and crimson-faced.

"Thatta boy," Kayla smirked. "Now let's go for a walk."

She turned, strolling in slow circles. “Here, boy!” she chirped, tapping her thigh like she was summoning a golden retriever. To the crowd's utter hilarity, Bobby followed his master Kayla, crawling at her heels as she walked.

“Faster, doggie!” she called, breaking into a light trot. The sight of Bobby scampering after her, his bare backside bouncing as he desperately tried to keep up with the devilish Kayla, sent the crowd into fits of laughter. Andrea recorded everything, and the four of us have had several laughs over the years while viewing it together.

Finally, Kayla stopped and faced her panting, crimson-faced pet. “Sit."

Bobby, out of breath, obediently dropped onto his haunches, immediately covering himself.

"Good boy!" She slipped another candy into his mouth. "Now stand up."

As he began rising, Kayla pressed down on his shoulders. "On your knees," she whispered.

He straightened onto his knees, hands diligently shielding his genitals.

“Good boy,” she repeated, giving his head a few playful pats. She lifted her arms, wrists dangling limp. "Now hold your little paws out like this."

With a resigned groan, Bobby extended his hands forward, putting himself on full display. By that time his penis had gone completely flaccid. Kayla snapped a picture. “Good boy. Now ask me for a treat.”

He hesitated just a moment—then, to our considerable amusement, Bobby remained in character. "Woof!"

"Good doggie!" she exclaimed, doling out another candy.

It had been a virtuoso performance, and Kayla was about to wrap it up. She whispered to me, asking permission to give Bobby the underpants. I handed her Johnny's briefs and Bobby's pocket scrap.

“Okay, Bobby,” she said. "You've been a very good naked doggie, so I'm letting you return to being naked Bobby. Stay on your knees, hands behind your head, please."

Bobby, beaten and now in full-servitude mode, complied.

"Good, Bobby," she said, snapping another picture. She dangled the briefs, just out of his reach. “Would you like to put these on now?”

“Yes, please,” he whispered.

"You need to ask nicely. Say: ‘Kayla, would you be so kind as to let me wear Johnny Boy’s underpants?’”

The look on Bobby’s face when he realized the tighty-whities belonged to his friend Johnny was pure gold. For a moment, I swear he considered going stark naked rather than suffering the indignity of pulling his friend's well-worn underpants intimately against his genitalia. He ultimately chose the underpants.

"Kayla, may I please—would you be so kind as to let me wear John's—Johnny Boy's underpants?"

“Of course, dear Bobby,” she said, holding them out as the giggles behind us swelled. “Just remember what Felicity said—no more undies for you starting tomorrow. Give these back to Johnny Boy after you thank him for letting you wear them.”

She handed over the briefs and the pocket scrap. Bobby wriggled into them hurriedly. They were a little snug—okay, very snug—but they served their purpose. He looked up at Kayla expectantly.

“You can go now, Bobby,” she said.

And go he did. It was another humorous sight as we watched Bobby dart off toward the main building like he'd been set on fire.

I ran into him in the hallway later that day. He was wearing his P.E. shorts and a tee shirt, along with some flip-flops—probably a stash from his locker. When he saw me he flinched and blushed profusely. I had no doubt that from that day forward, Bobby would follow my wishes without question.

At the end of the day, Kayla caught up with me, and we shared a giddy recap of every highlight. As we parted ways, Kayla called out, "Oh, and thank you for letting me take over while we were doing Bobby."

“It was my pleasure,” I called back, and I meant every word.

[Blondie]

Chapter 18: Blondie: Cafeteria Humiliation

I really enjoyed our hour-long lunch breaks during my time at Roosevelt High. Sometimes I used that time for my little humiliation escapades, but usually I just hung out with Andrea, Kayla, and Natalie at our usual spot—the second-to-last table in the back. They were those long tables with bench seats attached, and we always claimed the spots against the wall.

Our conversations varied, but at some point the topic of conversation would inevitably steer toward humiliation—often revisiting some previous episode with one of our victims. We'd pull out our phones and scroll through the pictures and videos we'd captured, reliving each delicious moment. Invariably, peals of laughter would erupt from our little corner of the cafeteria.

Then one day inspiration struck. I suggested we liven up our lunchtime get-togethers by occasionally inviting one of our unfortunates to join us and share our stimulating conversation. The girls were all over the idea—of course they were—so we agreed to extend an invitation to our very first guest the following day.

Naturally, that first invite had to go to Blondie.

I shot him a text that evening, telling him to meet us at our usual table at exactly 12:05. I knew he was well aware of our table—I’d caught him glancing nervously our way more than once, always quickening his step and averting his eyes. I let him know we’d be anxiously awaiting his arrival. It had only been a few days since our little adventure at the drug store, so I could only imagine what was going through his head when my name lit up his phone.

As an afterthought, I texted Becky too. I told her we were planning some lunchtime entertainment with her brother and that she was more than welcome to join. Her reply came almost instantly: "Sure, thanks for including me! Can't wait!" I figuratively applauded myself, knowing that the presence of his sister would only fan the flames of whatever humiliation Blondie might endure.

I smiled while diddling myself to sleep that night in anticipation of another rendezvous with Blondie.

* * * * * *

There was an unmistakable feeling of delicious anticipation in the air as the five of us settled into our seats shortly after noon and awaited our treasured guest. Right on cue, at 12:05 sharp, a very anxious-looking Blondie shuffled toward our table. We all giggled, as he was a sight for sore eyes with his short-shorts, freshly shaven legs, arms bare and smooth, and his face already flushing pink. I detected a slight wince when he spotted his sister Becky.

He approached tentatively, unsure of where he should sit.

“Blondie!” I chirped. "So glad you could make it!" As if he'd had a choice. I scooted left and patted the space beside me. "Come sit." He slid in hesitantly, pressed against my hip. Andrea sat to his right, against the wall, while Becky, Kayla, and Natalie grinned at him from across the table.

“Blondie, you remember Andrea, Kayla, and Natalie, don’t you?” I asked. “You met them that day in the hallway. When I undressed you in front of your locker." The girls giggled, no doubt mentally replaying the image of mortified, naked Blondie. He said nothing. He just blushed brighter, as only Blondie could. I was already having a marvelous time, and we were just getting started.

"Your legs weren't nearly this pretty that day," I teased, running my fingers up and down his thigh. His shorts had ridden up when he sat, offering an abundance of soft, silky skin to play with. It was exhilarating. “Thank you for keeping them so smooth for me.” More giggles all around. Blondie looked like he wanted to melt through the bench.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" I unzipped my backpack. Yesterday after school, I'd stopped at a Halloween store and picked up a pair of bunny ears. You know, the kind on a headband, the long ears sticking straight up. These were white with pink insets. I knew they would look adorable on Blondie. He has such soft, almost feminine features, and now with his body completely hairless... the bunny ears would be perfect!

"I brought you a little accessory," I said, pulling them out and holding them up. The dread in his eyes was absolutely priceless. "I think these will look lovely on you. Turn your head toward me... good boy."

I placed the bunny ears on his head and took my sweet time fussing with the ears, adjusting them just so. Blondie's face flushed crimson. It was such a delicious moment. I made a mental note then and there to start a wonderful tradition: Every lunch guest from now on would wear the bunny ears. I'd buy extras in case we ever wanted multiple guests to humiliate.

"Oh, you look adorable, Blondie. Doesn't he look adorable, girls?" His cheeks burned, eyes downcast, as they collectively agreed that Blondie indeed looked utterly precious in his new headwear.

"Look at me, Blondie," Becky commanded. When he complied, she snapped a photo. She sent it to me later, and I must say, it was exquisite. Equally exquisite was the sketch Andrea made for me. She really captured the look, and the moment.



You may have noticed Blondie hadn't spoken a word yet. It was time to change that.

So, Blondie," I began, twirling a strand of his hair around my finger, "we've been reminiscing about my thirteenth birthday. The fun I had with you that night. I thought it’d be entertaining to hear about it from your perspective.” He fidgeted, clearly loathing the prospect of recounting such a humiliating experience, especially under these circumstances.

I turned to Natalie. "Do you remember where I left off?"

"I do!" she said eagerly. "You and Blondie were sitting on the bed..." She glanced at Becky. "Your bed, I believe." Becky nodded, smiling, and Natalie continued. "You were wearing clothes—and, well, Blondie wasn't." We all giggled, staring at the increasingly shamefaced Blondie.

“Blondie," I prompted, "why don't you pick up the story? Right after we got off the bed." Blondie was silent. “Blondie?” I said, a touch of warning in my tone.

He looked at me pleadingly. “Please, Felicity... can I just... can I just eat my lunch?”

"Oh absolutely. Please do. You need your nourishment. But we want to hear your story while we eat."

He hesitated, then mumbled, “We... got off the bed and then...”

"Wait!" I held up a hand. "Before you continue, pull your shorts down to your knees. We want to see your tighty-whities while we listen. You are wearing your tighty-whities, aren't you?"

Blondie glanced around nervously. There were already some curious people looking on. The bunny ears made him impossible to miss, and my reputation at Roosevelt had begun to spread. People probably sensed something interesting brewing.

I gave his shorts a playful tug. "Come on, Blondie. We want to see. Don't keep us waiting."

He knew resistance was futile. To our delight, he unclasped his shorts, lifted his hips, and slid them down to his knees. Andrea and I leaned in to admire the view, while Becky and Natalie stood for a better angle. Kayla, never one for subtlety, dropped her head under the table for the closest look possible. All of us grinned.

"Very nice," I purred in his ear, then reached for his shirt hem. "Let's pull this up so we can see your little undies properly, shall we?" I tugged the shirt up to his ribs, leaving his tighty-whities fully on display. I looked him up and down, feeling increasingly titillated by his condition.

"Now, you were saying?" I pressed. "We got off the bed. You were naked. Tell us what happened next. And I mean every detail. Don't leave anything out."

I knew it was going to be excruciating for Blondie to talk about the scene I was referring to, because the humiliation was intense. Plus, it was like a double whammy that he was enduring another humiliation while having to recount one of his worst ever. It was awe-inspiring!

Blondie was still withdrawn. "I'm not going to ask you again, Blondie. What did you and I do next?"

"We cut off... we snipped off my... my pubic hair."

A collective squeal erupted from the girls.

I should mention that throughout this exchange, Andrea and I had been earnestly caressing Blondie's thighs from either side. Meanwhile, devious Kayla had been busy under the table. Using her foot, she'd worked his shorts down to his ankles. I glanced beneath the table just in time to see her reach down, pull the shorts completely off, and set them beside her. To my delight, Blondie emitted a cute little high-pitched squeal when he realized he'd been stripped. Then, for good measure, Kayla pulled off his tennis shoes, leaving him barefoot.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Details, Blondie, we want details! What did I make you do while I snipped?"

"I had to... please, you know what happened. Can you just tell it?"

"Oh, but it means so much more coming from you, Blondie. Do tell!"

Suddenly Blondie jolted upright, rigid as a board. I looked down and discovered why—Kayla had slipped off her sandal and was using her toes to massage Blondie's genitals. Her foot was still on the outside of his underpants, but that would be a temporary situation. Kayla and I exchanged a wink and a puckish smile.

"Oh!" Blondie cried out. He reached down to push her foot away, but Kayla was unyielding.

"Let's get your hands up above the table, please," I reprimanded. "You can play with yourself when you get home." More giggles. Becky and Natalie took the opportunity to peek under the table and observe Kayla's progress.

"Now tell us what happened next. We were in Becky's room. You were naked. I had scissors. What did you have to do?"

“I had... to sing,” he whispered.

“Tell them the song.”

"It was... like Old MacDonald. Different words."

"Sing it for us, Blondie."

He squirmed violently—and not just from having to sing. Kayla had managed to slip her toes into one of the leg openings of his underwear. She was expertly manipulating his goodies. Oh, you just have to love Kayla! My appreciation for her grew by the second.

"Oh! Please!" he gasped. Then, probably hoping to end his ordeal faster, he began to sing.

♬ “My little pee-pee has no hair, ee-eye-ee-eye-oh...” ♬
He rushed through it. ♬ “With a snip-snip here, and a snip-snip there...” ♬

"Excellent!" I applauded, and the others joined in. "Tell them about the timing with the 'snips.'"

I looked down. That devilish (and I use that word with the utmost respect) Kayla was really going at it now. Blondie's little penis was gradually becoming a bigger little penis. He was completely defenseless, and my own arousal had reached new heights over the extraordinary scene.

"Every time I said 'snip,'" he said, writhing, "you cut off some hair."

Kayla was deftly stroking his now full-fledged hard-on (such as it was!) with her busy toes. She probably would have brought him to orgasm if I hadn't intervened. But I had a better idea.

"Oh, shoot!" I feigned annoyance, glancing toward the napkin dispensers—about twenty steps and seven tables away. "I forgot a napkin. Blondie, be a dear and fetch one for me?"

His alarmed eyes shot to his crotch, then to the distant dispensers. He fumbled in his lunch bag and produced a crumpled napkin. "Here, use mine," he offered hopefully.

"Thanks, but I don't want your napkin." I looked at his tented underpants and grinned. "Besides, you might need it to clean yourself up if you can't control yourself." The table erupted. Blondie's blush deepened deliciously. God, I was having fun.

I wanted him up before his little boner subsided. "Okay, Blondie—walk, don't run, and get me a napkin right this minute. Hands at your sides the whole time, or you don't get your shorts back until the end of the day."

He swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do. It was an amazing scene as we watched Blondie force himself from the table and begin the walk of shame through the crowded cafeteria. With the bunny ears bobbing on his head, and a few short but noticeable inches tenting his tighty-whities, it was a comical, if not downright preposterous spectacle.

Word spread like wildfire. The cafeteria's murmur rose to an uproar. Students pointed and laughed. Countless phones materialized in the air, each one manned by a wide-eyed, grinning amateur photographer. The laughter intensified as he toddled along, his little hard-on bouncing with every mortifying step.

Kayla and I exchanged a gleeful fist bump. "Iconic," she said. We knew, without a doubt, we had just created a legendary Roosevelt moment. Subsequently there would be many occasions when Kayla and I would toast each other in self-congratulatory homage for orchestrating the mind-blowing scene.

Meanwhile, as the chaos unfolded, I leaned close to Andrea and quickly whispered a few instructions. She grinned and nodded. Plans were in motion.

When Blondie finally staggered back to our table, I have to say—and I didn't think this was possible—his face was redder than I had ever seen it. He practically collapsed onto the bench and plopped the napkin in front of me with trembling hands.

"Thank you, Blondie," I said, using the napkin to dab the tears of laughter streaming down my face. The cafeteria roar took forever to die down enough for me to continue. "Now, where were we?" I asked. "Oh yes, you were singing a modified rendition of 'Old MacDonald' while I was snipping off your pubic hair. Tell everyone what happened when I gave you the scissors."

Blondie, still visibly shaking, squeezed his eyes shut, gathering whatever scraps of dignity he had left. "You made me..." he gulped, "you made me snip while I sang."

"Good, Blondie," I encouraged. "Then we started taking turns, right?"

"Right," he said desolately.

"We took turns until there was nothing left to cut," I said proudly. "Then we moved to the bathroom. What happened in there, Blondie?"

"You made me shave..." He couldn't finish.

"Everything! And you even had some stragglers on your little balls that needed attention, right?" He nodded miserably. "So you were completely hairless from the neck down?" Another nod. "Say it."

"I was completely hairless from the neck down," he recited, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Just like you are right now, right?" He stared at the table, nodding. I pressed harder. "Can we see?"

Blondie flinched perceptibly. I bit my lip to suppress a giggle. I'm always amazed (and delighted!) when Blondie is surprised whenever I decide to take his humiliation to the next level. You'd think he'd expect it by now, but that persistent naivety of his? It was one of my favorite endearing qualities of his.

He glanced around desperately. "Please, Felicity," he begged, voice cracking. "Don't... not here. Please."

"Now, now, Blondie, let's cooperate." I leaned in. "Think about it—my friends haven’t seen you since I asked you to stay silky smooth. Isn’t that right, girls?"

"No, we haven't!" Natalie squealed, and the rest chimed in accordingly.

"See? We simply have to do this, don’t we, Blondie?" I said with wide, innocent eyes. "Now. Off with the underpants. Hand them to Andrea."

Blondie's chest heaved with his panicked breaths. "Please," he whimpered, "could I just... pull them down a little? So you can see, but I don't have to... take them all the way off?" I was reveling in his begging. It was titillating to know how badly he wanted not to relinquish his underpants, when we both knew they were destined to come off.

I tilted my head, squinting like I was genuinely considering it. "Hmm, "I suppose that could work. The girls would still be able to see how bald you are down there." There was a slight look of relief on Blondie's face. It would be short-lived. "But then your underpants would cover up part of those lovely legs of yours," I added. "And we do love looking at your pretty legs."

His mouth opened, closed, opened again. My smile told him everything. Under the hungry gazes of our table—and the not-so-discreet stares from half the cafeteria—he finally hooked his thumbs in his waistband, lifted his hips, and shimmied the tighty-whities down his legs and off his feet. His cheeks blazed as he placed them in Andrea's outstretched palm.

Andrea didn't waste a second. Per my instructions, she sprang onto the tabletop, beaming, and snatched Blondie's shorts from Kayla. She stretched on her toes to reach the narrow window above us, draping the shorts on one hook, the underpants on another—like a trophy display.

The whole cafeteria practically vibrated with excitement. Everyone at the table—and dozens of others besides—were craning their necks, desperate for a glimpse of Blondie’s newly bared privates while he frantically tried to shield them. I caught a quick peek when he lowered his underpants and saw that his penis had already retreated to its usual small, flaccid state.

Blondie cowered in his seat. his hands clamped over his genitals. Of course, I would remedy that. "I totally understand why you’re covering up, Blondie," I said, tilting my head with mock sympathy. "I really do. But everyone wants to see. You'll need to move those hands."

For a long moment, he simply couldn't. His humiliation level had risen so high that it was almost like he was incapacitated. He just couldn't bring himself to expose himself under those conditions. I mean, can you blame him?

You know me. I was going to get my way. And it would be delicious. "All right, Blondie, here's the deal," I said, leaning close enough to smell his fear. "We're almost done here. But first, you owe your adoring fans a proper show. You don't want me to simply walk off with your clothes and leave you sitting here naked, do you?" Blondie shook his head so fast he looked like a bobblehead. "No, I didn’t think so. So here's what happens next."

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a special little gem I had saved just for occasions like this: the "Final Jeopardy" theme. Becky had deployed it against him once before, on my thirteenth birthday, for entirely different humiliating purposes. The memory was so delicious I’d made sure to keep the tune handy in case I ever wanted to use it for future sessions.

Now was the perfect time. "You're going to climb onto this table and kneel, facing us. Not sitting—kneeling upright, back straight, hands behind your head, elbows wide." I let it sink in, savoring the look of growing horror on Blondie’s face. "I’m going to play a little tune—it lasts thirty seconds. You know it well. You will hold that position until the music stops."

Blondie sat frozen, overwhelmed by the ramifications of my latest directive. That would not do. Without warning, I seized his tee shirt and yanked upward. At his armpits, I paused to pluck the bunny ears from his head and set them carefully aside. Then I resumed. "Arms up," I commanded. "I want you completely naked." He didn't move. "Arms up!" I barked, loud enough to startle him. He jerked, thrusting his arms skyward. Grinning to myself, I looked down at his bared genitals while I peeled the shirt up and over his head, deliberately slowing down as I reached his bare, blushing chest. When I finally yanked it off, I fastidiously replaced the bunny ears, delighting in his profusely blushing face.

I also delighted in the other sketch that Andrea blessed me with. Notice his body language is pretty much exactly as it was in the other sketch—except he looks like he's covering up with his left hand in this one. I love his downcast eyes and his blushing face—along with his bare skin. His humiliation was absolutely exquisite.



I looked him in the eyes and smiled. "Perfect. Now you're ready to put on a naked show for us." I held up a single finger. "One minute to assume position, Blondie—or there will be consequences." He swallowed hard, took a shaky breath, and slowly crawled onto the table. He crouched low initially, chest pressed to thighs, peering up at me anxiously. His expression reminded me of a frightened puppy. It was really cute.

"The music doesn't start until you're in position, Blondie," I reminded him.

It clearly took every ounce of his courage, but he gradually straightened until he knelt tall, back rigid, knees planted, hands laced behind his head, elbows thrust outward. Completely, gloriously displayed.

I pressed play. The "Final Jeopardy" theme floated through the cafeteria, nearly drowned by the rising roar of laughter and whistles. Blondie's face was a picture of pure anguish as he endured the excruciating humiliation. It must have taken every ounce of willpower to hold his position while every eye drank in his nakedness—his hairless body and his undersized genitals.

There was some very humorous back-and-forth at our table, but the absolute highlight came courtesy of Becky: "I remember taking a bath together when he was six, staring at his little pee-pee like we are right now." She let the moment linger just long enough before adding, deadpan, "It hasn't changed a bit." We absolutely lost it.

Finally—mercifully for Blondie—the music ended. He lunged for the window, stretching on his toes, straining for his clothes, his bare, blushing form fully visible to the room, triggering fresh squeals, roaring laughter, and a fresh flurry of camera flashes to preserve his shame forever.

I tossed him his shirt. He ripped the bunny ears off and hurled them onto the table. I gathered them with a grin and tucked them into my backpack, already anticipating their appearance at a future playdate..

As we headed for the exit, the buzz of excitement still crackled in the air. I had orchestrated something spectacular, further solidifying my reputation as a connoisseur of humiliation.

I turned for a final look. Blondie was still on the table, feverishly yanking his underpants up his trembling legs. I smiled to myself, thoroughly satisfied.

[Blondie]

Chapter 19: Ruby and Tina: A Spanking, And Small Breast Humiliation (ENF)

I thought it might be a good time to circle back to my girlfriends, lest they fade from memory. That would be a shame, given how much entertainment they've provided over the years. I'm sure you remember Tina and Ruby, those two gems my crew and I had the distinct pleasure of humiliating after their little social media bullying campaign against Andrea, Natalie, and Kayla. Ah, comeuppance delivered through humiliation—truly, there's nothing sweeter.

Let's begin with Ruby. I'd ordered her to wear a rose in her hair daily. The very same rose, mind you, that I'd lodged up her ass in the girls' bathroom. Wearing the rose served as a public declaration that she belonged to me now, primed to cater to my slightest whims at a moment's notice. In the days that followed, I'd occasionally cross her path in the hallways. I wouldn't say anything; I would simply make eye contact with her, look up at the rose, and smile. The resulting flush and averted eyes told us both exactly where we stood.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one having fun with Ruby. Andrea informed me that she and Kayla cornered her one afternoon beside a fortuitously positioned hallway table. Kayla came prepared. She produced a ping-pong paddle from her backpack and commanded Ruby to bend over the table. Andrea flipped her skirt up and dragged her panties down, all while a handful of straggling students watched with amusement.

Kayla flashed a wicked grin. "Time to paint this ass pink again." She made Ruby count each stroke aloud. Ten was enough to make Ruby start begging for mercy, and indeed her backside emerged satisfyingly rosy. Andrea texted me photographic evidence.



I felt reasonably confident Ruby's cyber-bullying days were behind her, though naturally we'd need to check in on her periodically. You know, just to be sure.

* * * * * *

Now, Tina—sweet, bashful, underdeveloped Tina. Her mandate was simple: no bra. Not until, as I wittingly put it to her, “You grow some big girl tits.” Indeed, Tina’s breasts—if they even qualified for the term—were laughably tiny. Her flat little chest, coupled with the obvious self-consciousness over her deficiency, only made it all the more delightful to exercise my ever-growing enthusiasm for inflicting humiliation.

A few days after our encounter that forever changed Tina's life at Roosevelt High, I spotted her shuffling ahead of me down a nearly deserted corridor. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Hey, Tiny Tina!" I belted out. She flinched, but kept walking, pretending she hadn't heard. Nice try. As if ignoring me was going to save her. "Tiny Tina!" I repeated, more forcefully. She froze this time, then risked a quick, fearful peek over her shoulder.

"Lovely to see you, Tina," I said, catching up. "Let's step aside. I need a word." I guided her by the elbow until her back pressed the wall, then positioned myself directly before her. Petite as I was, she appeared quite intimidated. Apparently, our first meeting left quite an impression. "Don't look so scared, sweetie. I don't bite," I smirked. My words didn't seem to calm her. "My friends tell me you’ve stopped posting nasty things about them on Facebook."

"Yes," Tina whispered. "I promise I won't do that anymore."

"Oh, I believe you," I purred. "But just so you know, I'll always be around... just in case you need a little reminder," I said menacingly. I glanced down suggestively at her chest. She wore a loose chocolate-brown blouse, which tapered down the outside of her jeans. "Did you follow my instructions?" She must have anticipated this, yet her arms still flew to cover her chest as she flushed crimson.

"Y-Yes," she stammered. "I did."

"Good girl," I praised. I paused thoughtfully, then smiled. "May I see?"

Tina’s panicked eyes darted around. Currently, no one noticed us. That would soon change. "P-Please," she quavered. "I promise I... I'm not wearing a... I did what you said."

"I trust you, Tina. I really do. But I'd still like to see."

Tina squirmed miserably, staring at the floor. I stood silently, soaking up her anguish. Finally, she turned her back to me and lifted her blouse to her shoulders for a fleeting moment before dropping it.

I chuckled. "Thank you, Tina. That was nice. You have a very lovely back. But that’s not really what I had in mind."

"P-please," she whimpered. "You saw... there was no strap... I'm not wearing one. You saw!" I delighted in the fact that she couldn't even bring herself to utter the word "bra."

Her desperation only stoked my appetite. "I did see that, Tina. And aren't you fortunate you obeyed? Otherwise, matters would be turning considerably uglier." I stepped closer, gripping her shoulders, meeting her eyes. Smiling, I lovingly said, "But I really would like to see more of you." I brought my gaze downward. Her blouse was buttoned all the way to the neck. I reached for the top button.

"No! Please!" gasped the terrified Tina, darting her eyes around again. A couple of nearby students were now looking on curiously.

"Place your hands behind your back, Tina," I commanded. Whimpering, she complied, her posture rigid and trembling. It was a wonderful moment. The look of resignation as she folded her arms behind her back was one of my favorite moments of the episode. She submitted to me, knowing full well that she was about to experience humiliation that nightmares are made of. I was drunk with the power and control I had over her.

"Thank you, Tina," I said, freeing her top button. I worked slowly, carefully undoing one button... then another... all while cooing softly to her. "Just a few little buttons... nothing to worry about... let's just get these undone so we can get a niiiiice look at your teeny-tiny titties." Tina shifted anxiously from foot to foot, desperate and helpless as I started on the last three buttons. "Almost there, sweetie."

I paused to glance around. Sure enough, a small crowd of about seven or eight students had gathered nearby, whispering excitedly—a development that clearly hadn’t escaped our ill-fated Tina.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," I soothed. "It won't be so bad." I followed her nervous gaze toward the small audience. "Honestly, if you had real breasts, I could understand not wanting to expose your bare chest to them. But in your case, there's hardly anything to display. Just some cute little nipples. No big deal."

I had the last button undone. "Okay, I'm going to show you off now. Keep your arms folded behind your back until I say otherwise." I carefully spread her blouse and secured the material behind her shoulders, leaving her exposed but facing me—I blocked the crowd from a full view, at least temporarily. Even so, the look of humiliation on her crimson face was exquisite.

"Excellent, Tina," I whispered. "You're doing so well." The only response was the sound of her short, quick breaths. "Alright, Tiny Tina, I'm going to leave you now. Keep your hands behind your back until I give you a signal. Will you do that for me, Tina?" She nodded feebly, blinking back tears.

"Good girl." I examined her chest once more. "Oh, these are so cute!" I chirped, giving both nipples a playful pinch that nearly caused her to jump out of her shoes. Grinning, I gave her a soft kiss on her burning cheek and strolled away leisurely, relishing each second of laughter and whispered commentary that trailed behind me.

Before rounding the corner, I glanced back, caught Tina's pleading stare, and mouthed, "Okay." She instantly spun and fumbled with her buttons. I ambled toward my next class, my smile stretching ear to ear following another flawlessly executed hit and run.

I looked forward to future engagements with Tina and Ruby with considerable enthusiasm.

[Blondie]

Chapter 20: Blondie: Forced to Strip Naked for His Sister

Every so often I’ll stretch out on my bed and drift off into daydreams—reliving some of my favorite humiliation scenes and plotting out new ones. My imagination never fails me, and more often than not, it’s poor Blondie who drifts into those daydreams, blushing and squirming all over again.

One evening a fresh idea struck me. I had been requiring Blondie to wear his tighty-whities every day, but I already had Johnny Boy wearing his tighty-whities. Bobby, as you may recall, is not allowed to wear anything underneath. So Blondie needed his own special treatment. I recalled that wonderful night on my thirteenth birthday, when I slipped him into panties and watched him squirm in adorable mortification. And now, with his body so perfectly smooth, it seemed only fitting to panty him again—and oh, how delicious that would be. Not to mention, it would make a delightful surprise for the girls.

So I texted him that evening. I included his sister Becky. Here is the exchange:

Me: Blondie, I have news for you. You don't have to wear your tighty-whities anymore.

Blondie: Okay. Thanks.

Me: I’d like you to wear panties instead.

Blondie (after a long pause): Okay.

Dear boy. He knew me well enough to know it would be fruitless to protest.

Me: Beck, would you mind helping Blondie with this? You have very good taste when it comes to Blondie's wardrobe.

Becky: My pleasure! I've been laying out his shorts and tee shirt on his bed every night. Now I'll put a nice pair of panties on top for him. Maybe I'll even coordinate them with his outfit for the day.

Me: Love it! He'll look so cute! Maybe he can model them for you before he puts the rest of his clothes on.

Becky: Good idea! Even better—he can serve me breakfast in just his panties tomorrow. Our parents will already be at work.

Me: Yes! I'm sure he'll love that. Maybe you can send me a picture.

Becky: Of course!

I was about to finish up, but I pictured Blondie cringing as he read our banter, so I sat back and continued. Becky played her part to the hilt.

Me: I'm sure he'll be blushing like a little schoolgirl. And he'll look like one, too.

Becky: I know! Don't you love how red he gets when we play with him?

Me: He's the best. I've gotten other boys—and girls, for that matter—to blush pretty good but nobody does it like Blondie.

Becky: LOL

Me: Are you blushing right now, Blondie?

Blondie: No.

I didn't believe him.

Me: Come on, Blondie, are you sure you're not at least a little pink in the cheeks?

Becky: I just peeked into his room. He was definitely a little pink and he turned redder when he saw me.

Me: I figured as much. Blondie, you lied to me. You should know better. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished.

There was no response.

Me: Answer me, Blondie.

Blondie: Sorry. I didn't know I was blushing.

Me: I'm not buying that, Blondie. Don't you feel your face get hot when you blush?

Blondie didn't respond, so it was time to implement his punishment.

Me: Becky, are you in your room?

Becky: Yes

Me: On your bed?

Becky: Yep

Me: Good. Are your parents home?

Becky: No, they're at a fundraiser.

Me: Perfect! Blondie, I'd like you to get naked and go into Becky's room. You can sit on her bed, facing her. And bring your phone so we can keep texting.

There was no response, and I was unrelenting.

Me: Blondie, are you there?

Blondie: Yes I'm doing it.

Me: Are you taking all your clothes off?

Blondie: Yes

Me: Okay. Let me know when you're naked and in Becky's room.

About a minute went by.

Blondie: I'm in Becky's room.

Me: Are you naked?

Blondie: Yes

Me: Yes, what?

Blondie: Yes I'm naked.

Me: Becky, is he naked?

Becky: He is! He's standing here all naked and blushing. It's quite entertaining.

Me: Is he covering up his little boy bits?

Becky: Oh, yeah. You know how shy he is about showing off his hairless little peepee.

Me: Blondie, are you on Becky's bed?

Short pause.

Blondie: I am now.

Me: Are you blushing?

Blondie: I guess.

Becky: Oh, he's blushing, alright. He's naked on my bed and his face is as red a a fire truck.

Becky: He just read my last text and turned even redder. This is so much fun!!

Becky: [Picture of naked Blondie sitting on the bed red-faced, covering up and looking very uncomfortable]

Me: Thanks, Beck! He's looking marvelous tonight. He's been doing a fantastic job keeping his hair away and his skin so smooth.

Becky: I know. He's got the girly legs and arms. I can't wait to see him in panties.

Me: Same here. How often does he shave his legs?

Becky: So I went online and searched for the best hair removal cream. I bought some for him and showed him how to use it. It's awesome stuff. It's completely non-irritant so I even had him use it on his privates. You apply it with the spatula that it comes with, let it sit for 5 or 10 minutes, then scrape it off. All the hair comes off. It's amazing how smooth it makes him. His legs are smoother than MINE. If he shaved, I’m sure there would be a little stubble after a day or two. But this stuff keeps him silky smooth. And it lasts a long time. He could probably go longer but I've been having him do it once a week. That way he'll always be smooth in case you want to check him out.

Me: Thanks for that, Beck. Do you watch him do it?

Becky: No. I tell him he has to do it, or I'll tell you. Then he locks himself in the bathroom while he denudes himself. He's such a bashful one, that Blondie. The only time I get to see his little goodies these days is when you make him get naked. So he's hating this right now.

Me: You have my permission to make him get naked for you whenever you want, Beck.

Becky: Sounds good!

Me: But you have to send me a picture if you do. I can't get enough of naked Blondie pictures.

Becky: Haha, will do!

Me: Blondie, from now on you're to get naked for your sister whenever she wants.

Blondie: Okay

Me: Okay, what?

Blondie: I'll get naked for Becky when she wants.

Me: Good boy. Is he still covering up, Beck?

Becky: Oh yeah. It's funny how self-conscious he is about his little weenie. I mean, it's not like I haven't seen it before.

Me: I KNOW! That's what I love about him. You'd think he'd get used to it but no matter how many times I strip him he still gets as embarrassed as all get-out. It's such a turn-on for me.

And it was such a turn-on knowing that Blondie had to read this conversation.

Me: Blondie, move your hands away from your little boy bits so your sister can see them. And spread your legs out.

Becky: [Picture of shamefaced Blondie sitting back on his haunches, fully exposed.]

Me: Thanks! So adorable!

I was starting to become aroused. It was a wonderful engagement. Blondie was in another location, but I was having a fabulous time humiliating him. I had unconsciously been kneading my crotch and just then became aware of it. I then escalated my efforts, massaging in earnest while texting with my other hand.

Me: I just can't get over how smooth he is.

Becky: I know, right? I'm staring at his little pee-pee and balls. It really looks like he still hasn't been able to grow any hair yet. It looks like a prepubescent boy's little package. And he's 17. LOL!

Me: Blondie, how old do you think you look down there? Be honest.

There was a pause, and I'm sure it pained him immeasurably to type the next text.

Blondie: 12? I loved the question mark.

Me: Hmm, that seems generous. The absence of hair would make you 11 or maybe 12, but your little boy bits don't measure up. What do you think, Beck?

Becky: I agree with you. I think that's a little high when you consider the size.

Me: You're getting a good look at it right now. Can you send me a close-up of his little boy bits so we can both assess this a little more accurately?

Becky: [my requested close-up picture of Blondie's little boy bits]

Me: Thanks, Beck. What a great picture. Even though it is a close-up his penis still looks quite small.

Becky: I know! No way we can go with 11 or 12 with that little thing.

Me: I totally agree. More like 9 or 10, wouldn't you say?

Becky: Yes, definitely 9 or 10. Shall we compromise and go with 9 1/2?

Me: Yes! Perfect! It's official, Blondie's bits resemble the bits of a 9 1/2-year-old boy.

Becky:

I remember thinking (quite pleasurably, I might add!) that Blondie had to be absolutely mortified as he sat there naked and reading our belittling remarks about his privates—even though Becky and I were both exaggerating a bit. His penis was smaller than average in size, but it was bigger than a 9 1/2-year-old's. In any case, it was time to include him in the stimulating conversation.

Me: Blondie, wouldn't you agree that your genitals resemble that of a 9 1/2-year-old boy?

Blondie, after a long pause: If you say so.

Me: I'm not asking you what I said. I want to know what you THINK.

Blondie: I really can't say. I don't know.

Me: I'm getting a bit impatient with you, Blondie. Now look down at your bald little boy bits and tell me what you see.

Blondie: A penis and testicles.

Me: Are you being a smart ass? You'll be sorry for that.

I paused momentarily while devising a delicious punishment in my head.

Me: Becky, do you still have that stool in your room?

Becky: Yes.

Me: Good. I'll come back to that. Blondie, describe your penis to me. What do you think about the size? And you'd better be truthful with me.

Blondie: I guess it's a little small.

Me: You GUESS? And only a LITTLE?

Blondie: Okay it is small.

Me: Would you say you have little boy bits or big boy bits?

Blondie: Little.

Smart boy. He knew I wouldn't accept the other option, so he just got it over with.

Me: Little what?

Blondie: Little boy

Blondie: bits

Me: Tell me what you have down there.

Blondie: I have little boy bits.

Me: And how much hair do you have on your little boy bits?

Blondie: None.

Me: Say it in a full sentence, please.

Blondie: I have no hair on my little boy bits.

Me: So you have bald, little boy bits. Before you said you have the genitals of a 12-year-old. Most 12-year-olds don't have bald, little boy bits. Would you like to amend that? What age do you really think they look like?

Blondie: 9 1/2

Me: Excellent! The three of us are all in agreement. You have the genitals of a 9 1/2-year-old.

Becky:

Becky:

Me: How old were you when you started puberty?

Thanks to the accounts from Becky, Brenda and my sister Julie, I knew he started very late. And I knew he would be uncomfortable having to talk about it with us.

Blondie: I think I was 14.

Me: Are you sure? I heard it may have been as late as 15.

Blondie: Maybe. I don't know. It was somewhere around 14 or 15.

Becky: Closer to 15. I remember it was late in his sophomore year when Brenda got him naked out at the soccer field. Actually, he wasn't quite naked because he was wearing a black bra. Anyway I got a pretty good look, and he was still as bald as a cucumber. And of course, he had little boy bits.

Me: Very similar to what he has right now.

Becky: Yes! Exactly!

Me: It was only a few months ago that Blondie and I were sitting where you two are right now. He had some pubic hair then. But when we left the room he didn't.

Becky: I know! You surprised us when you exposed him to us. It was awesome. That's when Brenda said, "He’s got a cleany teeny peenie weenie," and we were dying laughing.

Me: That was hilarious. I have to say I like him better without the hair. I think I'll keep him smooth forever. He's so CUTE when he's all naked and hairless and blushing.

Becky: It must be killing him to be naked like this in front of me.

Me: Oh, trust me, he's just hating this. I mean, he's 17 and all naked against his will in front of his sister.

Becky: God, we've had SO much fun with him these last few months.

Me: I'll say. Hey, this session has gotten me a little excited, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Would you mind taking over for a while? Maybe you could tell me a little bit about when you and Brenda took Blondie to Victoria's Secret. I already heard about it from my sister, but it'd be fun hearing about it from you.

Becky: My pleasure. And hopefully yours!

Me: Blondie, I'd like you to get the stool, set it down next to the bed facing Becky, and stand on it with your hands clasped behind your head while Becky tells the story. You can leave your phone on the bed.

I let a few moments go by before continuing.

Me: Is he doing it, Beck?

A split second after I sent the message I received an exquisite full body shot of the denuded Blondie, stretched out on the step stool, looking absolutely miserable. My level of stimulation rose quite a few notches as I viewed the photo.

Me: Fantastic, Beck. He looks marvelous.

Becky: Doesn't he, though? God, he is hating this.

Me: I know. It's awesome.

Becky: I get the feeling you're ready for me.

Me: Oh, yeah. Why don't you use voice text so Blondie can hear you talk about him being humiliated. While he's standing there being humiliated. LOL!

Becky: Great idea!

I opened up my iPad and pulled up the picture of Blondie on the stool and set it in front of me for added stimulation.

The following is Becky's account. I've made changes with the proper corrections for punctuation that didn't come through with the voice texts.

Becky: You know the story, so I'll tell you the good parts. Julie coaxed him into trying on a teddy. She waited on the other side of the waiting room door and made him hand over all his clothes over the door. Your sister played her part perfectly.

Becky: Brenda and I peeked over the door. He was blushing like he is now and had both hands covering his little boy bits.

Becky: Julie draped a sexy-looking teddy over the door for him to put on. Then she made him come out and show her. There were a few other people in the store. You can imagine how embarrassed he was.

Becky: Then when he was back in the dressing room, she told him about their bra and panty sale and insisted that he try a set on.

My state of arousal was ever increasing over Becky's wonderful recap. Glancing back and forth from my phone to the picture of the miserable, naked Blondie on my iPad really had me going.

Becky: She even asked him what his bra cup size was.

Becky: Then came my favorite part. Julie used her key and went bursting into the room. The shocked expression on Blondie's face was priceless. He was all freaked out, hunched over and clenching his little goodies so Julie couldn't see.

Becky: She told him she needed to get his measurements. Can you believe it? LOL! He's bare-assed naked and she needed to get his measurements.

Becky: Brenda and I, plus these two very interested teenage girls all came into the room. I think Blondie wanted to die on the spot.

Becky: Blondie, didn't you want to just die on the spot?

Becky: It appears Blondie doesn't want to talk about it.

Becky: Anyway, Julie takes her time getting all these measurements, acting very professional, like it was something she did all the time.

Becky: She had him raise his arms high in the air so she could get his waist measurement. Julie said it was in case he wanted to buy a corset.

Becky: Then she got down on her knees to measure his hips for proper panty size. She spent a lot of time down there, lol. Finally, she stood up and said, "Definitely an extra small." LOL! I had tears running down my face, I was laughing so hard.

Becky: Oh, Felicity, you should have seen Blondie. You would have loved it.

I wasn't there, but needless to say I was loving it. I had already climaxed a few moments before, but I let Becky go on while I luxuriated in the moment.

Me: That's okay, Becky. You made me feel like I was there. That was fantastic. Thanks!

Becky: Glad I could help!

Me: Can you give Blondie back his phone? He can put his arms down but tell him to stay on the stool.

Becky: Done.

Me: And thank YOU, Blondie. Once again you've given me a lot of pleasure.

There was no response from Blondie, so I pressed on. Me: Blondie, don't forget what I said about your underwear from now on.

Blondie: Okay

Me: Tell me what you're going to do from now on.

Blondie: Panties

Me: Full sentence, please.

Blondie: I'm going to wear panties from now on.

Me: Yes, and I'm SO looking forward to having you model them for me.

Me: See you, Beck. Have fun setting Blondie up with his panties. And getting him naked whenever you want.

Becky: Will do!

Me: Bye-bye, my naked Blondie.

Blondie: Bye

* * * * * *

It somewhat surprised me how much I enjoyed that session, given that I wasn’t even there in the flesh to savor Blondie’s humiliation myself. It proved to be a portent of things to come, as I subsequently had numerous pleasurable experiences in the same manner when I took control of a teacher I had by the name of Miss Joplin.

Once again, Blondie had unwittingly opened new doors for me in my ever-expanding journey through the wonderful world of humiliation.

[Blondie]

Chapter 21: Johnny Boy: An Unwelcome Erection Exposed

A little over a week had elapsed since that fabulous cafeteria humiliation session with Blondie. With roughly fifteen minutes remaining before the first bell, the four of us were gathered in the hallway, giggling as we reviewed the pictures of the event. We devoted extra attention to the image of him kneeling upright on the table—stark naked except for the bunny ears adorning his head, his face red as a tomato.

"The bunny ears were a great touch, Felicity," Andrea giggled.

"Thanks," I said, beaming. "Doesn't he look adorable?"

Natalie zoomed in closer. "Look at his expression—he's absolutely mortified."

"I wouldn't know. "I can't tear my eyes away from his hairless little dick," Kayla interjected, triggering boisterous laughter.

"Maybe it will look bigger if we do this," Andrea proposed, spreading her fingers across the screen to magnify the region surrounding Blondie's groin.

There was a brief hush as we examined the enlarged image.

"I don't think so," I said, provoking renewed hilarity.

As we started to move on to one of the videos, Kayla interrupted. "Speaking of hairless little dicks, there's Johnny Boy," she declared, gesturing with a nod toward my right. Indeed, there was our beloved Johnny Boy, leaning against the wall, studiously absorbed in a textbook. Merely observing him sparked a little stirring in me; those Blondie photographs may have gotten me worked up a bit.

"Shall we pay Johnny Boy a visit?" I suggested, already turning in his direction. The girls required no persuasion—they followed behind me, whispering excitedly.

Johnny was so deep in his book that he didn't see us milling around him. “Good morning, Johnny Boy,” I greeted cheerfully. He almost jumped out of his shoes, his book flopping to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry, Johnny, I didn't mean to startle you," I said.

Thoroughly rattled, Johnny had no response. He stood rigidly, eyes flickering nervously among the four of us. My anticipation grew as I contemplated my opening move.

"No need to be scared, Johnny Boy," I assured him soothingly. "I just wanted to say hello. How have you been?"

I'm sure Johnny doubted my sincerity, but he really had no alternative other than to engage me. “F-fine... thank you. How about you?” he managed. He was so cute, and his discomfort only added fuel to my growing excitement.

"Wonderful, Johnny Boy! And I appreciate your asking!" I replied enthusiastically. Johnny stood there, fidgeting helplessly, words failing him entirely.

I checked the clock—still several minutes before the bell. Perfect. I allowed the uncomfortable silence to linger before resuming. "It feels like ages, Johnny Boy. I've missed you," I said softly, stepping closer. Once more, Johnny found himself speechless. "Have you missed me?" I asked.

"Y-Yes, I have," he answered uncertainly.

I reached up and tenderly cupped his burning cheek. "Ah, that's sweet, Johnny," I said. "Now, let's see... the last time I saw you was that day in the schoolyard. You were quite naked. Do you remember that, Johnny?"

As if he'll ever forget!

Johnny blushed brighter as I looked him in the eyes with a leering grin. He looked straight down as he spoke. "Y-Yes," was all he could muster.

"You were running away, all bare and naked. It was so precious. You were in such a hurry you forgot your underpants."

"I-I know. P-Please, can I go now?" he asked optimistically.

"Come now, Johnny Boy. We're having such a nice conversation. Besides, I need to make sure you're wearing your tighty-whities like I asked you to. Will you show me?"

Johnny looked around anxiously at the growing number of students nearby. "I am!" he insisted breathlessly. "I'm wearing them! I swear!"

"I believe you, Johnny, I do. But I need to see."

He paused, then clumsily raised his shirt's hem, reached downward, and pulled just the waistband of his underpants above his jeans. He looked up at me hopefully. "See?" he said. "I'm wearing them."

I just love it when they do this. It's so adorable. Johnny had to know that this would not be enough to satisfy me. But he so desperately wanted not to have to lower his pants that he held out a razor-thin ray of hope that I would give him a pass for his feeble effort and move on.

Fat chance. "That was nice, Johnny Boy, and I appreciate the attempt, but I want to see all of your tighty-whities. Now be a good boy and pull your trousers down for me."

He knew what he had to do. With fumbling hands and a very red face, Johnny unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and unzipped. He paused for a moment, then lowered them just below the edge of his briefs. He awkwardly covered himself with one hand over the decidedly undersized protuberance at his groin, while trying to hold his trousers up with the other. It was a delectable vision, so I had to snap a photo.

"All the way down, Johnny. Let's get those trousers down to your ankles so I can see better." Johnny briskly shoved his trousers all the way down and quickly returned his hands to try to cover his embarrassment.

“Good boy,” I purred. “Now one last thing—and I know this will be embarrassing for you because you dearly want to cover up that little bump down there—but I need to see the full view, so I'd like you to pull your shirt to your chest and hold it up for me with both hands."

Whimpering softly, the ever-compliant Johnny eased the death grip he had over his little genitals and took hold of his shirt. He slowly raised it up his stomach, coming to rest just below his breastbone. "Higher, Johnny Boy. Pull it above your nipples. I want to see more of you." Johnny complied. Much to my delight, he wore his humiliation on his face with a miserable expression.

"Good boy, Johnny," I said, moving closer. "You have such lovely, virgin-like skin," I cooed while strumming my fingers across his sides and his tummy. I smiled as Johnny quivered delightfully. I ventured further, slipping my hands inside the back of his underpants and caressing his smooth bum. I was luxuriating in the moment. “Oh Johnny,” I sighed. “You’re just too precious for words.”

Honestly, I actually was feeling a just a little sorry for him. But I was getting too caught up in the moment to show Johnny any mercy, as my appetite for humiliation was off the charts. I took a step back and gave him a slow, appraising look—eyes drifting down to his little white briefs, then back up to meet his wide, panicked gaze.

“Would you mind,” I asked, like I was requesting a sip of his soda, “if look inside your underpants and have a peek at your little wee-wee?"

The look on Johnny’s face was priceless. His jaw dropped. His eyes went wide. His whole body seemed to jolt. “N-no! Please, no!” he begged, his voice cracking with panic.

"Ah, don't be shy, Johnny Boy. I've seen it before. It's such a cute little thing, and it's been so long since I've seen it. We really need to do this more often so I can get my 'Johnny Boy's little wee-wee' fix."

The laughter behind me was exuberant. To my delight, I noticed several amused students looking on intently. I'm sure Johnny was aware of the growing audience, which undoubtedly served to ratchet up his humiliation.

"Let's just have a little look-see here," I said, leaning forward and tugging open the front of his underpants. Despite having seen it before, it was still amusing to be greeted by such a little-bitty penis. I mean, it really was tiny. I can't say I've seen a lot of penises, but I have seen a few, and Johnny Boy's remains the smallest I've ever encountered. It most certainly had to be a bone of contention for him, so of course I would make a point to pounce on the opportunity to compound his shame.

I continued to peer inside his underpants. I stifled a giggle because I decided to take a different approach. I leaned a little closer, as if I were inspecting something mysterious and rare. "Hmm," I said, stretching out the sound. “That’s odd. I don’t see it. Did you forget to bring it with you today, Johnny?” More laughter ensued. Johnny looked like he might actually cry. His fists were clenched, face glowing red, eyes locked somewhere around his shoelaces.

I didn't let that hinder me. "Gosh, it has to be in here somewhere. Is it hibernating?" I looked up at him innocently. “Is it shy? Should we sing to it? Maybe give it a little pep talk?” The laughter behind me was escalating, which only spurred me on. “Here, boy!” I called out, staring into his underpants. "Here, Johnny Boy's little penis! Come out, come out wherever you are!"

The hallway echoed with giggles and snorts. Johnny flinched as I allowed the waistband to snap lightly against his stomach. I turned to my giggling friends and gave an exaggerated shrug, palms up. "I give up. See if you can find it."

Needing no further encouragement, Andrea, Kayla, and Natalie leaned in, pretending to conduct a joint investigation. “I see what you mean,” Andrea said through her laughter. "There's no penis to be found."

"And it's not like it's hiding behind his hair," said Natalie. "Because there is no hair."

"We might have to pull his underpants down, Felicity," Kayla suggested. "Then maybe we can find it."

"No!" Johnny cried. "Please, no!"

I stepped forward, and the girls respectfully retreated, allowing me to take over again. He continued holding his shirt up like a dutiful little accomplice in his own humiliation, while shuffling his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. It was a titillating sight—also rather amusing, with his trousers collected at his ankles.

"Aww, what's wrong, Johnny Boy?" Johnny Boy?” I teased. “Don’t you want to show your baby boy bits off to all your adoring admirers?”

"Oh, God! No! Please!"

"Well, in any case I'm not going anywhere until I've located your penis," I declared, sliding my hand into the front of his underpants. Johnny almost jumped out of his tighty-whities at the intrusion. "Don't worry, Johnny Boy," I said soothingly. "I'll be very gentle, and loving. I just want to see if your baby boy penis wants to come out and play today." I tickled his balls for a bit before taking hold of his penis, which of course was visible to me all along.

"Wait! I think I found something!" I announced rather loudly for dramatic effect, eliciting another round of laughter. "Now I understand why we couldn't see it. I can barely get my fingers around it. It's rather tiny." I continued playing around with poor Johnny's little package. Much to my delight, he let out a few high-pitched yelps while I thoroughly explored the contents of his underpants.

Then I decided to focus on his penis. At first I only needed my thumb and index finger, but within a minute or so it started coming out of hibernation. (giggle)

"Ooh, his little pee-pee is in a happy zone. I think Johnny Boy likes me," I said. "Do you like me, Johnny?" I asked, meeting his eyes while continuing to play with his now active member. Johnny offered no response other than short, quick breaths and one delectable high-pitched squeal. I was in seventh heaven over the fabulous scene. I was barely aware of all the people around us, so locked in was I with my victim and his ever-increasing humiliation.

It wasn't long before Johnny was fully erect. As one might have guessed, it was still rather small, relatively speaking. I didn't have a ruler handy, but at the time I was guessing it was between three and four inches long—probably closer to three. How cute!

"Such a cute little woody, Johnny Boy," I purred, continuing to fondle his cute little woody.

I had Johnny pretty worked up, and I certainly could have made him cum. I almost did, and this might sound kind of strange, but I hadn't gotten anyone off up to that point (other than myself, of course), and I wanted to save my first imposed humiliating orgasm for a particular someone. Blondie was my first victim and is my favorite patsy. It just seemed appropriate to have him be the first I bring to an uncomplying, humiliating ejaculation. At one point I even visualized Blondie standing there all humiliated instead of Johnny, which excited me further.

So Johnny Boy's orgasm would have to wait for another time.

But his humiliation would not. I moved closer and snuggled up against him. I stretched out my fingers against the material of his underpants and started pushing them down. I looked up, and Johnny was wide-eyed and aghast. He finally was able to formulate some words. "Please don't!" he begged, softly and breathlessly.

"It's okay, Johnny," I responded. "At least I've found your penis. And now that it's longer, maybe it won't be so embarrassing when everyone sees it."

"No!" he said louder.

I had his underpants lowered around his thighs, though with my body pressed close, his exposure remained largely shielded. I could feel his hardness pressing against my midsection, and I executed a slow, deliberate grind—just enough to make him squirm, and ensure he stayed aroused for me. I was ready for the final humiliation, that being the spectacle of his hairless little hard-on put on display for all to see.

At some point someone yanked Johnny's underpants down to his ankles. I didn't see who it was, but I suspect it was either Kayla or Andrea.

"It's time, Johnny Boy," I said softly. "I’m going to step away now." Johnny shook his head vigorously from side to side, a look of sheer panic on his face. God, I was loving it. "Yes, Johnny, I'm going to expose you. Your bald baby boy bits are very special, and I think everyone should see them—especially while you're sporting a baby boner. I'd like you to remain exactly as you are until I decide we are done. Don't try to cover up, sweetie."

With that I stepped aside and rejoined the group. I’m not sure words can do justice to how glorious the scene was for me, but I’ll try: I stood there with a shit-eating grin amid the thunderous laughter, gazing at poor Johnny Boy—crimson-faced, utterly humiliated, and submissively standing there while writhing in mortified disbelief. His hairless little boner pointed straight out at us like a little squirt gun, completing the picture. It was an image I'm sure will be etched in my memory forever.

I let it play out for a minute or two, allowing plenty of photos to be taken—images that would probably evoke hilarity for most, and most certainly stimulating self-pleasure for me. Satisfied, I gave Johnny a pat on his chest and said cheerfully, “Well done, Johnny Boy. That was very brave of you. You can put yourself back together now.”

Johnny may have set a world record for the fastest time to restore pants from ankles to waist. He yanked his shirt down just as the warning bell rang, and the thoroughly amused crowd began dispersing. I lingered a little longer, savoring the sight of my freshly humiliated victim scurrying away in shame.

Even hours afterward—long after Johnny had vanished and the laughter had faded—the giddy little grin on my face refused to disappear.