Pantsing and Stripping Forums

NOTE: It's my first work, i wrote hin in italian and then translate with an app of translation. Excuse me for accidental syntax error or bad english. Thanks.

1-THE STRIP POKER GAME

Pilar's living room is illuminated by warm lights. The atmosphere is tense, electric. Rick is sitting in his underwear at the poker table with four women, while they are still impeccable in their evening dresses. The chips are piled up in the center of the table.

"It is not explained ... I can't beat this game. You... you're cheating, aren't you?" protests Rick, his voice a little higher than usual.

Pilar, with a barely restrained smile, continues to shuffle the cards with expert hands. "Maybe it's just the cheeky luck of beginners, Rick. Sometimes fate smiles on the inexperienced."

"Come on, when you lose you always blame others," Terry comments, adjusting the shoulder strap of his dress nonchalantly.

Susie looks at him from head to toe, a mischievous look in her eyes. "In your underwear you're almost cute, you know? But I'm afraid you'll soon lose those too. It would be a real shame to hide... everything."

Carrie bursts out laughing, a clear and sharp sound. "Exactly! Finally that famous cobra you boast so much about will come out of the closet! After months of talk, it's time to get down to business."

But how did this scene come about? We need to take a step back, six months.
In fact, just six months ago Rick became the only man in his group and his office (his friends and colleagues were transferred to a company headquarters outside the region for a year). Since then he has become unbearable with all his feminine acquaintances: he is a male chauvinist in the office with his colleagues and tries in a macho way with interns; she makes fun of her friends in the group saying that they are modest nuns and shy spinsters; He shamelessly tries in an embarrassing way with the barmaids and waitresses of the bars he frequents, but also with secretaries, cashiers, lifeguards and hostesses of the places he frequents. With all of them he boasts of being a dominant male and a 20 cm super-gifted and to all of them he makes embarrassing jokes, often ending up humiliating them in public. His friends (Terry, Pilar, Susie and Carrie) therefore decide to teach him a lesson, playing an embarrassing joke on him for once. One Saturday evening, they invite him to dinner at Pilar's house, and after dinner, they provoke him on male superiority even in the games; So, they challenge him to prove it, playing strip poker with them, and whoever remains naked first will be under the orders of everyone else for the rest of the evening, obviously always naked. Rick strangely hesitates, but then pricked in his pride he accepts. Needless to say, it's a trap: the girls agree with each other and cheat without her knowledge. Rick soon finds himself in his underwear, embarrassed and without his boldness, against four women totally dressed in evening dresses. And now Pilar shuffles the cards for a hand that could be decisive.

Rick blushes violently, opening his mouth to retort, but Pilar silences him with a firm gesture of her hand. "Enough talk. It's time to play." He deals the cards in fluid motions, the cards flying from his hands, landing with a slight hiss on the polished wooden table. Rick grabs his with a certain frenzy, his fingers shaking slightly. A flash of hope lights up his eyes when he sees the value he holds in his hand, a pair of aces.

Rick then feels a wave of warm confidence rising from his belly, after changing three cards. A full house of aces. It is finally his hand. It must be his revenge. He tries to control his excitement, to maintain a neutral expression, but a proud smile puckers his lips. "I'm going to bet everything," he announces, pushing the remaining pile of his chips forward in a gesture that is a little too theatrical. "All I have left."

The girls exchange a quick glance, a flash of complicity and pure mischievous joy that crosses their eyes. It's a perfect plan, and it's unfolding exactly as they planned. They pass one after the other, with an air of fake resignation. "I'll pass," Pilar says. "Me too," Susie adds, pretending to study her cards with disappointment. "I'll pass too," Carrie sighs, shrugging.

All eyes are on Terry. She pretends to think deeply, biting her lower lip, letting the silence become heavy, full of expectation. Then, look up,

(His gaze lands directly on Rick, a fire of defiance and fun burning in his pupils. With calculated slowness, he slides his entire tower of chips forward, the jingle of plastic disks that seems to echo in the sudden silence of the room.)

"I'm relaunching," says Terry, his voice low and full of a precise intention. "All my chips... against those." He points with a nod of his chin to Rick's black briefs. "Your underwear. All against everything."

Rick feels an icy lump forming in his throat. His confidence falters for a moment, overwhelmed by the audacity of the bet. Look at his cards, the full house of aces that suddenly seems less powerful. Then he looks at the faces of the four women, impassive, waiting. His masculine pride, the same one that had pushed him into that trap, rebels against the idea of retiring. "I see!" he bursts out, his voice louder than expected. In his agitation, he almost throws them on the table, revealing them earlier than necessary. "Full! Full of aces! Take this now!"

Terry doesn't bat an eyelid. A slow, carnal smile spreads across her face. "Really," he says, punctuating each word, "it is we who will now see... Yes, we'll see you. All naked."

With a fluid and deliberately slow gesture, Terry lays his cards one by one on the polished wooden table. Each card seems to weigh a kilo, the dry sound of cardboard landing is the only noise in the room holding its breath.

King of Hearts. Woman of hearts. Queen of spades. Woman of flowers. Woman of diamonds.

A poker of women. Perfect, lethal, impossible to beat.

For a moment, only silence. Then the explosion.

The friends burst into thunderous exultation. Pilar claps her hands laughing, Susie lets out a shout of triumph, Carrie gets up almost from a seat, pointing at Rick with a finger trembling with laughter. "We did it!" they shout in chorus.

Rick, on the other side of the table, blanches. The bright complexion of embarrassment and excitement vanishes, giving way to a waxy pallor. His lips move, forming words without sound. "It's not possible," he finally manages to stammer, his voice a choked gasp. "Which... what shameless luck... It can't be... it is... it is statistically impossible... "

(The poker table is now the center of an overturned power. Rick is standing, the last bastion of his dignity represented by that simple black fabric. The four women are seated, queens on their throne, with expressions of pure sadistic amusement.)

Terry crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze is a command. "So, Rick. Standing. And take off those underwear. From this moment, and for the rest of the evening, you are at our command. Naked."

Rick shakes his head, a last, weak attempt at negotiation. "Girls, come on... you are not serious... "His voice is now a mixture of pleading and disbelief.

The answer is a perfect chorus, shouted in unison, filling the living room: "YES!!! "

Pilar leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, her smile razor-sharp. "Gambling debts are paid, dear. And you, who have been bragging with us for six months, would surely have demanded that we strip to the bone if you had won. So no fuss." He points an enameled red finger at him. "And to begin with, get those out of the way."

Rick inhales deeply. His pride, now reduced to ashes, provides him with the last glimmer of a mask. He tries to straighten his shoulders, with a false confidence that trembles all over. His voice comes out forced, as he tries to recover a shred of dignity.

"Of course," Rick says, puffing out his chest. "We men... We always honor gambling debts."

He stands up, his legs looking like wood. She positions herself in front of the poker table, feeling the gazes of her four friends like pinpricks on her. Shame is a living fire on his skin. With an awkward movement, he turns, offering them his back. His fingers tremble as they grab the elastic of his black briefs. He pulls them down in a quick, awkward gesture, and then throws them towards the armchair where the rest of his clothes are piled up. The fabric flutters for a moment before landing on the other garments.

A shrill whistle immediately starts from the table, followed by open and liberating laughter.

"Look at that firm ass!" exclaims Susie, laughing.

"Not bad for someone who spends his days at his desk," Carrie comments in a mocking voice.

"Okay, just look at the back," Pilar says, regaining control of the situation. His voice is calm but full of authority. "Now turn around. We want to see the famous cobra up close."

Rick stiffens. A shiver runs down his spine. Slowly, he turns on himself, the movement hesitant. Before exposing himself in front of them, his hands move in an immediate, instinctive reflex. They cross in front of the pubis, covering his sex with a gesture of desperate modesty. His arms are outstretched, the palms of his hands pressed against his bare skin, his fingers intertwining in a fragile barrier. He remains there, standing, completely exposed and yet tragically hidden, while the blush of embarrassment sets his face, neck, chest on fire.

(Terry leans back in his chair, a mocking smile on his face. Her gaze slips from Rick's hands, crossed to protect his privacy, to his eyes full of shame.)

"What's the matter, Rick?" says Terry, his voice sugary and poisonous. "Weren't we the modest nuns, the ones who didn't even dare to look? Is it you who are ashamed now? The world is really full of surprises."

Carrie nods, her eyes shining with cruel amusement. "There's no point in covering you, honey. You'll have to spend the whole evening like this anyway. Naked. And to our orders. So you might as well get used to the idea."

Rick shakes his head, a last attempt to regain control of a situation that is getting out of hand. "Come on, girls," he says, his voice searching for a reasonable tone and failing miserably. "You took your revenge, you had your show. Now I would say that is enough." As he speaks, he takes a sideways step, then another, trying to get closer to the armchair where his clothes are piled up. The hope of at least grabbing the pants is a lifeline.

With a lightning-fast and elegant shot, Pilar gets up. It does not run, but moves with the precision of a cat. He arrives at the armchair a moment before him, grabs jeans, T-shirt, sweatshirt and everything else in a single gesture, even the sneakers that were under the armchair. Then, without even deigning Rick to look at it, he walks confidently towards the bedroom door. It disappears inside for a few seconds. When he resurfaces, his hands are empty. With a sharp and definitive click, it locks the door. Then, in a slow and deliberately sensual motion, she lifts the hem of her tank top, slips the key into her visible black bra, and lets it slide between her breasts. Pull your shirt down and secure Rick.

"Your wardrobe is safe, dear," says Pilar, her voice a mixture of sensuality and cruelty. "You will have them back at the end of the evening. Gambling debts are honored, period."

Carrie, from the table, adds the coup de grace. "Of course, you will only get them back if you are at our service and under our orders all evening. Otherwise... " pauses dramatically, "... additional penances will be triggered. And believe me, you won't appreciate them."

A chorus of ironic applause and liberating laughter rises from the other three. Pilar crosses her arms, assuming the air of a commander. "First order," he announces, his tone not admitting of reply. "Take your hands off there immediately. And hold them on your head. Until further notice." Then, with a smile that is more of a threat than an expression of joy, he adds: "... or a new penance is triggered. Immediately."

Rick remains motionless for a second. Anger, humiliation, frustration boil inside him. Then, with an impetus that almost makes his voice tremble, he explodes: "Ok, okay! All right! But I swear... I swear you'll pay me for this! I'll make you pay dearly!"

The threat sounds pathetic, empty, in the air charged with their power. After another tense moment, his resistance collapses. With a sharp movement, take your hands off your pubis. He slowly lifts them, as if they were made of lead, and crosses them behind the back of the neck. The arms are stretched, the elbows point outwards. It is now fully exposed. Her naked body, with skin reddened with embarrassment, is under the full scrutiny of the four women. There is no longer any shelter.

A moment of total silence. A dense silence, full of expectation.

Four pairs of eyes, as if guided by a single command, are lowered simultaneously. They are all fixed on the same point. Right "there".

The expression on their faces changes in an instant. Amazement passes through them like an electric wave. Eyes open wide, mouths open slightly.

Then, as if someone had pressed a switch, they burst. Not a giggle, not a grin. It is an explosion of coarse, uncontrollable laughter that fills the room and seems to make the glasses on the table vibrate. Pilar bends in two, leaning against the table, tears running down her makeup. Susie lets out a high-pitched squeal, then a gasp of hilarity. Carrie slaps her thigh, laughing out loud. Terry covers his mouth with one hand, but his shoulders tremble convulsively and his squinted eyes sparkle with pure cruel amusement.

The reason is clear, and tragically humiliating. The "cobra", the feared weapon, Rick's pride evoked just before... at rest, it is reduced to a minimum. A small, soft pea, maybe five, at most six centimeters long. Nothing majestic, nothing intimidating. Just a small, pathetic bump between her thighs.

Between one hiccups and another, the jokes fly.

"Not a cobra!" screams Susie, choked with laughter. "It's a... a frightened worm!"

"But look how cute!" rants Carrie, wiping her eyes. "It's tiny! It looks like a button!"

"And to think that he was so braggart!" adds Pilar, catching her breath. "With that little thing there? Rick, love, did you spend all your words to hide this? It's moving, really."

Terry, finally able to speak, adds with false sweetness: "Maybe it shrinks from the cold. Or maybe, since we are in June... That's right. Poor Rick."

Rick turns red. The blush is no longer just on the face; it looks like a wave of fire rising from his neck, setting his chest and ears on fire. He barely holds his hands behind the back of his neck. The muscles of the arms are tense like violin strings, the knuckles white for grip. The impulse to cover oneself, to hide, to disappear into the floor is almost physical, a burning agony. But the fear of a new, unknown punishment is stronger. He remains there, petrified in humiliation, while the laughter of his friends continues to hammer on him like stones.

(Rick tries to straighten his shoulders, a last, pathetic attempt to salvage a shred of dignity. His voice comes out choked, full of a desperation that he tries to mask with arrogance.)

"Stop it!" he says, almost shouting. "It's not small! It's just that... It's cold here! The air conditioning is too high! And then... I am a grower! Do you know what that means? That when he is in the shot he becomes... it gets huge! Really!"

His words, instead of appeasing them, trigger a new wave of hilarity. The laughter is renewed, more loud and mocking than before.

"The classic excuses of those who have it small, full stop!" exclaims Susie, shaking her head with a smile of pity.

Terry nods, philosophically. "Lies, as we know, have short legs. But in your case, dear Rick," he adds, pointing his gaze at his pubis, "they even have a dick!"

Carrie and Pilar exchange a complicated look. Then, with sinuous and provocative movements, they approach Rick. Carrie reaches into the pocket of her skinny jeans and pulls out a small dressmaker's centimeter, made of yellow metal. It snaps it open with a dry sound.

Rick takes a step back. "No, stop it, it's ridiculous!" he protests, and the instinct for protection is stronger than fear. Lower your arms from behind the back of your neck, instinctively bringing them down to cover yourself. But he doesn't have time to complete the movement. Pilar is faster. With a leap forward, he grabs both of Rick's wrists with a firm, almost painful grip. His fingers clench like pincers. "Ah-ah-ah!" he says, his voice low and peremptory. "Nothing at all. If you lower your arms, another punishment is triggered. And I don't think you want another one, do you? Hold them up."

Rick tries to wriggle for a second, but Pilar's grip is iron. He is forced to remain with his arms in an unnatural position, half raised, while Carrie bends down in front of him.

With a surgical calm, Carrie reaches out. With your index finger and thumb, grab Rick's soft, shriveled pea. His grip is cold, impersonal. With your other hand, bring the metal centimeter closer. Place the zero end on the base, and slide the metal rod along the length to the tip. Then he straightens up, looking at the measurement.

His eyes widen in mock amazement. Raise your voice, projecting it so that everyone can hear.

"SIX CENTIMETERS!" he announces, like an auctioneer at an auction. "Exactly! Six centimeters! The other fourteen, stallion, did you leave them at home? Forgotten on the bedside table? Or maybe you just dreamed of them?"

The room explodes again in laughter out loud. Susie almost rolls on the couch. Terry applauds ironically. Pilar, while holding Rick's wrists steady, laughs in turn, her grip shaking slightly from the effort to hold him back in laughter.

Rick, his face now bright purple, still tries to cling to his defense. "I told you!" he protests, his voice cracking. "I'm a grower! When he gets excited, when he is within range, he grows! It gets a lot bigger!"

Susie wipes away a tear, choking out another sob. "Even if it were true, Rick," he says, in a tone of false reasonableness, "even if he miraculously doubled down... it would never, ever reach the twenty centimeters you have always boasted of. So, let's downgrade. As a stallion... pony. A cute pony with a nice pea!"

At that moment, you hear a sharp, mechanical click. Then a white flash illuminates the scene for an instant.

Everyone turns to the sound. Terry is standing, Carrie's cell phone (the one with the best definition, almost 4k) raised in one hand, a triumphant and mischievous smile printed on his lips. He has just taken a picture.

The image immortalized is perfect, humiliating in its cruel clarity: Rick, completely naked and helpless, with Pilar holding his wrists firmly together, preventing him from moving; Susie standing next to him, who with a pointing finger indicates, laughing, his sex; and Carrie, bent over in front of him, still holding the centimeter of metal leaning against her dick, with the measurement of six centimeters clearly visible and legible on the ruler. A shot that captures the peak of his humiliation.

(Rick, seeing the phone in Terry's hand, starts to panic. The blush on his face turns into a sudden paleness.)

"Delete that photo!" he screams, his voice rising above the din of laughter. "Immediately! It's illegal! You can't photograph me like that without my consent!"

Terry slowly lowers his phone, examining the shot with a smug smile. Then she looks up at him, her eyes shining with cold determination. "This picture, dear Rick, is not a memory. It's our insurance," he says, punctuating his words well. "You have our word that we will erase it. But only at the end of the penance... Or the other penances you will accumulate, if you decide not to obey us all evening, as you promised. If you are good, it will disappear. But if you disappoint us... " he pauses dramatically, picking up the phone. "... In an instant, this image will end up in the cell phones of all your female acquaintances. All those girls you told us about. I imagine they will stay a while... disappointed. From the sad truth about your pea."

Terry's words have the effect of a bucket of ice water. Rick feels the ground disappear under his feet. He is trapped. Completely. Any ambition of rebellion vanishes, replaced by a sense of nauseating resignation. He stops protesting. His body, previously tense with anger and humiliation, sags. He is defeated. A slight nod, almost imperceptible, is his only response.

Pilar, seeing the surrender, finally loosens her grip on her wrists and lets them go. Rick drops his arms at his sides, as if they were made of lead.

"Good," Pilar says, in a practical tone. "Now that we have clarified the rules, you can start serving your penance. Go to the kitchen and make us coffee. Four cups. And service it here in the living room. Like a good waiter."

Carrie gives him an encouraging smile, but her eyes are filled with amused cruelty. "Come on, Rick," he says. "The evening, after all, is short."

Susie can't help but add the coup de grace. "Of course, short," he says, in a mellifluous voice, as he fixes his hair. "Although... not as short as your little dick!"

The four friends burst into a thunderous collective laugh again, a sound that for Rick is now like the scratching of nails on a blackboard.

He snorts, a sound of pure helpless frustration. "Okay," he mutters, looking at the floor. "You fooled me. But you'll pay me, I swear."

Without saying anything else, he turns and, naked and with his head down, crosses the living room. Every step resonates on the hardwood, amplifying his nakedness and defeat. He avoids the girls' gaze, feeling their eyes follow him, the laughter dying down only to make room for whispered comments and new smirks. He reaches the arch that separates the living room from the kitchen and disappears there, leaving behind the battlefield of his humiliation.

2-THE PUNISHMENT IS PROLONGED

(As soon as Rick disappears into the kitchen, the four girls move to the large sofa in the living room. The atmosphere is charged with triumphant euphoria.)

Pilar lets herself fall on a pillow, a wide smile on her face. "Finally!" she exclaims, looking at the others. "After six months of shitty jokes, fourteen-year-old jokes and public humiliations... Our revenge has been served!"

Terry sits next to her, giving her a resounding high-five. "And how!" he confirms. The sound of palm trees slapping each other resonates in the living room. "But that's not all. Now is the time to make him lose forever the desire to humiliate us. And to humiliate all the women he knows. He must understand."

Susie, sitting on the armrest, crosses her legs thoughtfully. "For now," he says, with a mischievous smile, "let's have some fun. Let's enjoy this moment. And then... let's try to embarrass him even outside here. What do you think? Making her small... 'lie' a little more public?"

Carrie nods enthusiastically, her eyes shining with an idea. "Great idea! Maybe we put him in a position to no longer be macho and arrogant with other women. With all those he has treated badly in these six months. A small lesson in humility for the benefit of all."

Pilar is about to answer when a clinking cup noise comes from the kitchen. He raises a finger to his lips, imposing silence. A complicit smile touches his lips.

"Okay," he whispers, lowering his voice. "But now it's coming back. Let's have fun for the moment. Then... let's improvise."

(Rick returns to the living room, his face a mixture of anger and resignation. He is still completely naked. In his hands he carefully holds a silver tray on which 4 cups of steaming coffee and a small sugar bowl are placed. The contrast between the formality of the service and its nudity is grotesque. He approaches the sofa with an uncertain step.)

Pilar takes her cup, sipping her coffee with a satisfied air. Then, placing it with a delicate tinkle on the table, she turns to the others with a mischievous look. "Girls," he says, "shall we play a game? A small bet. On how much that shot becomes... Vermicello?"

Terry sits up, his eyes shining. "Yes! So we find out if our naked waiter is really a grower as he says, or if he's just a poor liar."

Carrie grimaces thoughtfully. "I say that he will never reach twenty. If anything... to ten. And I'm generous!"

Rick, placing the tray on the table with a sharp blow, tries to rebel. "Stop it! It's not fair, it's not... "His voice is full of frustration.

He is abruptly interrupted by Susie, who raises an imperious hand. "Silence! We have decided, and you must obey tonight. Period." Then, turning to the others: "I say that our pony reaches a maximum of twelve centimeters. Not a millimeter more."

Terry nods, evaluating. "I say it arrives just average. Thirteen centimeters. No more."

Pilar leans forward, a purring cat smile. "I'm still the hostess," she says, with false magnanimity. "I have to be nice to the guests. I say fifteen. Don't let me down, Rick."

Rick shakes his head, the blush rising from his cheeks to his neck. "I'll never tell you! Enough of this humiliation, please!"

But his words are the last, weak attempt. The four friends get up from the sofa as a single entity, with fluid and determined movements. They surround it, transforming the center of the living room into a small arena. Rick tries to back off, but there is no escape.

Pilar is the first to touch it. A hand on his shoulder, then sliding down his chest. "In fact," he says, his voice a sensual and cruel murmur, "you won't be the one to tell us. Also because you have already lied to us on the subject. But it will be us... that we will find out."

Rick understands. A shiver of panic and, against his will, of excitement, runs through him. He tries to wriggle out, to pull back. "No, wait... "

But it is too late. Terry grabs his arm, Susie the other. Carrie approaches him in front of him, her gaze running down his naked body, stopping on his flaccid penis. Their hands begin to move over him. They are not affectionate caresses, but deliberate explorations, massages that go down the sides, grazing the inner thigh. Susie rubs against his back, feeling his body stiffen.

Pilar bends down slightly, taking his penis between thumb and forefinger, as if examining a curious object. "Let's see," he whispers. She begins to massage it with slow, skilful movements, alternating with Carrie who plays with balls, caressing them with her fingertips.

In a few minutes, physiology betrays Rick. Despite the shame, the resentment, the anger, his body responds. The penis begins to grow, to rise, to become hard and heavy in Pilar's hands. But the growth stops well before he had boasted. It's clearly far, far under the twenty centimeters he boasted about.

"Ah, look!" exclaims Carrie, with a chuckle. "He's becoming a little man!"

"A very, very small man," Susie adds, blowing on his neck.

The teasing follows one another, but it is mixed with low, sensual appreciation, designed to excite him further. "It's cute, anyway," Terry says, as he strokes his abdomen. "So hard and ready."

"Do you like it, Rick?" whispers Pilar, quickening the pace of her hand. "Do you like that we touch you like that? What are we going to make you our little toy?"

Rick, overwhelmed by the sensations, stopped protesting. His moans, previously muffled, grow louder. He pants, his breath short and labored. His penis is now at the peak of its erection, hard, throbbing, the tip shiny and taut. It is completely within their power.

Pilar, with the experience of someone who knows exactly what she is doing, feels the muscles of her abdomen contract, the trembling in her legs. He feels that he is there, on the edge. A triumphant smile lights up her face.

"What's the matter, Rick?" he asks, slowing down his movement slightly. "Do you want to come now? Do you like the treatment so much?"

He can't speak, he nods with a strangled moan, his hips trying to push into his hand, desperate for that liberation.

Just then, when orgasm seems inevitable, an instant before the point of no return, Pilar abruptly removes her hand.

"But no!" he declares, in a clear and sharp voice.

The effect is immediate and devastating. Rick makes a strangled sound, a mixture of a moan and a moan. Her body writhes, a painful contraction for the lack of orgasm, for the tension that finds no outlet. Instinctively, he tries to bring his hands to his penis, desperate, to finish off what was interrupted by himself.

But Terry and Susie, who still hold his arms tightly, squeeze tighter, immobilizing him. "Oh, no, no, dear," Terry says, bringing his face closer to his. "Don't you think you can decide?"

"You're in penance," Susie adds, her voice icy despite the heat of her body against hers. "Not as a prize."

Pilar crosses her arms, observing her suffering with satisfaction. "And also," he says, "it's time to check. To see exactly how many centimeters you lied to us." He takes the ruler from the table from earlier. She approaches him, the innocent object that in her hand becomes an instrument of ultimate humiliation. "Hold him down, girls... There is a bet underway, we have to be precise!"

(Amid Rick's useless stifled protests, Carrie and Susie proceed to measure. Susie holds the ruler at the base of her penis, still hard and throbbing, while Carrie carefully stretches it along the length, pretending to consult for a precise reading. Rick closes his eyes, unable to look.)

Finally, Carrie looks up with a theatrical expression. "Thirteen centimeters! Not bad, Rick. You're perfectly average, you know?" His voice is soft, but the humiliation is sharp.

Susie nods sternly. "But you are also a liar, since you are seven short of the twenty you boasted of! Seven inches of lies, darling."

Terry bursts out laughing, hopping on the spot. "Anyway, girls! I won! I said thirteen! I demand the prize!"

Pilar grimaces exaggeratedly, putting her hands on her hips. "Wait, wait! That's not fair! I want to win." Her gaze lands again on Rick's penis, which is starting to lose some of its stiffness under the shock of the measurement. "Keep it still blocked. Because I... I'll make it grow another two centimeters!"

And without waiting for an answer, she grabs her member again and starts masturbating it again. No longer with sensual movements, but with a skilful, rhythmic, relentless fury, concentrating on the sensitive tip.

"Pilar, stop it... Please... " Rick's voice is a gasp, filled with a desperation that has now given way to an uncontrollable physical need.

"We don't talk about it at all," Pilar replies, without slowing down for a moment. "I have to win. Period."

"I'm ... I'm about to... " he pants, his hips moving jerkily, trying to follow the rhythm of his hand.

"You don't have to allow yourself!" Pilar tells him, in a tone that does not allow for replies. "If you don't last another two minutes, you will be punished! And believe me, you won't like it."

Rick shakes his head, sweat beading his forehead. "I beg you... stop... I can't resist anymore... "

"Come on, Rick," she urges him, her voice turning into a hypnotic and cruel whisper. "Another two centimeters... It proves that you are worth something." And he continues, his hand that looks like a perfect machine, a whirlwind of precise rubbing that brings him back, inexorably, to the edge.

Rick can't resist anymore. A scream rips his throat, primitive and liberating. "I'COME!! "

He explodes in a very powerful, violent orgasm. Streams of white and hot seed spurt from its tip, pushed hard by the contraction of the muscles. They fly past Pilar's hand, splashing across the living room carpet, brushing against Terry's legs, staining Carrie's light skirt. The spasm is long and intense, her body shaken by uncontrollable tremors as she empties everything inside, with broken moans and gasps.

When the last spasms finally end, Pilar lets go of her penis with a gesture of fake disgust looking at her hand full of, as if she had touched something unclean. "But look at that rubbish!" he exclaims, shaking his hand with a scandalized air, even if a flash of triumph shines in his eyes.

Rick, completely exhausted, his strength suddenly abandoning him, freed he collapses heavily on the armchair in the living room. It is a tangle of contrasting sensations: an immense, physical satisfaction that relaxes every muscle, mixed with a deep, burning humiliation, the likes of which he has never felt in his life. His penis, exhausted, quickly retracts, returning to being a harmless, flaccid worm of six centimeters at rest, the last, silent testimony of his defeat.

(Pilar crosses her arms, assuming an expression of feigned fury. Pointing an accusing finger at Rick, still slumped and panting.)

Pilar: "Not only did you make me lose the bet, standing still with your miserable thirteen pony centimeters, but you also dirtied my whole living room! And you didn't even wait the two minutes I had imposed on you! This is unacceptable!"

(Carrie, Susie, and Terry grow closer, forming a circle around him, their faces lit up with complicit and cruel smiles.)

All four, in perfect chorus, chant: "Here a new ... PUNISHMENT!! "

Rick tries to rise up, a weak protest. "I couldn't do anything about it! He was stronger than me!"

Pilar, ignoring his words, continues in a judge's tone. "Since Terry has won the bet on your thirteen inches as a pony, his prize will be to choose your next penance."

Terry cheers, clapping his hands. "Yes! Finally!" Then he pretends to think, bringing a finger to his chin, his eyes shining with malice. After a moment of theatrical silence, he announces: "I've decided! The penance is this: Rick, dear, you will no longer be naked and at our service until tonight. You'll stay like this until TOMORROW NIGHT!"

The other three burst into exclamations of jubilation and approval, clapping their hands and laughing.

Rick stands up suddenly, his face red with humiliation and anger. "It's not fair! It's madness! I want my clothes back, now!"

Pilar takes a step forward, her expression becoming icy, even if a subtle smile puckers her lips. "You are free to leave, if you want. Of course, you should do it naked, because your clothes will remain here, under lock and key, since you have lost them and gambling debts are honored." He pauses, letting the threat settle. "But know one thing. A minute after you walk out that door, a beautiful photo of you, completely naked, with your six-centimeter pea resting and our ruler clearly visible next to it, will end up in the phones of all your friends, your colleagues, all your acquaintances. Decide for yourself. Now."

Rick stares into space, labored breathing. The trap has closed completely around him. Anger boils in his chest, but he is helpless. He lowers his gaze, his shoulders that curve in a gesture of surrender. The protest dies in the throat. When he speaks, his voice is a hiss full of impotent hatred.

"I swear... that you will pay me. All of them."

(The four friends exchange looks of satisfaction, their smiles widening before Rick's final surrender.)

3-GO TO THE BAR

Susie, leaning on the arm of the sofa: "And now what do we do? It's still early to go to sleep."

Carrie nods, a thoughtful expression that hides mischief. "Yes. And above all, why waste this wonderful night, in which we have a waiter all to ourselves... And all naked?"

Pilar snaps her fingers, lighting up. "I have an idea! Annabelle's bar, below, is about to close. She always knows what Saturday night nightlife offers at this hour!"

Terry jumps up, excited. "Perfect! So let's go to the bar and ask her, so we can also take the opportunity to toast to this unforgettable weekend!"

Rick, still sitting in the armchair with his shoulders hunched, murmurs disconsolately: "Go ahead. At last you will leave me alone for a while."

The four friends burst out laughing in unison, a clear and mocking laugh that leaves Rick perplexed.

Pilar leans towards him, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Rick, maybe you didn't understand... "

Terry, continuing seamlessly: "... you will stay in our company for the whole weekend. Uninterruptedly!"

Rick snorts, trying to hide a new wave of anxiety. "Okay, okay. I also have this annoyance. Pilar, open the bedroom, so I can get dressed to go down with you."

The laughter of the four friends becomes even louder, more cruel. Rick begins to look at them, an atrocious suspicion that tightens his stomach.

Carrie approaches, bending slightly to look him in the eye. "Rick, you know your penance. And it expires only tomorrow night... "

Susie, concluding the sentence in a definitive tone, stands next to the others. "... at the bar, and wherever we decide to go, you will come there... "

All four, in perfect chorus, chant in a loud and joyful voice: "ALL NAKED!"

Rick jumps to his feet as if he had been stung, a primal instinct that makes him bring his hands to cover the package. "What? You are crazy? They would arrest me! I don't want to!"

Pilar shrugs, nonchalantly. "No one will arrest you. The local police chief is my cousin. And anyway, we will go where the owners of the premises ... they will turn a blind eye."

Rick's protest turns into a plea, his voice trembling. "No, please don't do that to me. I apologize for how I treated you... I'll do anything, but enough of this humiliation!"

The four women look at him, their smiles becoming sadistically pleased. With feigned condescension, Carrie says, "We're sorry, Rick. You will suffer all the penance. So you will understand how we felt, humiliated and embarrassed by your heavy jokes and your sexist jokes for six months."

Rick, now resigned, feels the heat of the blush rise to his cheeks. He lowers his gaze, unable to support their eyes. His voice is a thread of sound, full of shame.

"At least... at least don't let me come to Annabelle's bar. Please."

(Susie watches as Rick tries to delay the inevitable, an expression of feigned innocence on his face.)

Susie: "What's the matter, Rick? The bar is closing, it will be deserted... "

Terry crosses his arms, a flash of insight in his eyes. "I know what's wrong! You've been trying for months with Annabelle, and surely to convince her to give in to your advances you told her the usual story of the twenty-centimeter cobra, right?! "

Rick lowers his head, a gesture of total defeat. The blush invades his neck and ears, confirming all suspicion.

Terry, triumphant: "See? I was right!"

Pilar nods, with an expression of determined mission. "One more reason to go to the bar... Saving our friend Annabelle from the most disappointing scam of the century!"

Carrie adds, in the tone of an experienced shopper, "In fact, it's good to view the goods before you buy them."

Rick looks up, his eyes shining with pleading. "Please... don't humiliate me at least in front of Annabelle."

Their expressions do not soften. They are inflexible, like ice statues with stony smiles.

Terry approaches, patting him on the back that is anything but friendly. "Come on, Rick. This weekend is still long... " He pauses dramatically, then concludes with a chuckle: "... unlike your pea!"

(The laughter of the four friends explodes, free and cruel, filling the living room. Without further ado, they surround Rick. Pilar opens the door to the apartment, while Susie and Carrie grab him by the arms. Terry gives him a gentle push on his back.)

Amid general laughter, they push him naked out of Pilar's apartment, in the illuminated corridor of the building. Goosebumps cover his whole body with fresh air and shame. They drag him with them to the elevator, their footsteps echoing on the shiny floor, his bare feet almost slipping. The destination is inevitable: Annabelle's bar, right next to the door of the building, on the ground floor.

The group enters the bar, which is actually empty and with a few tables still to be cleared. The four friends, in perfect synchrony, shout a joyful and ringing "Good evening!! "

Rick tries to make himself invisible, crouching awkwardly behind them, a desperate attempt to use their bodies as a shield. His hands are firmly planted on the package, his knuckles white for gripping.

Annabelle comes out the back, an apron tied at the waist and a cloth in her hand. She smiles, genuinely happy to see them. "Hello, girls! I'm closing, but I'm always open for you! Why here?"

Pilar, with a nonchalant manner: "We wanted to ask you where we can spend the rest of the evening in the company of Rick ... "

Annabelle looks beyond them, looking for him with her eyes. "Rick? And where is it? Is he hiding?"

Terry grimaces amusedly. "Yes, he's strangely shy today!"

Then, in unison, like a well-trained dance troupe, the four friends move. Two move to the right, two to the left, completely revealing the empty space behind them.

And there, crouching like a frightened animal, with his hands clasped on his groin, is Rick. Completely naked.

Annabelle takes a step back, her eyes widening. "Rick? What are you doing? Is it a joke of yours?"

Rick stands awkwardly to his feet, his movement awkward with shame. He can't take his hands off the package. He stammers, his voice broken. "C-hello Annabelle... it is... it is a penance... "

Carrie comes forward, the explanation ready and clear. "She lost at strip poker, Annabelle. And his penance is to remain like this, naked and at our command, until tomorrow evening. We want to share his embarrassment with many other women... so learn to treat them badly!"

Rick shakes his head, begging. "Stop it, please... "

Annabelle puts her hand to her mouth, but her eyes are not scandalized. They are curious, interested. "Interesting... Too bad I'm busy tonight, otherwise I would have joined you." His gaze glides over Rick's naked body, a slow and eager assessment that makes him cringe.

Carrie, seizing the moment, approaches Annabelle confidentially. "Annabelle, tell us a little ... Has this braggart been courting you for a long time?"

Annabelle blushes visibly, looking down for a moment. "Yes, actually... "

Meanwhile, Terry and Susie have grown closer to Rick. With fluid movements, each one slips under his arm, grasping him firmly. It is not a tender hold, it is a taking possession.

Pilar, with a smile that tastes like mockery, continues: "And I bet that to convince you, she told you about her famous twenty-centimeter endowment ... "

Annabelle blushes even more, a hand that nervously plays with the corner of her apron. "Well, yes... And I confess that I am almost convinced!"

Rick's eyes widen, his heart pounding in his chest. He senses, with growing horror, what is about to happen. Her body stiffens in the arms of Terry and Susie.

Susie addresses Annabelle in a savior's tone. "Well, then you're about to thank us for saving you from the scam of the century!"

Terry nods, serious. "Yes. It is good that you check the goods well before buying them... or send it back to sender!"

Rick understands. A wave of pure panic overwhelms him. He begins to wriggle out, trying to free his arms from their grip. "No! No, please! Let me! Don't do it!" His voice is a strangled cry, full of humiliation and terror.
Terry and Susie, with surprising strength, grab Rick's arms and move them behind his back, immobilizing him in a firm grip. Rick thus remains, completely exposed, standing in front of Annabelle. He can no longer hide anything.

Annabelle's gaze immediately, inevitably, falls on his penis. He is reduced to a few centimeters, a shriveled and withdrawn bud, even less than his usual six centimeters at rest, a victim of the cold, the paralyzing embarrassment and the forced orgasm of just before.

Annabelle's face changes from surprise to an amused expression in an instant. Then it breaks out. A coarse, liberating laugh comes out of her throat as she leans slightly forward, one hand on her belly. "Ah! Hahaha! Oh my God!"

Between laughs, he starts throwing jokes. "But look at it! It looks like a button! And this would be the famous twenty-centimeter cobra? But where, in the world of dreams? Hahaha! 'Twenty centimeters'... maybe if you add them up in a month!"

Rick tries to fight back, his voice trembling. "It's not what it seems... The cold, I just came, and then... I'm a grower! In shooting it's a completely different thing!"

Annabelle wipes away a tear of laughter, still grinning. "The classic apologies of those who have it small, Rick! Always the same!"

Then he approaches. He is still blocked by his friends, completely helpless. Annabelle stops in front of him. With a deliberate and humiliating gesture, he extends a hand. With your thumb and forefinger, she grabs his reduced penis, squeezing it gently, almost as if she were taking the measure of an insect. The feeling is one of icy detachment.

Annabelle brings her two fingers to her face level, studying the tiny space between them with a theatrically thoughtful expression. With the other hand, she grabs his chin and pulls up his face, forcing him to look up from the ground. His eyes, full of shame, meet his, cruel and amused.

Annabelle, in a voice now calm and sharp: "See, Rick. There are two categories of men who have no hope with me. And apparently you fit into both." He pauses for effect. "Liars... and those who have a dick smaller than my six-year-old grandson's."

The laughter of Rick's four friends explodes again, louder than before, echoing through the empty bar and amplifying his every drop of humiliation.

Rick, now annihilated, while Annabelle turns to move away towards the counter, addresses her a last, feeble protest. "I'm a grower, believe me... In shooting is... "

Annabelle turns abruptly, interrupting him with a wave of her hand. "You may be a grower, but that worm twenty centimeters away will never come! So you still remain a liar. So forget about having even a small chance with me! Not even as tiny as your little pea!"

The friends, satisfied with the show and still in the throes of mocking laughter, finally loosen their grip and let Rick go. He, instinctively, immediately brings his hands to cover the package, a reflex gesture of protection after forced exposure, even if now completely useless.

The girls approach Annabelle, applauding and laughing. "Well done, Annabelle!" "You told her loud and clear!" "The scam has been foiled!"

Annabelle smiles, beaming, and approaches the counter. He takes a bottle and some glasses. "Thank you, girls... I'm offering this toast, because you saved me from the scam of this pony posing as a stallion!" She raises her glass, her gaze brushing against Rick for a last moment, curled up on himself, before focusing on his triumphant friends.

(The bar is now almost dark, only the lights of the counter illuminate the scene. The five women form a cheerful circle, their glasses raised. Rick is sitting on a stool in the corner, his back hunched over, his hands clasped on his groin like a last, useless barrier. His face is a single spot of bright blush.)

Annabelle raises her glass first, her mischievous gaze resting on him. "So, girls! Let's toast to the truth that always comes to the surface... even when she's small, small like that!" She squeezes her thumb and forefinger, leaving a tiny space, and bursts out laughing.

Pilar joins in, the glass clinking. "Let's toast to the end of urban legends! Goodbye to the myth of the twenty-centimeter stallion... Welcome to the reality of the... well, let's say the 'dressage pony'!" The others laugh out loud.

Susie nods her head towards Rick. "I toast to the most deserved lesson! He will learn not to make fun of us for our supposed shyness, now that he is dying of shame."

Carrie raises her glass theatrically. "And I toast to the most epic, most deserved and most definitive 'two of spades' in history! Annabelle, you have done a work of public utility!" He approaches and taps his glass with Annabelle's.

Terry, the last, sips and then says with a faux-sweet smile, addressing Rick directly in the corner: "And I'll toast to your... new, humble awareness, Rick! You wanted to see us naked and us, but instead the naked one is you, we play with your dick to our liking... while you will NEVER see us naked!" He makes a vague gesture towards his crotch covered by his hands and bursts into a giggle.

The others nod, giggling, and click their glasses against Terry's. "To awareness!" "To humility!"

The toast continues, each joke a precise shot. Rick, in the corner, does not look up. His hands are white with a squeeze. The blush on his face seems to throb to the rhythm of their laughter. Every reference to his body, to his lie, to his defeat, comes clear and sharp, amplified by the muffled silence of the bar at the end. He doesn't say a word. He limits himself to breathing, to endure, sitting on that stool, naked and completely annihilated, while the humiliating toast of the five women fills the air around him.

4-FAMILY MEETINGS

(Pilar, with a mischievous smile, leans against the bar counter and looks at Annabelle. The other girls huddle around, while Rick stands aside, naked and with his arms crossed to cover himself awkwardly.)

Pilar: "Annabelle, honey, do you have any ideas about where we could take our little pony to continue the evening? A few places where I don't have problems... to show itself as it is." (He waves his hand, imitating the shape of a tiny pea, addressing Rick.)

Terry, crossing his arms: "And that it is a place with a large female majority, please. We want to avoid... awkward comparisons."

Rick, his voice trembling with shame and anger: "What? Can't you mean it? Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

All five, in a mocking chorus: "NOOOO!! "

Susie, with a grin: "It would be better to have a place for women only, where Rick has special permission... to show his graces!"

Carrie, chuckling: "Of course they will have to be undemanding women... given the little merchandise to show!" (She repeats the humiliating gesture towards Rick, who becomes more and more purple and lowers his head, unable to bear the gaze.)

Annabelle nods, with a complicit expression, and walks away to make a phone call. After a few minutes, she returns radiant and fixes her hair with satisfaction, while the girls look at her expectantly. Rick tries to cover himself even more, his naked body shaking slightly from humiliation and certainly not from the cold, since we are in June.

Annabelle: "At Red Moon today there is the pink party, reserved only for single women! Geena, the owner, told me that they hadn't planned a stripper for tonight, so Rick... will be able to fill this gap!"

(Rick blanches, his eyes wide with horror. His voice comes out like a gasp.)

Rick: "What? No, no... Please, you can't do this to me... What if there was someone who knew me?"

Pilar, with a sharp smile: "Rick, surely there is someone who knows you... didn't you also court Geena, telling her about your non-existent 20 cm?"

Terry bursts out laughing, clapping his hands: "Oh yes? Very well... The collection of two of spades continues then!"

Annabelle, with an air of complicity: "You know what? I cancel my commitments, close the bar and come with you! Who misses an evening like this?"

(Everyone cheers, laughs and hugs each other. Rick instead approaches, his face distorted by anguish.)

Rick: "Please... don't do it... "

Carrie interrupts him in a dry tone: "Rick, stop it... rather hope that from here at the Red Moon you will not find any other acquaintance of yours... since we will go there on foot!"

Rick, in a desperate tone: "What? No, at least let me cover you on the street, please... "

Susie approaches, crossing her arms with a cruel smile: "And why, Rick? Weren't we the modest ones who didn't want to discover ourselves? Now you'll understand why!"

(The group pushes Rick out of the bar naked and with his hands to cover the package, then they all come out, last Annabelle who lowers the shutter of the restaurant. The street is lit by street lamps, the air of Saturday night is fresh and pungent. Rick is shivering, not only because of the cold.)

Rick: "Please... I can't walk like this... "

Pilar, grabbing him by the arm with force: "Shut up and walk, Rick. Don't make a fuss."

Terry joins him on the other side, hooking him under his arm with a mischievous smile: "That's right, we're all ladies who deserve gallant accompaniment, aren't we?"

(Pilar and Terry exchange a sadistic look. Simultaneously, they squeeze his arms against their bodies, thus preventing him from covering his lower parts. Rick is now fully exposed, helpless.)

Rick, in a choked voice: "No... Let me... Please... "

Pilar, giggling, "Rick, you're not a knight at all! Two girls ask you for your arm and you deny it?"

(His member, already reduced by embarrassment and cold, seems to shrink further, almost disappearing. The girls stare at him and burst into collective laughter.)

Susie, pointing her finger: "But look at it! It looks like a pimple!"

Carrie, grinning, "And to think that he boasted of twenty centimeters... not even twenty millimeters!"

(Rick tries to wriggle out, but Pilar and Terry's grip is iron. After an isolated drive down a virtually deserted street, what Rick feared suddenly happens: a car's headlights approach, illuminating the group on the sidewalk. The horn sounds twice, insistent.)

Rick, with a tone of growing panic: "Let's go away, please... let's run!"

Annabelle, crossing her arms with an expression of amused contempt: "Not at all! Let's see who greets us. Maybe it's someone you know, Rick. It would be a shame to miss the opportunity."

(The car, a dark sedan, stops next to the curb. The passenger window slowly folds down. The blinding headlight dims as four female figures exit the car. They approach with decisive steps, their silhouettes defined against the light of the road. Rick holds his breath, his body becomes stiff.)

Shrill voice full of sarcasm: "Girls, incredible... it looks just like him!"

(The four stop in a circle, their eyes switching from Rick's pale, distraught face to what's exposed between his legs. A silence full of horror for him, of disbelief for them, lasts a moment.)

Abigal, putting his hand to his mouth, said, "Oh my God. And... That?"

Alexis, already laughing out loud: "What? A bean?"

Lindsay, leaning forward to take a better look: "But it's tiny! Rick, is this the famous 'monster' you bragged about?"

(The laughter explodes, thunderous, uncontrollable. They are laughter of liberation, of revenge finally consummated.)

Liz, wiping away a tear: "Wait, let me guess. You're a grower, aren't you? Does it grow with love?"

Abigal, imitating the deep voice that Rick used: "Yes, in shooting it is bigger than that of your exes, so he said!"

(Rick tries to talk, shame choking him.)

Rick, in a broken voice: "Stop it... Please... "

(The laughter of the cousins does not subside and infects the friends. Rick is immobilized, naked and humiliated in the center of the circle. Pilar, with a mocking smile, gives him a slight shake.)

Pilar, in a soft, venomous voice, "Come on, Rick, be kind. Why don't you introduce us to these nice girls and greet them as a gentleman?"

(Rick looks up, his eyes meeting those of his four cousins. He sees the triumph in their eyes, the satisfaction of finally unmasking him. A deep despondency invades him, every fiber of his resistance gives way.)

Rick, with a resigned sigh, lowering his head: "They're my cousins... Bye Abigal, bye Alexis, bye Lindsay, bye Liz."

(His voice is a murmur, almost drowned out by shame. He is silent, staring at the asphalt at his feet, unable to bear their gaze. The four cousins exchange a complicit look, their smiles widen. Abigal raises a pinky finger, pointing it down.)

All four cousins, in a mocking chorus: "Hello little cousin ... and hello little cousin's pea!"

(Abigal crosses his arms, looking at Pilar curiously.)

Abigal: "But excuse me, because this... situation?"

(Pilar nods her head at Rick, her voice full of fun.)

Pilar: "We are her friends: Pilar, Susie, Terry, Carrie and Annabelle. He lost at strip poker. Now he must remain naked with us, at least until tomorrow evening. And obey."

(The laughter of the cousins returns, louder than before.)

Liz, laughing: "It's exactly what she deserves! After all that bluster about how dominant he was!"

Lindsay, with a sly expression: "Wait, if I understand correctly... must obey every order?"

(Terry nods, squeezing Rick's arm tighter.)

Terry: "Yes. And if he disobeys, another punishment is triggered."

(Alexis steps forward, her eyes shining with sadistic intent.)

Alexis, approaching: "Ah, yes? Then we can check if it is really a 'grower'... and he can't oppose it?"

(Carrie looks at her watch, but smiles.)

Carrie: "Exactly. But hurry up, girls... The party is waiting for us! How about we give you a hand?"

(Rick's four friends – Terry, Susie, Pilar and Carrie – grab his limbs firmly. Their hands are steady, inexorable. They lift it up and crush it against the cold, smooth hood of Liz's car. The metal is cold against his bare skin.)

Rick, his voice choked by protest and fear: "No! Wait! Let me go! What do you want to do here, in the middle of the street? Tell them that I'm a grower, you've already verified it!"

(Susie whispers in his ear, her tone soft but full of subtle menace.)

Susie: "And why would we do that, Rick? It's much better that they check it out for themselves. They may not believe it... they must... touch with your hands!"

(Annabelle, who has been watching everything with growing interest, goes a step further. Her dark eyes are fixed on Rick.)

Annabelle, addressing her cousins: "And then... I too have not yet verified in person. Can I join you, girls?"

(The four cousins — Abigal, Alexis, Lindsay, Liz — respond in unison, their voices merging into a single, sinister confirmation.)

All the cousins, in chorus: "Of course yes, Annabelle!"

(The five girls – the four cousins plus Annabelle – form a semicircle around the bonnet. Their faces are illuminated by a sadistic light, their expressions are a mixture of excitement and curiosity. They approach slowly, their footsteps echoing on the pavement. Rick squirms, but the four friends who hold him down – one for each limb – do not give an inch. Their bodies nail him to the cold metal.)

Rick, with a tone of growing despair: "You can't do this! It's madness! Please!"

(His protests are lost in the air. Abigal is the first to arrive at hand. His gaze descends, exploring without shame. Alexis stands next to her, a mischievous smile on his lips. Lindsay and Liz position themselves on the sides, completing the encirclement. Annabelle makes space between them, her breathing is slightly accelerated.)

(Rick stares up at the night sky, unable to believe this is really happening. The reality of his situation – naked, immobilized, surrounded by nine determined girls ready to play with his member as if it were their toy – overwhelms him like an icy wave. The thrill that runs through it is not only due to the evening air.)

The scene is surreal, immersed in the half-light of the side street. Rick is nailed to the cold hood of the car, his limbs tense and immobilized by the four friends. The four cousins – Abigal, Alexis, Lindsay, Liz – and Annabelle form an intimate and oppressive circle around him. The air is full of erotic tension and playful cruelty. They begin.

Abigal is the first. Her tapered hand glides down Rick's side, a feather-light touch that makes his skin shiver.
Abigal, whispering, his warm breath against his ear: "Look how it trembles... like a frightened animal."
His hand descends lower, brushing the inside of his thigh. Rick holds his breath.

Alexis positions himself on the other side. Her fingers draw slow, deliberate circles on Rick's abdomen, just above his groin.
Alexis, in a low, mischievous voice, "Where's the twenty-centimeter monster, Rick? I only see... a shy bud."
His touch becomes more decisive, brushing the base of his member, which at rest measures his measly 6 centimeters but for the situation he has withdrawn even more. Rick lets out a muffled moan, a mixture of pleasure and humiliation.

Lindsay bends over, her long hair brushing against Rick's skin. Annabelle gets even closer, her fingers running down Rick's chest. "So, let's see this famous grower."

Liz leans over, her warm breath brushing against Rick's ear as she whispers, "You're so vulnerable... I like it."

Abigal runs a fingernail down his side, causing a shiver. "Are you shaking already? We're just getting started."

Alexis positions herself in front of him, her fingers gently grasping his flaccid member. "Oh, small and shy. Let's see if we can wake him up."

Lindsay laughs, stroking her other side. "Maybe he needs more encouragement."

Annabelle begins to caress her abs, while Liz whispers in her other ear, "Imagine what we could do with you... "

Rick's member slowly begins to respond, slowly growing, stiffening, becoming hard and throbbing in Alexis' expert hand. Rick moans, his sighs mingling with shame.

Pilar, holding her arm still, comments: "She is growing, but it will never be what she said."

(Alexis' hand tightens around Rick's member, which is now fully erect, throbbing, and damp with precum. His breathing is labored, his hips move involuntarily.)

Alexis: "Look at how it offers... so desperate for release."

Liz bends over, her lips brushing the tip of his cock. "You should thank us for growing it so well... now it looks almost decent!"

Abigal continues to stroke her tight abs. "It looks like it's going to explode."

Annabelle whispers in Rick's ear, "You want to come, don't you? That's all you can think about now."

Rick moans, his eyes closing as the pleasure builds up, closer and closer to the brim. "Please... "

Alexis picks up the pace, his fingers sliding up and down with skill, pushing him towards orgasm. His body stiffens, his muscles tense.

Then, suddenly, one step away from orgasm, Alexis stops, fully releasing her grip. Rick's member jumps, needy and unsatisfied.

Alexis straightens up, smiling with satisfaction. "OK, it's true... is a grower... not a super-gifted but still a grower with an average pole... even if at rest you wouldn't think so!"

(The four friends holding him down giggle, their snide comments echoing in the air as Rick stands there, trembling and humiliated, his cock still hard and throbbing in the void, his arms and legs held firmly in place. His cock is erect and throbbing, a physical need that tortures him. But shame closes his throat.)

Liz leans over him, a mischievous smile on her lips. "What's the matter, Rick? Do you want to come?"

Abigal slides a finger down his side. "If you want, we'll take care of it, we're still your little cousins!"

Lindsay approaches, her breath is warm. "However, if you want to come... you have to ask us please!"

Alexis crosses her arms, her gaze stern. "And you have to apologize for how you treated us!"

Annabelle takes a step forward, her tone is glacial. "And since you made fun of me by telling me that you are super-gifted, you also have to say 'I'm a liar with a pony pea!'"

Rick gasps, anger rises in his face. "No, enough is enough, free me!"

The four friends who block him squeeze tighter. Carrie, Pilar, Terry and Susie, in chorus, exclaim: "YOU FORGET IT!"

Annabelle and the four cousins look at each other, then resume. In turn, their hands return to his cock. They masturbate him with different rhythms, alternating caresses and firm grips, until Rick is on the verge of exploding again, his breath cut off. Annabelle's hand tightens around the base of his cock, stopping just as a deep tremor runs through Rick's entire body. He moans, an animalistic frustration that escapes his lips.

Annabelle approaches his ear again, her voice a moist and warm hiss. "If you don't say what we told you to repeat, we can go on for hours, dear."

Rick closes his eyes. The tension in her lower abdomen is an unbearable knot, the desire to come has now annihilated every shred of pride. In a choked, humiliated voice, he murmurs: "Please... Let me come. I'm sorry for how I treated you. I'm a liar with a pony's pea."

The nine women exult with triumphant laughter. Then, without wasting a moment, the four cousins and Annabelle resume the interrupted work. Their hands alternate on his member, each touch being a promise and a punishment.

Liz is the first, her fingers moving with a fast and light rhythm. "You wanted to see us naked, and you're the naked one, cousin!"

Then it is the turn of Abigal, whose grip is more decisive, almost cruel. "You said you were super-gifted and instead you have a barely decent pea!"

Alexis takes his place, the palm of his hand rubbing the shaft with constant pressure. "You wanted to us all, but instead we play with your dick to our heart's content!" (Alexis' hand continues to move over him, the warmth of the palm enveloping his sensitive skin. Rick lets out a muffled moan, his body arching against the cold metal of the hood.)

Lindsay takes over, her fingers dancing around the already wet tip of precum. "Aren't you ashamed Rick? You who humiliated us by saying you could dominate us, now you are all naked begging us to satisfy your pony pea!"

Finally, it is Annabelle who takes control again. His hand grips Rick with a sure grip and he starts pumping with an accelerated, relentless pace. The moist soil of the palms and the skin come together in a vulgar and hypnotic rustle.

Annabelle, feeling Rick's muscles contract uncontrollably, her breath turning into a gasp, hisses close to his face: "And most of all, you're our naked toy now, all naked in front of us... while you will never see us naked NEVER, NEVER!"

(The tension in Rick's body reaches its peak, an uncontrollable tremor that starts from the bowels and spreads through every fiber. His eyes widen, his mouth opens in a strangled moan that becomes a hoarse and liberating scream.)

"AHHHHH! FUCK, I'M CUMMING!"

His cock, still clutched in Annabelle's expert hand, throbs violently. The first jet is powerful, white and warm, and splashes far away, hitting the windshield of Liz's car with a moist and distinctive sound. Successive streams, less powerful but still copious, fly in every direction, staining the cousins' shirts, Annabelle's arms and even her friends' hair.

"Hey! It ended up in my hair!" screams Pilar, but laughs, without real anger.

"Look at the windshield! It looks like it's snowed!" exclaims Susie, pointing to the white patches slowly dripping onto the glass.

General laughter and ironic applause rise from the circle of women. Annabelle doesn't stop. He continues to pump gently, accompanying each spasm of Rick's member, who contracts weaker and weaker. His fingers pick up the last drop of that drips from the still sensitive tip.

"There, good little toy," Annabelle whispers in a voice full of sweet sarcasm. "You made a good impression, didn't you?"

(Annabelle lets go of Rick's member, which falls limp and wet against her belly, reduced to her measly six inches at rest. The other women loosen their grip on her arms and legs. With no more support, Rick slides down the cold, damp hood of Liz's car, collapsing on himself on the metal. His breathing is labored, his body covered in a cold sweat and traces of his own satisfaction. Around him, the nine women exchange looks of complicity and satisfied smiles.)

Alexis approaches, patting him on the shoulder with the tip of his shoe. "So, champion? Did you enjoy your lesson in humility?"

Rick can't answer. He closes his eyes, a mixture of extreme physical pleasure and burning humiliation bubbling inside him. He is exhausted, completely emptied, and yet... He has never experienced anything so intense. The silence, broken only by his labored breathing and the subdued comments of the women, seems to last an eternity.

(Carrie and Pilar grab Rick by the armpits, lifting him with exaggerated effort from the cold hood of the car. Terry and Susie with feigned care clean it with wet wipes. Rick staggers, naked and still shivering, looking for a balance he can't find.)

Pilar pats him on the cheek. "Come on, champion... It's time to get back on the road. Obviously all naked!"

Terry approaches, studying his floppy member with a falsely thoughtful expression. "But, not bad: it's already the second orgasm tonight, who would have thought looking at such a small pea?"

Carrie nods, pointing to the white spots on the windshield with her chin. "And then all those sketches shot from a cannon of just 13 cm ... not bad!"

Susie bursts out laughing. "Meanwhile, now he is back to his 6 cm ... ready to make Geena and the customers of his restaurant laugh at the pink party!"

Annabelle crosses her arms, looking down on Rick coldly. "You were really stupid, Rick, lying to me by talking about 20 cm ... from what I saw these 13 cm in pull would have been fine for me! But you know I hate liars... so you missed the chance!"

Rick, his face red, tries to articulate a sentence. "But... I..."

(Pilar doesn't give him time to finish. His hand snaps up and down with a sharp snap on Rick's left buttock, leaving a red imprint on pale skin.)

Pilar: "Enough talk, let's say goodbye to your cousins and go to the pink party!"

Rick's cousins, Liz and the others, approach with big smiles. "Thank you, girls," says one of them, "we've finally had our revenge!" Turning to Rick, all four of them simultaneously make the universal "little pea" gesture, moving their index finger and thumb a few inches apart, accompanying it with stifled giggles, and then getting back in the car and driving away triumphant.

5-THE PINK PARTY

Rick, his face contracted in a mask of despair, looks for one last foothold. "Please... don't take me there... don't do this to me... "

His pleas are lost in the air. The five friends surround him, forming a humiliating and inexorable procession. They gently but firmly push him forward, along the streetlight-lit sidewalk, toward the silhouette of the Red Moon in the distance. The bright pink neon lights of the club begin to dye her bare skin.

(Pilar and Terry wrap their arms around Rick's again, immobilizing him completely. Their fingers intertwine tightly, preventing any of his hands from going down to cover the groin. Rick squirms, a faint moan of protest coming out of his lips as his footsteps are dragged toward the pink neon-lit entrance.)

The door opens and Geena, the owner, appears. She wears an elegant black dress, her hair gathered in a perfect bun. Her eyes immediately descend, without hesitation, on Rick's naked body and stop there. A slow smile, full of amused contempt, brushes her lips.

Geena: "Ah, Rick. Our super-gifted admirer." He bursts into a clear, sharp laugh. "I see that your stories were... creative. Very creative."

Rick, his voice choked: "Geena, please... I'm a grower, and then I just came! Not so when... "

Geena interrupts him with a wave of her hand. "If it's true, I'll find out tonight... the night is long... " He pauses dramatically, his eyes resting again on his flaccid member. "... unlike your pea!"

A new wave of laughter rises from her friends.

Geena, fanning out the door with a theatrical gesture: "You can come in. Women's party tonight, but we lacked a stripper... (The Red Moon's door closes behind them with a dull thud, cutting off the outside world. Rick is pushed forward, naked and trembling, into an atrium suffused with pink light. Geena's laughter still resonates, mingling with the house music seeping from within.)

Pilar, still squeezing Rick's arm: "There, honey. Welcome to your show."

Around them, the place is full of women. Some are sitting at tables, others are dancing near the dance floor. All eyes turn, attracted by the movement at the entrance. A sudden silence, full of curiosity and amusement, falls over the crowd for a moment, before being replaced by a growing murmur, punctuated by giggles and whispered comments.

A woman with short, silver hair, near the counter, raises her glass towards them. "Finally the show begins!"

Rick tries to curl up on himself, but Pilar and Terry's arms are like pincers. "No... Please... don't look at me... "His voice is little more than a breath, lost in the rhythm of the music.

Terry whispers in his ear, his warm breath on his skin: "You should be happy, Rick. All these beautiful women... and you, the star of the evening."

They drag him further forward, towards the center of the restaurant. The dark wooden floor is cold under his bare feet. The path through the hall is a slow humbling procession. Rick's every step is accompanied by looks, laughter and comments that rise from every table. The women lean out, pointing their fingers, their smiles as sharp as blades.

A woman in a flaming red dress, raising her voice above the music: "Hey, handsome! I paid for a show, not for a miniature anatomy lesson! I want a refund!"

Another, younger, with blue hair, laughs coarsely: "Change job, darling! Maybe as a model for dolls... those without details!"

From a group near the stage, a more matronly voice rises, full of feigned bewilderment: "My God... my eight-year-old nephew, when he bathes... You know, it has more to show. It almost makes me tender!"

A flurry of high-pitched laughter follows the commentary. Rick stares at the floor, his cheeks on fire, his body contracted in a futile attempt to make himself smaller. His protests are muffled, inarticulate moans that are lost in the din.

Pilar, turning to one of the women who spoke, in a cheerful tone: "Patience, madam! The show has just begun! You have to have faith... in growth!"

Terry nods, dragging Rick past the last table. "Exactly! It's a matter of... waiting."

Finally they arrive at the reserved table, in a slightly elevated position overlooking the dance floor. The group sits down. Rick is sandwiched between Pilar and Terry. Opposite, Susie, Carrie and Annabelle stare at him with amused looks. The atmosphere is full of embarrassment and provocation.

The waitress arrives to take the order, a new humiliating moment for Rick: it's Mya, the bartender of the bar downstairs Rick's house! He stops suddenly, his eyes resting on his withdrawn penis. A ringing, uncontrollable laugh breaks out.

"Rick, are you serious? Six-year-olds have it longer! You told me about a twenty-centimeter cobra... and this is a vermicello. Forget about going out with me, leaflet."

He takes orders with a mocking smile and leaves, leaving Rick even more exposed. The five burst out laughing.

Terry chuckles, points a finger at him. "If you continue like this, by the time you finish your penance you'll have more two of spades than inches of pea, Rick! Not that it takes many, eh?! ". Laughter from the others too, Rick's discouragement now speechless.

Pilar and Terry, at her sides, begin the torture. Hands that caress her hips, go down her inner thigh, close around her member. They massage it, squeeze it, play with the already wet tip of precum. Opposite, Carrie, Susie and Annabelle lean forward, showing generous cleavage. Then, under the table, the bare feet begin their race. Feet rubbing along her legs, going up, pressing against her scrotum, doing a real handjob competition on her cock! The toes move with cruel skill, brushing, pressing, stroking. Rick's dick is in short again a rod of pure tension, pulsating, purple, which trembles with every touch. He moans, begs in a broken voice to stop... he can't in front of hundreds of unknown women!)

"Please... stop... I can't... "

But his words are lost in a deeper moan as Susie's foot wraps around his base, squeezing tightly, while Annabelle's plays with the toe, smearing the precum. Pilar and Terry continue their work with their hands, one on each ball, the other pumping the barrel with a pressing rhythm. Carrie just smiles, showing her generous cleavage to excite him even more, observing his face contracted by forced pleasure.

The pressure builds, a whirlwind of sensations that pushes him to the brim. His hips jerky, unable to resist. He is about to explode, his breath stops in his throat...

Suddenly, everything stops. The hands retract. The feet come back to rest on the floor. Annabelle takes the empty wine bottle and puts it down with a sharp thud in front of him.

"Rick, the wine is gone. Take this empty bottle to the front desk and get a full one."

Terry nonchalantly hands him a tray. "Bring this too, it's empty now."

Rick's eyes are glassy, his cock is still very hard and dripping, pointing upwards like a weapon. Her body is a taut line of frustrated desire. The cock visibly throbs, a drop of cum ready to gush trembles at the tip.

"I can't get up now... for God's sake, look at me... "

But his pleas are useless. Pilar and Terry grab him by the arms forcefully, tugging him from the chair. His hands are forced to grab the empty bottle and tray, leaving his erect and furious penis completely in view, with no possibility of hiding it.

He is pushed towards the reception. With every step, its member gasps, exposed to the gaze of all the customers of the restaurant. He feels eyes on him, stifled giggles, looks of curiosity and amusement. The heat of embarrassment burns his face, but it is nothing compared to the fire that blazes in his groin, left in that tremendous, humiliating suspension.

He walks away from the table, awkward, with his hands full and his body naked telling a story of forced excitement and mocking interruption. The five women watch him go, sipping their wine with expressions of pure amusement.

(The path to the reception is a cruel display. Rick advances, naked and vulnerable, his erection almost looking like a target for women's eyes. His hands, occupied by the bottle and the tray, prevent him from any gesture of modesty. From the tables, the comments flood in, sharp and amused.)

"Hey there, our entertainer! Before it was a bud, now it is... well, a little flower. Nothing to write home, but at least he made an effort," says a woman in a clear, mocking voice.

"True! But from the way he talked about it, I expected something monumental. This is more... cute. As a village party stripper, perhaps," echoes a friend, chuckling.

"Definitely improved from the previous version, but to be a stripper here at Red Moon... Honey, it would take more... material," adds a third, with a mischievous smile.

Rick feels his face burn, the desire to disappear that becomes physical. He finally reaches the reception counter and deposits the objects there with a dull thud, almost of surrender.

He looks up. Geena is behind the counter, leaning nonchalantly. His gaze slides over him, from top to bottom, and stops. A subtle smile, of someone who already knows everything, curls her lips.

Geena: "But, then you're really a grower! Not bad... " His voice is low, full of a lascivious appreciation. Her eyes are nailed to her bare member. "But why are you in the shot, dear? Are you happy to see me again?"

Rick blushes even more violently, feeling her gaze like a physical weight on his bare skin. He tries to cover himself with his hands, but it is a futile and useless gesture in that state, in the end he gives up.
Rick: "It's... it's my friends' fault. To humiliate me they reduced me like this... and forced me to come to the reception to get some wine... like this."

A full, sonorous laugh comes out of Geena's lips, a sound that seems to vibrate in the humid air between them.
Geena: "Poor thing... And apparently you need relief so much, don't you?" His gaze doesn't leave his erection.

Rick's blush becomes a fire. "Come on, Geena, don't humiliate me like that too... " he pleads, his voice trembling.

She changes her expression, her face softens into a fake tenderness. "Don't do that, come up here... " With a wave of his hand, he instructs him to pass behind the counter.

Rick hesitates, the nudity making him incredibly vulnerable. But the order is clear. She moves awkwardly, crawling past the cabinet, feeling the cold wood against her bare skin. As soon as she is by her side, Geena's hand pounces without hesitation. Her hot fingers close directly around his bare, erect penis that is already slightly damp with precum.

Geena: "Mmm, it's also pretty tough... " he murmurs, feeling his member throbbing violently in his fist. He begins to move his hand slowly, a long, firm caress from the base to the glans. "And maybe you want to come without being seen by a hundred strangers, right?"

Rick, pierced by immediate pleasure and embarrassment, moans. "Yes, maybe... going to the bathroom... "

Geena shakes her head, but her hand doesn't stop. "We don't even talk about it! In the bathrooms of my club they don't do these things, little pig!" His grip becomes stronger, more possessive.

Rick is disconsolate, but his body betrays every thought, pushing itself into his hand. Geena, still playing expertly with her bare and throbbing penis, adds in a thoughtful tone: "But... I could think about it, here behind the counter, away from prying eyes... What do you say?"

"Yes, please... " he moans, his voice broken and panting. "I can't resist anymore... "

Geena nods, a smile of satisfaction on her lips. He continues to work the hard pea with his hand, the movement now more regular, more focused. With the other hand, he opens the cash drawer and pulls out a cold, shiny metal ruler.

She puts it directly next to Rick's bare penis. The icy metal jolts his hot flesh.

Rick tries to retreat. "What do you do? No, come on, I'm ashamed!" he protests, but his body remains nailed to the place, betrayed by pleasure.

Geena ignores his words. He holds the ruler precisely along the top of his member, pressing lightly. "Mmm.... 13 cm!" he announces, his voice a mixture of evaluation and fun. "A nice stick... average but hard as it should be!"

The statement, the measured and precise humiliation, makes Rick even more excited. A shiver runs down his spine. She is now one step away from the liberating orgasm, her balls tight and ready.

Geena feels the member throbbing uncontrollably in her hand. "Are you going to, dear?" he asks, his voice a provocative whisper. "So you like how I take care of it?"

Rick, with his eyes closed and his breathing labored, can only moan: "Yes... a little more... Here we go...! "

His hand moves faster, his thumb pressing on the sensitive frenulum. The ruler fell on the counter with a slight *clang*, forgotten. All her attention is focused on the member that swells and throbs between her fingers, on the taut and shiny skin, on the precum that now gushes copiously, making her grip slippery and perfect.

Geena leans slightly towards him, her warm breath on her shoulder. His hand, however, does not accelerate. He stops.

Geena: "You see Rick, I like to play with this beautiful stick, and see him excited because of me... "His voice is poisonous honey. "But these are 13 cm and not 20 as you told me to convince me to take me to bed ... And I don't like liars! In fact, I like to punish them."

And, with a cold decision, he loosens his grip and withdraws his hand completely.

Rick's dick remains floating and pulsating in the air, exposed, wet, one step away from orgasm. A groan of anguish escapes him. He can't resist, his hand instinctively goes up to end up alone, desperate.

Geena, however, is faster. She grabs his wrists with a tight squeeze and locks him. "Don't you dare," he hisses, his eyes hard, "or I'll have you arrested for obscene acts in my club!"

Then, with sudden movements, he slips two cold bottles of wine into his hands, forcing him to grab them. "The restaurant offers these to your friends at the table ... for making me discover your lies as a fake stud!"

Before he can react, Geena gives him a loud spanking on his bare bottom, a sharp blow that echoes, and forcefully pushes him out from behind the counter. Rick staggers, his hands busy clutching the bottles, completely helpless. His furious erection, purple and pulsating, is once again on full display in the room.

The buzz of the place dies down for a moment, then explodes into a chorus of laughter, whistles and applause. The hundred women present for the evening in pink focus their eyes on him, on his 13 cm of naked and needy shame.

Rick, his face distorted by shame and unbearable physical need, pleads towards the counter. "No, Geena, please... don't leave me like this... "

But it's all in vain. With a last look of bitter contempt, Geena turns her back on him. Rick is forced to turn around, to begin the long, humiliating walk through the room in that state. With each step, his penis jerks, painfully erect. The women at the tables, between laughter and shouted jokes, comment mercilessly.

"But look, that little thing has become decent!"
"But it's not like a strip show, that!"
"Poor thing, it looks like it's going to explode!"

Every word is a whip, every laugh a needle sticked. Rick humiliated is torn apart: the physical need to cum is a stabbing pressure on his balls, but the shame that this happens in front of a hundred strangers paralyzes him. It is a perfect torment.

Finally she arrives, trembling and sweating, at her friends' table. Annabelle, Terry, Susie, Carrie and Pilar, who had sent him on that impossible mission, welcome him with looks of pure sadistic fun.

Annabelle, taking a bottle from her trembling hands, exclaims: "Oh, finally! Our personal sommelier!"
Terry, pointing to his still furious erection with the tip of his cigarette, laughs, "Hey, but he didn't just bring the wine! He also brought an appetizer, a frankfurter!"
Susie nods, mockingly: "I bet Geena had a lot of fun leaving him like that too... with my back to the wall and my little thing in the wind."
Carrie leans out, feigning compassion: "Come on Rick, don't make that little face... only because even Geena and a hundred other unknown women know the truth about your famous 20 centimeters."
Pilar, the cruelest, concludes by taking the other bottle: "Thank you for the show, anyway. We will drink this wine in your honor... to the 'fake stallion'!"

(Terry, with a wicked smile, points to the center of the table.) Terry: "Before you sit down, be a knight and pour wine for all your friends!"

Rick, with a muffled moan, obeys. His hands tremble around the bottle. He has to stand, his erection an embarrassing beacon, and start circling the table. He approaches Annabelle first, leaning awkwardly to pour. His bare, throbbing penis is at his fingertips.

Annabelle reaches out and grabs it nonchalantly, giving a slight squeeze to the base. "Poor Rick," she says, with false tenderness, "you would like to come but you are in front of a hundred strangers... Then, with a sharp spanking on the side, he "sends" him towards Carrie.

Carrie welcomes it between her fingers, sliding it back and forth in a studied motion. "But I take this beautiful erect stick as a compliment for our sensuality!" he comments, giggling, before patting him on the glans and pushing him towards Susie.

Susie catches it on the fly, visually measuring it with her fingers. "I'm not 20 cm as you claimed," she observes, cynical, "but apparently he's always nice and ready to shoot!" A quick caress, another spanking on the butt, and Rick staggers towards Pilar.

Pilar grabs it firmly, almost like a handle. "Poor stallion, or should I say pony?" he hisses, his voice full of amused contempt. "From dominator to dominated... with the pea in the wind it has become a toy of your friends!" She slaps him vigorously on the penis itself, making him jump with pain and pleasure mixed, before pushing him towards Terry, the last one.

Terry receives him as a witness. His hand closes around his member, which is now shiny with precum and trembling with excitement and humiliation. "Come on Rick... " he says, his voice low and full of perverse promise, "... Let's close this party properly, that is, with fireworks!" And his hand begins to accelerate, a decisive and fast movement.

Rick feels the orgasm rise like an unstoppable wave. "Terry no, please," she pleads, her voice breaking, "I'm ashamed... in front of all these women."

Terry brakes suddenly, leaving him on the edge of the abyss again. "Mmmm... let's do this... " she says thoughtfully. Then he raises his voice: "Mya!"

The waitress, who was watching from a corner with a smirk, promptly approaches. Terry points to Rick's penis, almost passing it to her like an object. "Mya, you decide... Let's entertain the room with fireworks?"

Mya does not need to be asked. Grab Rick's pulsating dick with an expert hand. He evaluates it, squeezes it slightly at the base. "Rick... So are you really a grower?" she says, in an expert tone. "But the two of spades is confirmed: you're a liar, these are not 20 cm!" Then, turning to Terry: "I'll decide, yes."

His hand begins to move, at first with slow and circular movements on the sensitive glans, then more and more decisively, along the entire shaft. "Let's do this, Rick... " he whispers, moving closer to his ear as he jerks it off with increasing vigor, "... The two of spades is confirmed, but my hand says it wants to see how much of a man you are."

Rick is now terrified. Pleasure is an iron grip, shame a fire on the skin. "No, stop, please... " he moans, desperate, his legs shaking, "... I can't resist anymore... "

All the friends at the table, in unison, shout: "EXACTLY!"

And the countdown begins, the voices that unite in a cruel and excited chorus: "FIVE... FOUR... THREE... TWO... ONE... "

Mya, at the last second, squeezes harder and accelerates to the maximum.

"NOW!!! "

It is the final command. Rick can't resist anymore. A strangled scream escapes him as his body contracts in uncontrollable spasms. The orgasm explodes, liberating and violent. Warm white streams splash everywhere: on the table, on the wine bottles, on Mya's dress that does not hold back, and even dripping on the floor.

Around him, the world explodes in a chaos of sounds. The shrill laughter of her friends at the table mixes with the thunderous applause and high-pitched whistles of the whole room. Women standing, clapping their hands, shouting obscene encouragement, or simply enjoying the show.

And at the bottom, rushed from the reception, there is Geena. Leaning against the door jamb, her arms crossed, a wide and satisfied smile on her face. He is enjoying every single moment of his completed punishment.

Rick, emptied, exhausted, with his breath burning his lungs, can no longer stand up. His legs give out. He collapses, exhausted, in his chair. A sense of immense physical relief, immediately polluted by the total humiliation that pervades him, envelops him. He was put on display, used, and finally emptied, naked and dominated by his friends, in front of a hundred women.

(The party is over. The place empties, the customers greet Geena with complicit smiles. The group of friends, with Rick in the center, heads for the exit. Geena greets them one by one with a kiss on the cheek. Then comes Rick's turn.)

Geena, instead of holding out her hand, reaches out and nonchalantly grabs the now sloppy, soft and sensitive dick. She squeezes him just for a moment, looking him straight in the eyes. "Good night... pea!" he whispers, with a sweetness that is the ultimate, perfect humiliation.

Rick blushes to the root of his hair, lowers his gaze. He hopes that it ended there.

6-UNEXPECTED FOR STREET AND NIGHT AS A GUEST

Outside, in the warm air of the June night, Annabelle takes out the keys. "I'll give you a ride, I have my car parked here!" He opens his car. Then he pretends to count. "Oops, there are six of us... someone will have to rebuild these two blocks on foot!"

Pilar, Terry, Susie and Carrie, as one body, quickly slip into the car, closing the doors with a sharp thud. Rick stands on the sidewalk, naked, his hands needlessly covering the package in a ridiculous and pathetic gesture.

"No, wait!" he implores, his voice choked with shame. "Don't leave me here alone, naked on the street!"

Annabelle rolls down the window. "Don't complain, it's only two blocks. Be a knight, don't you want to make ladies go on foot?" His voice is sharp. "We are waiting for you in front of Pilar's door!" Without saying anything else, he speeds away. From the back window, the others wave hello, laughing mockingly.

Rick is left alone on the deserted sidewalk. He feels a thousand times more naked, without even the presence of friends behind whom, in some way, he can hide. A wave of burning anger runs through him. "Bitches... I'll make you pay for everything," he hisses between his teeth, swearing revenge for every single humiliation. Then, with a sigh of furious resignation, he begins to run. His bare steps beat on the still hot asphalt. It is Saturday night, the street is silent, deserted. He reaches the crossroads, is about to turn towards Pilar's door, when...

A high-pitched whistle pierces the air. A car pulls abruptly to the pavement, blue lights flashing on the roof. It is an urban police car.

Rick freezes, his heart in his throat. The door opens and two uniformed policewomen leave in a hurry, hard looks under their caps.

"No, wait, I can explain!" stammers Rick, raising his hands in surrender, which leaves him completely exposed. "I'm not a maniac, it's a joke of my friends! They left me here!"

The policewomen do not listen. They approach with a decisive step. The first tells him: "Stop! Don't move!"

The second grabs his arm. "In position! On your belly on the bonnet, now!"

Rick, paralyzed by fear and shame, obeys. He leans forward, his bare sweaty chest flattening on the hot metal of the steering wheel hood. The other policewoman grabs his wrists, crosses them behind his back, and with a sharp and definitive click, applies the cold metal handcuffs.

"Now we are taking him to the command," says the first, her voice impassive, "to file him and denounce him for outrage against modesty and resistance to a public official."

Then, with a not too gentle push, they make him stand up and force him to turn around, to face them. He is there, naked, handcuffed, under their inexorable gazes, in the middle of the deserted street.

(The night air is still. Rick, naked and handcuffed, is forced to stand in front of the two policewomen. The blue light from the steering wheel illuminates the scene in a ghostly way. It is at that moment that the gaze of the two women is fixed on his face, beyond the humiliation of nudity.)

Morgana, the tallest, squints her eyes. "Wait a minute... " he murmurs.

Agatha takes a step closer, studying it. "But is it...? "

Rick, a glimmer of hope in his chest, looks up. "Morgana? Agatha? Is that you?"

The two women, in unison, exclaim: "Rick? I can't believe it!"

For a moment, an expression of pure relief passes over Rick's face. Then, like a river in flood, the gaze of the two lowers, inevitable, towards his penis. Even to them, his neighbors, he had told lies to impress, boasting of a star equipment. Now, however, they are observing a pea of the smallest size, reduced to a pitiful state, numb with fear and the cold of the night, perhaps three centimeters of soft flesh.

The silence lasts a second. Then they explode. A thunderous, liberating laugh that spreads in the quiet air.

"Ha ha ha! But is that your cobra?" laughs Agatha, bending in two. "The one you threatened to scare us with?"

Morgana looks at him from head to toe, a mocking smile on her lips. "And to think that you were telling us that you were a super-gifted stallion!"

"It's... it's that I'm a grower!" manages to stammer Rick, his face on fire, trying to straighten up despite the handcuffs. "It's not like that when... when he is in shot."

Agatha dampens her laughter, but her eyes sparkle with mischievous amusement. "A grower? Really? Rick, no grower in the world would still get to twenty centimeters starting from... This." He nods his head toward his sloppy penis.

Morgana crosses her arms. "We want to believe you, for heaven's sake. But then, where would these friends of yours be who did this to you... well-deserved joke?" His voice is full of sarcasm.

Rick, feeling himself in a vice, points his head towards the door not far away. "I'm there! In that car, in front of that door! Annabelle's car."

Morgana exchanges a glance with Agatha. "Okay. Next, let's go and check. But if you lied," he adds, his tone becoming professional and harsh, "we have to take you to the helm anyway. An outrage against modesty is an outrage against modesty."

"Please take off my handcuffs first... " Rick implores, in a pleading voice.

Agatha shakes her head, determined. "Not at all. First let's check if you tell the truth."

They each grab him by the arm, above the elbow, and escort him along the sidewalk towards the indicated door. His steps are uncertain, his bare feet on the rough asphalt. Shame is a fire that burns his cheeks. They arrive in front of Annabelle's car, parked right under the lamppost.

Just then, the driver's door opens. Annabelle gets out, an expression of fake amazement printed on her face. Immediately after, from the other counters, Pilar, Susie, Terry and Carrie come out. The five girls arrange themselves in a semicircle, in front of their car, observing the scene with eyes that shine with ill-concealed amusement.

(The two policewomen push Rick forward, putting him on display in front of the group. Morgana and Agatha have impassive expressions, but a slight tremor in their lips betrays their amusement. Rick is in the center, naked, handcuffed, under the gaze of seven women. His "cobra" is still a small, pathetic bump.)

(Agatha steps forward, an eyebrow raised as she looks at the group of girls.) "Hi girls. Is this really with you... fake stallion?"

Morgana crosses her arms, completing the question in a suspicious tone. "He says he's naked on the street because you played a joke on him. And he also says he is a grower. So, we believe he is a patent liar!"

A new wave of laughter, clear and mocking, rises from the group. Rick blushes to the root of his hair, feeling the heat rise from his neck. "It's true! It's a joke! And I'm a grower! Come on, girls, tell them!" he pleads, his voice choked.

Pilar comes forward with a falsely thoughtful expression. "Well, actually... is paying a lost bet."

Terry nods, a toothy smile. "Yes. Lost like his dignity."

Susie adds her blow, studying Rick critically. "In fact he is a liar, since he passed off as a cobra that ... vermicello."

Carrie, in a more reflective tone, chimes in. "But it's also true that he's a *grower*... even if when he is in shooting he simply goes from pathetic to mediocre."

Annabelle, who has observed the scene with the air of a satisfied director, nods to the two policewomen. "You can free him... " he says, then pauses dramatically. ""Even if almost... " Annabelle interrupts, then makes a gesture to the two policewomen to approach. Morgana and Agatha bend over to her. Annabelle whispers something in both of their ears, in a low voice, so that Rick can't hear.

The expressions of the two policewomen go from surprise to mischievous fun. They exchange a look, then burst into an open and complicated laugh. "Okay," Morgana says, wiping her eye. "Done deal. He deserves it, since even with us, who are his neighbors, he has always been a braggart!"

The two get closer to Rick. Agatha pulls out the key and, with a satisfying click, removes the handcuffs. "You can go," Morgana says, with a sweeping gesture. "They vouch for you... what caring friends you have!"

The laughter that follows is a sadistic and joyful chorus. Rick, finally free from the metals on his wrists, immediately covers his groin with both hands, his gaze terrified in search of possible passers-by. Without adding a word, he turns and runs awkwardly towards the front door of Pilar's house, seeking refuge from public exposure.

Annabelle, meanwhile, continues to confabulate in a low voice with the two policewomen, who nod amused. Then, waving goodbye, Morgana and Agatha return to their steering wheel. Before going up, they both turn to Rick, who is now huddled against the door. Agatha gives him a smirk, then raises her hand and, with her index finger and thumb, forms a tiny circle in the air. Morgana does the same, clearly mimicking the size of a very small pea. One last, loud laugh, then they get into the car and leave, leaving the scene illuminated only by the street lamp.

Rick, still naked and trembling, bangs his fists against the door. "Let me in! Quick!" he hisses, his voice full of panic and humiliation.

Pilar approaches calmly, the keys in her hand jingling. "What a hurry, Rick. Where do you think you're going?"

"To take back my clothes that are at your house! And at home... You have humiliated me enough, and I swear you will pay me all! Quick!" His voice tries to be threatening, but trembles visibly.

The laughter that follows is general, a sound that seems to pierce him. He loses all glimmer of boldness again, his shoulders slouching.

Terry shakes his head, with a feigned regret. "Perhaps you forget that penance ends tomorrow night, and not tonight."

Carrie adds, the tone sweet but relentless. "You will remain naked and in our company for another twenty-four hours. Or maybe more, if you disobey and deserve additional punishment." Susie nods, a wicked cat smile. "We will all sleep here, at Pilar's house. We in nightgowns... What about you... " pauses theatrically, walking through it with his gaze from head to toe. "Well, you're already ready."

Annabelle, who has finished greeting the policewomen, approaches the group with a firm step. "Girls," he says, rubbing his hands with an air of complicity. "I join you. I wouldn't miss this show for anything in the world."

Pilar finally puts the key in the lock and opens the door. A welcoming passage of darkness opens. "Come on, stallion," he says to Rick, a mocking bow. "A long night together awaits us."

Rick hesitates for a moment, his gaze running from the darkness of the door to the smiling and cruel faces of the six girls around him. He has no choice. With a muffled groan, she crosses the threshold, entering the dark atrium, followed by the procession of giggles and excited whispers of the five friends. The door closes behind them with a dull thud, isolating them from the outside world. But the night is still long.

(The warm light of Pilar's living room illuminates the still messy poker table. The scattered cards, the chips, the half-full glasses: everything testifies to the strip poker game that started this long night of humiliation. Rick, naked, looks around with a mixture of shame and resignation. Twenty-four hours more. If he manages to survive without further punishment, he will finally be able to get dressed. But the five women who surround him, elegantly dressed while he is exposed, seem to have no intention of giving him a break. Their looks are a mixture of fun, revenge and a hint of playful cruelty. After months of his sexist jokes and embarrassing jokes, in which he had passed himself off as a super-gifted womanizer, their revenge is sweet and meticulous.)

Pilar points to the corridor with a regal gesture. "You can go to the bathroom first, Rick. I guess you need a shower... purifying, in every sense."

Rick nods, too humiliated to speak, and hurries to the bathroom, feeling their eyes follow him. The shower is a brief moment of respite, the hot water that washes away the sweat of fear and shame. When she goes out, she instinctively wraps herself in a large towel, looking for a shred of dignity.

But Pilar is there, waiting for him at the door. With a quick and decisive gesture, she rips the towel off him, leaving him completely naked and vulnerable again. "Naked means naked, always," he says, his voice firm as he drops the towel on the floor. "No exceptions."

Rick jumps back, trying to cover himself with his hands but then giving up so as not to make himself more ridiculous, while another wave of heat invades his face. One by one, then, the friends go to the bathroom in turn to get ready for the night. Every time one of them resurfaces, it's a new blow to her already fragile self-control.

Pilar wears a Nancy silk shirt, short and transparent, which allows a glimpse of the contours of her body. Carrie has an ivory lace shirt dress, which slides over her shoulder. Susie sports a red satin baby-doll with bows. Terry has a very short purple silk tunic. Annabelle, the last, comes out with a black chiffon negligé lent to her by Pilar, which seems to float with her every movement.

Rick can't help but stare. Despite all the humiliation, despite the tension, her body reacts uncontrollably. His penis, which had remained limp and pathetic, begins slowly, inexorably, to awaken, to swell, to rise from its root.

Pilar is the first to notice it. A wide and mocking smile spreads across her face. "Look," he says, pointing with his chin to the obvious erection taking shape between Rick's legs. "The caterpillar wants to become a butterfly!"

Carrie shakes her head with mock reproach. "But you're insatiable, Rick. Aren't they enough for you all the times you've come today?"

Susie approaches, studying her growing member with the critical air of an expert. "Let's take it as a compliment, girls. We can awaken even the smallest and most tired vermicelli."

Annabelle crosses her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. "He may not be a stallion in size, but at least he is tireless... Better than nothing, isn't it?"

Terry bursts out laughing, a clear and sharp sound. "We should carry him naked forever! So we would immediately understand if we are dressed sexy or not!"

Every joke is a blow, every laugh a wave that submerges him with shame. Rick blushes up to his ears, awkwardly trying to cover himself again with his hands, but by now the excitement is evident and embarrassing.

Pilar, satisfied with the show, nods her head. "Good. Now, come with me." And to the laughter of her friends she grabs Rick by the dick dragging him as if he were on a leash. It leads them down the hallway, to the guest room. He opens the door and reveals the surprise: a huge, boundless bed, clearly obtained by joining several beds, which occupies almost the entire room. It's covered in fresh, fluffy linens, with a mountain of pillows.

"I've put the guest beds together," Pilar announces with a triumphant smile. "So we all sleep together! More... comfortable."

Rick, in total confusion, stammers: "Maybe... Could I have pajamas? Just to sleep, nothing else... "

The answer is an immediate and unanimous chorus. "No!" "Absolutely not!" "Naked, Rick, do you understand? N-u-d-o."

With a sigh of total resignation, Rick approaches the bed. The girls settle nonchalantly: Pilar and Carrie lie down on the right side, Susie, Terry and Annabelle on the left. They leave him a space in the center, on which he is destined to lie.

"Come on, stallion," Susie urges him, tapping next to her. "The place of honor is for you."

Rick slowly climbs onto the bed, feeling the coolness of the cotton against his bare skin. He lies on his back, rigid as a table, trying to control his erection which, despite everything, shows no sign of dropping. The five women, wrapped in their silks and sexy lace, are stretched out on either side, like a cruel and mocking harem. Their scent fills the air, intensifying his discomfort and excitement. The light is turned off, except for the one on Pilar's bedside table, leaving only the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds.

For a few minutes, a tense silence reigns. Rick stares at the ceiling, listening to the sound of their breathing, the rustle on the mattress when one of them moves. Then, he hears a movement to his right.

A hand, fresh and delicate, brushes his side. It's Carrie. His touch is light, almost accidental. Then, on the other side, Susie's bare foot rubs against her ankle.

"Is it cold, Rick?" whispers Pilar from her right, her voice low and full of sensual irony. "Do you want me to warm you up?"

Before he can answer, he hears Annabelle roll towards him from the left. Her warm body, wrapped in black chiffon, presses against her arm. "You look tense," she murmurs, her warm breath brushing against his ear. "We should help you ... relax?"

The hands are now more than one. Fingers that caress his chest, belly, thighs. They are not aggressive, but exploratory, mocking. Every touch is a reminder of his nakedness, his vulnerability, his penis throbbing in full erection, ignored for the moment but undeniably present.

Terry, from his left, leans over him tickling and exciting him in strategic points.
(The room is bathed in a sensual half-light, broken only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the shutters. The bodies of the five women, wrapped in silks and lace, move slowly, sinuously, around Rick, who lies naked and rigid in the center of the huge bed. Their hands, their fingers, begin to explore it with calculated slowness, an Annabelle of erotic torture.)

Carrie, to his right, slides his fingertips along his abdomen, following the path of the tense muscles. "So tense, Rick," he whispers, his warm breath on his skin. "All this excitement for us?"

Susie, on the other side, approaches. His hand gently closes around his penis, which is already fully erect and throbbing. He does not rub it, he simply holds it, measuring its heat and stiffness. "Look here, girls," he says in a low, admiring, if mocking, voice. "Our little friend has no intention of sleeping at all."

Annabelle leans out, and with her tongue traces a slow and moist circle around a nipple. Rick holds back a groan. Terry, further down, begins to caress his inner thigh with the tip of his foot, a light and irritating touch. Pilar, finally, takes the lead. He slides between his legs and replaces Susie's hand with his own. His grip is firmer, more experienced. She begins to masturbate him in long, slow, and deep movements, the base of her palm pressing against her testicles. The others continue their work of distraction: lips on neck and chest, fingers pinching the nipples, the breath of a breath on one ear.

Rick is lost. The pleasure, accumulated by hours of humiliation and frustration, explodes in an overwhelming wave. His breathing becomes labored, his hips begin to snap uncontrollably, pushed towards Pilar's hand. A deep moan rises up in his throat. It is about to collapse, it is about to come, the tension is at its peak, a point of no return.

Pilar notices it immediately. The rhythm of his penis in his hand, the trembling of his thighs, the sound he makes. It stops suddenly. He withdraws his hand as if he had touched something hot.

"What's the matter, Rick?" he asks, his voice a mixture of false concern and sadistic amusement. "Do you want to come again, you insatiable little pig?"

Rick gasps, his eyes wide open in the dark, his body spasming for lack of stimulus. "Yes... Please... Don't stop... "

Pilar bursts out laughing, a short and sharp laugh. "NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT IT!"

The promised relief is snatched away. Rick moans, an animal protest. "So... Let me do it myself," he begs, his voice broken by need. Try to reach out to his swollen and sore penis.

But the five women are lightning fast. As a single organism, they move. Four pairs of hands grab his wrists and ankles with surprising force. Rick tries to wriggle free, but is helpless.

Pilar, meanwhile, got out of bed and took something from the bedside table. With quick and efficient movements, he grabs his right wrist and closes it with a metal click to the wrought-iron headboard of the bed. Then he does the same with his left foot. Rick is now stuck, on his back, with his arms above his head, his penis soaring helpless and pulsating towards the ceiling.

Rick: "What are these handcuffs?! Set me free! I need to come, please!"

The chorus that responds to him is perfect, synchronized, full of a cruel joy: "DO YOU FORGET IT!! "

Annabelle: "The handcuffs are a kind gift from Agatha and Morgana... happy?"
Pilar leans over him, her face is a satisfied shadow in the dark. "You've come too far today. You are in punishment, not prize! And then," he adds in a practical tone, "you'd dirty the bed and our nightgowns!"

"I beg you," he pants, desperately. "I'll go to the bathroom to finish, I promise. Just let me go."

Terry shakes his head, his hair brushing against his chest. "Nothing to do! We decide if and when to give satisfaction to your pea ... and we decided that that's enough for today!"

Then, all together, as if they had rehearsed the scene, they turn their heads on the cushions, completely ignoring his handcuffed figure and his erect member in need of relief. Their final chorus is a coup de grace, chanting and definitive: "GOODNIGHT!! "

One last click turns off the lamp on the bedside table, throwing the room into almost total darkness. Silence falls, broken only by Rick's labored breathing and faint moans of frustration. He begs them, insults them, begs them for a few more minutes, but there is no answer. Only the regular, slower and slower sound of their breathing becoming that of a deep sleep. They smile, satisfied, in their half-sleep, while he is forced to stay and wait for the unsatisfied sleep.

7-BREAKFAST AND GYMNASTICS

(Rick wakes up in the morning alone in the bed, obviously naked but without the handcuffs anymore. The furious erection of his 13 cm has vanished, he has returned to the measly 6 cm of grower. She goes to the bathroom taking advantage of the unexpected privacy, then follows the smell of coffee in the kitchen.)

(The five friends are there, in bra and very small lace thong. Rick's jaw drops, a reaction starts down there. It covers itself awkwardly.)

All in chorus, kind: "Good morning, Rick! We were waiting for you for breakfast."

(They sit down. During breakfast, the girls move to excite him: Terry leans over, Susie crosses her legs, Pilar brushes against him, Carrie bends over, Annabelle stares at him. At the end of breakfast, they surround him.)

Terry, stroking his shoulder: "We've been too mean to you, Rick... This breakfast is a small compensation!"

Susie, leaning in her ear: "And to make amends, we intend to finish what we left unfinished last night... "

Pilar, running a hand over her chest: "Are you still scared, little one?"

Carrie, laughing lowly: "Let's see if you've really grown up... "

Annabelle, whispering, "Tonight was just the appetizer."

(All five begin to touch, grope and masturbate him in turn. Their hands are everywhere. In short, Rick lets go, the girls' hands continue to expertly work on his dick, now at full erection, pulsating.)

Rick, panting: "Please, girls, don't stop this time, I... "

Pilar, interrupting him with a smile: "Don't worry, dear! Let yourself go... you deserve it after yesterday evening!"

(Rick abandons himself. After a while, in Susie's hand, he explodes into a powerful orgasm, with spurts flying everywhere. Susie only lets it go when the spasms end and the dick returns to its measly six centimeters at rest. Rick slumps in his chair, exhausted.)

Everyone applauds and laughs.

Annabelle: "Congratulations to your beautiful stick! Not as long as you said, but always ready to do his duty!"

Pilar: "Now go and take a nice invigorating cold shower, so you can recover and we can continue this Sunday just at the beginning!"

(Rick goes to take a cold shower. He dries himself with a tiny towel and leaves it there. He comes out of the bathroom naked.)

(The five friends are dressed in beach attire, with sarongs, bags and sunglasses. As soon as they see him, they burst out laughing, pointing to his dick, reduced to maybe two or three centimeters after the cold shower.)

Terry, laughing, "But look at it! He's gone!"

Susie: "Where did he go?"

(The girls continue to laugh, pointing to his tiny dick.)

Carrie, winking, "Don't worry, Rick, we know it's just for the cold shower! But it looks like a button!"

Annabelle, adding, "A very nice button, anyway."

Rick, blushing and instinctively covering himself with his hands: "Stop it, it's not small! You know, it's just the cold shower! Why are you dressed like that, anyway?"

Pilar, approaching and adjusting her sarong: "Because, dear, we are going to the beach! And you'll come with us, of course."

Susie, with a mischievous smile: "Yes, we have decided that today is a day of relaxation... and fun again."

(Rick looks at them, unsure between embarrassment and excitement.)

(Rick looks at the girls, still covering himself with his hands.)

Rick: "Well, yes... but I don't have the costume with me, how do I come there, with the clothes you seized from me last night?"

(The five women burst out laughing.)

Carrie: "You don't need the costume, dear. We're going to the nudist beach!"

Rick, stunned: "What? Do you mean that... "

Annabelle: "Exactly, dear! Finally you will see us naked... We told you that we want to make amends!"

Terry: "And finally you won't be the only one who has to stay all naked! Come on, let's go... "

Rick: "Ok, okay, it will mean that I will come to the beach with my clothes. Pilar, can you give them back to me?"

Pilar, with a sharp smile: "Of course not!"

Rick turns pale: "So, how do I get to the lido?"

Carrie, shaking her head, "Rick, Rick... do not abuse our goodness!"

Susie: "You lost and you still have to honor penance."

Annabelle: "Your clothes, if you don't disobey by suffering another punishment, you will get them back tonight... "

Rick, in a trembling voice: "You're saying that, then... "

Carrie: "That's right, dear! At the nudist beach you come ready to enter, that is... "

All five in chorus: "ALL NAKED!"

Rick, desperate: "But can't you be serious? At least we'll go by car?"

All in chorus: "Of course not!"

Pilar, with a cheerful but decisive tone: "The beach is 2 km from here, but it's a beautiful day and walking makes us stay fit! Come on, come on!"

Rick, almost pleading: "But I can't, everyone will see me, it's day... please, no!"

(His protests go unheeded. Carrie gives him a gentle push, while Susie taps him on the butt.)

Carrie: "No excuses, honey! It's part of the game."

(Annabelle and Terry gently but firmly take him by the arms, guiding him to the door. Susie and Carrie push him by spanking him. Pilar opens the elevator door.)

Pilar: "After you, dear!"

(Rick, head down, enters the elevator, trying to hide behind the girls. Laughter echoes in the elevator as they descend. Once outside the door, sunlight hits him directly.)

Susie, whispering in his ear, "Keep your head up, dear. Or maybe not... Maybe it's more fun that way."

Rick, disconsolate, begins to walk along the sidewalk, keeping his hands tightly crossed over the package. The girls flank him, chatting and laughing, completely ignoring his attempts to hide.

(On Sunday morning, the street is almost deserted. Rick, naked and embarrassed, tries to hide behind the group of five friends every time a rare car passes by. The girls are visibly amused by the situation. The shops are all closed, but at one point they pass in front of the gym Rick frequents, which is open.)

Pilar, pointing to the entrance with a mischievous smile: "Rick, is this the gym you go to?"

Rick, in an anxious, low voice, "yes, yes... let's go away, quickly... "

Terry, in a playful and insistent tone: "Why? Let us see it up!"

Rick, the panic that rises in his throat: "Are you crazy? I can't enter like that!"

Annabelle, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly: "Come on, who do you want to be there on a Sunday morning in summer?"

Carrie, with a sudden idea that lights up her eyes: "Actually, you know what I'm telling you? Let's do some exercises before going to the beach, so we will be in great shape!"

Rick, almost pleading: "What do you say? I don't want to... "

Susie, approaching him with a sarcastic smile: "What's the matter, Rick? Are you embarrassed to be seen like this by the secretaries at the entrance? Maybe you tried it with them too, saying you were super-gifted?"

(Rick bows his head, unable to find an answer, the blush burning his cheeks.)

Terry, bursting out laughing: "Here we go again! So let's go in... so you present your royal endowment to the girls... and not invented!"

(Terry and Pilar each grab him by the arm, thus preventing him from covering himself with his hands, and despite his pleas and protests, drag him inside.)

(At the reception desk are the two secretaries, Lorraine and Georgia, with their heads bowed over the PC. As soon as they hear the front door open, they say: "Good morning and welcome... "Then they raise their heads and stand up... and they are amazed seeing the scene! The gaze then obviously descends "there", to Rick's pea reduced to just two or three cm from the mix of cold shower, liberating orgasm just before and embarrassment in walking naked around the city ... and burst out laughing like crazy!)

Lorraine: "Rick, and that would be the cobra you've been bragging about for months?"
Georgia: "Or maybe you forgot it at home?"
Rick: "Stop it... the cold shower, the orgasm, and this situation.... in shooting is... much bigger! And you leave me!"
(Turning to his friends who are holding him by the arms, he tries to wriggle out in vain.)

Lorraine: "That's what everyone says when they have a small one..."
Georgia: "Even though I've never seen them so small, not even babies!"
(Laughter joined by the 5 friends sadistically.)

Pilar: "Can we do an hour of gym before going to the beach?"
Lorraine: "Of course, it's all free... as a thank you for exposing Rick's lies about his cobra, which is actually a worm!"
(More general laughter.)

Georgia: "Take a seat, there's only one other group of four girls, but it's in the next room, this is all yours!"

(The group, with Rick still naked and restrained, heads for the entrance. The laughter of secretaries and friends echoes in the lobby.)

Pilar, opening the door: "Come on, Rick, show us that even with a pea in the wind you can do gymnastics!"

Terry, giving him a slight push, "Let's just hope he doesn't get lost in the mats!"

Rick, in a hoarse and resentful voice: "Now I understand everything! The orgasm, the cold shower... it was only to reduce me like this and humble me in front of them! I won't have to come here anymore... I hate you!"

Pilar, shrugging her shoulders with a nonchalant smile: "Come on, how dramatic you do it, Rick! Maybe until tonight they will change their minds, seeing you in the shot... Sunday is still long... "

Annabelle, pointing with her little finger to her floppy and shriveled member: "Much longer than that little thing there!"
(A new laugh breaks out among her friends.)

Rick, trying to set a tone: "You know he's average in shooting... and I swear that one day you will pay for all this!"

Carrie, crossing her arms: "Yes, ok... but now you are the one all naked at our command! Come on, let's start training!"
(The group starts with some weightlifting, then some treadmill. Rick, naked and embarrassed, tries to participate as he can, attracting amused looks.)

After a while, the five friends exchange a complicit look.
Carrie, in an innocent tone: "Shall we do a bit of a Swedish painting?"

Terry, turning to Rick: "Yes, Rick... Show us how it's done, come on!"

Rick, snorting, approaches the tool. "All right, look."
(He hangs from the Swedish painting, starting to show a basic exercise, the tensing muscles. It's a moment.)

The five women swoop down on him with astonishing rapidity. Carrie and Pilar grab her arms, Annabelle and Terry grab her ankles, while Susie grabs ropes found among the tools. Rick tries to wriggle free, but is helpless.

Rick, his voice trembling: "Enough, what do you want to do? I've had enough!"

Carrie, firmly tying a wrist to the metal structure, her eyes sparkle with revenge: "Remember when you tickled me all day at the beach last month, ridiculing me in front of the whole beach? I thought I'd reciprocate the treatment... "

Rick, the terror that dilates his pupils: "What, no, please... "
(His protests are lost as the ropes tighten, securely fastening his wrists and ankles to the structure, leaving him completely exposed, naked and helpless in the "X" position.)

Carrie kicks it off. "Five minutes. Let's get started."
(The five girls approach, their fingers outstretched like claws. They start from his sensitive feet. Rick jumps, a laugh and choked escapes his throat. "Ah! No! Stop!"

The fingers move rapidly, climb along her legs, crawl on her ribs, creep into her armpits. The tickling is relentless, everywhere on that naked and bound body. Rick writhes violently against the ropes, his torso arches, laughter becomes coarse, uncontrollable, mixed with desperate cries.

"AHIHAHAHA! BASTAAA! VI IMPLORO! AHAHAHA!"

His member, despite the embarrassment and the humiliating situation, reacts with a slight, involuntary erection, swelling just to his usual six centimeters at rest, but does not go any further, as if blocked by the shame and stress of the incessant tickling. It is a pathetic and comical sight at the same time, which makes her friends laugh even more.

"LOOK! HAHA, THE 'LITTLE THING' IS BACK!" shouts Annabelle, pointing as her fingers continue to torture Rick's ribs.

Rick's laughter is hysterical, his eyes water, his breath breaks into convulsive sobs. "DON'T... BREATH... AHAHAHA! STOP!"

(The five women continue their torture for the promised five minutes, each second filled with the raucous laughter, screams, and desperate writhing of Rick, naked, tied up, and completely at their mercy.)

Carrie looks at her watch and announces, "Five minutes! Stop! That may be enough... we are even! Do you understand what it feels like, Rick?"

8-COLLEAGUES AND THE NEW PUNISHMENT

Rick, panting and dripping with sweat, finally finds relief. His hysterical laughter dies out in breathless sobs as his friends prepare to untie him. But the scene is abruptly interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps on the gym floor. On the opposite side of the room, four female figures in gymnastic gear rush. Their voices resound from afar: "What's going on? We heard desperately screaming!"

Rick looks up and his face pales as if he had seen ghosts. "Girls, hurry up, untie me please!" he begs, his voice choked with anxiety.

Susie, while trying to untie a knot, snorts: "What a hurry, we're doing it! But why?"

Rick, his eyes fixed on the approaching figures, groans: "You can't understand... Hurry up, please!"

Annabelle, at that point, becomes curious. A sadistic smile puckers her lips. "Girls, stop for a moment and leave him tied up!" he orders, his voice full of a sudden malice.

Rick snaps, terror dilates his pupils. "No, Annabelle, please untie me, quickly... Or at least cover me!"

Pilar, in a mocking tone, leans towards him. "What's the matter, Rick? Do you happen to know these women?"

Rick doesn't know what to say anymore. Meanwhile, the four girls end their run, stopping one meter from the scene: Rick tied to the Swedish painting in an "X", naked and exposed to his five friends... and now the four of them too!

A chorus rises from the four women: "Rick?! But it's you! It's not possible!"

These are Rick's four colleagues, who share the same office as him and whom he has been making fun of for six months by playing the superman, the braggart and saying he is super-gifted: Molly (his long-time friend but now also fed up with his toxic attitude); Fanny (the office sexy for whom Rick drools, but who hates him for his attitudes); Nancy (shy and with a crush on Rick, by whom she is always rejected and humiliated); and above all Taylor (his bitter enemy, whom he humiliates repeatedly with every victory in business performance competitions, and who has been craving his revenge against Rick for months)!

Rick, his face contracted in a grimace of panic and shame, tries to writhe in vain against the ropes. "Girls... can I explain... Don't look, please... " His voice is a strangled thread of sound, as he awkwardly tries to hide what he can't hide.

But it is too late. The eyes of the four women have already landed, inevitably, right there. On what for months Rick had called, with a braggart air, "a 20-centimeter cobra" – his secret weapon to impress the interns and brag to colleagues in each department in the cafeteria. The reality, naked and raw under the neon light of the gym, is quite different: a few centimeters of flaccid and frightened flesh.

A silence full of disbelief lasts a moment, then the collective laughter explodes.

Molly, "A cobra? Rick, I think you confused the units of measurement! This is an earthworm after a downpour!"

Fanny, "Is that all? And to think that for six months you filled my ears with epic stories. It looks more like a pin than a cobra!"

Nancy blushes violently. She laughs too, but her eyes are shining with a strange emotion. "I... I thought it was... more threatening," he whispers, his voice trembling, and his involuntary joke, dictated more by disappointment than malice, is perhaps the most humiliating of all.

But it is Taylor, his sworn enemy, who delivers the coup de grace. Pretending to hold back his laughter, he slowly approaches, with a soft step, and bends down slightly, studying the "evidence" with the clinical eye of a surgeon observing a failed experiment. Then, she looks up at Rick, and a wide smile, full of ferocious satisfaction, lights up her face. "Twenty centimeters, Rick? Twenty?" His voice is a sweet poison. "Maybe if you add them to those of your ego. Because in fact, between what you have here," he points out with a contemptuous nod of his chin, "and what you have always peddled in the office, the difference is abysmal. 20 cm of fantasy." Only then does she burst out laughing again, a high, liberating laugh that joins those of the others, creating a chorus of perfect derision that bounces against the walls of the deserted gym, enveloping Rick in a vortex of shame with no escape.

Rick, with a red face, desperately tries to stem the spread of shame. "I'm a grower! I took a cold shower... and then I had an orgasm... and the situation... in short, in shooting it is much bigger, believe me!" His voice is a mixture of supplication and last, weak pride.

Susie, Annabelle, Carrie, Terry and Pilar, attracted by laughter, join the circle of women, their faces illuminated by the cruel curiosity of witnessing a new, succulent humiliation of Rick. Pilar, with her hands on her hips, shakes her head. "Rick but you're a dick ... Don't you introduce us to your friends?"

Taylor, with a wicked cat smile, makes quick introductions, a hand gesture that points to each newcomer. Then, with a theatrical gesture, she pulls out of the pocket of her overalls a centimeter of a dressmaker's dressmaker, yellow and flexible. "Let's see how much you lied to us anyway." Ignoring Rick's strangled protests, he grabs his resting and reduced member with two fingers, with a gentle and contemptuous grip. With the other hand, he extends the centimeter next to it, aligning it with surgical precision. His eyes move from the tape to Rick's face. "SIX CENTIMETERS!" he exclaims, his voice full of triumph. "And the other 14 you left in the office?"

A new wave of laughter, more thunderous and united than before, explodes around him. Molly crosses her arms, an eyebrow raised. "Rick, it's okay to tell lies... but you exaggerate, from stallion to pony in an instant!"

Nancy, the shy one, blushes even more, but this time it's for a different embarrassment. She lowers her gaze, then raises it to him, and her words are a dagger of genuine disappointment. "It was almost a good thing that you rejected me... you know what a disappointment!"

Fanny, the most ruthless, bursts out laughing with a dry laugh. "And you wanted to take me to bed? To do what with that, a game of trump?" The laughter is renewed, a chorus that pierces him.

Rick, feeling the ground crumble under his feet, tries one last, desperate defense. "I told you I'm a grower! I'm just resting, but then... " The sentence dies in the throat, interrupted by a sharp, metallic, sinister click in the sudden silence that follows.

All eyes turn to Fanny. She has her cell phone in her hand, the screen facing the group. On the screen, a perfect, sharp, humiliating image: Taylor still holding the centimeter close, and there, between his fingers, the irrefutable, pathetic proof of Rick's six centimeters. The light of the gym illuminates every detail with cruel clarity.

Rick's face pales, then turns a purplish red. "What did you do? Cancel now! I denounce you!" His voice is a strangled scream, full of panic and impotent rage.

Fanny slowly lowers the phone, a cold, calculating smile on her lips. "We should report you for mobbing for six months, it is not convenient for you!" His voice is low, full of a real threat. "And now this photo ends up in the office chat ... So you stop talking about 'cobra' to interns forever!"

The prospect is devastating. Rick can almost see notifications appear, virtual laughter, his reputation reduced to dust. His pride collapses. "No, wait... "His voice becomes pleading, broken. "I apologize, I do whatever you want... but delete that photo!"

Taylor, who has observed the scene thoughtfully, approaches. His expression is that of someone who has had a brilliant and sadistic idea. "I have an idea... " he says, swinging the centimeter between his fingers. "Show us that you really are a grower! If you get at least twice as much as these pathetic 6 cm in the shot... " pauses for maximum dramatic effect, "... let's delete the photo!"

Rick breathes a deep sigh of relief, like a man who has had a rope thrown to the edge of a precipice. "Of course you can! Even more! Tell him, girls" (turning to his friends who watch the scene amused)

Pilar, from the bench, says in a clear and impassive voice: "Rick, it wouldn't be fair for us to tell him!"

Terry adds, shrugging: "We're your friends, we'd be biased!"

Susie smiles mischievously: "It's only fair that they see for themselves... "

Carrie bursts out laughing: "And then knowing you you'll surely like you, piggy!"

Annabelle nods her head towards Rick's member, who is starting to show signs of life: "Besides, it's been a while since we saw your stick pulling... we want to enjoy the scene!"

General laughter spreads around the gym.

The four colleagues approach. Molly starts with seemingly professional caresses on her outstretched shoulders, which soon become deeper massages. Taylor, with a hateful smile, unceremoniously groped her ass, her fingers sinking into the flesh.

(The scene is intense, concentrated. The hands of the four women on Rick are everywhere. Annabelle, from the bench, stares at Rick's member who is slowly, inexorably, filling with blood under the coordinated assault of their attentions. It is a work of meticulous humiliation.)

Nancy, whose pent-up anger turns into a strangely possessive touch, takes his balls in the palm of her hand, massaging them with pressure that makes Rick moan, a sound strangled between pleasure and anguish. "At least everything looks fine here," he murmurs, but his tone is mocking.

Fanny, the sexy and obnoxious, takes the next turn. His tapered and experienced fingers close around his dick, which is now completely erect, hard and rigid, and beats between his fingers like a crazy heart. She rubs it with expert movements, alternating speed, observing with cold eyes every jolt he makes. "Look at how he dances," he tells Taylor, without looking away. "A little soldier on parade."

Rick gasps, his breath bursts out. His body tenses against the ropes, the muscles of his arms and thighs contracting. It is very close, on the edge. The need to is a sharp, gentle pain in the lower abdomen. His eyes are glassy, fixed on the ceiling, then on Fanny.

(The moment is one of palpable, almost painful tension. Rick's dick is scarlet, swollen and throbbing in Fanny's grasp, a drop of pre-glistening at the tip. He moans, a low and continuous sound, his body arching in a desperate contortion. His mind is a fog of pure need.)

Just then, Taylor, who has been watching everything with the sadistic expression of a judge, raises a hand. His voice cuts through the air like a knife: "STOP!"

All hands retract instantly. Fanny lets go of the member with a small wet snap, which remains suspended in the air, trembling and desperate. Rick lets out a strangled moan, a muffled scream. She writhes violently against the bonds, her ass detaching from the Swedish painting and then falling back with a wet slap against the wood. "No... Please... " he pants, the words a desperate stream. "Finish me... let me come... "

Rick writhes in need of relief, but Taylor says, "We don't have to entertain you, but measure this stick you used to pass off as a cudgel!" He takes the centimeter back and takes the measurement amid Rick's protests, then exclaims, "13 cm! You saved yourself Rick, it's more than twice as long as when he was resting!"

Fanny, with an exaggerated sigh of relief, takes out her cell phone. "A promise is a promise!" he says, and with a couple of taps he erases the humiliating photo from the screen.

Nancy crosses her arms, a half-smile on her lips. "Anyway, you're far from the 20 cm you boasted of... " pauses, leaving the words dangling in the humid air. "... even if I would have been fine with it anyway!"

A general laugh, short and sharp, fills the space. Rick blushes to the root of his hair, the humiliation that burns more than the tension in his lower abdomen. His cock, still hard and neglected, visibly throbs. "Girls, please," he moans, his voice hoarse. "Free me. I have to... I have to..."

(The laughter dies down. The focus shifts to Taylor, who has a pensive expression, his eyes fixed on Rick tied up. Molly steps forward, a gesture almost of compassion.)

Molly: "Free him, come on... he has to run to the bathroom to do it himself!"

But Taylor says, her voice suddenly firm and charged with an intention that stops everyone: "No, wait a minute!"

(His hand goes up, a silent command. His eyes, now devoid of any trace of mockery, scrutinize Rick with a new, almost clinical intensity. The air in the gym seems to be getting heavier, full of unspoken expectation. Fanny suspends movement, Nancy stops smiling. Everyone is watching Taylor, waiting for his next move. Rick, trapped and vulnerable, holds his breath, his physical need now mixed with sudden anxiety.)

Taylor approaches Rick, his gaze cold and determined. The other girls form a silent semicircle around them, the atmosphere is electric.

Taylor: "Do you want to come, Rick? We've got you covered... But you have to apologize for how you treat us in the office and promise not to do it again!"

Rick, his face contracted by frustration and need, spits out the answer: "Fuck you, bitch! You'll pay me!"

Carrie then intervenes, an expression of severe disapproval on her face. He steps forward, his voice is a low and authoritarian roar. "Rick, how dare you? You know that until tonight you must not rebel! You just deserved another punishment!"

A thunderous and mocking applause from all the girls fills the room.

Annabelle, with a mischievous smile: "Yes, but which one?"

Susie, moving with a feline grace: "We'll think about it later, now let's enjoy the interrupted scene!"

Pilar, stroking her chin thoughtfully: "I have an idea... Taylor will decide, since she was offended!"

Terry nods, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Great idea, but Taylor will tell us later what he decided... Now let's move on... have fun girls!" (addressed to Rick's 4 colleagues)

Rick moans, desperation in his voice. "It's not fair... I can't take it anymore!"

(Rick's four colleagues, encouraged by Terry's words, resume their work with renewed vigor. Their hands move with cruel precision, bringing Rick back to the brink. He moans, his body taut like a violin string.)

Molly, bending down to whisper in his ear in a voice that is a mixture of threat and promise: "You should have thought of it before, Rick... Now apologize and you will find relief!"

Nancy, on the other hand, adds, her fingers tracing circles on her skin: "Yes, but you also have to promise that you will stop treating us badly!"

Fanny, interrupting her work to look him straight in the eye, utters the most humiliating condition: "And besides, we want to hear you say, 'I'm a pony, I've got a ridiculous dick, and I'm begging you to play with it!'"

Rick hesitates. The inner struggle is evident on every tense muscle of hers. Physical need is an unbearable pressure, but the humiliation of words is a huge obstacle. The four women, synchronized, resume, take him to the limit again and then stop again. Relief is still brutally denied, leaving him in a terrible suspension.

A heartbroken moan escapes him. The resistance collapses. With a broken voice, full of shame and absolute despair, he repeats the phrase: "I apologize. I'm a pony, I've got a ridiculous little dick, and I beg you to play with it!"

(Rick's words, humiliating and broken, echo through the room. A silence full of expectation follows them.)

The four colleagues rejoice. Shouts of triumph, wide smiles and looks of complicity exchange with each other. They won.

The five friends, Carrie, Annabelle, Susie, Pilar and Terry, applaud. It is not a thunderous applause, but slow, measured, enjoyed. They observe the spectacle from their seats, their faces reflect a perverse pleasure, the satisfaction of seeing their power exercised to the end.

And finally, as a reward for her submission, the four colleagues resume the interrupted work. Their attentions return to him, this time without interruption, with the sole purpose of completing what had been started, granting him the release he had so desperately begg.

(The room is saturated with tension and humiliation. The hands of the four colleagues move over him with a cruel and synchronized rhythm, while their voices alternate, weaving a web of shame around Rick, naked and bound.)

Nancy, firmly clutching her member's base, looks down on him with contempt. "And to think," she says, her voice a mixture of disappointment and sadistic amusement, "that I would have been satisfied with these thirteen centimeters... but you behaved too badly, Rick. Too bad to deserve even this."

His hand moves with a sharp stroke, emphasizing each word. Immediately after, it's Molly's turn. He leans out, his warm breath on his cheek as his hand takes the place of Nancy's, quickening the pace. "My friend," he whispers, and the affectionate hypocrisy of the term makes Rick shudder, "I told you a thousand times not to play with fire. And look at you now. Here you are... naked and humiliated by the very ones you wanted to see naked and humiliated."

Fanny intervenes, her grip is lighter, almost playful, but her words are like blades. "You wanted to fuck us," he laughs, a sharp, sharp laugh. "With this little thing, then! And yet here you are, begging us to play with your dick. Isn't that fun?" His fingers stroke the tip, giving him a shiver of pleasure.

(Fanny's words echo through the room, mingling with Rick's labored breathing. Then, it's Annabelle's turn. His expression is the hardest, his eyes full of a dark and long-simmering satisfaction.)

Taylor approaches, his hand resting on Fanny's, taking control with a decisive gesture. His grip is firm, implacable. "I," he says, his voice low and full of venom, "had been dreaming of revenge for months. But never, never did I think I'd do it like this." His hand begins to move in a brutal rhythm, up and down, his skin rubbing with a wet, shameful sound. "You. Naked. Tied. Humiliated. Begging me to saw your dick... "A pause full of contempt. "... revealed as a pony, and not as a stallion."

His words are the coup de grace. Rick moans, a choked sound coming out of his throat. His body stiffens, the muscles of his abdomen contract violently. He can no longer resist.

A deep tremor runs through him, then explodes. A long, liberating moan escapes his lips as streams of hot white seed spurt into the air, falling over his stomach, his thighs, the polished floor at his feet. Taylor doesn't stop. She continues to move her hand, accompanying each spasm, squeezing out every last drop of pleasure and shame.

(Rick's body is shaken by the last, faint spasms. Taylor watches his work with cold satisfaction, his hand still soaked in his seed.)

When the contractions finally stop, Taylor lets go with a dismissive gesture, as if she has gotten rid of something disgusting. Rick's member, now flaccid and moist, quickly retracts on itself, a small, pathetic thing against his exhausted body.

Rick has no strength left. With a stifled moan, his body gives way and leans heavily against the cold wood of the Swedish painting to which he is tied, the ropes biting his wrists. His breathing is a labored gasp, his glassy eyes fixed in space, covered with sweat and humiliation.

Around him, his colleagues rejoice. Nancy claps her hands with a triumphant smile, Molly lets out a cry of victory, Fanny laughs at the top of her lungs. Taylor crosses her arms, a smile of pure, icy revenge printed on her lips.

From the corner of the room, where her friends have observed the whole scene, a thunderous applause breaks out. Clapping hands, whistles of approval, laughter. It is the final chorus of his defeat.

Another, terrible humiliation has been accomplished. Another shameful chapter written in this interminable weekend.

(The gym is lit by neon lights, the smell of sweat and chlorine is still in the air. The equipment glitters under the lights, silent witnesses of the humiliation. Annabelle and Susie, with quick and expert movements, untie the knots that kept Rick tied to the Swedish painting. The wrists, marked by light red furrows, finally free themselves. Terry, with a smile like a cat in heat, turns to Taylor.)

Terry: Well, Taylor... You choose now the additional punishment that our stallion deserved, oops I meant pony!

(Taylor crosses her arms, her gaze slipping to Rick, who is now standing, naked and with his head down, his body tense awaiting the verdict. A flash of doubt runs across her face.)

Taylor: And if he doesn't obey?

(Carrie, leaning against the back of a stationary bike, nonchalantly pulls out her phone. He waves it lightly in the air, like a trophy.)

Carrie: Don't worry, since yesterday we have had a photo identical to the one you deleted, only with us in your place! In case of disobedience, Rick already knows that it will be sent to all of his past, present, and future female acquaintances!

A general laugh, sharp and mocking, bounces off the mirror-lined walls. Rick doesn't even look up, embarrassed as never before in life.

(Taylor's face lights up with a sadistic smile, his lips stretched in a curve of pure perverse pleasure. The other three colleagues also rejoice, exchanging complicit looks and stifling giggles behind their hands. The echo of their voices mixes with the hum of the gym lights.)

Taylor: Very well. Then from tomorrow and for a week you will work in the office under our orders, and do not dare to disobey us!

(Rick, finally free but still naked, slowly lifts his head. His gaze is dull, but a last glimmer of masculine pride tries to revive. He tries to straighten his shoulders, an almost pathetic gesture in his total nakedness.)

Rick: I knew you were going to decide this... Ok, do I also have to bring my waiter's uniform to serve you coffee?

(His voice seeks a contemptuous tone, but a slight crack betrays the tension. He tries to recover a shred of his lost boldness.)

Rick: Sooner or later you'll pay me... all of them!

(Taylor takes a step forward, approaching him. His gaze descends along his naked body, a cold and evaluative exploration. His smile becomes even sharper.)

Taylor: No, dear... you don't have to bring any uniform... because throughout the week, in the office, including your lunch break, you will STAY NAKED!

(The gym is immersed in an atmosphere of feminine triumph. The neon lights seem colder, sharper, reflecting off the metal tools and mirrors that multiply Rick's humiliated image. The screams and applause of Taylor's three colleagues resound like a standing ovation, while Rick's five friends, on the sidelines, nod in satisfaction, congratulating Taylor on the exemplary punishment.)

Rick, his face a magma of shame and terror, stammers: "What?? Are you kidding? The director will fire me! I don't want to lose my place!"

Fanny, with an icy calm, intervenes: "The director is on a mission to the office outside the region for the whole week ... if you behave well, he will never know!"

But Rick's desperation looks for another foothold: "But the interns ... and the customers who will come for the new advertising contracts... "

Molly, with a mocking smile, plunges the knife into the wound: "The interns will be happy to find out that your cobra is actually a worm and you have harassed them for nothing... customers will have a diversion to have fun while signing contracts!"

(The atmosphere in the gym is charged with deliberate and collective humiliation. The echo of laughter sticks to the tile walls.)

Rick, his voice choked with anguish: "No, please, don't do this to me... And then even the lunch break? In the canteen with all the colleagues from the other departments?"

Nancy, her finger pointed like a weapon at Rick's groin, a smile of cruel triumph on her lips: "Exactly! All the ones you bragged and superman with... so they will understand that you are a liar... only instead of having short legs, you have a dick!"

A general laugh, a mocking chorus, explodes from the nine women present. Rick, an instinctive defensive movement, covers the package with both hands. His face turns into a mask of shame, a purple so intense that it seems feverish, burning at the mere thought of the horror that awaits him from tomorrow.

The four colleagues approach the group of Rick's five friends. Their thanks are whispered, but full of a vindictive joy.

Then, like a platoon turning in perfect synchrony, the four turn to Rick, still curled up on himself. They raise their hands, and with an identical and blatant gesture, form the universal sign of the "small pea" with their index finger and thumb. Their voices merge into a perfect chorus, sharp as a scalpel: "See you tomorrow in the office, Rick... with you and your little dick!"

The sentence remains suspended in the humid air of the gym like a sentence. Without saying anything else, the four walk away at a brisk pace, their rhythmic jerks on the floor moving away, to return to the other room and resume their exercises as if nothing extraordinary had happened. They leave behind the sudden silence, broken only by Rick's labored breathing.

He drags himself towards Carrie, his eyes shining with despair. His voice is a gasp, a last, pathetic plea: "Carrie... I beg you. Don't give Taylor that photo. I'm sure he'll blackmail me for life!"

Carrie stares at him with an expression that is neither cruel nor compassionate, but simply pragmatic. Shrug your shoulders in a light gesture. "Don't worry," he says, his voice flat. "I've already shot the photo. But to Molly. She is your friend, you can trust her."

The declaration falls like a stone into the pond. There is no comfort in those words, only confirmation that her fate is already sealed, that the image of her naked and vulnerable body is already on its way, out of her control.

Next to them, Terry lets out a short, sharp cough, almost a stifled giggle. He approaches, placing a hand on Rick's outstretched shoulder in a gesture that would like to be reassuring but that only sounds like a further mockery. "Come on," he says, his voice laden with false optimism. "Soon you will be the one to see us naked at the nudist beach! And maybe there will also be the interns and colleagues you talk about! It's a fair exchange, isn't it?"

The other friends – Susie, Pilar, Annabelle – nod silently, their gazes ranging from Rick to Carrie and then back to him, watching his agony with a mixture of curiosity and cold satisfaction.

Terry gives Rick a slight push towards the showers. "Now," he concludes, his voice assuming a definitive commanding tone, "go and shower yourself, it's late."

9-THE SURPRISE BEACH

(The scene moves to the separate locker rooms of the "Muscles of Steel" gym. The sound of flowing water is the only noise. Rick is alone, under the hot jet of the shower in the men's locker room, his body still shaken by the shivers of humiliation. On the other side of the wall, in the women's locker room, the five friends wash themselves quickly, the atmosphere is different, full of complicity and an excited sense of amused guilt.)

Terry, as he dries his hair, with a thoughtful expression, "Poor Rick... Maybe we have exaggerated?"
Carrie, putting on a tiny fuchsia bikini, with a hard look: "Not at all! Do you forget six months of humiliating jokes he played on us?"
Susie, adjusting the bra of her triangle swimsuit, uncertainly: "But maybe we could spare him this one from the beach... "
Annabelle, hopping to put on a leopard-print cloth thong, laughs: "What are you saying? It's the funniest part! Do you want to put how he will stay when he finds out the truth?"
Pilar: "Yes, but even naked for a week in the office, at the mercy of anyone... and then you report us for fear of losing your job?"
Terry: "Don't worry, I talked to Taylor before she left... they will make him stay naked until tomorrow's lunch break, and only in their office where at most there will be the four interns who bother ... then they will give him back his clothes, making him commit himself not to make fun of them anymore!"
Pilar, nodding as she ties her hair in a high ponytail: "Of course we're really sadistic... but after all it's okay, who forgets it this weekend anymore?"

(The five girls come out of the women's locker room, perfumed, dressed in bold beach outfits that highlight every curve. Rick had been waiting for them for a long time outside his locker room, motionless, naked and awkward, his skin still damp. The contrast between his complete abandonment and their studied preparation is grotesque. Together they head to the reception.)

The group greets the secretaries at the reception, Lorraine and Georgia, who observe them with sparkling eyes of amused mischief.

Lorraine and Georgia, in chorus, addressed Rick in melodious and cruel voices: "Thank you for the unforgettable show!"

Rick blanches, his naked body seems to stiffen further. His voice comes out choked: "How? Did you see? And how is this possible?"

The two secretaries burst into open and coarse laughter.

Lorraine, wiping a tear of amusement: "Security cameras... We enjoyed your punishment until the end!"

Georgia, adding with a grin, her eyes deliberately falling down: "And congratulations on the transformation of that worm into a stick... and for the fireworks he shoots!"

General laughter, explosive and liberating, rises in the reception. The five friends join the secretaries, laughing out loud, while Rick turns red. A violent blush rises from his neck to his ears.

With a primal instinct, her hands snap forward, crossing to cover her sex. She tries to hide that "pea" now at rest, reduced, after the emotional turmoil, to the famous, miserable six centimeters of which Georgia has just spoken with so much contempt. His trembling fingers press against the sensitive skin, in a gesture that is both defense and desperate admission of defeat.

(Sunday morning is silent, the road that leads from the sports center to the lido is deserted. Rick walks with his head down, his hands firmly pressed against the package, goosebumps from the fresh air and embarrassment. The five friends follow him a few steps away, their amused looks burning his bare back. Finally, the gate of the Naturist Lido "Spiaggia Libera" appears in front of them. Behind the entrance counter, Connie, the lifeguard with a sunny smile and her hair tied up in a ponytail, looks up from the register. Her dark eyes rest on Rick and an expression of pleasant surprise lights up her face.)

Connie: "Hi Rick! Ready to enter? You didn't even waste time with the costume, I see."

Rick, with a sigh that seems to come from the depths of his soul: "Connie, it's a long story..."

Connie, leaning against the counter with a complicit grin: "Well, if what you've always told me about what you hide behind those hands is true... I'll finally see your twenty-centimeter cobra!"

(A thunderous and collective laughter explodes behind him. Pilar wipes a tear from laughing.)

Pilar: "Oh, Connie, you're going to have a shocking vision, I assure you!"

Terry, crossing his arms defiantly: "Did he brag with you too to take you to bed? Another two of spades on the way!"

Rick, blushing to the roots of his hair, says in a stifled voice: "Girls, please stop it..."

Connie, still smiling but with a slightly confused expression, does not fully grasp the dynamics but makes a wide gesture with her hand: "Okay, okay, come in. You girls, the women's locker room is on the right. You, Rick... well, you're more than ready already. You can go straight to the beach!"

(More muffled giggles spread through the group. The five friends walk towards the locker room, but before disappearing, one of them turns around.)

Pilar: "Wait for us under the umbrella with the five sunbeds, Rick! Don't be shy, in a few minutes you will see us ALL NUDE!"

Rick breathes a deep sigh of relief, almost a hiss. At last. He will no longer be the only nude in a world of clothes. And, a thought that accelerates his heartbeat, he will soon see them too, free from all fabric. With a mixture of trepidation and relief, he slowly takes his hands off the package. For a moment, he feels strangely free, exposed to the salty air. He takes a decisive step, crossing the threshold of the entrance to the lido... but then he puts them back on a moment later, his eyes wide open from what he sees!

His certainty crumbles like a sand castle under a wave. The beach is teeming with life, but it is a life he did not expect. Every umbrella, as thick as trees in a forest, is occupied. And under every umbrella, on every towel, lying or standing, there are women. Hundreds, maybe thousands. No man in sight. And none of them is naked. One-piece swimsuits, bold bikinis, but not an uncovered breast, not a free backside. The air, once full of nudist freedom, is now saturated for him only with the scents of sunscreen, stifled giggles and curious glances that rest on him like butterflies on a unique flower.

Rick, his voice choked by amazement and an embarrassment that rises from his bowels, murmurs to himself:
"But... But this is the nudist beach. I'm sure of it. What the fuck is going on?"

The sand burns under his bare feet as he begins an awkward, hurried run to the only landmark he recognizes: their umbrella in the distance. The path seems very long. Every step is accompanied by looks, smiles, whispers. Some women pretend to look away, others observe it openly, with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He keeps his gaze fixed in front of him, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and the feeling of being a rare specimen in a glass case.

Finally he reaches the umbrella. He gasps slightly. Below it, only five white plastic beds, lined up in perfect order. No towels. No tarp. Nothing that can offer even a shred of cover to her nakedness. Confusion turns into bewilderment.

Rick, speaking to himself in a low, confused voice, "Where am I? Why is there nothing? What the hell..."

(Just then, a chorus of female voices, cheerful and ringing, explodes behind him.)

SURPRISEYY!!!

(She turns abruptly, her hands still tightly down to protect her privacy. In front of him, smiling and beaming, are his five friends. Terry, in a fiery red bikini. Pilar, in an elegant blue one-piece swimsuit. Susie, with a two-piece with black and white polka dots. Carrie, in an emerald green tankini. And Annabelle, in a lavender sports swimsuit. They are all there, in swimsuits, and not naked! The expression on Rick's face is a mixture of total disbelief, embarrassment, and confusion.)

Terry, laughing out loud, "What's wrong, Rick, something?"

The others join in the laughter, their eyes shining with mischievous amusement as they watch Rick's bewildered reaction, completely naked and vulnerable in their midst, pathetically with his hands on the package, surrounded by a beach full of only clothed women.

Rick, his face a magma of shame and frustration, looks at his friends one by one. "What's going on? It's a nudist beach, so why are you all in costume? And why don't I see a single other man in it?"

Pilar puts her hand to her mouth, feigning a guilty expression. "Oops, Rick... we 'forgot' that this is a nudist beach, but today is CFNM day!"

Susie nods with a toothy smile. "It means 'Clothed Females, Naked Males'! Clothed women and naked men, darling."

Carrie adjusts her tankini, her eyes shining. "We women are obliged, by regulation, to wear a swimsuit. While you boys ... well, you are obliged to stay as nature has made you. Naked and with a pea in the wind."

Annabelle makes a sweeping gesture towards the crowded beach. "And since today the rule is that women must be dressed, that's why it's so crowded. There are not only nudist women, but practically almost all women in the city!

Terry leans forward, his voice a whisper full of amusement. "And you're the only 'brave' boy on this whole beach... bravo! The others are not there because either they are not nudists or they do not want non-nudist women to see them naked!"

A collective laugh, sharp and joyful, rises from the five friends, echoing among the umbrellas and attracting even more attention. Rick feels the heat of the blush rise from his neck to his ears, while his pea, already small at rest, seems to shrink even smaller behind the hands with which he covers it.

Rick snaps, his voice choked by humiliation. "It's not fair! You have deceived me again! I don't want to, there must be dozens of women I know... here!"

All five, in unison, point an accusing finger at him and exclaim: "EXACTLY!"

Pilar crosses her arms, her smile becoming sharper. "Did you really believe, after everything that happened, that you could see us naked? You're more naïve than you thought."

Terry makes a snide gesture towards her crotch. "Maybe you still haven't quite figured out how it works, Rick. You will never have that privilege. We, on the other hand... "
Annabelle completes Terry's sentence with a grin, pointing with two fingers to an imaginary ridiculous length. "... We now know every inch of your body by heart. And six centimeters in particular, they became quite familiar."

A new wave of laughter shakes the group. Rick is red, his body tense, his hands instinctively tightening the package more and more.

Susie lifts a finger, like a teacher explaining an important rule. "Oh, and there are a couple of ground rules for CFNM days, Rick. The first: you can't be a piglet alone with your pea. If the need really becomes urgent, you must politely ask a woman to do it for you."

Carrie nods, serious only for a moment. "And the second rule is even simpler: you are not allowed to cover yourself. In no way. Not even with your hands. Otherwise... "

While Rick listens, shocked, to the words that paint his prison of humiliation, a high-pitched and authoritarian whistle pierces the festive air of the beach. It's a lifeguard whistle.

Everyone turns around. A woman in a fiery red one-piece swimsuit, athletic and stern, is catapulting towards them on the sand. It's Connie, in her sexy lifeguard outfit.

He stops in front of them, his hands on his hips, his gaze scrutinizing Rick.

Connie: "Rick, I even congratulated you on the courage to be the only man today. And what do you do instead? Do you cover yourself with your hands, blatantly violating the basic rules?"

His voice is sharp, designed to be heard nearby. Some women on nearby sunbeds raise themselves on their elbows, interested in the show.

Connie points an accusing finger at his hands, still half-lowered. "Get those hands off your trinket. Right away. Or you can't stay here. Decide."

(The five friends observe the scene with expressions of pure amusement, exchanging complicit glances. Rick is petrified, his heart beating wildly in his chest, torn between the humiliation of obeying in front of everyone and the fear of being chased away, naked, in the middle of the street.)

Rick, his voice full of frustration: "Connie, they dragged me here by deception, I want to leave!"

Connie nods, a dry gesture. "Good. The choice is yours. Then you can get out of the fence of the lido at once."

Hope flashes in Rick's eyes. "Can I have at least one towel? To cover up a bit... "

Connie shakes her head, determined. "Absolutely not. On CFNM day, it is explicitly forbidden to provide any cover to men. You will have to leave as you are. Naked."

Pilar approaches, whispering in his ear with false sweetness: "Hear, Rick? Choose. Or do you stay naked here, under the eyes of all these nice women, until tonight... or you go naked around the city. The choice is yours."

Terry adds, chuckling, "Maybe this time, if you go out, they'll actually arrest you for indecency!"

Rick, feeling himself in a vice, explodes: "And that's fine! You scammed me again! But I swear that... "

Susie interrupts him with a wave of her hand, tired. "Ok, ok... We will pay dearly one day, we know. You've said it before. Now, however, hands off there."

Rick looks at Connie, the embarrassment burning his skin. "Connie, ok... Thank you. I understand the rules. You can go, now."

Connie crosses her arms over her chest, a sarcastic smile that puckers her lips. "Not at all, Rick. First: I am the head lifeguard and I have to make sure personally, visually, that the rules are respected to the letter. And according to... " His voice becomes lower, charged with a mischievous intention. "... I don't see why I should miss the opportunity to finally see that twenty-centimeter 'cobra' you have been talking to me so much about for months, to convince me to accept your invitation to dinner."

Annabelle, Pilar, Terry, Susie and Carrie burst into a stifled laugh, exchanging glances of complicity. "Oh, there it is," Carrie whispers. "The new two of spades is coming."

Rick becomes earthy. "But really, Connie, that was... it was a way of saying... "

Connie silences him with an authoritarian gesture. "No 'buts'. It's my job. Come on, hurry up, I also have to help out at the bar afterwards!"

Rick, overwhelmed by resignation and helpless fury, closes his eyes for a second. "Ok. All right. But I repeat that you will pay me all." Reluctantly, with a movement that seems to tear from his body, he pulls his arms away from his hips and lets them fall to his sides, completely exposing his nakedness to Connie's implacable judgment and the amused gaze of the five friends.

Connie immediately stares at Rick's crotch, his professional gaze turning into an expression of expectation, convinced that she has to admire an above-average endowment, as promised.

Instead, his eyes widen. Her mouth opens in a perfect circle of genuine, total disappointment. There, between Rick's pale thighs, hangs limp, insignificant, a pea that at best measures five or six centimeters.

It's just a moment. Then, a sound breaks the tense silence: laughter. Not a giggle, but a real hysterical explosion, raw and uncontrollable, which comes out of her throat as she points a trembling finger at him.

Rick, at the sound of that laugh, has a gasp. Every fiber of his body screams at him to cover himself, to hide that source of shame. His hands twitch, his fingers move a millimeter towards his groin, but they stop instantly, recalling the threat of expulsion. He remains there, stiffened, to suffer.

Connie manages to speak between laughs, her words as sharp as shards of glass. "And that... Ha ha ha!... Would it be the 'Cobra'? Those... Oh God... Would it be the twenty centimeters? But are you serious? My six-year-old nephew is more gifted than you, Rick! Watch it! It's tiny!"

Her laughter infects the others, who now laugh openly, no longer holding back. Rick desperately tries to stem the tide of humiliation.

Rick, his voice choked, tries to explain: "It's not... It's not like that! I'm a grower! When he gets excited, he gets more... bigger!"

But his words are drowned out by a new wave of humiliating jokes.

Connie rages, wiping a tear from laughter: "A grower? Does it grow up to be a twelve-year-old's dick then? Impressive!"

Then again, mimicking a ridiculous measurement with his thumb and forefinger: "Maybe you meant twenty millimeters, Rick. You have the wrong unit of measurement!"

Connie then composes herself satisfied. "Well, at least the 'cobra' is a fitting name. The newborn ones are poisonous, but small and creeping. Very apt."

Rick remains silent, his face a mask of burning shame, forced to suffer that mockery under the scorching sun, his hands nailed to his sides in terror of being chased away naked in the street. Then, with his eyes downcast and his face on fire, he looks for one last defense. "I swear that when he's in the shot he gets a lot bigger... It's not that small, really... and they know it, even if they pretend not!"

Connie looks down on him, a look of bitter disgust on her face. "You're not the stallion you boasted about anyway, you liar!" He turns to leave, but stops after two steps, turning around again. "Ah, I forgot: obviously forget any possibility with me, since you were a liar. And then... " A cruel smile puckers her lips. "... If you're really a grower, I'm sure I'll find out until tonight. The day is long... unlike something else!" He concludes with an unmistakable gesture: he points to his dick with a nod of his chin, while with his other hand he forms a tiny circle with his thumb and forefinger, swinging it with contempt.

Then she leaves, her laughter mixing with those, now free and thunderous, of Rick's five friends.

Terry, as soon as Connie is out of earshot, rubs his hands. "So, let's recap, Rick... Annabelle, Geena, Mya, Georgia, Lorraine, Fanny and now Connie... we are at seven two of spades in less than twenty-four hours! A record!"

Susie nods, mockingly. "Basically, more two of spades than centimeters of pea!"

A new burst of laughter shakes the group. Rick, disconsolate and angry, can no longer stand those laughs. Without saying a word, she turns around and goes to lie down on her stomach on the sunbed under the umbrella, trying to hide her face and her floppy member.

Terry immediately comments: "That's it, yes! Show your ass, which is definitely more presentable!"

More laughter follows his comment. Then, Carrie and Annabelle approach, confabulating in a low voice, whispering and casting mischievous glances at Rick. Then they go to report something to the other three, who listen and start smiling, nodding complicitly.

10-CONTINUOUS EMBARRASSMENT UNDER THE SUN

The five women, as if by an agreed signal, then begin their performance. They pass the bottles of sunscreen, starting to spread it on top of each other right in front of Rick's forced gaze. It is not a hasty operation. It's slow, deliberately sensual. They rub the cream on wide backs, on sinuous hips, on the décolleté that comes out of the swimsuits. Rick, wherever he turns his gaze from his bed, crosses the vision of some of his friends intent on this sexy operation, their hands sliding on their shiny skin, their fingers sinking into their curves, their fake moans of pleasure for the application.

His body, traitorous, reacts. A tingling, then a slight swelling. Pilar, who is watching him like a hawk, does not miss the opportunity. "Oh, look," he says in a mellifluous voice, nodding his head to his crotch. "The grower is showing signs of life. Maybe he's hoping for a miracle."

Then, changing his tone, he adds as if nothing had happened: "By the way, Rick, you also have to put on sunscreen. With that boiled fish skin, you risk a third-degree sunburn."

Rick, trying to ignore the budding erection, mutters, "I'll do it myself, thank you. Pass it to me and I'll take care of it."

But the five girls, in unison, respond with a firm chorus: "No, Rick! We'll take care of it!"

Before he can react, they pounce on him. Five pairs of hands grab him by the arms and legs, lifting him by force from the bed and placing him standing in the center of their circle. It is surrounded.

"It needs to be applied carefully," Annabelle says, pouring a generous amount of cold, white cream directly onto her chest.

The hands begin to work it. With the excuse of sunscreen, they caress and feel it everywhere. Fingers slide over her pectorals, down her hips, over her thighs. They massage it and touch it everywhere, their nails sometimes scratching lightly, their palms pressing insistently. Then, in turn, they devote themselves to his most intimate parts.

"These are very delicate parts," Susie whispers, taking her balls in her creamy hand, massaging them with exasperating slowness. "They must be oiled well, otherwise the skin will crack."

Carrie walks past him, her fingers grasping his dick, now completely erect, hard and throbbing. She rubs it along the shaft in circular motions, smearing the cream with cruel precision. "See?" she says, looking him in the eye. "Maybe it's not twenty centimeters... But something has grown again. A real little man."

Rick is at the mercy of their hands. Pleasure, forced and humiliating, is mixed with anger and shame. A lump rises in his throat, while his body betrays all his resistance. His breathing becomes labored, the muscles of his thighs tense. She is about to orgasm, the tension is at its peak, impossible to hold.

Just then, when she is about to, Pilar raises her voice, decisive and sharp.

"Stop! Oiled enough!"

All hands retract instantly, leaving him there, standing, naked, covered in shiny white cream, with a trembling, unfinished erection, in the middle of their mocking circle. Rick, still trembling and covered in cream, protests in a broken voice. "It's not fair! That's not fair! You'll pay for this too, I swear!"

Terry raises an eyebrow, mockingly. "What did you believe, Rick? That we were supposed to entertain you? Have we given you permission to enjoy?"

Pilar nods, a fake smile on her face. "You're in punishment, dear. We have only thought about the health of your skin. It was our duty as friends."

The mocking laughter of five o'clock accompanies him as, blushing to the roots of his hair, he walks quickly towards the bathroom cabin.

Susie, seeing him go away, puts her hands into a megaphone and shouts all over the beach: "Look at everyone! A stick that's about to be sawn in the bathroom!"

The women of the nearby umbrellas turn in unison. Dozens of eyes rest on Rick, naked, shiny with cream, with an erection still evident that he tries to hide. Laughter spreads among the umbrellas.

Just then, suddenly, Connie's shrill whistle rang out. The head lifeguard comes with quick steps, grabbing Rick by the arm with a firm grip.

"Rick, what are you doing?" he asks, then his gaze slips towards his crotch. His eyes stop, and a flash of interest crosses his face. "Mmmm... not bad. Even if it's not twenty centimeters, anyway... It's true that you're a grower."

Rick, blushing violently, tries to wriggle out. "Connie, it's my right to go to the bathroom! Leave me!"

Connie shakes her head, her predatory smile coming back to make its way. "Of course, of course, it's your right. But there is a small problem. The men's bathroom today has no doors. They have been dismantled. Because, as you well know, it is forbidden to masturbate alone during the CFNM Day. Fundamental rule."

Rick, disconsolate, tries to explain. "But it's their fault! They turned me on and... They left me like that!"

Connie crosses her arms. "It's CFNM Day, Rick. It is their right to be able to touch you at will. You, on the other hand, cannot touch them... and not even yourself. Clear rules."

"So how do I do it?" begs Rick, desperation in his voice.

Connie shrugs, as if the solution is obvious. "Simple. Ask a woman to make you. Obviously, with a lot of politeness, because it's a favor he's doing you."

A thunderous and thunderous applause starts from Rick's five friends, immediately followed by the laughter and amused comments of the other women of the beach who witness the scene.

Rick, angry and humiliated, stares at the ground. Then he looks up, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "Ok. But I'm not giving it up this time." He turns to Connie, trying to keep his tone as dignified as possible. "Connie, please... You could... help me?"

Connie interrupts him with a wave of her hand. "Rick, I'll tell you... " He approaches, and with a quick move, grabs his dick, starting to play with it, his fingers moving expertly along the shaft. "... On the one hand, I would really like to play with this beautiful pole. It's nice, when it's hard like this."

His grip becomes more decisive, his movements more rhythmic. Rick lets out a muffled moan, his eyes close, his body stiffens. He is one step away again, the pleasure that mounts inexorably.

But Connie slows down, then stops altogether. "... But on the other hand," she continues, her voice suddenly cold, "I'm still angry because you lied to me. You tried to get me to bed with a lie. And then... " He lets go suddenly, just as Rick is about to orgasm, cruelly denying it to him. "... are on duty. I can't."

Rick lets out a wail of frustration, his body trembling from the unreleased tension.

Between his protests and pleas, Connie grabs him by the shoulder and sends him back to her umbrella, accompanying the push with a couple of loud spankings on his bare, still cream-shiny bottom.

"Away! Go back to your seat!" he orders, laughing openly while he, staggering and humiliated, returns to the circle of his friends, under the eyes of the whole beach that continues to laugh and comment on the scene. Rick returns disconsolate to his friends, his head down, unable to look them in the face. Their mocking voices welcome him like a shower of pins.

Pilar crosses her arms, triumphant. "See, Rick? If you want to come, you have to ask us please. It's the rule."

Terry nods, a mischievous smile on his lips. "Exactly. Even today we are the masters of your little pea, dear. We decide when and if."

Annabelle raises a fist in the air, cheering. "W the CFNM! Nice idea, these days on the beach!"

Rick feels the urgent physical need to come. The frustration and pent-up excitement are unbearable. With a sigh that seems to tear his soul apart, he finally looks up. "Girls... Please. Will you make me?"

The five cheer in unison, a cry of victory that attracts even more attention. They got his total surrender.

Carrie, however, makes a gesture with her hand, calming her enthusiasm. "After. Perhaps. For now... " he says, and his gaze shifts towards the blue and inviting sea. "... there is another way to cool your hot spirits."

Susie completes the sentence, jumping up. "A nice swim in the sea with us! Let's go up!"

Before Rick can protest, he is grabbed. Pilar and Terry take him by the arms, Annabelle and Susie push him from behind with loud spankings, and Carrie leads the way. Thus begins a humiliating walk that crosses the entire beach, from their umbrella to the shoreline.

Rick pleads, his voice choked with shame. "No, please don't do it... we don't cross the whole beach... "

But it's all in vain. His naked and still partially greasy body is pushed and dragged forward. Along the way, under the umbrellas of that CFNM Sunday, there are thousands of women, all in swimsuits. Rick desperately hopes not to meet any acquaintances, but it is a vain hope.

Meet the two lifeguards at the pool where he trains. "Oh, look who you see! The champion!" says one, laughing. "But the 'cannon' isn't quite as you described it, eh Rick?" comments the other, pointing to her erect pea.

Then it's the turn of the cashiers at his supermarket. "Average pole... And you boasted of twenty? What a liar!" exclaims one, while the other shakes her head in mock disappointment.

The postwomen, sitting in the sun, glared at him. "So the 'urgent' registered letters were all excuses to show us this?" says one, and they burst out laughing.

His accountant's accountants look up from their tablets. "Well, at least now we can make a precise deduction... on your real size," says a professional tone that clashes with the situation.

The beautician she attends raises an eyebrow. "At rest it will certainly be even smaller, I imagine. You had to get a facelift treatment, Rick, nothing else!"

His hairdresser, seeing him pass, comments aloud with her friend: "Look! The one who told me he had a horse between his legs! But it's a pony, dear! A pony!"

Even Morgana and Agatha, his close policewomen, met the night before; Agatha: "So is it true that you are a grower? Even if more than a club it is a stick!" Morgana: "And you're also a pervert, since you get excited to be seen naked by hundreds of dressed women!"

Rick blazes with shame, every joke is a stab. His friends, around him, do nothing but feed the fire.

"Finally everyone knows the truth!" shouts Pilar, laughing.

"Goodbye to your super-gifted lies!" Terry whispers in his ear, as he pushes him forward.

The path to the sea seems to never end, a grotesque procession under the sun, with her naked and erect body exposed to the judgment and laughter of every woman she has deceived. Finally they arrive at the sea. Rick finds momentary, miserable relief by diving, hoping that the water will hide him. But the icy sea water gives it a bad effect "over there": its pea, in short, first goes back to rest and then retracts even more, reducing itself to a miserable button of three centimeters at most.

His friends, who observe him like hawks, immediately understand the situation. They exchange complicit glances and, perfidiously, decide to stay in the water for a good half hour, playing football, playing dead, laughing and splashing, while Rick is still trembling from humiliation.

Then, Carrie looks at her watch and announces, "Good, girls. It's time to get back under the umbrella. You can't stay too long in the water, you get cold."

Rick stalls, trying to stay up to his neck submerged. "Wait... I... I'll stay a little longer... "

"But no, Rick, come on!" says Susie, grabbing him by the arm. "Come on, come and warm up in the sun!"

He is pulled up by the arms, naked, trembling and with his dick reduced to a tiny and shriveled thing. The humiliating procession is repeated in the opposite direction.

They cross paths again with all the women from before. The two lifeguards of the pool, seeing him pass, burst out laughing. "Oh, but look! He has shrunk and is almost gone!" exclaims one. "Three centimeters? Rick, it was better if you didn't show it at all!" comments the other.

The supermarket cashiers put their hand over their mouths so as not to laugh too loudly, without succeeding. "From twenty to three... What a collapse in the stock market!" sneers one.

The postwomen stare at him with an air of mocking pity. "Poor thing, he has really withdrawn into himself!" says one, and the other adds: "Like his 'important' letters, all smoke and no roast!"

The accountant's accountants observe the scene with professional detachment. "A 90% depreciation of capital. Impressive!" he murmurs to each other, taking imaginary notes.

The beautician whistles in amazement. "But it's smaller than my pinky finger! Rick, honey, next time I'll recommend a filler!"

The hairdresser, seeing him pass by for the second time, shouts to her friend: "Look! The pony has become a foal! But a newborn foal!"

The policewomen: "Now we recognize him!"

New humiliating jokes and coarse laughter rise from every umbrella. Rick is now red with shame, a blush that starts from his neck and reaches his ears. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ground, on the grains of sand, wishing only that it would open and swallow him. Arrived under the umbrella, Rick vents to the five friends, his voice broken by anger and humiliation. "Enough is enough! You humiliated me with the whole city! That's not fair! I hate you!"

The five women burst out laughing, a loud and merciless laugh.

Pilar crosses her arms. "You could have thought of it before, dear, when you humiliated us with your shots."

Terry nods, serious. "Six months of putting up with your idiotic jokes. It's only two days of this for you. You're lucky."

Susie leans forward. "Well, plus the week in the office... but even there you deserved it, didn't you?"

Annabelle shrugs, as if it were obvious. "After all, now they all know that you are average in shooting. What are you complaining about?"

Carrie makes the point, in an almost reasonable tone. "Yes. No one really cares how much she measures at rest. What matters is that it's hard, decent-sized and working when it's on pull... and today you have practically put on a show in front of thousands of witnesses on this very one!"

General laughter. Rick becomes more and more red, feeling nailed by their words.

At that moment Connie arrives, approaching with a relaxed step. "Girls, I'm on break. Do you have a cigarette?" Then her gaze falls on Rick, naked and heartbroken. "Rick, what happened to you? Where is the stick from before, did you lose it in the sea?"

New general laughter rises from the group.

Rick shakes his head, exhausted. "Stop it, Connie. It's not fair."

Connie, instead of moving away, approaches Rick with a suddenly tender and sensual manner. He leans towards him. "Rick, come on, we're joking... " he whispers, his voice low and caressing. "Here at the nudist beach I have seen hundreds of them with peas smaller than yours ... And then, what matters is when he is on the line, right?! "

As he speaks, his hand reaches out and he begins to play, with almost studied delicacy, with Rick's numb pea.

Rick has a gasp, a shiver that is not just cold. "Yes, it's true, but now... " He tries to protest, but his voice dies in his throat.

Connie silences him with a finger on his lips, continuing to rub lightly against him. His hand continues to work, the expert fingers that caress, brush, barely squeeze. Under that touch, Rick's dick slowly, inexorably, begins to respond. To grow.

"Of course," Connie continues, looking him straight in the eye as she feels his member harden in his palm. "Now you can no longer say that you are super-gifted. And you can't be a braggart anymore. But to me... " he pauses, bringing his lips closer to his ear. "... I don't mind at all to hear this little dick that gets hard and grows in my hand... It turns me on, you know?"

Rick, hearing those words, that tone, that touch that now becomes more decisive, continues to get excited. It's a vicious cycle of shame, pleasure, and surrender. In short, he is back to his maximum erection, the thirteen centimeters he knows well, hard and throbbing in Connie's hand.

At this point, Connie, without stopping massaging him, pulls a small plastic ruler out of the pouch. She carefully places it along the side of her penis.

Rick snaps, embarrassed. "Connie, what are you doing?"

"Exactly thirteen centimeters," she announces, as if she were reading a scientific result. "You're in the perfect average, Rick. What are you complaining about?" Then, dropping the ruler on the sand, he continues his skilful work, his hand now sliding up and down with an expert rhythm.

Rick feels the pleasure accumulate, a warm and inexorable pressure at the base of his back. He can no longer sit up. With a moan, he lets himself fall backwards, lying completely on the bed, his eyes closed, his body at the mercy of those sensations.

Connie settles better next to him, continuing to jerk him vigorously. "Come on," she whispers to him, her voice hoarse with excitement. "Show me how much of a man you are, Rick. Come for me."
In front of the eyes of the five friends, Rick gives in and explodes in Connie's hand. It is a powerful orgasm, which looks like a fountain: white splashes fly upwards, against the sunlight, and then fall back down on the sand and on her own stomach, among the thunderous applause of her friends and even from some nearby umbrellas, where other women followed the whole scene.

Connie accompanies her dick to the last, small spasm, then lets go of Rick's member, now completely floppy and back to his resting, wet and trembling dimension.

Connie takes the ruler from the sand, quickly cleans it on the costume and places it back along Rick's limp penis. "Rick, he's actually a little little at rest, huh? Just six centimeters... " he says, raising his voice so that everyone hears. Then, lowering it into a whisper just for him, he adds: "... But what does it matter? Thank you for the show!"

She wipes her hand with the wet wipes she had in her pouch, leaves an open package at the umbrella. "So you can clean yourself too, once you recover," he says, then gets up. "Thank you girls, for this break... much more relaxing than a cigarette!" And he leaves with a confident gait, leaving him there, naked, dirty and annihilated.

The girls laugh, while Rick slowly recovers. With slow, mechanical movements, he gets up on the bed and begins to clean himself with wipes, avoiding anyone's gaze.

After a bit of silence full of embarrassment, Pilar breaks the ice. "Rick, but do you think Connie decided to... give you a hand? Out of generosity? For personal pleasure?"

Rick shakes his head, looking at his hands. He doesn't know what to say, his mind is a void of shame.

Terry, with a smile halfway between the accomplice and the cruel, intervenes. "None of this! I'll tell you why, look at the giant illuminated scoreboard of the lido!"

Rick looks up, driven by the giggles that are already circulating among his friends and that begin to spread among the nearby umbrellas. It follows the direction of Terry's finger.

There, at the top, on the large electronic board that usually announces the water temperature or the events of the day, a message flashes in large letters:

**RICK'S DICK MEASUREMENTS. CM DECLARED: 20. EFFECTIVE CM: 6. REACHES 13... BUT YOU HAVE TO WORK ON IT!**

Rick is petrified. Then he gets up and his gaze shifts to the lifeguard tower. There, at the top, is Connie. He's looking at it. With one hand he adjusts the hat, with the other he raises his thumb and forefinger, leaving a small space between them, forming the universal sign of the "small pea". Then, bringing the megaphone to his mouth, he spreads his voice throughout the beach:

"Rick! This is for lying to me for months! So no one else will fall for it again!"

A wave of general laughter, liberating and coarse, rises from the beach. Not only by her five friends, who bend in two with laughter, but by dozens and dozens of women around: the lifeguards, the cashiers, the postwomen, the accountants, the beautician, the hairdresser, the policewomen and all the others who, in one way or another, have witnessed her humiliating parable.

Rick feels emptied, burning with shame. Almost every woman in the city, or at least everyone who matters in her social life, now knows. They know the truth about his twenty centimeters boasted. They know that at rest it is an embarrassing six centimeters. They know that at most he can reach a dignified measure, but not to be defined as a stallion as he did. His reputation, built on a mountain of lies, is dust in the wind, swept away by the laughter of an entire beach of women.