Blondie's Humiliation Stories

For Age 18+ Only.
Chapter 20: Blondie
Mon Oct 1, 2018 5:02pm

He knew what he had to do. It was an amazing scene as we watched Blondie force himself from the table and make the walk of shame in the crowded cafeteria. With bunny ears sticking straight up and a few short but noticeable inches projecting straight out from his underpants, it was a comical, if not downright preposterous spectacle. As word quickly spread the clamor from the students' reaction quickly rose to an uproar. There were countless phones in the air capturing videos and still shots, and behind each phone was a wide-eyed, open-mouthed amateur photographer. It was a vision that I'm sure will be etched in all of our memory banks forever. Subsequently there were many occasions when Kayla and I would toast each other in self-congratulatory homage for creating the thrilling scene.

[By the way, as this was going on I took a moment to give Andrea some instructions that we would utilize at some point after Blondie returned.]

As Blondie made his way back to our table, I have to say––and I didn't think this was possible––that his face was redder than I had ever seen it. He quickly sat down and placed the napkin in front of me. He was quivering from the ordeal.

"Thank you, Blondie," I said mellifluously. I used the napkin to wipe away my tears of laughter. It took a few moments for the commotion to settle, at which point I wasted no time.

"Let's continue, Blondie. Where were we when I interrupted you? Let's see, you were singing a modified rendition of 'Old MacDonald' and I was snipping off your pubic hair. Tell us what happened when I handed you the scissors."

Blondie, who was still trembling slightly, was forced to carry on. "You made me....I had to snip while you sang the song."

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

"Right," he said desolately.

"We took turns until there was nothing left to cut," I said. "Then we went in the bathroom. Tell us what happened in the bathroom."

"You made me shave off the rest."

"Yes! And you even had some on your little balls that I had you shave, right?" Blondie merely nodded. "Then you were completely hairless from the neck down, right?" Again Blondie nodded. "Say it."

"I was completely hairless from the neck down," he said with a quivering voice.

"Just like you are right now, right?" Another nod. "Can we see?"

Blondie flinched perceptibly. I'm always amazed (and delighted!) when Blondie is surprised whenever I decide to take his humiliation to the next level. One would think he would be accustomed to my ways, but his naiveté continued to show through. It was one of my favorite endearing qualities of his.

He looked around nervously. "Please, Felicity," he begged. "Don't.....please don't do this."

"Now, now, Blondie, let's be cooperative. Now that I think about it, I don't think the rest of us have seen you since I asked you to keep your whole body smooth. Have you, girls?"

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

"Well then, we just have to do this, don't we, Blondie. Now take off your underpants and hand them to Andrea."

Under the watchful eyes of everyone at the table––and many others in the cafeteria who had taken a keen interest in Blondie's plight––he compliantly hooked his thumbs into his waistband, slid his underpants down his legs and off his feet. He reluctantly draped them over the awaiting Andrea's open palm. Following my aforementioned instructions, Andrea promptly climbed onto the table. There was a window a little over six feet above the table and there was a little hook that held the drawstring to the shades. Andrea had to reach up on her tip-toes in order to hang the underpants on the hook. Blondie and Andrea were about the same height, so when all was said and done it was really a delectable sight when Blondie had to assume the same position to retrieve his underpants, one which was captured by many a smartphone.

The level of excitement in the air had increased dramatically. Everyone at the table––and again, many other captivated spectators––were craning their necks in an attempt to catch a peek at Blondie's newly-bared privates, which Blondie was desperately covering up. I managed to catch a quick glimpse when he lowered his underpants, and could see that his penis had shrunk to its normal (translated: small), flaccid state. Blondie was cowering in his seat with his hands securely clasping his genitals. Of course, this was something that I had to remedy.

"I certainly understand why you are covering up, Blondie, but people want to see. You're going to have to pull your hands away." For awhile Blondie was unwilling––or more accurately, unable––to do my bidding. The humiliation level had risen so high that it was almost like he was incapacitated. He just couldn't bring himself to expose himself under those conditions. I mean, can you blame him?

You know me, I was going to get my way. And it would be delicious.

"All right, Blondie, here's the deal. We're almost done here, but not until you show your avid fans here what they want to see. I know you don't want me to walk away with your shorts and underpants and leave you here, do you?" Blondie shook his head vigorously. "No, I didn't think so. So here's what we're going to do." I reached for my phone and queued a tune. I'm sure many of you are familiar with it. It is from the television game show "Jeopardy" and it is the song they play during the final countdown. Becky used it on Blondie for a different (humiliation, of course) purpose that night of my thirteenth birthday. Because of the situation it gave me an enjoyable, lasting memory so I downloaded it in case I ever wanted to use it during one of my humiliation sessions. Now was the perfect time.

"You are going to get up on the table and get on your knees with your back facing the wall. I don't mean sitting on your haunches; you should be standing straight up, but on your knees. I want you hands behind your head and elbows out." I paused for a moment to let the plan sink in. "I'm going to play a tune––it lasts for 30 seconds, and I know you are well-familiar with it––and you will hold that position until the tune is over." Blondie sat still, looking like he was trying to build up the courage to do the dreaded deed.

"You have one minute to get into position, Blondie, or there will be consequences," I pressed.

Blondie took a deep breath and climbed up onto the table. He was leaning forward on his haunches with his chest on his thighs. When he looked up he reminded me of a frightened puppy. It was really cute.

"The music doesn't start until you're in the position, Blondie."

He truly had to force himself, but he did slowly rise up. I started the music when his torso was completely taut and his elbows were straight out to the sides. The scarlet-faced Blondie could not have had a more anguished expression on his face as he absorbed the excruciating humiliation. It must have taken every fiber of his being to hold his position, so exposed while all eyes were on his hairless, underdeveloped anatomy.

Needless to say, the noise level throughout the large room increased significantly, almost drowning out the music. The degree of hilarity was, figuratively speaking, through the roof. There was some very humorous back-and-forth at our table, but I think my favorite came from Becky when she said, "I remember taking a bath together when he was six and looking at his little pee-pee. It still looks the same."

Mercifully (for Blondie) the music ended, and he jumped up to retrieve his clothes, which was quite entertaining in itself. As we parted ways, still grinning and giggling, one could still hear the buzz in the air. It had been a splendid spectacle that I had orchestrated, one that helped solidify my reputation as a connoisseur of humiliation.

As I made my way out of the cafeteria I stuffed the bunny ears into my backpack. I was looking forward to the opportunity to utilize the lovely accessory again during a future lunch playdate.

  • Chapter 20: BlondieBlondie., Mon Oct 1 5:01pm
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You won't be getting your clothes back until you dance naked for us.