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Blondie's Humiliation Stories
Chapter 8: The Soccer Field
Sun Feb 10, 2008 8:25am
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A Lunch Date With Brenda

In the hallway I heard Brenda’s familiar voice calling out to me. “Oh, Blondie,” she called out, her voice singing my name. I stopped in my tracks and shut my eyes, sensing that my torment, dreadful as it was, was about to worsen. Brenda caught up to me and put her arm around my shoulder as we walked. “I’d like you to meet me during lunch today, my pretty bra-wearing friend,” she instructed. “I’ll be with some of my friends on the north end of the soccer field at, say, 12:15. I expect to see you there. Oh, and make sure you’re still wearing your little leash I made for you. Don’t be late, sweetie! I don’t want to have to tell Mitch you’ve misbehaved. By the way, did I tell you Mitch is my cousin? He adores me and will do anything I ask him to.” With those last words she gently squeezed my ass and veered off in another direction.

“Oh, God,” I groaned to myself as I fearfully headed towards my first class. My consternation over spending the day wearing the bra was bad enough. But there was no telling what humiliations Brenda and her friends had in store for me.

The bra experience? I don’t think I need to go into detail about the harassment I dealt with throughout the day. Needless to say, the torment was ruthless and unrelenting. I constantly fought the urge to just reach under my shirt and rip the damn thing off. But at least the harassment was predictable. Of greater concern was what the devious Brenda had up her sleeve for me.

As 12:15 rolled around I made the dreaded trek to the soccer field. As I inched closer, to my dismay I discovered that Brenda was with Marcia, Joanna, and Cheryl. Marcia was the first to catch sight of me and I watched her point me out to the other girls, mouthing the words, “There he is.” This was followed by grins of anticipation from all four girls.

“Hi, Blondie!” the four of them cheerfully greeted me in synchronization.

“Didn’t your mother teach you to wear a white bra under a white shirt?” teased Joanna. Undoubtedly, Brenda had apprised them of my harrowing experience in homeroom.

Brenda wasted no time in carrying out her torment. She snuggled up to me and reached for the middle buttons on my fly. When she unbuttoned them and reached in and groped around for the yarn, I couldn’t restrain myself and I grabbed her wrist and pulled it away. Brenda simply looked me in the eyes and addressed the issue. “You’ll put your hands on your head and keep them there until I say otherwise if you know what’s good for you,” she said sternly. I complied, and Brenda again reached into my pants, this time finding the end of the yarn. She pulled it through the opening in my fly and started leading me down the soccer field. Her friends walked with us, giggling in their enjoyment. I kept my hands on my head, submissively being led down the length of the field. Gradually the bystanders became aware of the situation, and by the time we reached the other side all eyes were on my predicament.

At this point Brenda decided to take it to the next level. As we stood there, with a wicked grin on her face she unbuckled my belt and undid the remaining two buttons of my jeans. My pants stayed up at this point, but I could see where this was heading. Once I started walking my pants were bound to slide down. “Please, Brenda, I’m begging you, don’t do this to me, I’m not wearing any underpants,” I pleaded.

“You should’ve thought of that before you wrote on the board about my tits,” she answered. “Now raise your hands high in the air.” When I did she pulled my tee shirt up and completely off and handed it to Marcia. I shivered, both from the chill in the air and the intense humiliation. The girls were whooping it up at the sight of a teenaged boy in a lacy black bra.


Pants Come Down

“Okay, pretty boy, you can put your hands back on your head,” said the giggling Brenda. “And if you move them your pants are coming completely off, never to be seen again.” With that Brenda turned around and started leading me back to the other end. She was walking backwards, enabling her to keep a close eye on the status of my pants. She had an evil grin on her face, as did her three friends that were walking backwards with her. I took a quick glance around, and I had a very captive audience of forty or fifty people. Brenda led me around slowly at first, and my pants stayed in place. But then she picked up the pace slightly, and I could feel my pants loosening around my waist. Within a matter of moments the inevitable happened.

“They’re starting to come down!” Cheryl squealed with delight. Indeed, she was right. It was an excruciating feeling as my pants slowly, teasingly started their inexorable descent. It was all I could do to keep my hands in place behind my head. I tried stretching my legs out to the sides in hopes of keeping my pants from falling down, but it was no use. They hovered momentarily halfway down my hips, but Brenda, sensing the kill like a shark circling a bleeding victim, sped up ever so slightly, and in one quick motion my pants dropped to my knees. In the next two or three steps they fell the rest of the way to my ankles. The outcry from the girls in front of me and from the rest of the onlookers remains embedded in my memory to this day. What a sight I must have been, naked from the ankles up but for a black bra, awkwardly trying to keep pace with Brenda, my gathered pants inhibiting my steps.

“Look at his little weenie!” laughed Joanna.

“And ‘little’ is the operative word,” countered Marcia gleefully.

“It looks so cute, the little hairless thing bobbing around like that!” chimed in Cheryl.

The laughter and merriment at my expense continued as Brenda continued pulling me by the yarn. Before reaching the other side, she prolonged my agony by zigzagging sideways across the field. It took a major effort to keep up with her, as she was totally caught up in her amusement, and was running at a pretty fast pace.


Naked But For a Black Bra

Finally we reached the end, where she subjected me to yet another indignity. Leading me to the goal, she tied her end of the yarn securely to the net. She then knelt down and lifted my left leg by the ankle. “Hold your leg up,” she commanded. When I lifted my leg, she pulled off my tennis shoe and freed my pants leg from my foot. Almost as an afterthought, she decided to remove my sock, also. She grabbed my other ankle. “Leg up!”

“Please, Br…”

“LEG UP!” she repeated authoritatively while giving my naked derriere a hard swat with her bare hand. I complied, and Brenda repeated her task. When she removed my sock, I was left standing wearing only a black bra. My apprehension was extreme. “You’ll find your clothes by the other goal,” she said while gathering my belongings and standing up. “After you untie yourself, you’re to put your hands back on your head until you reach your…goal.” She giggled. “And if you ever make another reference to my tits then today will seem like a day at the beach.”

The girls walked away, still laughing. As a thoroughly entertained crowd gathered around I frantically worked at the knot at my groin. I spent a few agonizing minutes tugging at the tightly wound yarn. My face was flushing ever so brightly, and, of course no one tried to help me. Finally I worked the knot loose. I took a deep breath, put my hands on my head, and started running towards the other end of the field. My face continued to burn as I heard the laughter. As I neared the goal I caught sight of Brenda and her friends sitting on the sideline bench eating their lunch. They were grinning from ear to ear as they took in my humiliation.

When I finally reached the goal, I started to panic when there was no sign of my clothes. I ran behind the goal. Still no luck.

“Yoo hoo!” I heard Brenda call out. I looked over and Brenda was holding my pants up in the air with both hands. “Are you looking for these?” she cooed. Chagrined, I ran over towards the girls. Unnerved by the ordeal, I unconsciously dropped my hands from behind my head and covered my crotch as I ran. When I reached the bench, Brenda admonished me. “Did I tell you that you could lower your hands?” she asked. With major effort, I raised my hands back to my head. I was facing the bench, and my crotch was at eye level with four pairs of staring eyes. I stood there, trembling.

“Please, Brenda, may I have my pants?” I asked miserably. All four of the girls were giggling freely.

“Okay, I’m almost done with you…for today. Repeat after me: ‘You own me, Brenda, and I promise to obey you, no matter what.’”

“Y-you own me, Brenda, and I promise to obey you, no matter what.”

“Good boy. Now say, ‘I’m so embarrassed. I have no hair on my body, I’m wearing a bra, and my teensy little wee wee looks like a little clitty.’” Amidst the uproarious laughter I repeated the humiliating words.

“I’m s-so embarrassed. I have no hair on my body…I…I’m wearing a bra and my…teeny…little wee wee looks like a little…a little c-clitty.” That was extremely difficult. But I wasn’t done.

“No, no,” scolded Brenda, while smiling deviously. “You said, ‘teeny,’ and I told you to say ‘teensy.’ Now try it again. Only this time, say, ‘I’m sooooo embarrassed—and make sure you say it like that—I’m sooooo embarrassed. I look like a little girl. I have no hair on my body, I’m wearing a bra, and my teensy weensy wittle wee wee looks like an itty bitty clitty.’”

The laughter was abounding. I struggled to stay composed. I had to get through the latest humiliation and get the hell away from the sinister Brenda. “I’m sooooo embarrassed,” I began. I look like a little girl. I have…I have no hair on my body, I’m…I’m wearing a bra and my t-teensy…weensy…wittle w-wee wee looks like…an itty b-bitty…an itty bitty clitty.” My face was flushing, seemingly like it never had before.

“Excellent!” exclaimed the laughing Brenda while clapping her hands for me. “Now just one more thing. Your other girlfriends here didn’t get to hear you sing this morning. Sing your song for us, and tell us how pretty you feel.”

“Please…I…I can’t remember the words…”

“You better sing, or I’ll tell Miss Farnsworth you took your pretty bra off. Do you want her to dress you in your matching panties after school today?” Of course, that is exactly what would happen if I didn’t do Brenda’s bidding. The image of standing before Miss Farnsworth wearing a bra and panty set was incentive enough. One more time, I sung the most embarrassing lyrics.

“I feel pretty…oh so pretty…I feel pretty and witty and gay….please, I can’t remember any more…” All four girls were laughing so hard that they couldn’t speak. Brenda simply tossed my bundle of clothes at my feet. I grabbed them and ran a few yards off to the side of the bench, where I hastily dressed and briskly walked away from the soccer field.

I endured my last two classes and, gratefully, returned the bra to Miss Farnsworth without further incident.

On the last day of my sophomore year new bounds had been set for the extent of my humiliation. As I left school at the end of the day, I took a look back at Roosevelt High and shuddered. I’m here to tell you I had never been so relieved to start my summer vacation.

  • Chapter 8: The Soccer FieldBlondie., Sun Feb 10 8:08am
    Miss Farnsworth Has Her Way With Me Well, I suppose I should finish telling you about my last day as a sophomore. As you may recall, I left you with my experience in homeroom that morning. Brenda had ... more
    • Chapter 8: The Soccer Field — Blondie., Sun Feb 10 8:25am
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