Humiliation cuts both ways.

My previous two blog posts dealt in a large way with sexual humiliation and the kind of mind fuck pleasure it brings me. Sexual humiliation is vastly different then you standard embarrassing situation type humiliation you experience in a day to day life, which is obvious, otherwise why would you do it other then for the sexual thrill. Being dressed like a slutty whore and called names is an extremely hot fantasy for a large number of people including me. Slipping and falling during an important business presentation? Not so much.

I bring this up for two reasons, the first is because I was browsing some random profiles on FetLife the other day and was amused by the number of people who had profiles that claimed they were into humiliation and nothing was to extreme, that they would do *anything*. Ok, I want you to wear the top half of a chicken suit while I throw random slices of deli meat at you during your rendition of God Bless America performed on the lawn of your Mom's house. Not quite as hot as a sexy dominant woman walking you around on a leash is it?

The second reason is because I myself often fall into the same trap. I beg Miss H to humiliate me as long as it's something that I personally find sexy or exciting. My latest punishment though made it infinitely clear that humiliation shouldn't be something I always beg for. Now when I say punishment that's a bit of a misnomer actually because the word punishment tends to make me think of a reprisal for doing something wrong, a penalty for misbehaving. That wasn't the case this time, it was Miss H simply in the mood to be a bit sadistic (one of her best qualities, btw).

Before I left for work she told me to head off to the store and buy a pair of the most plain, unsexy, control top pantyhose I could find in either nude or tan. First though I was to paint my fingernails pink so I would have to wear that when I went to go shopping. Luckily, as you can tell from the picture below she was kind enough to allow me to wear a very pale shade of pink so it wasn't really super noticeable unless you really looked. Still though, it was enough to make me pretty anxious.

My trip to WalMart went off without a hitch (hey, she said she wanted plain, ugly pantyhose...) and I made it back to work with plenty of time to spare. So far at least it didn't seem like Miss H was being overly cruel, the nail polish wasn't to bad and even the stockings weren't anything I was really worried about. I've never worn pantyhose before but I loved wearing stockings so even if she made me put them on at work it wouldn't be that big of a deal. The rest of the day went by uneventfully and even when we were both home Miss H barely mentioned my new purchase.

Truthfully I was actually a little bummed. I was dying to dress so I assumed that even if I had to add the pantyhose to whatever outfit she had picked out for me it would still be awesome. She didn't mention anything about it at all though. Then finally around 10pm she called me into her office and said those magic words, "I think it's time for you to get dressed, don't you?". The swelling inside my CB-6000 was almost immediate as I winced slightly from the constricted pain. "Yes Mistress!", I replied excitedly. "Since you seemed to enjoy wearing diapers so much these past few nights to bed I'm going to let you do it again tonight. First though, what do you say?", she said with a wicked smile. I knew that this was my cue to have to ask her to be allowed to wear the diaper. Without me asking out loud she wouldn't let me so I did, "please Mistress, may I wear a diaper to bed?". "Why of course sissy, you may also wear the new pantyhose over them and don't forget to wear my favorite nightgown too", she replied, barely able to control herself from gently laughing. I inadvertently sighed rather loudly when I heard that, to which Miss H only smiled like a Cheshire cat. She knew full well that the nightgown was like my arch enemy.

This particular nightgown is dreadful in every conceivable sense of the word. It's meant for a women in her 50's and would fit in nicely with your wardrobe if you considered a slightly stained eeyore t-shirt with a pair of jean shorts to be a classy look. I despise it because when I have to wear it I don't feel sexy or turned on like I do when I'm wearing lingerie, I just feel stupid and goofy looking. I begrudgingly headed off to the bedroom, not looking forward to my bedtime attire for the night.

Horrible, isn't it? Once she had finished for the night she came to join me in bed. The look on her face cut into me like a knife. She just stared at me, shook her head and chuckled. That brief moment was worse then any name she's ever called me, any insult she's ever hurled my way, because those were just words I knew she was saying to try and humiliate me and at the same time get me off. This time was different, this was just a woman staring at the man she had chosen to be with and genuinely just laughing right at me. Between the thick diaper, the ugly pantyhose, and the nightgown, how could she have any respect for a man that was willingly doing this for her. That thought burned into my brain as she quickly rolled over in bed to read a magazine.

The rest of what happened later that night and the next morning I'll finish up in tomorrow's blog post...