Small Cock Humiliation Phone Sex

He had been gone four days on a work trip, and he walked through the door acting like a man who had conquered something. Suit still on, tie loosened just enough to look roguish, that swagger guys get from hotel gyms and room service. I was in the bathtub, because that is where I do my best thinking, surrounded by bubbles and candlelight, with a glass of red wine going pleasantly to my head. I looked him up and down and smiled my bratty smile, because I knew something he had clearly forgotten.

He came over and crouched by the tub and tried to be sweet, kissing my wet shoulder, telling me he missed me. I believed him. I also knew exactly what he really missed, because before he left he had spent a whole evening blushing and stammering until he finally admitted what he wanted from me. He wanted small cock humiliation phone sex energy, he had said, except he wanted it live, in person, no phone to hide behind. I had told him to be careful what he wished for. He was about to find out why.

I told him to lose the suit. He grinned like this was going somewhere romantic, and I let him think that right up until he was standing there naked in my bathroom, all tall and confident, and then I looked down, and I laughed. That bright echoing laugh off the bathroom tiles. His confidence evaporated so fast I almost felt bad. Almost.

I told him to turn around slowly. He did. I narrated everything like a nature documentary, and he just stood there dripping with humiliation, literally and figuratively, because he had come straight from the airport and the man was a mess. I told him he had spent four days being the big shot in the boardroom, all tall and commanding in that suit, and the whole time the truth was hiding in his trousers. He groaned, and I knew he loved it, because his body was already betraying him.

I crooked my finger and he came closer, and I made him kneel on the bath mat so I could look down at him properly. There is something about a grown man on his knees in a bathroom that just delights me. I told him to tell me what he saw when he looked down in the hotel mirror this morning, in detail, no minimizing, and he did, halting and embarrassed, and I laughed again, and he whimpered. I told him the wine cork in my hand was thicker than he was, and held it up next to him for comparison, and he made this wrecked little noise that was honestly adorable.

I am a brat but I am not wasteful, so I slowed down and savored it. I made him tell me the meanest thing anyone had ever said about it, and when he told me, I repeated it back slower and sweeter, and then I improved on it. I told him he should be grateful. Most girls would have faked a moan and moved on. I was going to be honest with him, and honesty was going to make him harder than he had ever been in his life, which, given the equipment, was a low bar, and I told him so, and he sobbed a little laugh.

He begged me to touch him. I told him begging was good, begging meant he understood the arrangement. I trailed one wet foot down his chest, slow, while I kept talking, kept laughing, kept describing exactly how small he was and how much I was enjoying it. I told him this was the best small cock humiliation phone sex he was ever going to get, except there was no phone, no distance, nothing to hide behind. Just me in my bath, wine in hand, laughing right in his face while he fell apart on my bathroom floor.

I finally let him finish, counting him down slow and teasing, and he went off so hard he knocked over the little stool with my candles on it, and I was laughing so hard I almost dropped my wine in the bathwater. He lay there on the mat panting, and he thanked me, breathless and wrecked, and he told me it was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and I told him of course it was, because I am the best at everything.

He asked if we could do it again tomorrow. I told him that was entirely my decision, and that I would be thinking about it, and that thinking about it was going to keep me very entertained. Then I told him to clean up the bathroom, because brats make messes and boys clean them. He is probably still thinking about my laugh right now. I know I am still thinking about his face. And I have not decided anything yet, which is the most delicious part of all.