ACCEPTING HUMILIATION (Part 3)

The memory of my father was there for one last moment, marking the difference between what I had always believed to be and what was there, lying on the floor, with a hot dick in front of his face. Over the following years, I would discover that the image of my father, his memory, and his belief in my decency and worth would always be present just before I lost myself in that true essence that was being born on that dirty floor of that theater that day.

His words echoed in my psyche, "Until the last drop," and then I thought of opening my mouth, but before I could do so, the tip of his glans was already pressing against my lips and on its tip was a firm drop of lubricant that was the first thing that touched me, making the phallus slide up, passing alongside my nose, rubbing against my cheek and getting close to my eye. The man closed his fingers around my nape, grabbing my hair and pulling my head back as he looked at the tip of his own penis as if aiming to fit it in, as he did in my mouth which was already open by that point, and my face had just been marked with the masculine scents of this man who had me at his feet. My lips felt the warmth of his dick's skin, the rough texture, the many veins that ran through it and made my lips conform to its shapes; I felt his glans touch my tongue, slide back, and enter my throat as my nose sank into the hairs of his belly and his testicles settled on my chin. It was a single blow until the point where I felt his hand squeeze even harder and more virile against my nape. My instinct led me to try to move my head back, but he prevented it; I needed air and began to breathe heavily through my nose, but it was not enough, so I tried to breathe through my mouth in vain, then felt how I spat between the skin of my lips and his dick drops of saliva that came out desperately, then tried again to get some air, generating sounds that I would hear millions of times from that moment on in my life.

With the free hand he covered my nose, making me need even more the air he was depriving me of. My mind began to focus on the real reason why I found myself lying on that floor, drowning and needing air, choking, wet, dirty already, with my face smelling like another man's dick; to serve, to serve. That thought that had begun to take root in my brain since moments before entering the theater. He removed his hand from my nape and with the fingers of his other hand pulled my nose towards himself so I wouldn't try to take his dick out of my mouth, then released those fingers finally allowing me to breathe, and I took a deep breath that felt endless of... of… that was not air... The man had placed in front a bottle of poppers that now replaced the air that should be going into my lungs. When I stopped inhaling, with one hand he repositioned his dick back in my oral cavity and with the other hand he grabbed my head to dominate me as he had been doing for a while. A warmth rose through my cheeks and a dignity dropped through my existence. The understanding of my true place in the world entered, of why the feeling of dissatisfaction throughout my whole life, of the urgent need to serve in order to complete the pieces of my own personal discovery. I felt unsatisfied in my life because I had always sought to satisfy myself, and what I was understanding is that my own happiness came from pleasing others even at the cost of my own dignity.

Everything was fitting in my psyche as if my brain had been waiting all my life to find itself. His hand relented on my nape, his dick partially exited my mouth and then re-entered, then both hands grabbed my head, and for many minutes, I stopped thinking, my brain adapted its activity to what was useful to the man who was using me at the moment, my brain was adapted solely to serve, to understand that that strength, that sweat, those scents emanating from the man were his right and my duty was to satisfy them, to be present for his whims. Months later, I had a sort of enlightenment, an increasing understanding of the urgent need to serve, my brain eliminated thoughts that did not align with the needs of the man using me, my brain turned me into an oral hole for the enjoyment of the male gender, but there lying on the floor I had small visions of that certainty about servitude. I felt hands that couldn't belong to the same man touching my nape, I felt another leg brushing against my torso, I opened the eyes that had been closed and sensed the presence of other men, I began to feel touched on various parts of my body while this man's dick went in and out of my mouth. The heat of the new males reached me and I could distinguish them, the mix of each wave of heat with its unique smell hit my psyche, another glans was pressed against one of my cheeks, I felt a hand on my chin and how another dick was violently pushed into my mouth, the first man's dick came out and was buried in my interior by this new dick, brutally salty, warmer, more bitter, and deeper in its taste, tremendously more virile, hands on my nape that pushed me towards these new belly hairs, smells coming in and dignity going out. The first man occupied my oral cavity again with his phallus and removed it, I think about 25 minutes had already passed, I felt soaked in sweat, I felt hands pushing my head towards the deliciously smelling and wet crotch of this man, the cavity was penetrated again as he began to roar, I felt his strong hand on my nape, his abdomen hitting my nose, his sweaty testicles hitting my chin, and his roars striking my manhood and my dignity. He tightened his fingers in my hair, took out his dick and his other hand frantically masturbated until he exploded in several thick, white jets of semen that mostly fell into my open mouth and on my outstretched tongue. As the jets came out of his glans, my mouth tensed to open even more and my tongue hurt from wanting to take it out. All of that was instinctive, that new me being born into his own reality at that moment acted on his raison d'être and received all that male testosterone fluid. What didn't enter my mouth marked my cheek and forehead with its manly scent. He looked at me and then at his hand, the one he had masturbated with, and I understood without words that I had to clean it, and so I did, with my tongue and lips I licked and cleaned all the semen that was on his hand. He put away his package, zipped up his pants, and without a word, turned and left.

I looked up and realized that who I thought could be two or three other men moments ago was actually just one, one who had been pushing my head towards the dick of the one who had already used me. He put his hand on my already warm nape, closed his fingers on my hair, knelt down putting his face very close to mine to say, "You got a bit on the outside," and with the fingers of his other hand slid the semen that had dripped across my face to my mouth, and submissively, I swallowed it all, licking his finger with my tongue, closing my lips around his finger to clean it well; he stood up and said, "Go ahead." When he said that, I saw a group of three or four men about three meters away, at least one of them was masturbating, and they were all looking at me. Looking at them, I felt ashamed again and some confusion at being there, lying down, smelling like piss, my face still damp with traces of semen, there was a bit of dignity entering my body again when I heard, "Hey, what's up"; it was the one who had already requested his turn to use me. Upon hearing his voice, the dignity that tried to enter left to be lost as my hands began to lower his zipper. He rammed my mouth for several minutes, taking it out and hitting me in the face with it to then forcefully penetrate me again, taking it out again to rub my face on his testicles and violently stick it in my mouth once more, I became aware of how my jaw was starting to hurt and focused on enduring, on resisting, on serving, but this time my brain expanded a bit to allow me to understand how it was in this way that enjoyment was also allowed for me, how feeling wet, dirty, marked by male fluids was providing me with the greatest sensation of complete happiness I had ever felt in my existence. I opened my eyes and saw the other silhouettes enjoying the show, and I felt used and abused by them too even though they weren't touching me, and the feeling of happiness increased even more by realizing that I could be used by more than one man at the same time for the full enjoyment of their male needs.

The violence of the one using me ended with the base of his dick swelling between my lips, my nose sinking into his hair, his testicles on my chin, and his pulses of man milk being directly deposited into my throat. The amount was such that it triggered a strong gag reflex, and as my mouth was occupied, the semen came out through the corners of my lips and my nostrils in an explosion that soaked my whole face, his hand pushed my face back, and he turned and began to walk away, zipping up his pants. It was a quick and resolute use, and I felt happy about it. I had just been of use to two completely unknown men. Still on my knees, I saw two of the men who had been watching approach, and one of them simply said, "Come on, bitch." Bitch, that word entered my brain as if it had been my name all my life, and it obeyed instinctively, I stood up and followed them as my brain specifically analyzed that, understanding the word bitch as my name, that it fit perfectly into my psyche, that far from insulting me, it placed me joyfully in my place and put them as superiors, those who give orders, "come," and there I went, "the bitch" obediently following behind them. My brain analyzed the happiness I felt and thought about how foolish it had been for so many years to avoid true happiness for feelings that now seemed very strange to me such as dignity and self-pride. The next day, I would remember these thoughts and not understand anything anymore, the day after I would be very confused and sad, but at that moment, everything fit perfectly in the universe of my neurons. In the following years, this would be a routine often repeated, I would be used and abused by many men in different situations to understand and comprehend it all, just to feel confused and disturbed the next day, but over time the feeling of happiness after having sexually served men would last longer and longer, and the confusion and sadness resulting from the remnants of dignity and pride in my being would come less and less. I would increasingly become a whore until finally, I would fully accept my true essence in its entirety. I am a whore who occasionally has to participate in society and hold a job, but I know who I am, all of the time.

The two men left the room and went to the bathroom in the cubicle with a door, I followed them and they closed it. Without anyone having said anything, I kneeled, took out their dicks, and started sucking them in turns, one was very dark in color even though its owner was just a bit tan, and it contrasted in a delicious way with the clarity of his belly, the other was very white and much larger. The latter constantly took it out of my mouth and made me suck the other, but I wanted to suck both so I kept looking for the darker one, closed my eyes and let my cavity be penetrated. That's when I felt a warm stream on my face, the other man was peeing on my face, the smell was intense, and the understanding of what was happening was immediate, my dick jumped within my pants and released a little bit of lubricant that further wetted my damp briefs. The full happiness seemed to break my chest feeling that level of humiliation. Dirty, smelling like dicks, semen, sweat from other men, and now being pissed on the dirty floor of this sordid bathroom. The one pushing my mouth erupted with jets of man milk inside it as the streams of the other man's urine got scarcer while he began to masturbate, making urine droplets bounce everywhere. He came on my face while the other had finished ejaculating and now was peeing on me too. I felt how this pee pushed the semen off my cheeks, and all that mixture went down my neck and wet parts of my shirt.

They zipped up their pants and left. My clothes had several drops of semen and urine but not too many, all the streams had been directed at my face. I left the cubicle and saw my face in the mirror. Seeing myself, I thought, "bitch," and I was happy, again. I cleaned my face recognizing the smells that were now marked on it, and went out into the street. But I wasn't the same as when I had entered. Today, a whore had been born.