He took my hand and led me into the interior of the place. You enter through a bar with about 4 small tables against a wall in front of the counter and walk between it and the tables that were all filled with older men, several of them with beards, some shirtless, others with their shirts unbuttoned showing their mostly hairy chests, several of them gray-haired and just as Hugo had imagined, some of them turned to look at me when we entered; there were lively conversations at the tables, allowing loud, very masculine laughter to be heard. Their ages were between 50 and 70 years, with the exception of two young men who were perhaps even younger than me.

Hugo suddenly grabbed my hair at the back of my head with his right hand and told me in my ear: "You know you can always decide to leave, but if you're going to walk with me beside these gentlemen to the other side of the hallway, you'll do it thinking very seriously about what you're doing," he said as his left hand on my abdomen pushed me back, towards him, to feel his very hard bulge pressing against my buttocks. His hand on my head pulled me, making me look forward to see how we were now the center of attention of those present, who looked amused, laughed, talked to each other, I managed to hear one laughing as he commented on my look of surprise and fear, and another noting my bulge almost bursting and my pants with a wet stain that betrayed the extremely high level of excitement I was in.

"You're letting yourself be humiliated in front of a lot of men because you feel that there's something inside you that's stronger than you, that pushes you to continue here and to want to be humiliated. But there's something you're wrong about, what you feel inside isn't something apart from you, it's not something different from you, it's what you really are and have tried to hide your whole life; you're reclaiming your true space in this world, you're going to walk with me feeling how these men look at you, desire you, want to use you, and you're going to recognize that it's you who makes them like that, that it's your fault, that they perceive your need to serve them, because you're going to discover that need, they can smell the bitch in you," he said, stretching out the word with aggressive slowness and emphasizing the r's, and continued, "and that's your fault, it's your fault because you won't oppose going to the other side of the hallway while analyzing in your head what I've told you," he finished saying as he made a coordinated movement with his bulge on my buttocks and his hand on my head, pushing me forward, making me take a clumsy step forward that must have made me look weak and unbalanced, and then quickly grabbing me again by the head, making me straighten up my body and look forward again, as I heard and saw several men laugh at the situation, that is, basically laugh at me while I looked at their faces and started to analyze what I had been ordered to do. Hugo's firm hand...