By Johnny Scranton
For the past year, I have been seeing a young woman, Lindsay. She treats me like shit. And I keep coming back for more. It’s not like you think. I pay her to treat me like shit. I met her on an ‘arrangement’ website. She is 21 years old, blonde, beautiful, and scorching hot. I’m 45 years old, lame and unattractive. I got her attention on the site with what I was offering: no sex, no touching, and gobs of cash. Otherwise, she would have ignored the five emails I sent her before she finally responded. I meet her downstairs at my apartment complex and she barely even speaks to me.
Just a quick, “Hi.”
The elevator ride is long and silent. I don’t know what to say, because small talk between us just doesn’t work. She walks into my apartment and, as the door shuts, she says, “We should get started.”
Translation: she wants this to be over as quickly as possible.
Lindsay picks up the money on the counter and puts it into her wallet and purse. I walk into my bedroom, undress and get onto the bed. She follows me, sits down on a chair, sighs, and watches me with a blank expression.
“I really didn’t want to see that again,” she says. “It’s small and gross and makes me sick.”
My penis—she won’t let me call it a cock—is less than an inch when flaccid. It points straight up, but isn’t hard. Just the head can be seen. She calls it my ‘flower nub’. She has also called it ‘button’, ‘wee-wee’, and ‘dinkie’.
“People who are hot are horny a lot,” she says, “but right now I’m bone dry. You do nothing for me.”
I start rubbing my penis. I pull on it and twiddle it between my index finger and thumb, but it won’t get hard yet.
“This whole situation is fucked up,” she says. “You know that, right?”
“Yes,” I speak so softly I can barely hear myself.
“You realize you’re paying me way more than you would have to pay a prostitute for sex, right? If you were a real man, you could be getting laid right now. But you are so weak and pathetic that you pay me to sit here and humiliate you. You’re a degenerate and a loser.”
“I want to hear you say it,” she says. “Tell me how big a loser you are.”
Now my penis starts to get aroused. I can feel the blood pumping into it, but it barely grows.
“I’m the biggest loser there is.”
She scoffs. “That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. Who says that about themselves? Shit, you’re fucking turned on now, aren’t you?”
“You have the smallest penis I’ve ever seen. No one would ever fuck you.”
I’m rock hard now. My penis stands straight up at three inches.
“When was the last time you even had sex?” she asks.
“It’s been five years.”
“There’s no way she enjoyed it.”
“No, she didn’t,” I say. “One time, I went down on her and got her pretty hot. When I came up, she turned over and raised her ass in the air. She wanted me to enter her from behind. I tried, but I couldn’t. It was too small.”
“What was too small? Call it by its name.”
I hesitate. It’s hard to say it out loud, but she has trained me that I must. “My pee-pee was too small,” I say.
I’m now rubbing it furiously, terribly hot and aching with humiliation and shame. “Of course it was,” she says with such disdain that somehow I feel even lower than I already had.
Her voice never rises or wavers. She doesn’t laugh at me. She’s deadpan and detached, aside from disgust.
“I had to turn her over and then face her while I entered her missionary style.”
“How embarrassing,” she says. “I bet that’s the last time you had sex with her.”
I nod yes.
“You’re not even a man. It looks like you’re rubbing a clit, not a cock. How does your little flower nub feel? It must be so hard, but I still can barely even recognize it. Real men grab their cocks with a full fist and stroke it up and down. You just rub it with two fingers, like a girl rubs her clit.”
My eyes roll up and my whole body begins to quake.
“Stop rubbing it,” she says. “You don’t get to cum yet, loser boy.”
I stop and twist in anguish on the bed. Lindsay takes off her shirt to reveal a pink bra and gorgeous midriff. Her skin is perfectly tanned and looks so soft. She’s a college student, but could be a model.
“You wish you could have me,” she says.
“So badly,” I say.
“You’ll never get to fuck me. You’ll never get to even touch me. I wouldn’t let you touch a hair on my body. I’m so far out of your league it’s not even funny.”
“I’m so desperate to touch you, please,” I whine.
“Fuck you,” Lindsay says. “You’ll never get closer to me than you are right now, pathetic wimp.”
I turn back and forth on the bed, so hot I can barely take it.
“Do you want to see my breasts?”
“More than anything.”
I get up off the bed, and down on all fours in front of Lindsay. For the next two minutes, I proceed to beg and whine and grovel. I am thoroughly humiliated. It’s like I’m not even human anymore. She is a goddess and I am an ant. I tell her this, and she spits on me. Literally.
“Don’t wipe that off your face,” she says. “I want you to let it dry there, so that you remember how worthless you are all day long.”
“Thank you, goddess,” I say.
It doesn’t get any worse than this. “I don’t think you are begging hard enough. I’m not going to show you my breasts today.”
She sighs and looks away. Desperate, I don’t know what to do. I really want to see them again. They are truly perfect. Soft, supple, a nice handful of perfection. Her nipples are like cherries on top of the best dessert you could ever have. So, I really can’t handle not seeing them.
“If I… If I give you more money, would you?” I say.
I know this is remarkably stupid of me. It only raises the price for every time I see her in the future. The only question remains; how much will it be?
“Two hundred dollars, fag.”
I nod without hesitation. God, I am such a loser.
“Go fucking get it,” she says expectantly. “I’m not showing you anything until I have cash in hand.”
I stand up, naked. She looks down at my tiny erect penis and gives me a knowing look. I rarely can make eye contact with her because it is so humiliating. This look drops my heart into my stomach. After I come back with a wad of twenty dollar bills, she grabs them and puts them into her purse.
“Lay back down, pervert,” she says.
I get onto the bed and watch her excitedly. She reaches behind her and unlatches her bra. It slips down and her perfect breasts are exposed before me.
“Play with your little flower nub now. Look at my breasts and see what you’ll never touch and never have.”
I’m rubbing with abandon, ready to explode. My eyes are locked on her glorious tits.
“This is what sex is for you now. The only lover you’ll ever have is your hand. That turns you on, doesn’t it? Show me how you cum, faggot. Show me how your little wee-wee twitches. Make it dribble out some cum for me. Come on, be a good boy for me.”
I’m so close. She sighs again, looks at her watch and then looks back at me. “I need to go, loser. Hurry up and cum.”
Her indifference sets me over the edge and I cum. My penis doesn’t shoot cum, but rather dribbles it out, running down all over itself.
“Good boy,” she says. She immediately gets up, puts on her bra and shirt, and picks up her purse. “What do you say?”
“Thank you, goddess. Thank you so much for putting up with me. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“You should be.”
As Lindsay walks out of the room, I call to her. “I love you.”
But she is gone without another word, slamming the door behind her. I hear her leave the apartment. I pull out my phone and open my calendar. I can’t wait to find a date for our next meeting. I hope it gets worse.