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Naked Humiliation of Women

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I am SUCH a sucker for naked humiliation. It was ingrained in me by the nuns. It is something both Mistress and I really love at play parties and Ms gets pretty creative with it. Having me naked, blindfolded, hands behind my head and a box of perm markers to be used as a human sign in sheet= Tied spread eagle standing naked at a play party with a sign "toy tester" and a favorite, tied naked face to face with a female slave and each owner using the back end with the command NO touching. Long post to say......Please keep the photos coming!!!!
 
I am SUCH a sucker for naked humiliation. It was ingrained in me by the nuns. It is something both Mistress and I really love at play parties and Ms gets pretty creative with it. Having me naked, blindfolded, hands behind my head and a box of perm markers to be used as a human sign in sheet= Tied spread eagle standing naked at a play party with a sign "toy tester" and a favorite, tied naked face to face with a female slave and each owner using the back end with the command NO touching. Long post to say......Please keep the photos coming!!!!
You should probably start the thread humiliation of males or so.....
 
Well, I've been wanting to post again on this forum. Had to catch up with some work, and I've never paid this thread a visit before. So why not here?

The title of this thread certainly is axiomatic, at least to me. I am always a believer of the only (fictitious) damsels in distress worth watching are the ones wearing nothing.

Take, for example, The Deep Impact by Lupus Pictures.

[Disclaimer: The real story and the title, sadly, don't belong to me. What you're about to read is my own impression of the story, not the actual story]

Anyway, TDI tells a story about three unjustly imprisoned young girls:

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From left to right: Michaela Trmotova, Ester Slaba, and Norah Kristoff.

It didn't matter why their innocence didn't matter to their jailers. What matters is they were, at first, imprisoned with their limbs manacled and their body covered with a torn robe. Quite generous for the only 3 female prisoners guarded exclusively by men.

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Thing is, they would be in prison for who knew how long. Of course it was only natural to think that doing them like that was going easy on the lovely prisoners. So it was decided that their legs would be freed, but, in return, the manacles securing their wrists would be nailed to the walls.

As you all could see, while the girls were obviously not happy to spend the rest of their life in prison, they weren't really humiliated. After all, what little robe they had provided limited coverage, if not limited warmth.

To their horror, it was then decided that they were not vulnerable enough. For them to live out as prisoners accordingly, any semblance of dignity and comfort must be removed. For this reason, they had to have their remaining clothes removed.


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They were fully naked now, and this was how it should be.

As you can see, even a little garment like their robe could make a difference. Hence, it had to go away. When, previously, they were simply depressed at the prospect of never having another day under the sun, now their despair grew irreversibly. Their heart sunk when those cold shackles around their wrists lent the rest of the world an uninterrupted view of what should have been their dignity and privacy. Written across their faces were anger, fear, sadness, and, most importantly, humiliation. The cruel promise that never again would they hold a secret:. Everything about them is on display for the whole world to see: their pain, their womanhood, their arousal, their pretty breasts, their eye-catching nipples, their soft skin, their inviting thighs, and their flowing tears.


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The gravity of their situation became even more real as hours went by. They could no longer simply lean on those unforgiving walls. They had to feel, somehow, they retained a sense of control. Anything at all.

So they decided to at least keep their legs close. The futility of this small action of rebellion did not escape them. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Without any illusion of control, it would have been unbearable.

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And finally, came marching the guards. Dressed from head to toe and free, as opposed to the girls. The head jailer crossed his arms in front of them and said nothing. As did his helpers. It was if they were there simply to bask in the sight.

At first, the young girls seemed brave enough to fight back however they could. In whatever way possible to hold onto the ever elusive control. They stood erect and stared back at the guards. It became a duel.

As a minute became two, two became four, four became eight and so on, they were slapped awake by the futility of their little retaliation.

Their chained arms grew tired and eventually numb. The men and their unbound arms felt no such thing.

There was only so much they could look at the men, namely their eyes and their hands. The men noticed every little detail of them.

And all 6 inside the prison cell knew it.

One by one, they finally broke down in tears. It was not an even ground. They were in a losing fight from the moment they decided to pick a bone with their soon to be tormentors.

The head jailer was pleased to see the girls finally learning to accept what would be. With a vicious smirk, he continued his assessment of his defenseless captives. It was only then the girls realized two things: he was deciding who to torture first, and this is only the first day of the rest of their helpless, miserable lives. :angel2:



Katya Clover is a fucking treasure (both literally and figuratively). :sisi1
An excellent impression of this story indeed :clap:
 
Wasn’t sure if I’d posted these already, but nonetheless…hope you all enjoy!
 

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