Rear Zip

"Yes ladies! Here he is... 'Crushed', in more ways than one!" Roscoe's cock was there for obvious inspection, as Marcia had him kneel at her feet in the centre of the room, standing high, boning rigid, showing every woman there his disgraceful pleasure at being humiliated. Marcia had him thrust it higher, as she swiped his flank with her cane.

"Look around you, you worthless cur... every woman here saw your walk of shame, now they'll see your confirmation!" Roscoe did as he was ordered, taking in the unified sneers and contemptuous smiles of womanhood, as his dominant Mistress clamped het legs together and stood tall on her heels.

"Yes my pet hound... the confirmation of your enslavement to my spite..." Sensing his humiliation was about to begin, the woman began a slow handclap in time, as the excited and bewildered Roscoe continued to look around.

The only male present amongst the horde of scathing and delighted women, was the demure Rupert, his feeble body, physically insignificant as it was when clothed, now fully illustrated in its weakness in nudity, anally plugged, his equally insignificant cock humbled in a miniscule cage, the flesh of his backside striped with the evidence of regular and thorough thrashings. His gagged face was oblivious to Roscoe's presence, his eyes away with the fairies as he thought on the next discipline he'd be awarded, with serenely submissive contentment. A stout collar about his neck sported a daintily thin leash, which demonstrated to to every woman there that the buxom and senior woman who owned him, had him under her complete control, it was merely an humiliating symbol of his crushing defeat by the hand of ruthless femininity.

The final symbol which emphasised Rupert's capitulation to the strict authority of femininity and his absolute enslavement to womanhood, was a tiny dish which hung below the dome of his miniscule cock cage. The disgraceful episode of his humiliating premature ejaculation when simply faced with feminine authority, was not to be forgotten, nor would it be tolerated by his severe owner; the dish would collect any evidence of Rupert's loss of control - regardless of whether it were simply a dribble of pre-cum - and would result in further stripes being added to his backside, justly applied with feminine spite. His general submissive bliss brought on by the world he'd now so foolishly doomed himself to, reinforced by the spiteful taunts from women on occasions such as this where he was displayed in humiliation. Women who'd been so kind when he'd been introduced to them at the writer's club, and were now deliciously cruel about his pathetic status, ensured those thrashings were duly earned with painful regularity.

Rupert may have been oblivious to him, so focused was he in his own situation, as just the erotic pleasure of being displayed on a leash had his anus tingle about his plug with masochistic anticipation on a bead of pre-cum pulsing from the slot of his prohibitive dome to the dish below, but his owner had his full attention. The writer's club members had been very complimentary to her, on the remarkable efforts that Rupert now committed, since she'd imposed her control and vetted his work with a strict and rigorous discipline. Her contented and knowing smile at Roscoe, had his cock perk high and hard. She knew, so smugly, he knew he'd soon be reduced to Rupert's pathetic status... and oh, how he so deserved it.

Marcia would wait no longer, bringing Roscoe's attention back to her with a smart stroke of her cane.

"Get behind me, and get that cock between my calves!... Now!!" He needed no further prompting, though the taunting jeers which accompanied the slowly increasing handclap, ensured his erection boned as he cowered in humility behind her magnificent figure, and squeezed his bell between her taut calves. He grunted audibly with the lush stimulation which was immediate, incurring further contemptuous taunts from the women, as he eased forward to have his bell poke clear at the front, those rear zips teased the hair on his thighs, but that minor sensation was as nothing compared to the erotic massaging of his cock through the leather... the leather of the boots worn by the woman who'd dominated him, and would now have all womanhood know she owned him.

Roscoe snorted at the cleft of her tightly pursed buttocks as he thrust his cock rhythmically between her legs, the tempo if the handclap increasing as the jeering women urged him toward the surrender of his seed, each thrust having his anus clench at the plug, stimulating his sense of absolute submissiveness to femininity wonderfully. Marcia flicked at his cock with her cane on its frequent emergence, sending a delightful sting through his cock on those occasions where she caught it smartly, bringing contented laughter from her audience... and the semen up from his owned balls.

His mind went to the tastes and scents of her cunt and arsehole, he yearning to service her that way in thanks... in thanks for the sense of absolute defeat he now felt, as he whined in a submissive ectasy as the handclap reached a crescendo, and the seed burst from his cock, sending a jet of hot semen high through the air to be greeted by sneering feminine applause as the essence of masculinity was wasted upon the floorboards. Marcia whipped at his cock as he thrust forward to greet the zips whilst his prolonged pleasure spat loops of hit seed, the sting having him withdraw and thrust again as she taunted.

"Confirmation ladies!... Confirmation of his absolute capitulation... just look at his mess!" The dominant redhead squeezed her calves tight, ensuring Roscoe's humiliation was extended for as long as possible.

Just where he found such a volume of cream, astounded even the most seasoned dominants there, it reassured their spiteful smugness, his capitulation to feminine power and authority was more than absolute, as he thrust and whimpered his defeat between the boots which held his cock to penitent duty. Marcia sneered down, as a pulse of that hot surrender, dribbled the whiteness of its defeat down the shiny black leather to the front of her tall boots, flowing tantalisingly down to the inside of the arch to her spiky footwear, to adorn the heel.

So blissful was his humiliation, he didn't want his disgraceful exhibition to ever end, the taunts and laughter of his Mistress and the other women, ensuring he thoroughly soiled her boots with cream before his extensive orgasm ended, and he slumped in defeat... and Marcia ensured his humiliation didn't end there.

"Lick it up!.. lick those boots clean... every drop!" The other women now joined in his humiliation, smartly swiping his tailed backside as it poked in the air while he licked those rear zipped boots clean of his own semen, the sting of those canes taking his mind from the dull and salty taste of his own seed... spent in utter surrender. Marcia deftly lifted one boot to its toe, and grinned with spiteful pleasure as he licked his spunk from the arch, then sucked on the elegantly spiked heel dutifully.

Applause rang out again, as latecomers arrived to witness the very pleasurable outing and subsequent humiliation of a submissive male, Roscoe's spent cock already perking with the blissful shame of being held to inspection by fresh feminine faces. As he kept his head low in servile obedience, his cock twitching at the sight of spiked heels and elegantly feminine boots before him, his memory was alerted to a voice he recognised, though it's tone held a mischief he'd not heard in it before.

"Sorry I'm late ladies, I've been enjoying the aperitif of trussing a new male member... he'll please us here next week." He gasped on lifting his head to see the spiteful delight on the new faces... there was Cheryl, the motherly warmth he'd known on their initial meetings, now replaced with the sneer of feminine dominance, dressed in a tight leather skirt with tall heeled boots, she flexed a cane between her manicured fingers as she sneered down at him.

"I knew as soon as we met, you were a submissive, the signs are oh so obvious to a woman..." His anus gripped hard at the plug, knowing further punishment would be so deservedly due for his pathetic attempt at deceiving the superior sex.

"...it's such a pleasure seeing you exposed at last... you might be Marcia's property now, but one thing you'll be taught by us all, is that ALL women are dominant once we taste male submission..." She flexed her cane with a wicked sneer, as every women there concurred, even those he'd known to be meek mystery writers; each of their once grandmotherly personas now transformed to that of a cruel and domineering headmistress... their canes promising the release of spite harboured over decades.

"...and by God, you'll taste that dominance today!" Roscoe's cock rose again, as she cut the air with her cane, and he felt the commanding tug on his leash from a clean booted Marcia, which he'd now obey implicitly for the rest of his life with her. Those deliciously rear zipped boots which had seen the deserved worship of a defeated male, led him to a padded bench which would see his further submission... he'd know the depths of his masochistic worship of womanhood tested to the limit now, and his cock boned in perverse anticipation of it, as he faced the bench... Marcia, the dominant woman who now owned him so totally, ensuring his consciousness was honed to a delightful extreme as she grinned at Cheryl.

"I'll wager it'll take no more than twenty strokes before he surrenders his seed again." Roscoe sniffed at the air, heady with the scent of feminine arousal at his predicament, as he was strapped to the bench while Cheryl flexed and tested her cane in the air.

"We'll see, Marcia my dear... it's how he takes the cane after his surrender, that I'm looking forward to..."