The Humiliation of Emma

As a transvestite I have always found it difficult to meet admirers. As a transvestite with a number of sex fetishes, I have found it almost impossible to meet compatible partners. This is why I like internet dating - you can state in your profile what you are like and precisely what you are looking for. And for me, this involves kink.

Dressing for me isn't a kink or fetish, it's just who I am. However, humiliation definitely is a fetish for me. I love to play a submissive role and be humiliated but a male partner. This can be verbal, I adore filthy talk during sex, calling me exactly what I am. Calling me a slut, a whore or a dirty piss drinking cum bucket, in the right situation, will just turn me on more.

I was quite young when I realised that I had a fetish for wet and messy play. I knew that I liked to dress, but when I got my clothes wet and messy, it did things to me before I realised what those things actually were. And when I started dating men, as a trans woman, then I absolutely wanted to explore this style of play further.

My dating profile always says watersports. That box is ticked, 'will receive', and i always add wet and messy play. My favourite things are those liquids that can be milked from a cock. Cum and Piss. But i also like being wet with water, mud, and deliciously sticky foodstuffs like custard pies and baked beans.

It usually takes me a long time to get dressed to the nines, to look perfect and attractive for a man. And them I am his to own and degrade, to fuck me, to fuck my mouth and call me a cock sucking whore... and to be ruined by them.

I recall an occasion where I had met a guy from our favourite adult dating site. It wasn't specialised for Transwomen or for kink, but you can get to meet a wide range of admirers. One such man was Big777. That was his username, I think, although I never got to know his actual first name or anything personal about him.

We had arranged messages for a while, but never had the chance to meet. I generally put that down to prospective sex-partners being married and I was sure that this was no exception. The difficulty in arrangements, where to meet, was always the problem. He couldn't accommodate. This is a fairly straightforward requirement when making a date, but it is essential when arranging to meet for messy fun,. You can't really get pissed on in a pub or in someone's lounge outside of a porn shoot.

Big was definitely keen to meet, I think the idea of pissing on a sexily dressed woman was a huge turn-on for him. Like most though, I doubted that he had had much prior experience. He also loved the idea of humiliating me, and being called a 'slut' whilst I sucked his dick was appealing to both of us.

It was never going to work out waiting for him to arrange a place to get to know each other, so against my usual judgement I finally agreed that he would pick me up in his car and we could go somewhere and 'park'. Just to give myself an out, we were to meet up in a quiet corner of Tesco car park on the edge of town and I could join him in his vehicle and we could part somewhere quiet. The supermarket was situated next to an area of scrubland, heathland and wooded area which was popular with dog walkers in the summer months. With it being late Autumn, it seemed ideal to drive a short way and park somewhere quiet,

We were to meet in the car park at 2pm, Big wanted me to choose a specific outfit to wear that he had been dreaming about for years. This was more than fine by me, as my profile states clearly that 'I aim to please' and 'love dressing up'. The outfit that he wanted was similar to a schoolgirl, something that I am never too keen on. Even with my many fetishes, that's the one that doesn't sit comfortably with me. So a compromised was reached. These are the list of items he wanted me to wear for out first date:

Stockings and suspenders, in a colour of my choice (he knew I would choose black).

Black push-up bra.

White office style button up blouse.

Black leather lined pencil skirt, fitting tightly, not rubber or PU.

Leather buckled-up collar, for dogs.

And a 3/4 length shiny black PVC jacket.

Patent stiletto heeled court shoes, with ankle strap, 4" high.

The list did not seem too unreasonable, and from the pictures on my profile Big knew that I all of those to hand. What he didn't know was that I had been collecting outfits for the last 15 years and this was 1% of my wardrobe.

It was a warm Autumn afternoon, so I chose not to travel wearing my PVC jacket, the sun streaming through my car windows would have caused me to perspire through my white blouse. Not the great first impression that I wanted to make.

I had applied my make-up in my usual way, at least this is one thing that I retained choice over, not that I minded either way. Heavy black eye make-up with lashings of mascara and bright red lipstick. Classy! Large 3" silver hooped earrings. I styled my jet black hair back into a ponytail, with a spare scrunchie on my wrist incase I lost my hair band, and set out. It would take me 35 minutes to get to the meeting point in the car.

usually I am nervous going to a meet, but not this time. I felt like i knew him, we were kindred spirits. We we meeting for sex, yes, but we booth knew what was going to happen. We planned it together in meticulous fashion.

1: Drive to a secluded spot.

2: Move to the back seat.

3: I take out his cock whilst I push my tongue in his mouth.

4: I lean over and give him a blowjob whilst he calls me names.

5: We exit the car and he gives me a cum facial.

6: He pisses his cum from my face.

I had those sorts of meets many times, but they were still amazingly fun. This was scheduled to be a meet to scratch these itches for both of us.

I arrived in the corner of the car park on perfect time, but i could not see his blue Astra car anywhere. I Left a message on the dating site, asking if everything was ok. If he was not here in 10 minutes I would leave, and block him. A minute later I received a response, he was there and coming over, he just wanted to check that it was me.

So many times on so many meets it starts this way. A man just wants to make sure the leather skirt wearing goth tranny in exactly the right position at the right time actually IS Emma and not some random leather clad tranny.

"It would be embarrassing if I introduced myself to the wrong girl." he said. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." I responded. "Shall I just call you Big?"

"That's what they all call me" said Big.

I could see why. His profile page had not been lying. It said 6'4" but so many guys exaggerate their height, just as so many girls like me filter their photographs. It was a pleasant surprise.

"Shall we get going?" I asked, "where are you parked?"

"I'm over here," and he pointed to a works van.

"It looks like you have come from one job to another!" I exclaimed, "what happened to the car?"

"A slight change of plan."

It was a plain van, white with no decals or business details.

"You don't seriously think I'm getting into the back of a strangers van looking like this?" I suggested, and he saw the look on my face.

"No!" he replied, "sluts that look this good get to ride up front with me."

I grabbed my little purse from my car, locked it and followed him to the van, keeping my respectful distance. Even though it was not terribly busy, neither of us wanted to draw too much attention to ourselves. If he was married or had a girlfriend, we wanted to steer clear off any awkward conversations and prying eyes.

I stepped up into the van with my 4" patent leather stiletto heels. It was definitely a male domain. The cab wasn't tidy, with several days-old tabloids in the window and remnants of a lunch on the seats and floor. Empty cans of cheap cola and lemonade were rolling in the footwell.

"Where are we going?" I asked, and hoped that it wouldn't be far.

"Just down here really, perhaps 5 minutes away." He said, turning the van to a B road just past the main entrance to the store. "I know just the place".

True to his word, after a few minutes of driving he turned off the B road onto a single lane road that was much more a track. Perhaps farmers used it to access fields, but rarely dog walkers. It looked like it hadn't seen much traffic. Hedges were big and overgrown on both sides, and a central median had formed from mud and plants that wheels were not able to drive over. The day was worm, but it had followed several rainy days. Holes off the edge of the track were still full of water that had yet to dry.

After 30 seconds of driving, the tall hedges cleared into a turning circle. It was a dead end. A gate to a field was clearly used by a farmer to gain access, but it looked like the land was not being used by any animals at this time. Another gate led to an electrical box near a pylon that stretched out electrical cables across the hills above the supermarket and beyond. We were actually not that far from civilisation, but sufficiently far away from being disturbed, although that did remain a probability.

Big turned off the engine of the van. He did not make any eye contact. "So you like being humiliated do you, Emma?" He asked.

It didn't sound like a question, more of a statement. For a split second, I wondered if I was in trouble here.His reasonably friendly banter of the journey had turned into a more serious tone. Perhaps a tone used when abusing and humiliating women like me.

"Well, I do like..."

"Shut up and start sucking my cock you fucking slut."

I didn't know what to do or say, is this part of the menu we had planned to follow on our meet? Was it just him being in a role play? The answer was that in this precise moment I wasn't sure at all which one was correct.

He grabbed the wrist of my right hand and pulled me over the bench seat closer to him. His hands were still speckled in pain or seals too from a job site. He had not even washed up before our meeting. The skin on my hand was pale, I never like getting a tan. It contrasted with the shining black varnish I have lacquered over my nails every two weeks.

Still holding my wrist, he used my hand to rub himself roughly through his work jeans.

"You like this, Bitch?" He laughed. "Take my cock out and play with it."

Still not knowing what was real and what was not, I thought it best to follow his instruction. He was still sitting behind the wheel of the van. I twisted myself so that I was side on to him, but facing, and awkwardly unbuckled his belt.

"For fucks' sake, I thought you knew what you were doing?"

He scowled, but still didn't look over at me. He pulled the remaining inches of his belt though the buckle and pulled down the zip of his trousers. However he felt about me, his cock showed that it was at least turning him on. It strained against the cotton of his pants. Pants? Who wears pants? It was on his profile that he claimed to be aged 45, but in this bright sunlight I could see that it was probably closer to 55.

He took the elasticated waistband of his pants with both thumbs and pulled the material down past his cock and balls, shuffling in the seat to get more comfortable. His cock was erect, probably 5" in length but thicker than average. It was uncut, and his foreskin was not pulled back over the large bell end. It was long and rough looking.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing, I was just...."

"Just fucking suck it you fucking slut."

It was always going to be clumsy, but I decided to get completely onto the bench seat and kneel across it, like in a doggy position. My knees buried into the worn out foam, and my stiletto heels pointed up and out towards the passenger window. Luckily I doubted that any passers-by would be likely.

I took the base of his cock in my right hand, the palm of my left steadying myself on the seat. My head slowly went towards his cockhead and as it reached the tip, I felt a strong push to the back of my head which forced his cock deep into my mouth. He held it there.

"Finally, you slut.'

He held my head down until i was stalling the seat with my left hand, eventually he conceded I'd had enough and to allow me back some air. But immediately he grabbed my ponytail and was guiding my lips back towards his cock, thrusting his hips up to make me take it ever deeper. He didn't want a blowjob, he just wanted to fuck my mouth as hard as he could, like a cunt. All that effort of dressing for him, looking nice, and he just wanted to skull fuck someone like a piece of meat.

He kept his right hand firmly gripping my hair in a fist, and placed his left hand palm upwards on my throat. He wasn't choking me, but he held my windpipe firmly, stronger than anyone had ever done to me before.

With every thrust of his hips, he accentuated the first syllable of his words.

"Fucking suck my cock, slut." he repeated over. Until it was just, "Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut."

He wasn't careful with me, he just didn't care at all. I could feel the blood pooling in my head, and my eyes starting to water. I wished that I had used waterproof mascara, which was quite a sensible thought for the predicament I had found myself in. My lipstick had started to stain his cock a light red. His thrusts were relentless. I was able to go into 'the zone', a name i had coined when previous lovers had been carried away when fucking my mouth. I became relaxed, at peace when in the zone and the harsh reality of the situation faded away, like it was happening, but I was watching it at a distance. I would have genuinely enjoyed it if I knew it was just an act.

How long can he continue? I thought to myself, and after what felt like ten minutes of having my head banked by both a cock and a steering wheel, I knew he couldn't make himself cum like this.

He pulled my head away from him, saliva dripping from my mouth in long strands, cheeks flushed red and mascara running from my eyes. A False eyelash had also been removed, and was currently halfway down my cheek. I gasped for air.

"Get out," he said. "Get out of my van. I don't pick up whores."

He released his grip on my ponytail and i sat back on my heels, scrambling to find the passenger door catch. I was not sure If he was kicking me out and going to drive off, or wanting to continue to have me. Either way, I thought it best to do what he said.

The ground under my feet was just earth, with a scattering of grass. It was like a tractor had churned the ground during a particularly wet season. It was dusty, but pools of water had accumulated in the tyre tracks. Big opened his door and got out of the van, his trousers now down to his thighs.

"I want you to finish the job." he said, laughing to himself.

He walked over to me and again grabbed me by the wrist, it was becoming sore. he paraded me to the back of the van, making me stumble and trip over my thin heels, that sunk an inch with each step into the earth. With a jolt, he prized a door open. My mind racing, was I going to be bundled into the back of it? No, he was using it for cover, so that no one could see.

He placed one arm around my small waist, for a split second I thought he was going to kiss me. But no, he reached with the other hand for my ponytail again. Seizing it tightly once more, he pulled my head down, with both hands now, so that I was forced into my knees in-front of him. My black stockings gripped the dirt, at least it was soft.

His cock was still hard, and sweating now. A trickle of saliva and sweat running down the front of the shaft and pooling at his heavy balls, which hung low from his crotch.

I hooked my lips back over his crescent shaped erection. He was having trouble cumming but he was able to keep it very hard. I tried my best to blow it, to lick the shaft and kiss it like my previous boyfriends had loved. He didn't want that, he just wanted to shag my lips. Without the constraints of the drivers seat, he was fully able to put his full thrust into each stroke. He held my head constant, and tried to get his cockhead passed my tonsils. It wasn't going to be easy, I was hot, overheating. I could feel my throat tense up and close. He pushed his cock deep.

"I'm Going to get it down your throat if it's the last thing I do." He roared. And I believed him.

He held it for a few seconds, and I felt myself swallowing. The pressure from his cock and the opening of my throat was enough for it to penetrate it, just an inch, but it was there. I hoped that this would be enough.

"Fucking get in." He cried, and used small, jerking motions to keep the glans in my throat, grinding his hips in a figure-eight.

The tightness of my throat on his penis was apparently enough, he built this elf up into a crescendo from which there would be no return. A few seconds before the moment, he pulled his cock away and grabbed at it, pointing it towards my face.

"I'm cumming." He shouted, not caring who or what could hear him now.

I braced myself for the hot string of jizz about to be blasted to my face, but it was not coming. Instead he held the top on my forehead and it slowly pumped out an egg cup full of off white, perhaps yellowing, spunk. It was stringy, the consistency of egg white. The sort of cum you can smell faster than you can taste. It formed two streams that slowly seeped either side of my nose and down onto my top lip.

"Taste it." he demanded.

Still looking through me rather than at me, I looked up and him and licked the cum from my top lip and into my mouth. It tasted of stale tobacco. Still I presented it to him, not knowing if I could actually swallow it if I had to.

"Now swallow it," he instructed, "I want to see you drink it."

Of course he did. Of course he fucking did.

I took it to the back of my mouth, and swallowed it without hesitation. It was better that way. I showed him my tongue.

He reached down to his penis, now semi erect. His long foreskin was red, both with rubbing and my lipstick stains. To my surprise he held with with his thumb and index fingers. Pinching both sides, he opened it in a way that stupidly reminded me of how someone would open a bag of crisps. Back in the moment...

"Now listen carefully," he whispered, "I want you to put your tongue inside my foreskin and clean the spunk from me. You got that? Clean me."

I leaned in and with my tongue tried to get the tip between his cockhead and foreskin. It was a difficult task. I delicately took his skin into my own hands, my long black nails able to grip and hold it wider whilst I pushed my tongue inside. I licked it as best I could, the skin an inch deep on my tongue.

"Roll it back, slut." Came the instructions from above.

I slowly peeled back the foreskin from the head. It was getting harder again, but i manoeuvred it to be fully back now, revealing a well used head that was a deep purple. It was easier to lick the cum from the head now, and I felt him laughing as I realised that it wasn't just fresh cum inside. At the base of the foreskin was a semi solid mass of a yellowing substance.

I didn't want him to, but he did it anyway. He reached down and twisted his cock 90 degrees so that i could get a better luck. He rank his thumbnail under it, peeling out the mess and onto his cock. I felt myself rocking back on my heels.

"What's wrong with you now, you cunt?" He asked. "Eat it."

There was no other option, i licked it like you would an ice-cream on a sunny day. It WAS a s sunny day, but it certainly didn't smell or taste like vanilla. I was being pushed to my limits and he knew it.

Without warning, a powerful stream of piss sprayed out of his cock eye. I jerked my head back but he tracked its position. Left, then right, it sprayed the drying cum from my face and ran down my neck, in between my neck and leather collar and onto my chest. My white cotton blouse greedily soaked up the urine, deliberately being aimed at my mouth and lips.