Teenage Humiliation

Back when I was seventeen years old and my live-in cousin, Rossatti kept bitching every time at my ass when she had to do da laundry. She hated washing my stretched out drawers because she said they smelled like a cheddary pig sty and always had skid marks in dem. So I decided to steal a pair of her panties and wear dem for a week—especially when I had explosive diarrhea--to teach her ass a lesson. But as soon as I put dem on I was in Heaven. Da silky fabric rubbing against “Little Fanooch” caused me to have a gigantic hard on. I neva wanted to take dem off—even when I shit myself.

Rossatti had dozens of dem, so I figured she wouldn't miss 5 or 6 pair if I took some more. But she caught my ass going tru her panty drawer and gave me a painful ass-beating befoy she trew me out. Den she told everyone—even my Ma and my ailing Pa!—I was a sick poyvert who liked wearing female underwear. I was so humiliated I left town and neva went back.

A few munts later, I came back from my exile. I let da humiliating experience slip from my mind and went back at da bitch who had challenged my authority. I had to win dis battle of the sexes at all cost or my life would be rooned. I repeatedly chucked numerous punches at her smiling face like a mad man. But anger and determination wasn't nearly enough to make me victorious. My fighting skills compared to hers woy absolutely pat-etic. Rossatti eluded everyting I trew at her ass like it was da simplest ting in da woyld to do. Den on top of dat shit, she opened up on me and stomped a chocolately, puddingy, mud hole in my ass. Wit her adoring audience cheering her on. "SMACK!" My nose shattered to pieces. "THUD!" My midsection was softening up. "SMACK! SMACK!" Bot' of my eyes woy beginning to close. "THUD!..THUD!" Now my stomach really ached. "SMACK!..SMACK!..SMACK!" Bot' cheeks puffed up and my mouth swelled to an enormous size—almost as big as my gut. I was completely helpless against da female gladiator while she methodically took my ass apart.

"CRACK!" I slumped to da floy at her feet and began to cry and beg foy moicy. "Well what do you know girls. The fat cunt is crying." Rossatti said with an evil grin. Unknown to my ass, one of the women was going to Ma's Boythday party after work. So she happened to have a digital camera in her poyse. In addition to da savage beating, Rossatti decided to add more fuel to da humiliation train by stripping my clothes—unfortunately for my ass I was wearing her thong drawers. As soon as Rossatti exposed my red thong, dat bitch wit da camera scurried off to retrieve it. Soon, my entire humiliating episode was being recorded on film. "Get up sissy. Crying is not going to gain you any sympathy from me or anyone else. So get up and model your red thong for us." Rossatti commanded. A loud roar erupted from the crowd when she said dat shit. Da women, most of whom were nuns, were having a ball while dey watched me get what was coming to my ass. I struggled to my feet wit tears in my eyes and slobbers running out of my mouth. Rossatti smiled and resumed da savage beating she was easily giving me.

Now dis video is available on Youtube. Da mowa tings change da mowa dey stay da same.