For some reason, I just love dominating and humiliating other women, especially the glamor-puss types. I consider myself a feminist and have no use for the bimbos who try to get what they want by promoting sexist stereotypes. I was clubbing recently with my friend, Marta, and I was ready to beat the crap out of some stuck up bitch. I purposely didn't drink so that my reflexes would be in top condition.
I spotted a tall blonde bimbo (early forties) who was flirting with a lot of guys and generally pissing off the other women. She'd obviously had a lot to
drink. She was laughing really loud and carrying on like a fool. She was dressed in skin tight red leather jeans and a button-down white shirt tied off above the waist and unbuttoned at the top to display her massive cleavage to best advantage; she looked ridiculous as she was too old to carry off that look. Her bare midriff included a visible "jelly roll" of fat. Her breasts looked to be about a 40-D! She tottered around in a pair of high heeled open toed mules - fire engine red - that looked like something a stripper would wear. She was sporting an obviously professional pedicure (again, fire engine red) and silver toe rings twinkled on the second and middle toe of each foot. I disliked her instantly. I told myself, that bitch is gonna get taken down a peg tonight! "Watch this!" I whispered to Marta.
I coolly walked over to where she was and bumped into her. She spilled some of her drink down her cleavage. She glared at me and snarled, "Watch where you're going". I responded matter of factly that she was drunk and was blocking the way. The blonde then turned red and said I should learn some manners! I told her to come outside and teach me some. She just turned away. I then said to the gawking onlookers, "Looks like this whore is afraid to fight". I assumed I could prick her pride since she was a good five inches taller than me and probably forty pounds heavier. The
blonde said "Ok you little bitch, I gave you a chance to walk away but now I'm gonna kick your little ass!".
I said "Lets' go, 'Juggsie'!” Outside we went. She walked out first, then me, then half the bar!
I noticed as we were walking that her balance
wasn't right. I knew I was going to enjoy this one! When we got outside, she announced, "Class is now in session" and she swung at me with a telegraphed roundhouse right. I slipped the punch with ease. She spun in a half circle and then I started talking. "No one interferes ... no one breaks this up, right, Blondie?" I goaded her; in not time I had us both demanding that no one from the crowd would intervene. Blondie tried a couple more loaded right hands which I slipped with ease; she was starting to huff and puff - a tribute to her age and the non-stop steam of cigarettes she'd been smoking. I started to pepper her with jabs - light and stinging, meant more to annoy and goad than punish. "You slow, Granny!", I teased as she missed with another right, accentuating the jibe with a stinging left to her perky little nose.
Livid, she continued to swing (and miss!).
"Stand still, you little bitch!", the blonde screamed in frustration. She was too stupid to realize that I was deliberately methodically exhausting her. When I could see she was so tired that her arms were practically hanging at her sides, then I really went to work on her - targeting those pendulous udders of hers. As I battered her fat fun bags, her shirt slowly came undone until one of those melons she was clearly so proud of flopped out. As she fumbled to cover her "assets", I hit her with a right hand to the jaw that sent her tumbling back on her ass!
She sat there, just blinking as though she didn't know what had happened to her. One big droopy tit was still on public display and her big bare feet flexed rhythmically.
BARE FEET?!! That's right! I had knocked the bimbo clean out of her shoes! As she sat there on the asphalt looking stupid, I went over and took her by the ankle. Locking her ankle in the crook of my arm, I looked down at her heavily made up face.
"Ticklish?" I asked nonchalantly.
The look on her face was priceless! It was if someone had splashed freezing water in her face. Her eyes were as wide as saucers with terror. All her false confidence drained away. Intriguingly, she began to gently wiggle her long toes; her flashy pedicure and sparkling toe rings inadvertently attracting attention to the part of her body where she least wanted it!
"H-hey ... you w-w-wouldn't do that, would you?" she stammered dry mouthed, "N-N-Not in front of all of these people. You wouldn't (ulp) ... tickle my BARE FEET?!!" I looked around to gage the crowd; it was plain to me that no one was going to intervene on her behalf - in fact, more than half the women were either smiling, nodding their head or in some other way showing their approval! I went for it!
"Kitchee kitchee kooooooooo, bitch!", I teased, stroking her plush pampered sole with my nail, "Kitchee kitchee kitchee kitchee koooooooo ... ooohh, this is fun! You have such big feet, bimbo, it's going to take a long time to give them the kind of thorough tickling they so richly deserve! Admit it, bitch, you're enjoying this! Why else would anyone spend so much time on her big feet if she didn't want them to get attention? I mean, come on .. the flashy pedicure, the toe rings, the 'fuck-me' mules ... you were trying to seduce someone into tickling your big old feet, weren't you?".
"WAAAAA HA HA HA HA ...", the bimbo cackled helplessly, writhing on the ground as I tickled her bare sole, " ... WHEEEEEEEEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... NO ... HA HA ... IT ISN'T TRUE ... HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... I-I HATE BEING TICKLED ... HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO ... QUIT IT ... HA HA HA HA HA ... I CAN'T STAND IT ... HA HA ... I'M TICKLISH ... HA HA HA HA ... MY FEET ARE VERY VERY TICKLISH!!!!". I tickled her tootsies for about five minutes; dragging shrieks of laughter from the big mouthed bimbo!
Grabbing her by the hair, I pulled her to her feet (none too gently). Sliding behind her, I maneuvered her arm into a hammerlock, exerting just enough pressure upward to control her. She looked pretty shaken by now and why not - having lost a catfight to a much smaller woman and then being subjected to a public tickling of her big bare feet! One of her big knockers was still on public display and her heavily made up face was streaked with mascara tears - half from terror; half from the involuntary mirth caused by the tickling of her foot. She certainly didn't look very glamorous any more! Using my left hand to hold her in the hammerlock meant my right hand was free - a fact that I took full advantage of!
Cupping her exposed breast I began to heft and jiggle it, drawing hoots and whistles from the crowd, "What's the matter, you old cow?", I teased, "You had no problem playing the exhibitionist before? Shaking these fat milk melons in the face of another woman's man, right? Well, look at all the attention you're getting now!"
The aging glamor girl was sobbing now; I decided to cheer her up! Maintaining the hammerlock with my left hand, I began to goose her bare midriff with my right, causing her to yelp in ticklish discomfort and jiggle her droopy breasts for the crowd. A nervous titter escaped the blonde's lips, notwithstanding the embarrassing spectacle she was making of herself (albeit with some assistance!)
"P-P-Please (sob) ... l-leave me alone ... I ... I ... (it was then that I started poking that her exposed midriff) ... ohhhhhh ... hee hee ... w-what are you ... tee hee hee ... oh not again ... hee hee hee ...", she began to squirm; I was getting to her!
I started to tickle her belly in earnest. "Tickle tickle tickle, 'Fatso'! You made such a point of exposing your flabby tummy like some Brittany Spears wanna-be, trying to flirt with other women's men ... now you're gonna pay for it! Ooohhhh, you're so soft in the middle, 'Fatso', did you ever hear of a gym? You really ought to tighten up these pathetic abs if you're going to put them on public display like this, dear!"
The blonde squealed with helpless laughter and inadvertently shook her massive knockers to the crowd's delight as I tickled her mercilessly! Marta stepped forward and snapped the blonde's photo in this compromising position. Finally, when everyone had had a good look and I felt she'd been utterly humiliated, I let her loose.
"Now get your skanky butt out of here before I kick it again!" I warned. Her face beet red, she pulled her breast back into her shirt and hurried off into the night.
I walked over to Marta and she gave me a high-five; handing me the blonde's shoes! NOW ... I felt like a celebratory drink! When I got home, I placed the
bimbo's shoes into my "trophy case" along with her picture. They took there place among a collection of the shoes and photographs of other sluts I'd encountered over the years. I often wondered if theire encounters with me in any way "reformed" them. I though about them sheepishly walking home barefoot. I had little doubt that for one night at least, they'd each learned the meaning of humility!
I spotted a tall blonde bimbo (early forties) who was flirting with a lot of guys and generally pissing off the other women. She'd obviously had a lot to
drink. She was laughing really loud and carrying on like a fool. She was dressed in skin tight red leather jeans and a button-down white shirt tied off above the waist and unbuttoned at the top to display her massive cleavage to best advantage; she looked ridiculous as she was too old to carry off that look. Her bare midriff included a visible "jelly roll" of fat. Her breasts looked to be about a 40-D! She tottered around in a pair of high heeled open toed mules - fire engine red - that looked like something a stripper would wear. She was sporting an obviously professional pedicure (again, fire engine red) and silver toe rings twinkled on the second and middle toe of each foot. I disliked her instantly. I told myself, that bitch is gonna get taken down a peg tonight! "Watch this!" I whispered to Marta.
I coolly walked over to where she was and bumped into her. She spilled some of her drink down her cleavage. She glared at me and snarled, "Watch where you're going". I responded matter of factly that she was drunk and was blocking the way. The blonde then turned red and said I should learn some manners! I told her to come outside and teach me some. She just turned away. I then said to the gawking onlookers, "Looks like this whore is afraid to fight". I assumed I could prick her pride since she was a good five inches taller than me and probably forty pounds heavier. The
blonde said "Ok you little bitch, I gave you a chance to walk away but now I'm gonna kick your little ass!".
I said "Lets' go, 'Juggsie'!” Outside we went. She walked out first, then me, then half the bar!
I noticed as we were walking that her balance
wasn't right. I knew I was going to enjoy this one! When we got outside, she announced, "Class is now in session" and she swung at me with a telegraphed roundhouse right. I slipped the punch with ease. She spun in a half circle and then I started talking. "No one interferes ... no one breaks this up, right, Blondie?" I goaded her; in not time I had us both demanding that no one from the crowd would intervene. Blondie tried a couple more loaded right hands which I slipped with ease; she was starting to huff and puff - a tribute to her age and the non-stop steam of cigarettes she'd been smoking. I started to pepper her with jabs - light and stinging, meant more to annoy and goad than punish. "You slow, Granny!", I teased as she missed with another right, accentuating the jibe with a stinging left to her perky little nose.
Livid, she continued to swing (and miss!).
"Stand still, you little bitch!", the blonde screamed in frustration. She was too stupid to realize that I was deliberately methodically exhausting her. When I could see she was so tired that her arms were practically hanging at her sides, then I really went to work on her - targeting those pendulous udders of hers. As I battered her fat fun bags, her shirt slowly came undone until one of those melons she was clearly so proud of flopped out. As she fumbled to cover her "assets", I hit her with a right hand to the jaw that sent her tumbling back on her ass!
She sat there, just blinking as though she didn't know what had happened to her. One big droopy tit was still on public display and her big bare feet flexed rhythmically.
BARE FEET?!! That's right! I had knocked the bimbo clean out of her shoes! As she sat there on the asphalt looking stupid, I went over and took her by the ankle. Locking her ankle in the crook of my arm, I looked down at her heavily made up face.
"Ticklish?" I asked nonchalantly.
The look on her face was priceless! It was if someone had splashed freezing water in her face. Her eyes were as wide as saucers with terror. All her false confidence drained away. Intriguingly, she began to gently wiggle her long toes; her flashy pedicure and sparkling toe rings inadvertently attracting attention to the part of her body where she least wanted it!
"H-hey ... you w-w-wouldn't do that, would you?" she stammered dry mouthed, "N-N-Not in front of all of these people. You wouldn't (ulp) ... tickle my BARE FEET?!!" I looked around to gage the crowd; it was plain to me that no one was going to intervene on her behalf - in fact, more than half the women were either smiling, nodding their head or in some other way showing their approval! I went for it!
"Kitchee kitchee kooooooooo, bitch!", I teased, stroking her plush pampered sole with my nail, "Kitchee kitchee kitchee kitchee koooooooo ... ooohh, this is fun! You have such big feet, bimbo, it's going to take a long time to give them the kind of thorough tickling they so richly deserve! Admit it, bitch, you're enjoying this! Why else would anyone spend so much time on her big feet if she didn't want them to get attention? I mean, come on .. the flashy pedicure, the toe rings, the 'fuck-me' mules ... you were trying to seduce someone into tickling your big old feet, weren't you?".
"WAAAAA HA HA HA HA ...", the bimbo cackled helplessly, writhing on the ground as I tickled her bare sole, " ... WHEEEEEEEEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... NO ... HA HA ... IT ISN'T TRUE ... HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... I-I HATE BEING TICKLED ... HOO HOO HOO HOO HOO ... QUIT IT ... HA HA HA HA HA ... I CAN'T STAND IT ... HA HA ... I'M TICKLISH ... HA HA HA HA ... MY FEET ARE VERY VERY TICKLISH!!!!". I tickled her tootsies for about five minutes; dragging shrieks of laughter from the big mouthed bimbo!
Grabbing her by the hair, I pulled her to her feet (none too gently). Sliding behind her, I maneuvered her arm into a hammerlock, exerting just enough pressure upward to control her. She looked pretty shaken by now and why not - having lost a catfight to a much smaller woman and then being subjected to a public tickling of her big bare feet! One of her big knockers was still on public display and her heavily made up face was streaked with mascara tears - half from terror; half from the involuntary mirth caused by the tickling of her foot. She certainly didn't look very glamorous any more! Using my left hand to hold her in the hammerlock meant my right hand was free - a fact that I took full advantage of!
Cupping her exposed breast I began to heft and jiggle it, drawing hoots and whistles from the crowd, "What's the matter, you old cow?", I teased, "You had no problem playing the exhibitionist before? Shaking these fat milk melons in the face of another woman's man, right? Well, look at all the attention you're getting now!"
The aging glamor girl was sobbing now; I decided to cheer her up! Maintaining the hammerlock with my left hand, I began to goose her bare midriff with my right, causing her to yelp in ticklish discomfort and jiggle her droopy breasts for the crowd. A nervous titter escaped the blonde's lips, notwithstanding the embarrassing spectacle she was making of herself (albeit with some assistance!)
"P-P-Please (sob) ... l-leave me alone ... I ... I ... (it was then that I started poking that her exposed midriff) ... ohhhhhh ... hee hee ... w-what are you ... tee hee hee ... oh not again ... hee hee hee ...", she began to squirm; I was getting to her!
I started to tickle her belly in earnest. "Tickle tickle tickle, 'Fatso'! You made such a point of exposing your flabby tummy like some Brittany Spears wanna-be, trying to flirt with other women's men ... now you're gonna pay for it! Ooohhhh, you're so soft in the middle, 'Fatso', did you ever hear of a gym? You really ought to tighten up these pathetic abs if you're going to put them on public display like this, dear!"
The blonde squealed with helpless laughter and inadvertently shook her massive knockers to the crowd's delight as I tickled her mercilessly! Marta stepped forward and snapped the blonde's photo in this compromising position. Finally, when everyone had had a good look and I felt she'd been utterly humiliated, I let her loose.
"Now get your skanky butt out of here before I kick it again!" I warned. Her face beet red, she pulled her breast back into her shirt and hurried off into the night.
I walked over to Marta and she gave me a high-five; handing me the blonde's shoes! NOW ... I felt like a celebratory drink! When I got home, I placed the
bimbo's shoes into my "trophy case" along with her picture. They took there place among a collection of the shoes and photographs of other sluts I'd encountered over the years. I often wondered if theire encounters with me in any way "reformed" them. I though about them sheepishly walking home barefoot. I had little doubt that for one night at least, they'd each learned the meaning of humility!
