I’m surprised I’ve never developed a humiliation kink. God knows, I’ve given myself enough opportunities.
My latest non-consensual attempt happened in my building’s elevator. I was heading out to get coffee, wrapped up warm against the chill of Seattle in April. A rather attractive younger woman got on, smiled at me and said hello. She kept glancing across at me, asking how my day was going and made some cheerful small talk about the weather. I wasn’t delusional enough to think she was flirting, but it’s always nice to have a positive interaction with neighbors. I walked up to my coffee shop in a cheerful mood. It wasn’t until I’d arrived and taken off my black woolen hat that I realized that I’d put it on inside out. The white care label was sticking straight up on the top, like a giant surrender flag of lost dignity. No wonder she kept looking back at me. It’s not often you see a 50 year old man who still hasn’t figured out how to dress himself properly.
Here’s once answer to the problem of errant clothing – an official uniform and a domme who inspects every aspect of it extremely closely. That’d certainly help focus the mind of a morning. The drawing is – of course – by the brilliant Sardax.