The Waitress Served Pie by Ibfeysaat


(Questions and comments to ibfeysaat18@gmail.com)

This is a much more gentle demonstration of female domination than the last
one. It contains mixed fighting and female sexual domination. I also
examine my feelings of humiliation and shame and the sexual arousal it
stirs in me.

This is very personal. I delve deeply into the psychological and
subconscious cravings to be dominated. I hope it helps you understand me
and maybe a little about yourself. This is all true.


I have been a fan of female domination for a long time. The shame and
humiliation of getting beaten up and dominated by girls is a major turn
on.  I have enjoyed and not enjoyed getting beaten up by very strong
athletic women. I have been beaten up by really tough girls. But my
favorite is getting beaten up and humiliated by a girly girl. There is
something very arousing about watching a girl discover her dominant side. I
have been the first victim of several young women and all but one derived
great sexual pleasure from beating me up. Some of them I even paid for the
privilege. This is the story of my first fight with Taylor. This happened
in the late 80s.

Taylor was the sweetest girl to ever beat me up. She was a college student
who worked as a waitress at a local restaurant that I used to frequent. She
was so sweet and friendly and I loved when she waited on me. She quickly
became my personal waitress. Every Monday and Wednesday I used to go in and
they always gave me Taylor and the same booth. I usually left her a couple
of twentys or a fifty dollar bill even though dinner was only 20 or 30
bucks. Obviously, I was her favorite customer.

Taylor was as cute as a bunny. She had dark brown straight hair with bangs
to her eyebrows and just above shoulder length in the back. It was like a
sexy little bowl cut. She had dimples and these pretty blue eyes which
sparkled when she listened. She was very sweet and quickly learned to know
what I wanted before I knew what I wanted.

One day she asked what I like about her. Why did I always come in when she
worked? I replied that I loved how sweet and kind she was. She presumed
that most people were nice like her. I responded that most women weren't
anywhere near as nice as she was. She thought that I should be attracting
lots of nice girls. I admitted that I was better at attracting lots of not
so nice girls.

I became very fond of her and she became fond of me and my generosity. I
looked forward to the nights that she worked. She was so warm. Even though
it was a professional relationship and she earned her money being warm and
kind, I still craved it. She was the one girl who was sweet, kind, and
gentle with me.

It didn't take her long to figure out that I attracted women who liked to
dominate me. Taylor noticed that I was non threatening almost subservient.
She  noted that I must like bossy women who tell me what to do. They
probably discipline you occasionally too she kidded. She was beginning to
get it. She wondered what kinds of things these women did to me. She asked
if I liked to have a woman spank me. I turned a deep shade of red before
nodding slightly. She said she understood. She said she could certainly see
where spanking a man could be very sexy and empowering. She said I probably
liked to be slapped in the face by women too. Afraid so I admitted. "Oh my
God I'll bet you also like to get beaten up by women, don't you?" She
asked. She had found my weakness and I ashamedly admitted that it was true.
She said that's ok. She was one woman who would never hurt me. I quipped
that's too bad and we both chuckled.

She seemed genuinely interested in my fascination with female domination.
You could tell that she was trying to wrap her head around it. I could
sense her curiosity was blossoming. I was beginning to not only hope but
also to believe that one day she might actually want to beat me up. Don't
worry she did.

She asked me how it usually starts. I explained many different ways.
Sometimes a woman will just start a fight with me and beat me up. She may
bully me and then slap me and beat me up. Some women like to wrestle with
me and they always pin me. Other women have boxed me. I usually end up
crying like a baby or getting knocked out. Some have just picked a fight
with me and then beat me up. Some have lined me up and ballbusted me. Some
have just slapped my face and or spanked me. All of them like to sit on me
afterward  if you know what I mean. I always thoroughly enjoy that.

Taylor admitted that she had never been in a fight in her whole life. But
the thought of beating up a man intrigued her. She asked me if I had ever
been beaten up by a girl who had never beaten up a man before. I thought
about it for a moment and responded probably, but I wasn't sure. I told her
that the more unlikely or out of character that kind of behavior was, the
more I seemed to like it. For instance, I told her about the little
Aerobics girl, Carla. I wrote about getting beaten up in a one sided boxing
match with Carla in "Beaten Up By the Aerobics Girl." In hindsight, I'm
pretty sure that I was Carla's maiden victim. Anyway, I told her about how
I met Carla and how she came to beat me up and and dominate me at her will.
Whenever we would discuss it, I would always get a boner. I would then go
home and masturbate. I looked forward to our little chats. I was hoping the
day would come.

Our chats were interesting from another perspective. I had never really
talked about my fetish and the ramifications it had on my life before. It's
one of the liberating benefits of this forum. I haven't shared my
experiences with many other people and now I am posting them for all to
see. Admittedly, in an anonymous manner. But, I'm still reliving and
sharing my experiences. Taylor was certainly the first girl who I shared my
humiliating fetish with who had not yet beaten me up.

As our relationship blossomed, she became more curious. One day she asked
THE QUESTION. She said she could understand why a woman might get off on
beating up and dominating a man, but what's in it for me. I mean how much
pleasure could one derive from getting beaten up. It took me aback and made
me think for a moment.

"It's hard to explain. You never like the pain. But you can't help
yourself. You 'crave' it. I find that when a girl makes me cry, it's a very
liberating experience. It's almost, in an odd way like the relief you feel
when you have to pee. You're holding it in and then finally you can let it
go. The complete lack of control is terrifying and exciting. The shame of
getting beaten up by a girl is also something you despise but also crave.
The sexual arousal and the humiliation of the arousal is powerful and
enticing. The lack of control and often humiliating manner of my
gratification is exciting. The inferiority and the masochistic desires stem
back to childhood generally. The sexual arousal and gratification of the
victorious woman is like the dessert. No matter how terrible the meal is,
if the dessert is tasty all is forgotten. I've thought about it a lot but
never tried to articulate it someone else. It's strangely satisfying."

"Oh. And one more thing. I'm obsessed with pubic hair on a girl. I was the
last kid to go through puberty. My voice changed when I was almost 16.
Sophomore year in high school I was the only boy in gym class who didn't
have hair on his dick. It was humiliating to know that all the girls my age
were all grown up and I was still a little boy. It was worse when my
friends little sisters also achieved puberty before me. It was a great
relief when it finally did arrive. Kissing the hairy pussy of a dominant
woman helps reinforce that lifelong inferiority complex of being reduced to
that jealous immature little boy in me. It's comfortable, reassuring, and
satisfying. It's where I belong. I hope that was honest and forthright
enough for you."

She replied "Yes. I think I'm beginning to understand."

The next time I saw her, she told me that she was proud of me. Taylor
complimented me on the honesty and bravery that it took to share my
embarrassing fetish with her. She promised to keep my confessions to
herself. I told her that I appreciated it. Then she raised the possibility
for the first time. Taylor admitted that our little talks intrigued her and
that she spent a lot of time thinking about it. She didn't say it but I
took it to also mean that she fantasized about it. She wondered if my
honesty and openness was a subtle hint. While it didn't start that way, I
would be lying if I didn't admit that I was hoping to entice her. She then
said that she hoped she wasn't being too presumptuous but it felt like I
was offering a very soft vague invitation. For the first time since I met
her I felt a little nervous. My heart started racing. I realized that we
were rapidly approaching that line that once crossed can never be
uncrossed. "I would be lying if I told you that I don't think about it, but
I am too ashamed to come out and say it."

"Have you ever paid any of these women to beat you up?"

No. I replied.

"Well, if I am ever going to beat you up, you're going to have to pay me.
What do say to that?

"How much?"

"$200.00."

"That's a lot of money."

"Ok $300.00. Take it or leave it. Think about it. You can give me your
answer before you leave."

All through dinner I dreamed of being beaten up and dominated by my
waitress. It was hard not to notice the change in Taylor. She was always
sweet and cute but today she oozed a purposeful self confidence. She glided
around the restaurant like she owned the place. She looked more
intimidating too. She is taller than I realized. She's actually almost 5
foot 9. I noticed her legs for the first time and they were longer than I
had realized. She had broad shoulders and small boobs and looked like an
athlete. Yes, I would have paid her twice that much. The thought of having
to pay her to beat me up and dominate me heightened my arousal.

She brought the check and asked me for my answer. I pulled out a 100 dollar
bill and gave it to her. I said I would give her the rest afterwards. She
emitted a dismissive snort and said "No. You are going to have to ask me.
You are going to have to ask me nicely to beat you up."

I felt myself shrinking in my shame and humiliation and she seemed suddenly
very dominant and in total control. With my voice trembling I said quietly
"Taylor, would you please beat me up? I'm sorry but I deserve it. Taylor,
please beat me up."

"Yes. I would be most happy to beat you up. You'd like that wouldn't you?
You want me to beat you up, dominate, humiliate, and make you my bitch.
Don't you?"

"Say it!"

"I want you to beat me up and dominate me, humiliate me, and make me your
bitch Taylor." We were never going to be able to uncross that bridge now.

We set a date for Saturday afternoon. She arrived and we went through the
preliminaries including paying her for the pleasure of beating me up. That
was a first. She was afraid of hurting me too badly and I assured her that
was highly unlikely. If I yelled "badger badger badger" she should stop. I
had never needed to use a safe word before. She had decided to play it by
ear. If she felt uncomfortable, she could always stop. To begin she wanted
to bully me and see where things went from there. I was to stand and wait
for her.

She walked in and began in on me. "So, you crave being dominated by girls,
do you? What would you do if I slapped you in the face? Are you man enough
to stop me?"

I stood there looking at her but too afraid to say anything. Crack! Sure
enough, she slapped me in the face and it stung. I didn't say anything. I
just took it. A moment later she slapped me again. A smile crept across her
face. "Are you just going to take it? Do you like it? Are you getting off
on this?" She moved to slap me again. But this time I tried to protect my
face with my hand. "You think you can stop it? You can't." She made a fist
and punched me in the stomach. Oof. I wasn't expecting that. I grabbed at
my stomach and then she slapped me in the face again. It worked perfectly
and she started laughing at me. "You're such a pussy. I can see why you get
beaten up by so many girls. This is fun. Are you having fun?" Crack!
Another stinging slap to my face. That really stung. I rubbed my burning
face with my hand. She saw an opportunity and she seized it. She punched me
in my unprotected and vulnerable tummy. She buried her little fist deep in
my soft belly. That knocked the wind and the stuffing out of me. I bent
over and she pulled back her arm before she punched me in the stomach
again. As I groaned and bent over from the burning pain in my belly, she
grabbed me in a headlock, twirled me around forced us to the ground. She
quickly turned me onto my back. I only pretended to struggle. There isn't
anything sexier than a beautiful dominant woman sitting atop a beaten
helpless man. She quickly secured an impenetrable schoolgirl pin. I looked
up at her fearing what might come next. She slapped me in the face again.
And again and again and again. My arms were bound under her knees and she
delighted in the helplessness of my position. My face was stinging and I
was becoming very ashamed of the pathetic performance I was giving. I
obviously wanted to lose. But this girl had never been in a fight before
and I allowed myself to be wrestled down and pinned helpless, virtually
defenseless in less than a minute.

"You really are a pussy aren't you? I've got you pinned flat and I'm
slapping you in the face and there is nothing you can do about it. Is
there? Ooh, are you going to cry? Is a little girl beating you up? You're
pathetic. You're weak. And you're a pussy. You deserve to be beaten up by a
girl."

She continued slapping me even more viciously as she was speaking. I was
becoming frightened. I tried to twist away. I struggled enough to get her
off of me. But my freedom was short lived. As soon as I was free from her
dominating position she was able to grab my hair and began punching me in
the stomach. I grabbed at my stomach and she pulled me by the hair. I was
on my knees and she was standing above me holding my hair. She punched me a
couple of times in the face hard enough to hurt but certainly not as hard
as she could have. Then she continued the onslaught of humiliating slaps to
my burning face. She was a natural and I was in big trouble. She probably
slapped me 50 or 60 times. I quickly felt helpless, vulnerable, scared, and
ashamed. The tears were rapidly forming in my eyes. It was all happening so
quickly. I tried to hold them back. But it was fruitless. There is that
feeling of overwhelming shame and humiliation when you are reduced to tears
by a girl. It's a combination of frustration and humiliation and fear and
shame and desperation and degradation. It comes on like a train and it
overwhelms you. Even as the tears start flowing, you try to remain strong.
But it's fruitless and soon you start sobbing.

"You're crying. I made you cry. Oh, am I hurting you. Tee hee." She was
making fun of me and really savoring the humiliation of my pathetic crying.
She later told me that my crying served as a powerful aphrodisiac.
Something about making a man cry beaten helpless and vulnerable unmasked a
strong sexual arousal in her. She was in a dominating position and I was on
my knees at her mercy. Taylor stopped slapping me and pushed me over onto
my back once again. She thankfully released my hair as she wrestled me
underneath her. She executed another schoolgirl pin as she contemplated her
next move. She wondered what would happen if she punched me in the face. I
hinted that I would rather she didn't. But she did. Not that hard, but it
still hurt and I was very frightened. I couldn't stop her so she did it
again a little harder. And then a third time. My crying elevated from
quietly sobbing to bawling like a baby and pleading with her for mercy. (No
safe word though) She was thoroughly enjoying reducing me to a pathetic
little beaten boy. She began to mock me. In an effort to quiet my crying,
Taylor edged forward until she was sitting on face. The denim of her jean
shorts was unpleasantly abrasive against my face. I noticed a damp spot in
the crotch of her shorts. She rubbed her jean covered pussy all over my
face as she instructed me to kiss it and quit my crying. My cock was rock
hard as I submitted to my conqueror. She complained that I wasn't doing it
right. So she rolled onto her side and squeezed. She had gone from sitting
on my face to trapping me in a frightening headscissors. "Ooh! I've got you
now."

Taylor was a tennis player. She could run all day. Her legs were strong.
And I was in big trouble! She rolled to her other side and I just flopped
around helplessly. My head and neck were stuck. Finally, mercifully, she
let me go. My face was beet red. I was seeing stars. I was dizzy. That was
the tightest headscissors I had ever been subjected to. As I was laying
there trying to refocus and get my equilibrium back, Taylor was removing
her pants. She also took off her top. This left her in only a pair of green
bikini panties. She had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. She was
tapered. Her tits were small and very firm. She looked like a bodybuilder
without any obvious muscle definition. She had pink boyish hard nipples.
She looked like she was in heat and ready to mate. She was about to pounce.
The hungry tigress was about to pounce on me.

And frankly, I was ready to be pounced on. Aren't you? As I lay there
awaiting my hellish fate, ok my heavenly offerings, all seemed right in my
little corner of the world. Next thing I know those sexy green panties and
mile long legs are coming for me. Like a magnet I get sucked in to her vice
like grip of leg jail purgatory. It wasn't heaven, but it certainly wasn't
hell either. This time there was only one measly layer of protection
between my face and her garden of heavenly delights. And her bouquet was
fragrant. I'm certain that a gentle dew was forming on the petals of her
flower. Spending too much time worrying about her secret place I wasn't
spending enough time worrying about her cobra like legs. Meanwhile, I'm
trapped. There were worse places to endure solitary confinement.

Taylor was finding great excitement at having me trapped between her legs.
The more I struggled, the tighter she squeezed. She rolled onto her side
and squeezed as hard as she could. I could feel everything going black and
I began to panic. I tapped her thigh to signal my surrender. Taylor relaxed
her grip and rolled me onto my back. She slithered up my body until she
achieved a cowgirl pin atop my face. She began to hump my face with her
damp panty covered pussy. She instructed me to worship her. I did the best
I could. This went on for a couple of minutes. She cupped her tits and
luxuriated in her face sitting exhibition. She slid back a little
maintaining her control of my arms with her knees. She looked so sexy
sitting on me in a threatening pose naked save for a pair of damp panties.
She reminded me that she wasn't finished. This was after all a fight and
she wanted to prove worthy of being called the winner. She began slapping
my face back and forth. Occasionally, she would make a fist and punch me.
My face was burning. She demonstrated her superiority with a three punch
combination. Those punches hurt and frightened me. She waited a moment and
then she did it again. She intended on beating me up. She wanted to make me
cry. After the third 3 punch combination, she told me to beg for mercy. My
eyes were beginning to fill with tears. She mixed in some humiliating
slaps. A couple more punches and I began to cry and weep quietly.

"Are you crying? Awww, are you getting beaten up by a girl? Cry all you
want you little baby. I'm having too much fun to stop now."

A couple more punches made my nose start bleeding. She was ramping up the
intensity. My crying was getting worse. The tears were streaming down my
cheeks as I began to beg and plead for mercy. She told me that in order to
get her to stop, I had to be her bitch. Her cunt licking bitch. She made me
beg for it.

"Please make me your bitch. Let me kiss your pussy and worship you."

Taylor interrupted me. "My cunt. Loser. A pussy is a cat. A cunt is the
symbol of female supremacy. You need to lick and worship my cunt!"

I was in no position to argue. But the fact is I was going to be
worshipping her panties. Her cunt or her pussy or whatever you want to call
it, was safely hidden away behind her panties.

"Please Taylor, make me worship your succulent cunt." I must have said the
magic words. Because the next thing I knew, I had these damp green panties
scrubbing my face. Sure was safer than being punched or slapped. Tastier
too! Taylor rode me savagely. She delighted in smothering me. She pivoted
and turned around smothering me in her mouth watering ass. This gave her
free access to my boy stick. She fondled me as she announced that she had
this sneaking suspicion that I was getting turned on by her little
demonstration. I was soon relieved of my shorts and my happy little fellow
was free to wave to the crowd. His freedom was short lived. She captured
him without a struggle. She began jerking me off and I was afraid that I
was going to humiliate myself and cum like a teenager. She laughed as she
demonstrated her mastery of me. Bringing me to the absolute brink and then
stopping and laughing at me. She would let go and I would twitch like my
cock was being tasered.

She climbed off me and stepped over my head. I stared up those never ending
legs to those green panties and up to that proud victorious warrior's
smiling face. "If you think I'm going to let you come before me, you're on
drugs. I should beat you up some more for even considering it. You just got
beaten up by a girl who has never even been in a fight before. You are a
pussy. You will worship and adore me over and over and over again. Are we
clear?"

She was slowly lowering her panties and revealing her perfectly triangular
hairy bush as she spoke. This was the 80s. All the girls were completely
unshaven. Anyway, it was a sight for sore eyes. The rest of me was pretty
sore too. "Yes boss. We're clear."

She began her heart stopping descent. The symbol of pure unadulterated
female domination was coming to get me. Her legs are long and strong and
she has the power in them to do some amazing things. One of which was the
slowest sexiest landing into my waiting face. I first felt her pubic hair
tickle my nose as her bush covered my face. A moment later the heady taste
of a woman who was ready to mark her territory. Taylor facesat and face
fucked me silly. She was like a kid in a candy store. And I licked her like
she was an ice cream cone. My crying was long gone and I was savoring the
worshipping of my conqueror. I was ashamed of my pathetic weakness and
embarrassing crying, but I was proud of my cunt licking skills. I wanted to
make her come. I needed to make her come. And when she came and bathed my
face with her musty cuntal offerings, my heart soared. She grabbed my head
and forced me deep inside her greedy twat. She humped me with a vengeance
and screamed out in orgasmic delight over and over. It was music to my
ears. I had forgotten all about the pain of getting beaten up and the shame
of my debasement. I was happy. I made her cum. And cum and cum some more.
She hadn't planned on it, but she was as excited and insatiable as she had
ever been. She slithered down my body embedding me in her burning bush.
Taylor impaled herself on me and gave me the best fuck I had ever
experienced. There was no talking, no verbal humiliation, no instructions,
no commands. She stared into my eyes with a look of slight confusion. I
think she was overwhelmed with many different feelings coursing through her
veins. Then she bent down and kissed me. She fucked me like a woman in heat
and kissed me like a tender lover. It was an interesting dynamic. I tried
to warn her but she stopped me. She put her finger on her lip and then on
my lip and then she returned to kissing me as I came and came hard deep
inside of her. She smiled and told me to keep going. The next 10 minutes
were among the 10 finest, sweetest, sexiest, and most fulfilling of my 60
plus years. After coming a second time, I was finished. Taylor, however was
not finished. She was ready to serve dessert. She is after all, a waitress.
She shimmied back up my body and told me that I needed to finish my
dessert. A fresh creampie. The Waitress Served Pie!

Afterward, we talked honestly. Taylor laughed and apologized for going a
little, or maybe a lot overboard. I told her not to worry. But then she got
very honest and forthright. She hadn't planned on having sex with me. She
thought that I was going to let her beat me up and gently dominate me.
Sitting on my face, making me kiss her panties, that sort of thing. And she
figured that she would jerk me off in some slightly humiliating manner. But
beating me up, and watching my fear and shame escalate, stirred a sexual
chord in her she didn't know existed. So she just let nature take her
wherever she was going to go. I was just the lucky recipient. She told me
that was the best sex she ever had.

Over the next several months I had a real live girlfriend. She beat me up
occasionally and fucked me constantly. It was one of the best times of my
life. She transferred colleges at the end of the term. But Taylor is was
and always will be the sweetest girl to ever beat me up.

Taylor sweetheart, that's for you.