You Should Smile More

It was a crowded club on a Saturday night. The music was blaring. A little too loud and a little too poppy for my tastes, but I nodded my head along as I watched my girl friends make drunken fools of themselves on the dance floor.

"Hey!" Someone shouted next to me. He was loud, but so was the music, so I didn't fault him too much for screaming in my ear. "You're so beautiful! Wanna dance!?" He said, swaying back and forth on his feet either from being too drunk or too uncomfortable.

I never liked dancing at clubs. The introvert in me didn't understand how people could just go out and have a ton of energy and wherewithal to participate in such antics. So I politely said: "No, thank you I—"

"Fuck off" he said as soon as I gave him the slightest hint of rejection. He sulked away, but not before making one more backhanded comment "you're ugly anyway!"

Such is the way men tend to be at clubs like this: You're always beautiful to them as long as they think they have a chance of getting in your pants. But as soon as their ego is in jeopardy they tear down what little is left of your own.

I shrugged him off and sipped at my drink.

My girlfriends seemed to be having fun out there. Finding a couple guys to grind and twerk on. They had both expressed interest in "getting some dick tonight" even on the Uber ride over here, and it seemed like their dreams would come to fruition. I wasn't against going home with one myself, but I'd be a lot more picky than they both were.

"Hey!!" Another stranger yelled in my ear. "Hey!!" He yelled again even after I turned to look at him.

His breath reeked of Bourbon and he was sweating quite profusely as he leaned into my personal space and put his arm around me like we'd been friends our whole life. Like it wasn't weird to do something like this at all with a complete stranger.

I cringed and squirmed under his grip. But he held me firm.

"Awww, come on!! Don't be so scared!!" He purred into my ear. Apparently thinking he was being sexy. "I won't hurt you!!"

My heart started going into panic mode. I immediately scanned the room for my girlfriends to come rescue me. But they were nowhere to be found.

"I'm not interested!" I told him firmly. Trying to push away from him. "Back off!"

But he was much bigger than me. My futile attempts were nothing.

"Don't be such a frigid bitch!" He growled, his tone shifting.

I stood there with my arms crossed, like an armadillo trying to curl up in a defensive ball. Head down, praying for him to go away.

Then I felt his finger under my chin. Lifting my head up so I was forced to look him in his overly dilated eyes. Then he said the four words I despise the most: "You should smile more."

Even when I'm not being forcibly hit on by an obnoxious creep, those words have always irked me. As someone that has grown up with an unfortunate case of RBF (Resting Bitch Face, for those unaware) it has something that has been said to me far too often.

Even at concerts and shows where I truly am having a good time, it gets said. As if I'm supposed to always externalize and exaggerate my feelings. How dare I have a good time within my own head?!

But at that moment it was like this random creep triggered something inside of me. Like an awakening I didn't know I had. At that moment, I gave him the slightest smirk.

"You know...you're right." I said, feigning confidence and comfort. "Maybe I could just use another drink?"

He smiled. Somehow thinking his terrible lines must have worked. "I'll be right back!" He said.

I could have left at that moment. I could have ran. But I'd decided right then and there that asshole guys like this one needed to be taught a lesson: How to take the word "no" and a girl's obvious discomfort as an answer.

******

He came back several minutes later. By that time, my plan had already been hatched.

"So..." he said, "wanna get outta here?"

Typical douchebag. I thought. Haven't even been talking for more than 5 minutes. He doesn't even know my name, and he still thinks he can get it that easily.

"Sure." I said anyway. He's got to think his 'moves' are actually working doesn't he?

We made our way out to the streets. He was stumbling much more than me. Maybe he's a little too drunk and I can excuse him?  I thought.

Then he smacked my ass and breathed into my ear "I can't wait to fuck that tonight"

That did it. Drunk or not, he deserved everything coming to him.

Once we got in the Uber, he grabbed me by the face. Pressing his lips forcefully to mine and shoving his tongue in my mouth, swirling it around without any reciprocation.

I cringed, wanting to push him away. But I figured in order for my plan to work he had to be compliant. So I didn't shove him off, but I definitely didn't feign enjoyment either.

"Yea, you like that don't you?" He said when he finally broke the kiss. "Girls think i'm a good kisser"

I highly doubted that was true. I would bet no girl in his life had told him he was ever a good kisser. But his ego kept him thinking he was God's gift to women.

It felt like ages, but finally we arrived at my house.

He leaned on me the whole way to the door. Obviously thinking he was being romantic by putting his arm around me and stealing a squeeze (roughly) at my left boob.

"So..." he said as we entered "You wanna do it on the couch, the kitchen, or in the bedroom? I don't really care where, as long as I cum."

"Wow, you're soooo romantic" I said without a hint of sincerity. "But I was thinking we would go down to the basement..."

"The basement?" he asked incredulously.

"Yea..." I said, "I like it down there."

He looked at me for a bit and my paranoia thought he might be onto me. Then he finally shrugged. "Alright, whatever."

I showed him through the kitchen, through the door, and down the stairs. Allowing him to lead.

It was dark when we reached the bottom. He fiddled for a light. Which I flicked on only once I could see a full view of his face.

The room was painted entirely red. There were still concrete floors. But the walls were hung with a massive array of flogging devices, whips, chains, leather straps, a St. Andrew's Cross, saddle horse, etc.

I love watching the face of guys change when I bring them down here. Granted, I usually know them and like them first, and most of them are from the kink community. But few expect a quiet, 'innocent' girl like me to have such a collection.

"What the fuck is all this?" he said, suddenly sounding sober, "I...I'm not into all of this..."

"Awww...that's too bad!" I said, taking my taser out of my purse and pressing it hard against his neck until he dropped to the floor. "I didn't ask."

******

It was a couple hours later when he finally woke up. The rattling of the chains made me look up from my phone.

"Wha-what's happening?!" He groaned, tugging at the straps around his wrists that suspended his arms over his head. "Where am I?"

I didn't bother answering him. I wanted the realization to come back to him. To what he did. To why he was here.

His panic began to set in. He furiously started tugging at his bonds futilely. He was suspended so high the tips of his toes could barely touch the ground (I knew that crank would come in handy for these bigger men) and as a result he started swaying and swinging back and forth.

I grinned wickedly as I watched him writhe helplessly. "You bitch!" He spat. "You can't do this! Help! HELP!!"

"It's no use." I said calmly. "The walls are soundproof, no one could hear you even if they were in my living room upstairs."

He whimpered at that. Hanging his head and letting his body sag. "Wh-why am I naked?"

"Isn't this what you wanted?" I asked coyly. "To go back to a girl's house, get naked, and partake in...activities?"

He cringed and whined pathetically. Shaking at his bonds again. His little limp dick flailing about as he did.

I took it in my hands and pinched it, softly at first, then harder.

"Why is it that the biggest douchebags at the bar always have some of the smallest dicks??" I mused coldly.

He let out a squeal as I dug my nails into his balls. "Argghh!! Ahh!!" He gasped, "it's...not that small it's...it's just...freezing in here..."

"Awww!!" I cooed, throwing his words back at him "maybe don't be such a frigid bitch, then!"

I released him with a shove and let him swing as I went to my wall of goodies.

"Do you have any idea how it feels..." I asked as I ran my hand over the various spanking instruments, "to feel completely helpless and vulnerable? To not feel safe? To not know if you're going to make it home alive at night?"

I smiled as my hand reached the large, leather strap with the letters "B-I-T-C-H" written across it.

"It's unfortunate really..." I said, lifting the strap from the wall. Grinning as I heard the chains clanking from his trembling. "Too many women have to go through life feeling that way. Like they're in danger. Like they're being taken advantage of. Like YOU made ME feel tonight!"

With that I let the strap fly across his bare bottom. He let out a surprised wail. I'm not sure if he just didn't see it coming, or didn't expect it to hurt so bad. But his scream was music to my ears.

I let him flail and whimper for a bit as I watched his skin turn from white to a bright red stripe.

"Please!" He begged pathetically. And after only one swat too!! "Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!! Please let me go!!"

"Awww!!! Don't worry sweetie!" I cooed again, rubbing the strap over his backside. "I'm not gonna hurt you! Much..."

I reared back and brought the strap across his bum, almost the exact same spot as before.

He yelped and shook with pain.

Three more swats had him literally squealing like a pig.

"Stop! Please!! Leave me alone!!" He cried. And it looked to be almost real tears.

"Do you remember when I told you to back off?" I asked. Interlacing every other word with a slap of the strap. "When I asked you to leave me alone?"

He whimpered and nodded weakly.

"I bet you're wishing you did now, huh?"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Guys like you need to learn to take 'no' for an answer..."

I emphasized my point with the hardest smacks I could possibly give him until his ass was burning bright red.

I let him think I was done. Going over and hanging the strap back up on the wall. I heard him breathe a sigh of relief through his tears. But really I was just selecting another instrument: the wooden cane.

"If I could...I would do this to every douchebag at the bar..." I said contemplatively. "But not all of them are as pushy and easy to get home as you were..."

His eyes went wide and he began pleading with me as I trotted behind him. "I really do hope this will correct your behavior in the future..."

******

He was on the floor now. Hogtied, wriggling back and forth.

“Please!!” He begged. “I have to go!!”

“I know you do.” I smiled, patting his head like he were a puppy, “and that’s what the diaper is for!”

He grimaced and screwed up his face like he wanted to call me every expletive under the sun. But I think he’d learned by now that would only make matters worse. He was finally learning to watch his words.

That didn’t stop him from tugging at his bonds in frustration though, causing the very large diaper around his waist to make the most adorable crinkle.

“You really want me to…shit myself??” He asked incredulously.

“Well judging by the blue line and yellow stain, I’d say you’ve already soaked it in piss, so what’s a little poo gonna do?” I smirked.

Normally I speed this process along with the other guys, using suppositories or enemas. But this one I let stay in this position for several hours until nature started calling.

“I can’t hold it!” He groaned. Cringing and shifting as his insides turned.

I didn’t even respond. Just sat back and watched the magic happen.

If you ever get the chance, I highly suggest you watch a grown man shit himself in a diaper for the first time.

His final, desperate pleas as his body gets tired of fighting it and finally relaxes. You can literally see the shame wash over them as their diaper fills with warm muck. The utter humiliation of soiling oneself is unlike any other. And that, right there, is where they are completely broken.

“Awww!! What’s the matturr?” I asked, poking and prodding his face that he tried to hide. “Did something happen in your diapy??”

Again he turned his face away. Then muttered “I've done it. Can I please go now?”

“Done what?” I asked. Feigning ignorance.

“I shit myself, okay?!” He barked. “You’ve had your fun. Now let me go.”

“Awww but it’s time for you to have YOUR fun!” I replied.

“What do you mean?” He asked, exasperated.

“Well I believe your exact words were: ‘the couch, the kitchen, or in the bedroom, I don't really care where, as long as I get to cum.’ So…”

His jaw hit the floor. “You’re going to make me cum??”

Guys are so funny. Even in predicaments like this they still perk up at the chance to get their rocks off.

“I’m not going to make you do anything. In fact, I'm not even going to touch you. But you wanted to cum. So I don’t think you should leave until you’ve done so...”

“Well are you going to untie me?”

“Why would I need to do that? You’ve done plenty in your diaper from that position already. I don’t see why you can’t make a 3rd mess that way too…”

“You…you want me to cum? In this??” He wriggled a bit as if to point to the wet, dirty diaper around his waist.

I simply nodded.

He stared at me blankly for a while, then finally shrugged as much as his bonds would allow him.

With his hands and feet tied together behind his back, the most he could do was rock back and forth from side to side. He cringed and whimpered audibly with each movement. The mess inside his diaper shifting and squishing as he tried to get his puny prick in position.

Finally I guess he got it where he wanted it, because he let out the tiniest of moans and started humping.

It was honestly quite the sight. Seeing a grown man hump the floor in a wet, soiled diaper.

He didn’t even try masking his moans as he went to town on the floor. His trials and tribulations were forgotten as he squished and squelched in an effort to achieve orgasm.

In less than a minute, his breathing quickened, his legs quaked, and his face turned red as he grunted and moaned. Then collapsed as much as the ropes would allow.

He just came in his diaper.

“How was that? Was it everything you hoped to get tonight?” I asked.

His face was now purple as the post-orgasm shame came over him. Any shred of horniness he had was gone, and was replaced by pure humiliation at the act he just committed.

He frowned, and fought back tears as he avoided my gaze.

“You know…” I said, before standing up and ascending the stairs, leaving him bound on the floor in his sticky, wet, and messy diaper, “you should smile more.”

THE END