I Wanted to Humiliate Women and Ended Up at Their Feet

My name is Bruno, and that Tuesday I was convinced I was going to teach them all a lesson. I was in the second semester of a master's degree in social studies, in a graduate seminar room with twelve adult women and me, the only man. I had been assigned to present the unit's topic, and instead of reading the bibliography like any sensible person, I decided to use my turn to blurt out everything I thought about feminism. That it was unnecessary. That it was noise. That the world had functioned for centuries without it.

I dressed for the occasion. A striped shirt, tight jeans, and a belt with a heavy buckle that always caught on my underwear when I sat down. That morning, on top of that, I put on too much of a sweet cologne, almost honey-like, which seemed elegant to me but actually smelled like cheap candy.

Dr. Reyes, the professor, was standing to my right, arms crossed and with a patience that was already beginning to wear thin. She was a woman of about forty, calm, the sort who didn't raise her voice because she didn't need to. She watched me the way someone waits for a clumsy puppy to trip over itself.

—Whenever you're ready, Bruno —she said.

I jumped to reach the projection screen and yanked it down. My first slide appeared, with a title I'd chosen to provoke them: “Why Feminism Is a Waste of Time.”

An immediate murmur rose. Exchanged glances, a stifled laugh in the back row, someone setting a pen down on the desk with a sharp knock.

I've got them right where I want them, I thought. Uncomfortable.

—Since the beginning of time —I began, in that high-pitched voice of mine that sounded worse whenever I got nervous— humanity functioned perfectly well without all this modern invention. Men hunted, women took care of the house, and nobody complained…

—Nobody complained because the ones who did were silenced —Lucía said from the center of the room, without raising her hand. She had a crooked smile that boded nothing good for me.

There was laughter. I carried on, stubbornly convinced that my superiority was only a matter of time. What I hadn't accounted for was the most absurd detail of the day.

***

A bee flew in through the half-open window.

At first nobody paid it any attention. It was a distant buzzing, a dot moving back and forth above their heads. But the damned thing was plotting its route, and my honey-scented cologne was exactly what it had been looking for. I felt it pass near my ear, then my neck, and suddenly it went down the collar of my shirt.

—Wait… —I murmured, standing still—. Wait, wait…

The insect moved down my chest, trapped between the fabric and my skin, buzzing like an alarm. Panic overtook my pride. I yanked my shirt over my head, the buttons flew off, and I was left standing in the middle of the classroom bare-chested, pale and scrawny, waving the garment around like a lunatic.

All twelve looked up at once. Twelve pairs of eyes, twelve smiles beginning to form. And, worst of all, several phones slowly rising above the desks.

Freed from the shirt, the bee found a new target: the waistband of my jeans. I saw it slip downward, and something in my brain short-circuited.

—No, not there, don't you dare… —I begged, speaking to an insect in front of twelve women.

I yanked my pants down to my ankles, a reflex born of sheer terror. And with them, without realizing it, my underwear came down too.

The room fell silent for half a second. Then it erupted.

***

I looked down and understood why. There I was, naked from the waist down, exposed in front of the entire class, my cock out in the open and shrunken with panic. And what nature had given me was, shall we say, modest. Very modest.

—Oh my God —someone said between laughs—. Is that the dick you came here to shut us up with?

—My eighteen-year-old nephew has a bigger one —another woman blurted out, and the room collapsed.

—From back here you can barely see it. It looks like a frightened peanut.

—And look at those balls hanging there like two raisins.

Dr. Reyes tried to keep her composure, she really did, but it lasted three seconds. She put a hand over her mouth, and when she took it away, she was laughing just like the others.

—I suppose this is the masculinity you were talking about so much, right, Bruno? —she said, and the entire classroom chanted the phrase like an anthem.

Heat rose into my face. I felt the blush burning my cheeks, the ridiculous contrast between my white skin and the red of my shame. I bent over to pull up my pants, wrestling with the fabric tangled around my ankles, and in that position, crouched and vulnerable, my ass pointing toward the ceiling and my balls hanging between my legs, I felt the bee land right at the base of my cock.

—Don't move! —Dr. Reyes said—. It's on you.

And then, with the best of intentions, she swung her foot.

***

It was a precise kick, almost professional, aimed at crushing the insect. The bee took flight at the last instant. I wasn't so lucky.

The instep of her shoe struck me squarely in the balls. Pain shot like lightning from my scrotum to my throat, and I let out a high-pitched shriek that made the windows tremble. I folded in on myself, unable to breathe, seeing white spots, my cock and balls throbbing like a drum made of flesh.

—Oh, Bruno, I'm so sorry! —she said, covering her mouth, unsure whether to laugh or apologize—. Are you all right?

I was not all right. I was on my knees, half naked, whimpering on the classroom floor while twelve women cried with laughter and filmed me from every angle. The provocation I'd spent a week preparing had turned into my own public execution.

What happened next is still difficult for me to put in order. I remember trying to get up, tripping over my pants, grabbing the projection screen so I wouldn't fall, and the weight of my hand sending it shooting upward. The screen rolled itself up with a snap, and the strap hanging from it caught around my waist, pulling me half a meter toward the ceiling before my feet touched the floor again.

I hung there for a moment, ridiculous, kicking in the air with my cock swinging in full view of everyone. The laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by stunned silence, and when I fell flat on my back, the euphoria returned twice as strong.

Lucía was the first to stand. She approached slowly, her heels clicking on the linoleum, and stopped beside me, looking down at me the way you look at an insect you've just found beneath your shoe.

—Look at the little macho man now —she said softly, almost sweetly.

And she placed the sole of her shoe on my chest. Not hard. Just enough to make me understand that she wasn't going to let me get up.

***

I can't explain what I felt at that moment. It should have been pure humiliation, and it was, but beneath the shame there was something else, something hot running through my belly and straight down toward my crotch. Under the weight of her foot, exposed and dominated, my cock—which had been shriveled from the kick only a second earlier—began to swell against my own thigh, throbbing, lengthening, hardening in full view of the twelve women.

Lucía noticed before I did. She lowered her gaze, arched an eyebrow, and let out a low laugh.

—I can't believe it. He's getting hard. Look at him, look at his cock, he's getting hard in front of us.

The room roared. One by one, the others rose from their seats and surrounded me, a circle of shoes and heels leaving me in the center, lying on the floor, unable to move and, worse yet, with little desire to. Twelve pairs of eyes fixed on my cock, which kept growing and growing without asking my permission, marking every pulse against the air.

—It's still small, huh? —Valeria said, pressing the tip of her heel against my hip and slowly lowering it to the root of my cock—. Look, look at the little thing. It gets hard and still fits completely in one hand.

She slid the sole of her shoe over my glans, applying barely any pressure, and I let out a moan I didn't recognize as my own. The tip of her heel pressed for a moment against my still-aching balls, and instead of pain I felt a jolt that arched my back.

—He's dripping —another woman said from above, her voice mocking—. Look at the tip. It's leaking goo.

It was true. A thread of precum slid down my glans and fell onto my belly. Twelve phones buzzed as they recorded, twelve mouths laughing at my erect cock and the drop crowning it.

—Beg for it —Valeria said, without removing her heel—. You were going to explain to us how the world works. Ask us to stop. Let's see if you can manage it.

—Stop… —I began, but my voice came out so weak that even I didn't believe it.

—I didn't hear you. And your cock says the opposite. Look at it.

—Please —I whispered, and the word “please” tasted like total surrender.

—That's better —said Dr. Reyes, who had joined the circle, her arms crossed again, looking down at me with terrible calm—. Twenty minutes of lecturing, ending with you begging at the feet of the class, your little dick hard and dripping. There's a lesson in that, Bruno. I hope you're taking it.

I was taking it. Oh, was I ever taking it.

***

Lucía finally removed her foot from my chest, but only to replace it with something worse: she crouched beside me, her skirt riding up her thighs, took my chin between two fingers, and forced me to look into her eyes while the room continued laughing at me. With her other hand, without looking away, she wrapped my hard cock between her thumb and forefinger, almost contemptuously, as though she were grabbing something dirty.

—Look at this tiny little thing —she said, moving her wrist slowly up and down, using only two fingers because she didn't need more to take in all of me—. You fit between two fingers, macho. You don't even fill my fist.

The room doubled over with laughter. I turned my face away, but she jerked it back around.

—Don't you dare close your eyes. Look at the class. Look at every one of them while I jerk you off. I want them to see your face.

She moved her hand with calculated slowness, a humiliating rhythm, unhurried, as if she were masturbating a puppy. Every time she moved upward, one of her thumbs passed over my frenulum, and I flinched, provoking fresh laughter. My cock was outlined between her fingers, red and shiny with my own fluid, barely protruding above the ring formed by her thumb and forefinger.

—Repeat after me —she said, savoring every word without stopping her hand—. “Feminism is a waste of time.”

I swallowed. Twelve phones were pointed at me. The slide with my arrogant title was still projected on the wall, now like a sentence.

—I… I was wrong —I panted.

—I didn't ask you to apologize. I asked you to repeat your own slide. Out loud. For everyone. —She tightened her fingers, speeding up a little, and I moaned like a child—. Come on, say it, and maybe I'll let you come.

—F… feminism… —I began, and couldn't continue, because Valeria had knelt on the other side and spat on the tip of my cock to make it more slippery for Lucía.

—How cute —Valeria said—. Look at that stupid expression on his face.

Another student, a brunette with glasses whose name I never learned, crouched between my knees and spread my thighs with both hands, without permission, leaving me even more exposed. She ran her thumbnail beneath my scrotum, barely brushing it, and my balls drew up against my body on their own.

—Everything's trembling —she announced—. Look, look, his ass is clenching. He's going to come.

—Already? —Lucía laughed, squeezing the base of my cock with two fingers and stopping me cold—. Not a chance. You don't get to come until you say it.

I remained on the edge, throbbing against her fingers, my cock swollen and purple, whimpering on the floor. I felt a thick drop of precum slide down my side and die on the carpet. The entire room watched me in silence, twelve women focused on a ridiculous cock held between two fingers, enjoying every second of my surrender.

—Say it —Lucía repeated, very calmly—. Repeat your slide. Out loud.

—Feminism is a waste of time —I murmured, my voice broken.

—Louder. Let the back row hear you.

—FEMINISM IS A WASTE OF TIME! —I shouted, and even I couldn't believe what I was doing.

They all laughed at once, and at that moment Lucía released the pressure of her fingers and sped up her wrist. Four short, sharp pulls, almost cruel.

—Now come, macho. Come in front of your professors. Show us your little milk.

And I came. I came like an idiot, arched on the floor, moaning high-pitched, twelve cameras aimed at my cock as jets fell over my belly, chest, and neck. Pathetic jets, not many, but enough to smear my skin with my own semen in front of the entire class. Lucía kept moving her fingers until the last drop, squeezing me like someone emptying a tube, and when she finished, she wiped her thumb on my cheek.

—There —she said—. Good little macho.

The room applauded. Seriously, they applauded.

***

—Get up —Dr. Reyes said at last, with a smile that held nothing merciful—. Pull up your pants, wipe that mess off your chest, and sit down. Next time, read the bibliography.

I got to my feet as best I could, my cock still dripping and semen sliding down my ribs. I picked up my torn shirt from the floor and pulled it over myself to cover something. I returned to my seat amid mocking applause that followed me all the way to the chair, my underwear stained and my thighs sticky. I didn't open my mouth again for the rest of class.

That night, alone in my room, I found myself reliving every second. The kick, the circle of heels, Lucía's foot on my chest, her two fingers moving my cock with contempt, her voice ordering me to beg and shout my own phrase while I came. I jerked off three times in a row, the first almost before I had even pulled down my pants, and each time I came thinking about the same thing. Instead of the resentment I should have felt, I felt something completely different, something it took me an incredibly long time to admit.

I went back to the master's program the following Tuesday. I sat in the last row, silent, watching the back of Lucía's head two seats ahead. At some point she turned her head, caught me watching her, and held my gaze for a second too long, wearing that same crooked smile. She lowered her eyes briefly toward my lap, confirmed what she already knew she would find, and smiled wider.

She didn't need to say anything. We both knew perfectly well who was in charge now.