CALL OF THE DAY: sissy, cocksucker, foreign flag-kisser

They can see the size of your dick through those panties, and they find it laughable...

They can see the size of your dick through those panties, and they are laughing…

If even a fraction of my callers’ stories are true, then the world around us is seething with transgressive, filthy sex that most of us have no notion of. If none of them are true, then some of my callers are blessed with glorious imaginations and I would never call them on the veracity of their tales, because who wants to cock-block imaginations like that?

This guy is a prince among the imaginists.

First of all, he shows up for the calls prepared. He knows what he wants to tell me about—purportedly real-life, recent scenes involving humiliation, forced sissification, and “coerced” cocksucking—and he is really good in the telling of them, going slow enough and leaving enough pauses where I can interject and ask embarrassing clarifications or the essential elaborations about how much he loved that particular moment and why (I bet that was humiliating, wasn’t it, your wife watching that?). We have established a good pacing in the joint performance, and he sticks with it.

He also has a very keen sense of his own humiliation hierarchy, and keeps the pool of players well stocked and rotated. The Latino gardeners from the tennis coach’s house, they are regulars. Lately his computer has been acting up a lot, so of course the Geek Squad guy is showing up pretty frequently. (Your hard drive is really close to full, I wonder what’s … hmmm, what is in this file marked “Pretty in Pink”? Ah-HA, I’m going to need to transfer these out into an external drive. And also BLACKMAIL, DUH DUH DUHHHHH.) See what I mean? Exciting! And I don’t have to come up with any of it! It’s great!

In today’s sissy adventures, we stepped fully into international intrigue, when he told me that he was in Las Vegas last week, and happened to receive a call from a Pakistani guy who runs an adult video store there. He hadn’t made a visit in five months at least, and this guy, you know, he has footage. So of course he has to go.

When my caller got to the store, the man wasn’t there, but his wife was. Was she wearing traditional clothes? I asked. “Yes,” he said. “She took me back to the office, and then made me get undressed while she took off her burqa, I guess it is?” I murmured assent, because of course very religious Muslims would be running an adult video store in Las Vegas. (Imaginism does not care for accuracy or likelihood. Only POSSIBILITIES.)

Underneath the burqa the Pakistani woman was wearing a blouse and a skirt, which is also very traditional Pakistani attire (/snark). She was very busty, as my caller likes the women in his scenes to be, and she waited impatiently while he stripped and changed into the bra and panties and shoes that were set aside in a file cabinet in there. (All good adult video stores should be stocked for such eventualities!) While he knelt at her feet, she reached into a closet and pulled out … wait for it… a Pakistani flag. And made him kiss the edge of it.

You kissed the Pakistani flag? I asked, trying to pitch my voice the right way. I knew he wanted me to be shocked and disgusted; all I could feel was laughter trying to bubble up.

“Yes,” he whispered. Humiliated, he was, and all the harder for it.

The lady then put the Pakistani flag away and kicked him, cursing in what he said was Arabic (PAKISTANIS SPEAK URDU, possibly Pashto or Punjabi, but not Arabic, unless they’re quoting the Quran). He said she called him a “pig”, so maybe she was quoting the Quran. You are a pig, I said, and if they’re Muslim, that is a serious insult.

“I know,” he said.

He went on to describe how she took an American flag from the top of the desk. The flag was already tattered and wrinkled, and she dropped it on the ground in front of him and stepped on it, wiping her feet on it and cursing at him some more in the unspecified Scary Brown-Person Language. She then drove him out into the main room with a riding crop, paraded him in front of her countryman who was staffing the rental desk, and then, when her husband arrived, hustled him back into the office, where he made my caller kiss the Pakistani flag again and then worship his cock. He’s gonna wipe your face with the American flag, I said, and then my caller came.

I know that the racial politics of this are problematic. I know it, and probably my caller knows it. But I don’t say anything about that. This is what he wants. And honestly, I feel like this caller might just be my canary in the mine shaft. His libido, his particular brand of humiliation play, seems to be intimately and responsively tied to current trends in white America’s racial fears.

If only he called more often, I could use him as a sociological barometer for what I already know.


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