Oh, today was delicious.Mistress Q and I had the perfect subject—a shy little slave with an equally shy little… well, you know. The moment he dropped his pants, we exchanged one of those knowing looks. This was going to be fun.
Dressed in our usual latex skirts and stockings, with heels that clicked just loud enough to make him squirm, we began the session. Mistress Q, ever the sharp-tongued queen, wasted no time pointing out exactly how “adorable” his size was. “Is that it?” she teased, leaning in close with that wicked smile of hers. “No wonder you’re here—you’re in desperate need of guidance.”
Step one: acknowledge the obvious. We had him stand in front of a full-length mirror while we circled him, commenting on how precious it was. Comparisons were made, laughter was shared (on our part, of course), and his face turned an absolutely delightful shade of red.
Step two: reinforce his place.Mistress Q made him repeat phrases like “I’m unworthy” and “My size exists to amuse and serve.” Each time he stuttered, she’d arch an eyebrow and tap her heel impatiently, and let me tell you, that straightened him out real quick.
Step three: add a little fun. I brought out a ruler, tapping it against my hand with a smirk. “Let’s see just how tiny you really are,” I said, and the look on his face was priceless. When Mistress Q held it up to measure, she couldn’t stop giggling. “I’ve seen pencils more intimidating,” she quipped, and we both laughed until tears threatened to ruin our makeup.
By the end of the session, he was fully embracing his humiliation, head bowed, and muttering apologies for his inadequacy. And us? We were basking in the glow of another perfectly humiliated slave who knew exactly where he belonged—beneath us, of course.
Small size, big lesson: humiliation isn’t just an art—it’s an absolute pleasure.
Stay humbled,
Mistress Azumi & Mistress Q