As anyone who has read my writing knows, this is a huge turn-on for me.
Note: I know many of my loyal readers aren’t as in to this scenario, so please just be aware this post deals with that.
The first time I experienced the humiliation of being dominated by a stronger male in front of pretty girls was, well, all the way back in 5th grade. Her name was Melissa. I had a huge crush on her. She liked me, so her friends said. We passed notes in class. Hehe, haha. Weren’t we cute. I was one of the cutest boys in the class — sorry, it was true. Although we did only have 30 kids in the class. Anyway, I was athletic even at that age, nice, funny, smart and she was so cute, a great smile.
One day at recess I was walking with Melissa and two of her friends when the school bully, Larry, confronted us. Larry was huge, biggest kid in the class, probably because he’d been held up a grade. We all know the type. They have mustaches in sixth grade, are smoking in seventh and having sex in 8th. He was an asshole, classic bully. I usually avoided his torments because I was popular. He picked on the easy prey, the geeks, nerds. But that day we walked by him just as another kid was throwing him a football. I was on my way to the field part but was still on the cement in the parking lot. He missed the catch and looked stupid doing it. All I said was, “Nice catch, Larry.”
The big idiot snapped, walked toward me, grabbed me by the shirt and shoved me back toward the school building. He slammed me against a wall, literally lifting me off my feet. Melissa and the other girls yelled at him to stop it. But he was right in my face. He looked down and saw that my shirt had lifted up and my blue underwear was partly on display. It was baby blue, why the hell did my mom buy me those? They were tightie whiteies but not white. Baby blue. And Larry noticed. He pulled up on them with one hand while holding me with the other still and then said loudly, so Melissa and the girls got the message: “If you smart off again I’m going to string you up on the flag pole by your panties!” I looked up at the flag pole and could actually imagine him doing just that. I saw myself dangling from there by the waistband. Now, keep in mind, even at that age, I had submissive desires. I watched pro wrestling then and loved watching the guys lose, although I had no idea there was a name for those people: Jobbers. But this was terrifying because it seemed so real.
He held me while the message sunk in. I looked over at Melissa and the other girls. The other girls were in hysterics but Melissa – my gal, my crush, hey, my future wife! – had her hands up to her mouth, her eyes wide. When she brought her hands down she bent over in laughter, I guess from the idea of Larry putting me up on the flag pole by my “panties.” He let me go and I walked back over to them, pulling my shirt down as the girls waited for me. One of them asked if I was okay but started laughing. And Melissa said, “Better be careful or he’ll show everyone your panties up there.” That caused laughter from all of them again.
That was about the end of our fifth-grade puppy love fling. I was friendly with Melissa all through the rest of high school but after that day I’m convinced she never saw me as a real guy again. In 11th grade she got a new boyfriend too: Larry. They broke up after a few months but he was still an asshole bully. I’m sure – or at least I just hope – Larry and Melissa forgot about that day in the parking lot by then. But who knows, maybe she was attracted to the alpha male and knew that even though I was a basketball star, that I was, when you got right down to it, a wimp when it came to confronting other men. I was a wimp in “panties” who was cowed into silence by a bully. And Larry was a heel who dominated a jobber.
And she liked it.