As a dominatrix, I’m used to kinky requests.  I recently received one where my subject asked to masturbate before me on a secluded beach.  OK, fine, a combo CFNM-masturbation scene.  For his solo-fap party, I had him bring a pair of ankle shackles, each connected by a heavy chain to 10-pound steel balls, and a stake.

Small Penis Humiliation on the Beach

We met at the beach and were alone.  For more privacy, we set out for a hill in the distance.  I ordered him to strip under my watchful eye.  As he removed his clothes, I saw the cut definition of his body.  But then, he dropped his jockeys.  Let’s just say that IT was about as unimpressive and his body was impressive.  Poor fellow.  This guy worked at his muscles but couldn’t do anything with the muscle that counted most.
At my chuckle, he hardened and flashed an embarrassed smile.  There we stood beneath the great blue sky, he, with a sculpted body, a grown man who could manage only 3 erect inches!!  I thought, OK, a slight change in plans: I’ll throw in a dash of SPH.
To reinforce my superiority, I had him shackle himself at each ankle.  Then, I ordered Mr. Minnow to dig a nice deep hole for his clothing.  He buried them and marked the spot with an orange stake flag.
What a scene: me, in a red, sexily cut one-piece swimsuit walking with a naked, short-dicked dude as he struggled to carry 20 extra pounds, trudging uphill in the bright white sand, all on a narrow strip of beach with the ocean on either side.
I felt so sorry for little kev that I allowed him to stop and edge himself once or twice along the way.  Little erect dicks are so funny: small, pointing toward the sky but obviously so out-of-proportion to the rest of the adult male body. But what this guy didn’t have in size he made up for with awesomely enthusiastic masturbation.  He was quite a jerk off!

Public SPH Surprise

Finally, we reached the hill.  That’s when we realized that we wouldn’t be alone for long. Before us was a wedding altar and a sign reading, “Wedding tonight.  Shoes Optional.”  No matter.  Our little guy was fapping away because time . . . like his dick . . . was short.  We looked up and in the far distance, we saw a slow-moving group of about 70 or so people.  It was the wedding party!
I told him to hide in the ocean.  He cried that he couldn’t swim and was very afraid of the water. To make matters worse, the key to his ankle shackles were in his long-ago, buried pants.  I told him that the party only SHOES optional and the bride likely already had a ring bearer; it was time for him to embrace his inner exhibitionism and walk by the party.  There was no way out.
No way out for him, that is.  I decided to abandon our hapless wanker: that wedding party must have been armed with at least one camera phone per person.  It was inevitable that photos of our hero were going to somehow show up on the Internet, possibly as a video.  No reason for me to be his co-star.  You should have seen his look of panic when I waved goodbye!  I knew he would be OK: he would love the extreme humiliation of female amusement, picture-taking, and cat-calls when he passed them.
Now, all this happened last weekend.  I haven’t seen any Internet photos or videos of junior’s 15 minutes of fame.  But if you do, please let me know . . . and send me a link.
Oh, and if you’re interested in a beach wank, you know who to call.
Kisses to all you masturbators, Mistress Delia.