Worship a Real Woman’s Cock
Blake had reached her breaking point with the constant disrespect from men who couldn’t fathom a woman with a cock being a real woman. They’d leer, whisper, and attempt to degrade her, as if her anatomy made her somehow less. Fueled by rage and a desire to set the record straight, she zeroed in on the most obnoxious, crass man in the club that night. His name was Bruce, and he embodied everything she loathed.
Sliding up beside him at the bar, Blake met his sneering gaze with a steely stare. “You think I’m not a real woman, huh, Bruce? Just because I’ve got a cock, you think you can humiliate me?”
Bruce, confident in his own maleness, scoffed. “Of course you’re not a real woman. You’re a freak. A defect of nature.”
Seething, Blake grabbed Bruce’s wrist and dragged him to the dance floor, where the pulsating beat drowned out all conversation. She spun him around and pressed her body against his, grinding her rock-hard erection against his thigh.
Bruce’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly, leering at her cock. “Look at that thing! You’re nothing but a perverted male pretending to be a woman.”
Without warning, Blake ripped open her pants, freeing her throbbing member. She grabbed Bruce’s hand and placed it on her shaft, forcing him to feel her size and hardness. “Go ahead, Bruce. Compare. Humiliate me with the truth.”
Bruce’s face turned ashen as he realized his mistake. His own cock, small and soft, paled in comparison. Blake seized the moment, grabbing him and bending him over the bar.
“Hold that pose, Bruce. And tell me… do you want to worship a real woman’s cock or not?” she growled, stroking his cheeks with her own hard length.
Bruce’s eyes flooded with tears of humiliation as he whispered, “Ma’am… I… I worship your cock, ma’am.”
Blake’s laughter echoed through the club as she began to stroke him, watching his small penis stiffen with each touch of her cock to his lips. “Call me ma’am, Bruce. And remember, I’m the real woman here. You, on the other hand, are just a pathetic little man, desperate to lick up the cum of a superior being.”
Bruce’s face was a mask of shame as he knelt before her, taking her cock into his mouth. Blake reveled in the degrading act, using her foot to push his face deeper into her pubes. She held his head in place, forcing him to worship her in front of the entire club, his humiliation complete.
As the night wore on, Blake continued to assert her dominance, claiming Bruce as her plaything and reducing him to a sniveling, obedient little cocksucker. Her message was clear: she was a real woman, not just in spirit, but in every anatomical detail, and she would not be humiliated or diminished by anyone, least of all a small, insecure man like Bruce. The night ended with her standing tall, surrounded by the mocking laughter of the club patrons, Bruce slumped at her feet, a broken, humiliated shell of a man – proof positive of Blake’s assertion of her full womanhood, despite what insecure men might say.