The Perfect Doormat
Patrick E. Chauvin
Preface
There are two classes of people who should not attempt to read this text. One is the kind who feel easily offended and who do not appreciate the dark side of the human mind, believing that it somehow competes with the bright one, like puerile movies like to show, instead of complementing it. The other group is that of people who are very big fans of genital action, dedicating a large amount of their attention to this task, not even considering that sex may be something else than acting like bonobos. Curiously, one may often find these two groups quarrelling, and they both seem to believe that they are polar opposite factions in some kind of big, epic war. However, they both have in common that they will highly dislike this text. It may be that this is a terrible text, or it may be that I may be onto something!
Chapter 1: On Sale
Matt just wanted a new shirt. One that looked as good as possible despite his budding belly —he liked to work out from time to time, but like in other realms of life, he would not renounce tastiness in favour of healthiness. As he looked at a pile of shirts on sale, he heard a feminine, sweet voice beside him.
“Would you like any help, Sir?”
Just that voice combined with the obliging tone clicked something in his brain. He turned around and what he saw fit what he had heard. She was quite short, 158cm (5’2’’) plus a couple of inches of thin heels, which made Matt have to look a bit down even if there were a few feet between them. Her strawberry blond hair progressively grew some waves as it flowed down smoothly until under her shoulders, showing the effect of some long and careful use of hairstyling equipment. Her eyes were light green with gray flecks, large and round, attentively registering him. Her slightly turned-up nose and her oval face were pretty in a nondescript manner for a 19-year old girl. She was wearing light make-up, the amount that indicated that she cared about looking good but that she was tasteful. She didn’t look smart but a bit dumb; however, Matt knew that good taste was not at odds with that. Her lips, painted in pastel pink, drew a polite smile, that which was slightly forced but not as a display of passive-aggressive sourness but as an honest attempt at giving a pleasing vibe. A hint of her teeth was visible behind, small, white and orderly,
She would be around 50 kg (112 lbs) of what he quickly assessed as high-quality meat. A large bust, perhaps not very large but it in relation to her frame, it looked so. The white shirt was buttoned-up but it fit her body snugly, making the two buttons on the zenith of her bust only slightly tight, and thanks to an aggressive darting it highlighted the contrast with a narrow waist. The contrast was enhanced by the fact that the white fabric could not be completely opaque to the dark bra below, something that Matt had always appreciated about deceptively formal white shirts. Perhaps the manager was a bit like him. These darts were aggressive. After this, he was a bit disappointed at him by the pants below, but he also understood that a pencil skirt would be too conspicuous. Her hips were not disappointing though. For him, it was right on the sweet point: not too thin but not too thick. A bit more than what many women’s magazines showed in 2004, which had multiple positive effects. First, it offered more to grab. Second, it exuded a fertile look that aroused a primitive urge in him. And third, even though she was hot as Hell, with a bit of luck and enough exposure to Victoria Secret’s ads, it made her insecure enough to believe that she was “too fat” under her waist, which would make her more accessible, and with some luck, perhaps even vulnerable.
He nodded and he casually explained what he was looking for. He took care to use the fancy words that would impress a bimbo hungry for intellectual validation. He had the hunch that he had stumbled upon a very good specimen. She was receptive and he interspersed the conversation with personal digressions. He casually slipped his selling points: 30s, smart and sophisticated, good career, and a casual geeky charm. The Internet was exploding and nerd was starting to be cool. At the same time, he learnt some extra juicy details that corroborated his hunch: somewhat streetsmart but not booksmart, sweet and naive, easily impressionable, no studies, dead-end job, hoping to be smarter than what she was. A perfect prey. After the purchase, he casually slipped his business card. A true intellectual would be unfazed by the “Software Engineer” title, but he knew that it looked glamorous to a girl like her, just like her tits looked hot to him.
He yelled “Bingo” when he got the sms just the day later. She was approaching these pretty lipsticked lips to the palm of his hand. He just had to wait for the right time to make the swift movement and grab her from the neck.
Chapter 2: Love is Blind
The next few dates went well. A lot of mansplaining from him, a lot of head-nodding with attentively open eyes from her side. It stroked his ego like he knew she would soon stroke his cock. Sometimes, with some particularly elaborate explanation, she even gaped her mouth a bit in astonishment, showing those little, harmless teeth behind her glossy lips, and he relished that he would soon lodge his cock in that warm place, which would take care of its needs.
Although explaining mechanical and technical trivia was fun because of the connotations of hardness, the topics he enjoyed explaining the most were those related to gender dynamics. A deft use of evolutionary psychology would provide a patina of scientific truth to every one of his most egoistic desires and fetishes. Women were weaker and were burdened by reproduction, which had made men specialized in exploratory, complex tasks. Hence all big names in history were men. Women were made to look pretty, take care of the household and the kids. Otherwise, why would nature put a uterus and hang two tits from them? This resonated with some of her pre-existing feelings, which now found a scientific seal of approval in his words. He was just like one of these men with partly greyed hair and a white coat in toothpaste advertisements or sci-fi movies. He took care to alternate between the most raunchy aspects of sexual dimorphism and the aww-eliciting mentions to child-rearing, so the pathos would fill any crevice between the logos and the ethos.
He tested the progress by casually choosing walking plans, movies, restaurants and even more satisfyingly, dishes. Ordering low-calorie dishes with a side of underhand comments about “being best for her” provided the perfect opportunity to assess her insecurities, and her bashful reactions provided proof that he was likely driving a cruel wedge into already existing cracks in her self-esteem. He didn’t really need her to lose weight, but he wanted to deprive her from the only aspect in life where she could have had a chance at feeling powerful: physical attractiveness. Now she was not only a dumb blond bimbo, but a dumb blond bimbo that would be better losing a few pounds. Who would want her?
It became increasingly obvious to him that despite what some stereotypes might dictate, she was actually a shy, homely girl deep inside, and she was likely to be a virgin. This implied a bit more work but a much more satisfying reward: the mere thought of breaking into her and pulling tears out of these light-colored, big eyes made his cock throb under his pants. But he knew how to play the long game. He was, after all, not here for a fuck; he was a romantic and he wanted much more than that. He would have aimed at a fuck with a lesser specimen but from this one he could clearly squeeze much more. She lived with a couple other girls and she didn’t even have a family: the proverbial non-existing father figure, and her mother had died when she was a teen, leaving her to be raised by distant family until she moved out one year earlier. Even he felt pity about the latter; and at times he started to notice some kind of sympathy towards her. He knew that she was falling in love with him and he considered whether he might be doing the same with her, even in his own twisted way. He could not completely dismiss it, but in any case, it was not only not an obstacle for his plans but rather an incentive.
During a walk through a park beautifully covered in auburn leaves, after sharing some reflections that showed that not only he was a man of science but also had a sensitive side that made him a true Renaissance man, he decided to make his next move: inviting her to his place. He could have done it before, he had noticed her increasing amount of perfume, but he wanted to go slow and make her crave it. Now he could afford casually giving her a couple hundred dollars in hand and telling her to stop by the supermarket and buy something to cook at his place. Now she felt that she was being tested as girlfriend material, and she could obsess about whether she would fuck something up. But she also started to have enough information about his tastes to feel that if she tried hard enough,he might give her a chance.
To be continued…
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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/gfdz38/the_perfect_doormat_mf_domination_humiliation
Intriguing. Keep up the good work!