The Art of

BELLY PUNCH
HUMILIATION

The scene:

I get punched in the belly by another man while you watch and enjoy. The stomach-punch, and my suffering from it, are dramatic, over-the-top, like a movie stunt punch or a comic book fight scene or a pro-wrestling beat-up.

The erotic energy for me:

Happens when I suffer loud and long from his punch, suffer like a weak wimp. And I know you see me like that. You see it all. You seeing me get it in the belly, then you see me moaning and winded from a jab in my stomach. I can't take it in the belly, and I can't hide it from you. He is humiliating me in front of you. I'm exposed to you as a soft-bellied sissy.

You:

Like what you see and hear. You take passionate pleasure in seeing me socked in the gut and exposed as a pot-bellied wimp who can't take a punch in the stomach. Your pleasure might be an erotic, sadistic pleasure ("go on, give him another one, knock the wind out of him, right in the stomach!"). Or you can be mocking/teasing ("oh, no, he hit you right in the belly!"). Or we can take a mutual pleasure ("Will you challenge him to a belly-punch match? Just for me? I know you want to"). It can be a pleasure we both share.

Situation:

Can be any setting. The other man who does the punching doesn't matter; he can be any man, or anonymous, or a group of them. What matters is that I know you see me as that belly-punched wimp.

I could be the shy young man who finally gets the nerve to ask you out. But just then my bully spots me and steps in to spoil my romantic hopes. He gives me an almost-comical belly-whomping in front of you to humiliate me.

I can be the weak, soft fighter in a bare-fisted ring match. Everyone but me knows I deserve what I'm getting. I have no male toughness. I cradle my belly and cry out pitifully. I roll on the floor, gasping, with all the breath slugged out of me by his fist in my bare belly. All for their entertainment.

The violence doesn't have to be real: You can be the director of a stage play, and I'm the stunt-actor who gets beat up in it. Simply talking about it is a delight. I have many stories I love to share, true ones as well as fiction.

The gist of it is, I want to get my belly beat up in front of you, and for you. I will be your belly-button worshipper, and your belly-punch entertainment.

Bonus:

I have a navel fetish, a belly-and-hips fetish, a lowrise-hiphugger-jeans-and-belly-tops fetish, all rolled into one intense lust. I can be lured to anything -- even a belly-punching contest! -- if you tease me with your belly-button, if you promise me a kiss or lick there.

LURED AND ALLURED

(artwork and modeling by the lovely and talented (and kinky) squidlys3squishies whom I highly recommend for custom commissions)


Look at me, Belly-button-slave. I have the most beautiful navel. Do I not?

Of course I do. And I have the perfect belly. Don't you agree, Belly-button-slave?

You long to kiss my pretty belly-button. You yearn to worship my navel. You're my Belly-button slave.

And, look! I wrote a message on my bare belly. Just for you.

Or, should I say, "just for your opponent."

Yes. It's been too long since I saw you get punched in the belly. I've been thinking that think I need to arrange that -- soon.

So I did. I found a hard-punching fistfighter to give it to you right in the stomach.

I'll dress you up and make you show off your belly. Then I will watch you get a bare-bellied beatdown.

You're going to get beat up in front of me, and we both know it. You get the exquisite pleasure of knowing you please me. By your suffering. That's how you please me. Every belly-punch OOF! every bellyache moan from you is music to me. Watching you stagger breathless or double over winded is sweet joy. I love watching you grovel and sob, and then I love watching while he steps on your belly in triumph.

Oh, I love it.

Your belly-punches turn me on. That's how you can please me: Get your belly beat up. Do it for me.

The best belly-beating I ever saw you take was when I entered you in that bellypunching contest.

Yes, you were so desperate to impress your bare-bellied girl. So desperate that when I told you to join a bellypunch contest you did it.

I told your opponent, "See that pot belly? Punch him in the stomach. See if you can give him a belly-ache.”

And he gave you a belly-ache you'll never forget. For my pleasure.

You went out there, with your low jeans and your too-tight top and your bare belly. And you were asking for it. And oh, did he give it to you.

And even while he was slamming his punches into your belly, I saw you gaze to me for a glimpse of my bare belly-button. You are such a Belly-button slave. You left your soft belly wide open just to stare at me.

Could there ever have been a more inviting target? Your elegant, perfumed belly bowed out, bare and utterly vulnerable.

Well, I flaunted my belly for you. I gave it all to you. Belly, hips, bellybutton. Just long enough for him to line up the shot and give you an unresisted punch right in your belly.

But I need more. So you're going to fight again. And I'm going to watch you get belly-whomped.

And I'll be sure to stand right in front of you, where I can see everything, and you can watch me watch you get your belly beat up.