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She can't resist her daughter's friend.

"What?"

"I said -- take off your clothes," she snarled. The full weight of her demand, and of what my penalty was, hit me.

"M-my clothes? No... I-I can't-" I stammered. Heather angrily grabbed her phone from the table behind her.

"This is your first warning. If you ever say no to me again when I ask you to do something, I will call the police. Now stand in front of the camera, and remove your clothes."

She was serious. I was cornered -- no way out. Do as she said, or be arrested. After glancing helplessly between the camera and the angry blonde beside it, I gave in. I trembled as I pulled my shirt over my head in the glare of the webcam.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Comment after comment poured in as Heather read them and smirked. I didn't want to imagine what they were saying. I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on me, as I was left standing in my underwear in the middle of Heather's suite, shivering. She stared at me as I stood there, trying not to look at her.

"Keep going." I groaned inwardly.

"Please. Please -- Miss Dean, is it? I -- no wait," she made a point of dialling numbers into her phone. I grabbed the hem of my underwear and pulled down. The comments surged in again as my dick was exposed to the camera. I stepped out of them miserably. I was highly conscious of the way the slightest movement made my balls dangle and sway for my audience.

"Hmmm. You don't seem to be impressing my followers much," Heather said dryly. I turned red. I didn't exactly have the most impressive physique -- I'd never been in a gym in my life. And even though at six inches I'd never exactly thought of myself as under-endowed shall we say, facing my virtual audience suddenly made feel very... small. "'Call that a man?'" Heather read out, "'no wonder he has to get his kicks spying on women -- bet he's a virgin.'"

I couldn't look at her any more, just stood staring at the floor, totally ashamed and completely naked. This was utter humiliation

"You surprise me Peter," said Heather, resting against her armchair. "You have no problem spying on naked women, but can't take it when you're on the receiving end?" I said nothing, just longed for the lesson to be over.

"Stand closer to the camera -- you won't be hiding anything."

Apparently not satisfied in humiliating me with mere full-frontal nudity to her army of followers, she made me adopt what she called 'poses.' I was made to rest one foot up on the table, to grab my balls and lift them up, exposing my scrotum, to turn around so that my ass was inches from the camera. With each pose I felt my will to resist break a little more. I just limply did as I was told.

"Now, bend forward and reach for your toes," she commanded, now sat down and sipping on her glass of wine again with an air of indifference. With my buttocks still inches from the camera, I obeyed, turning red at the thought of the view I must be offering to the camera. I tried to ignore the stream of beeps flooding in that my exposed anus had prompted. I made to stand back up but she stopped me.

"I did not tell you to stop your pose did I?" I stared silently at the ground, trying to pretend I was somewhere else. She must have taken her shoes off, because I didn't hear her approach, or know she was beside me until I felt her knee make contact with my stomach.

I hit the ground. It wasn't exactly a hard hit, but I'd been in an awkward position and it was well placed. I tried to hide my dick with my hands at least, though I was probably out of shot anyway.

"So how does it feel?" she asked. I looked up at her from the ground. She wasn't smiling, but there was a look of slight satisfaction on her face.

"I'm sorry," I said weakly. I just wanted to get across that my lesson was learned, and get out of there and pretend it had never happened. She grabbed my wrist.

"Get up." She pulled me roughly to my feet and pushed me toward the table. I put up no resistance. "What are you sorry for?"

"For watching you through your window

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