Name: Slut (Humiliate Me #1)

littlemisssubshine:

Give an embarrassing pet name when ordering coffee at Starbucks.

I wanted to start with this task, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As I tried to fall asleep at night, on more than one evening, I found myself going through this scenario in my head. It’s actually quite an easy task, but the complete dread that I felt with the idea of doing it made me know that it was a proper humiliation task for me. When the time came, and I had made up my mind that this was the task that I was going to do, my heart began pounding. I knew the name I would give.

I went to the nearest Starbucks, and I walked in, feeling insanely nervous. I was going to give a degrading name to the barista. I never do things like this! I’d be embarrassed just telling them a regular name that wasn’t my own, like Jessica or Tara… Neither of which are my real name.

I entered the queue, relieved that there was only one person in line ahead of me. A woman, possibly in her 40s, and it looked like she was already finishing up. There was a part of me that thought maybe the barista wouldn’t even take my name; it wasn’t busy. It’s happened before, so it’s not uncommon. And it wasn’t like they would confuse my order with someone else’s.

There where two people working, a young man who seemed very friendly but a little bit shy and awkward, and a young girl who was wearing way too much makeup. The young man noticed me and in a chipper tone said he would be with me in a moment. But instead the girl came up and said she could start my order. Here’s what went down.

Her: What can I get you?

Me: Yeah, can I get a tall cappuccino in a grande cup please?

(It’s always too hot, so the extra room in the cup lets me take the cover off without it spilling).

Her: Sure… That’ll be $3.65.

Me: *relieved as fuck that she didn’t ask my na-*

Her: Can I get your name?

I felt my face get warm. So many thoughts began swirling through my head, and this moment could have lasted a lifetime or a millisecond, I couldn’t be sure. My mind kept repeating my real name over and over, as if some self-preservation instinct was kicking in. I felt as if I had stage fright. But with a burst of anxiety filled heat in my stomach, I quietly muttered:

Me: Can you write Slut?

Her: Sarah?

Me: *literally dies…* No… Haha…. Slut? Are you allowed to do that?

Her: *laughs* yeah, sure.

And that was literally it. Just, yeah, sure, like she had heard this one before. I watched as she walked away while writing and then put the cup down. As she made my drink, I wondered if she thought I was getting a drink for a friend, as a joke for a girlfriend. Or if she thought I was a weirdo. Or if she thought I was just a slut. Soon she handed over the drink at the pickup counter. “Cappuccino” she said, and slid it over without a second glance. I grabbed it and murmured a thanks, before practically running out of the place.

I didn’t look at the name of the cop until I was back in my car. And there it was, looking back at me. Slut. I took off the lid, and swirled my finger around the foam that had collected on the sides of the cup, cleaning it off and licking my finger each time. The focused task helped to slow my racing heart. It tasted like any other cappuccino. I took a moment to snap a picture of the cup, and the contents inside, and sent it to my friend as confirmation of the completed task. I felt excited, my body was buzzing from the adrenaline, and the word Slut just kept circling my head. Kudos to the Starbucks girl for playing along.

All day I kept thinking of different ways the scenario could have played out. What if the barista had been a man? What if it had been a man that I found attractive? What if when I gave my name, the barista had said “Slut? S-l-u-t?” and then with a wicked smile, asked me about it, making me tell her that yes, I was the slut. Or what if when my drink was ready she had called out, loudly, “Slut!” and I had to walk up and grab the drink… The ideas excited me, and made me feel a small fear in my chest.

Part of what I like about humiliation is the unexpected, and the dreadful fantasizing of what could happen. Stay tuned for more humiliations, I’ll tag them all “Humiliate Me”.