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Of my many kinks, I'm particularly fond of the morning after public display.  You likely know what I mean, where the woman is still wearing her outfit from the night before.  A skimpy dress, high heels, heavy makeup.  My tits and ass are on full display.  Appropriate for last night's debaucherous date in the hotel room, but out of place for the morning of sunshine and energy. 

As my date walks me through the hotel lobby, he's almost parading around.  A victory lap of conquest and achievement.  His ego, his gratification, his pride manifested in my very public and ravaged appearance.  My hair disheveled, makeup smeared, body filthy, bottom smacked red.  I can hardly keep my balance in my heels, that's how disoriented I am from last night's glory.

As I stand there in the lobby, I feel everybody's attention on me.  My date with his prideful smile.  The traveling business men, with their looks of envy and lust.  The hotel clerks with their smiles of entertainment.  Then the other woman, with their caddy looks of disgust and judgement.  I feed off this energy.  No, thrive off of it. 

There's no hiding from the truth.  I'm supposed to be a fierce, independent woman.  My value comes from my voice, my strength my intelligence.  Society's ideal image.  But as I stand there, I've failed to live to live up to that standard.  I've consciously degraded myself down to an object.  A fuck toy for my date's pleasure, a vessel of his validation.  My voice now muted from his face fucking.  My strength, now paralyzed as I hold his arm for balance.  My intelligence, now replaced by being a single use object.  I have served my purpose.  My value to him, now equal to that of a used condom, both now discarded in the rubbish. 

At first, I thought I enjoyed the Humiliation of this.  The looks, the objectification, the judgement.  But I realized that my mind is even dirtier than I thought.  What I enjoyed was less so of Humiliation, and more so of Shame.  

This article fabulously described the subtle differences between Embarrassment, Humiliation and Shame.  Of course people experience their feelings in their own ways.  

• Embarrassment: This is a feeling we experience when we either do something, or something happens to us, that is “not supposed to”. Toilet paper is stuck on the bottom of your shoe when leaving the restroom.  You feel embarrassed. A moment goes by. You feel a little annoyed that this happened to you, but on the other hand you’re already past that and it wasn’t such a big deal anyway.
• Shame: The events that cause shame make us feel as worthless human beings. Shame is born in the experience that we were unable to do or be as we were supposed to.  If one is ashamed of their actions, applause makes it even worse. In that moment the attention and the looks are directed at you and everyone sees how bad you are.
• Humiliation: In shame we feel that we deserve to be criticized, because that’s how bad we are.  But when we are being humiliated, we don’t deserve it, and we are being treated in an unfair manner.  Either we are being humiliated in public, we get unreasonable amount of yelling over a small thing. This doesn’t lead to shame or guilt, it leads to hatred towards the one that is humiliating us.

Back to the hotel lobby.  As I stand there, soaking up all this attention.  This realization hits me.  I thrive on Shaming myself.  In this perverse judgmental and misogynistic manner, I deliberately want to be used and perceived as a fuck toy.  As an object.  No one told or asked me to do this.  During those moments, everybody sees how bad and filthy I am.  On how I failed to live up to society's ideal image.  And I enjoy this.  I thrive off of it.  

My date, no - last night, he didn't use me for his validation.  No - this morning, I used him for my own validation.  For my ego and gratification.    

His victory lap of conquest pales in comparison to my own proud Shame seeking display.  In reality, he was my fuck toy for my pleasure, a vessel for my Shame.  Last night, I allowed my voice, my strength, my intelligence to be taken from me.  In return, I was able to relish these precious moments of Shame.  Of conquest and achievement.  That's a trade that I don't feel guilty about.  

Eventually, my date and I say our goodbyes.  He has served his purpose.  His value to me, now equal to that of a used condom.  And with that, I discard him and part ways.