Her time on Display

She had read it over a half a dozen times since receiving it. Her eyes focused heavily on the detailed and clear description of what was to come, She found herself constantly going back, pulling it out and reading it with uninterrupted focus. Each read through brought a shock that bristled her skin. A dread that settled in her stomach, mixing and combining with a heavy excitement that made her throb with a constant heat flushing across her skin.

For months she had existed in the safe bubble of one on one scenes. Finding herself able to let go and enjoy her every desire with a partner that seemed to understand her at the deepest root of her nature. He brought much needed structure, control and freedom to a life that had been so overrun and rife with responsibility. He was the outlet for passion and the one place she found herself able to go without judgment. Now she had been made aware it was graduation day.

He was setting her up for the next big step, taking her from direct training. This next lesson, terrifying and unknown, dragging her from the safe, private walls of her secret life with him and throwing her into the light. Putting her on display for those in his life. Mentally, she had been preparing herself, but it was pointless. No amount of focus, no form of meditation, none of her go to distractions, or usual tricks worked. Her heart was palpitating, increasing pace with every passing thought of what was to come and she could never find a way to fully settle it.

For this next scene, she was to be laid bare. Not just for him as she loved to be, but for others. The thought alone made her feel so exposed, so vulnerable and riddled with fear. Beneath it all, she also found a sharp sense of pride. She had always been self conscious about herself, yet he found her so attractive, so beautiful he deemed her worthy of showing off. As if not doing so was a crime, that she should be shown off to the world. She felt powerful, so confidently sexy as the growing need to be seen overcame those fears each passing moment the day drew closer.

As always, she received detailed instructions. He controlled her outfit for their meetings, slowly stripping away more and more as she left behind her professional, modest persona and replaced it with the ever skimpier clothing he loved. It started with more cleavage, then shorter shorts to reveal more thigh, less fabric in the shirts. Now she wondered why she bothered wearing anything at all as she left her apartment. Dawning the zip up hoodie and a pair of panties he demanded being the only thing she wears, the only thing separating herself from the world. The slight breeze that snaked down the opening of the sweater forcing her nipples erect without warning. Fully realizing, and honestly, hoping, that the entire building caught a glimpse of her well toned ass as she bent over to throw her bag in the backseat of her car.

The differences between her two lives, the transition from responsible adult, to on-call submissive slut always made her weak in the knees at this secret second life of hers. Purposely waiting until she was dressed appropriately to get gas, knowing a slight change in weather would expose her yet again. This woman loved that thought, the other one she was by day would recoil at it.

Pulling into his driveway always brought a tingle down her spine. She had come to equate the sight of his house with memories of experiences previously unknown. A dangerous trap. Every time she visited, she left with new memories, further increasing the excitement. Each step towards the door was drawing those memories out yet again as she unlocked the door to the glass covered storm room, where she started every night,

Within moments of passing through the doorway, she was already in position. He had trained it into her, until she sub-consciously found herself awaiting inspection. Down upon her knees, she unzips the sweater, freeing her chest, looking down and as always, thinking of what she would change about them. Looking around, the entryway always worried and excited her. Glass surrounds it, she could just see over the bottom walls when kneeling. Knowing that if anyone was to walk up, she would be there, as they looked down on her as she was, displayed and trained not to move until he gave permission.

She caught her breath as he opened the door stepping into the space, eyes tracing her from head to toe. That smile whenever he saw her, it screams good girl, it's a sign that he approves of her positioning, it was the kind of validation she began to crave from him, even if not said out loud, it began the familiar rush through her. Already feeling the swelling in her gut that would have her wet before he crossed the room.

His eyes never left her as he moved towards her with that confident stride she found so intimidating, no matter how often she had watched him approach. He always seemed to move effortlessly, unlike her walk riddled with doubt and anxiety, and his eyes always seemed to tear into her, to go through her with a cold appraisal. From his gaze alone she had begun to feel the goosebumps rise on her skin, her senses heightening to a point she swore she felt them each individually.

Standing before her, towering above her small frame, kneeling and wanting already. She whimpers, staring at the floor, she knows better than to look up into his eyes directly without permission. Receiving approval, she looks up, doing her best to give her puppy dog eyes, the ones she uses when she wants something, pointing to his pants.

“Five minutes”

He sighed, almost bothered by the request. She had come to love that, the way he had treated her almost dismissively when she wanted something. She knew it was probably unhealthy, but in her day-to-day life she’s always in charge, always listened to. Here she’s none of that, she barely registers as a person and it drives her wild.

Ecstatic she reaches towards his zipper, running her hands up his leg, her eyes landing on the bulge in his pants. God she wonders why that sight drives her wild, jeans, sweatpants, hard or soft, she’s always loved seeing the bulge in a man's pants. Running her left hand over to grasp and feel him, while her other grabs and pulls down his zipper. Listening to the sound, her eyes widening as she frees her prize.

She loves the look of his cock, the shape of it, the dark colour of his tan skin, the veins that bulged out, showing the fierce and aggressive nature of him. Even the shape of his head seemed perfect to her as she hungrily lowered her mouth to it. Devouring and hoping to hear a faint moan or something that affirms her skills are of standards now. This has become part of her routine. She loves to to consume him down the moment he stands in front of her. She loves feeling it grow, marveling at how much the size changes, how hard it becomes as she swirls it around with her tongue. How quickly it reaches the back of her throat and makes her eyes water before he’s reached a state of full arousal.

She’s been on a mission to learn how to deep throat. It has been... a struggle. It feels like he tears her apart and leaves it sore for days after, even when he’s not trying. Every time she meets him, she practices, waiting for the day she can offer herself to him unrestricted. To feel him go wild, undeterred by concern, knowing she can take it. Every once and a while ducking as she watched another car pass by on the street, reminding her that she is still in the storm room. Stirring more as she wondered if anyone could see them both. Always impressed by how little the thought seemed to bother him, as if he expected the world to see him in control, pleasured with no regard to common decency.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the five minutes had passed until she felt him grasp her hair and pull her upwards, demanding she rises to her feet. A deep inhale as her airway clears, she watches the saliva that connected her to him, break and come to a rest, stringing out from her lips and landing on her chest. Followed by the string of excitement she had become accustomed to leaving on his floor in the entryway, slick, sticky against her thighs. She swears at some point, even feeling his cock fill her mouth had become a way to derive pleasure in itself.

Leading her through the doorway, into the main entrance and straight to the dark, wood, table centered in the living room. He laid her down, the cool firm feel of the wood imbues the awareness of what she was doing. Bringing back the flashes of his words, explaining her role in tonight's "performance". Making her squirm and wish she could disappear into the grains and hide herself away. Instead, he worked with the same efficiency he always had. Binding her arms to her side, locking her in place. Feeling herself being slid into position, her body being dragged until her head dangled off the edge, turning the world upside down. The blood rushing to her brain, feeling each beat of her heart pumping blood to both ends. The rhythmic pulse that seemed to flood towards her clit and her brain all at once. She was positioned long before she could overthink.

Locking her into place, he moves to her legs next. Pinning them flat, spread to the corners of the table, just wide enough to make sure she was open to all and vulnerable, exposed, just as he forewarned. The guests hadn't arrived yet but the shame and embarrassment of it all was leaving a clear sign. Already slick, her arousal was clearly visible. The shame was literally dripping out of her now.

Then the senses came next. The blindfold slipped over, the odd angle of her head allowing light in from just under the nose. Blinding her if she tried to look down as it focused the beam against the dark contrast. Next the headphones. He loved these. She has become obsessed with it herself. Having basic sense taken away had become another thing that made her insane. No sight, no sound, no ability to move or touch, she was unaware of the world around her and screaming internally that she wished there was more to take. The loss of them always stretched and melted away her sense of time. Seconds turning into minutes, the fabric of the blindfold moving against her skin sent vibrations through her skull that sounded like a roar through the headphones only to be drowned out by the white noise that would be on a loop.

Lastly, an ice cold sensation of metal. A large ring was placed in her mouth. Biting down she felt her teeth outmatched as he locked the leather strap around her head. Already she could feel the spit pooling at the back of her throat, drifting towards the roof of her mouth as her head hung upside down. Experience had taught her that these ring gags would quickly dry out her mouth or leave her suffocating in her own drool. Either gasping for liquid as her tongue struggled and dried or feeling as if she was drowning in her own spit. There never seemed to be an in between.

Her skin was hyper sensitive now. Other senses erased, touch to her body became acutely intense. First the weight, a heavy ceramic bowl. Cool to the touch. Probably full of chips, placed on her lower abdomen, just below the belly button at the dip in her waist. Instinctively the muscles in her core focused, tensed and twisted to keep it balanced. She knew her role. Each new plate and dish, forcing her to find uncomfortable balance, knowing that a single tremor through her body, one wrong move would send something clattering on the floor. Bringing punishment that she admittedly, craved just as much as she feared.

The change in the room was clear. Long before she was touched, her skin, her sense of touch now intently focused could feel the breeze enter as the door opened and invited the first guest in. In her current state, she could feel every step they made through the house as the vibration against the floorboard came straight up and through the table, sending each jolt directly into her pussy, permeating down to her pelvic bone. A warning that the show was starting. She could feel the steps and it gave her another tingle the carried through the hard wood. Feeling the sheer number of men now surrounding her, knowing they were gazing, taking in the sight of her before them. Her nipples reacted, she could feel them harden, pointing and screaming for them to look in their direction.

As the steps seemed to circle around to her left, she assumed they were now comfortable on the couch, it should be around the time that the game starts, at least she thinks. The white noise is disruptive to her thoughts and she’s struggling to stay focused on anything but the sensation now. She felt the first shift of weight, someone was reaching into a bowl, eating straight from her nude body. A small act, but enough to make her jump as the changing pressure shifted unpredictably. Another change, higher, near her ribs under her breast, another person grabbing from a different tray. She had to focus now, can’t let them distract and allow her to let anything slide off. The white noise, deafening was making focus hard.

Then a quick shock to her sense made her body jump, the cold, terrible cold and cool drops of condensation. A beer bottle, someone, some fiendish jerk had placed it right against her midriff, the droplets falling and pooling inter her belly button. Her reflective twitch almost sent something flying. Panic settles heavy in her chest, reacting, she overcorrected, barely managing to twist her body , hips dropping low to the left, chest arching and moving right, it took everything to keep things in place. Nothing had fallen, but it was apparent they would be working hard to force her failure.

Her body, loosing track of her mind under siege by the noise, had made itself laser focused on keeping things in place. Her ability to think of anything else, the complicated mix of white noise badgering her mind combined with the constant flow of blood to her head had erased any thoughts. Divulging into a living, breathing table that was the only thing she was. A creature of perfect balance. Still tense and focused even as the snacking slowed, her body stayed ready expecting it to be another ploy to catch her off balance.

Instead, the reality of the second act of her part in this show came quickly. Fingers grazed the folds of her lips, becoming glazed by her arousal, as they traced the length of her, around her thigh and circling back again. Rocketing her hips upwards as the sudden urge to force the fingers back down and into her makes her forget the rope that held her in place slamming her movement to a stop. The hand didn't notice, or more likely care about her struggle as it continued to tease and trace. Forcing a shudder from her body and a moan like noise that tried to escape her mouth, hampered by the steel ring that had actively drying out her tongue and pooling saliva between her gums. A fact she hadn’t noticed until now, only becoming aware as the now dry metal peeled from her lower lip, gravity stealing what little moisture it had left in it towards the roof of her mouth instead.

Another hand, this one large, calloused. Reached out and groped at her breast. Squeezing with an almost possessive kind of firmness. Rough and enjoyable. Another whimper. Another reminder that she couldn’t speak against the metal vibrating her teeth now that they had forced her vocal. Next came a slap, a third hand landed against the soft flesh of the upheld breast. Another jolt rings through her body followed by the crushing restraint of the rope stopping her from reacting. God, they came out from every angle.

Fourth hand landed a direct flick of her clit. That was too much, it sent a painful quiver throughout her body before the electric sensation of it tracing around and teasing her clit. Coming just close enough to steal her breath away. A fifth finger landed now. Not bothering with the tease, pushing past her lips and forcing itself deep within her. This combination was too much. Robbed of all sense and thought, hands continued to assault her body. She was struggling against it all, too many coming all at once, this much focus on her was an overwhelming form of pleasure that was going to break her. She was convulsing, shivering and trying to reach all of them at once. Her hips trying to force the hand within her deeper, her chest hoping to be grabbed harder, trying to mentally project the attention to her nipple it craved. Her left side is trying to provide more surface area to the hand that slapped away. All the while the jerk in the middle traced the sensitive side of her waist, circling up and down, teasing and tracing.

She was at the tipping point. It was all building to an earth shattering singular moment created from all the attention, the competing types of pleasure and impact, her body was welling with pleasure ready to explode outwards. Just then something warm and blunt hit her tongue. A cock, thick, heavy and insistent slipping through the ring and hitting the back of her throat.

That second was the end. She screamed as her throat was blocked. Feeling herself used so completely, by the throat, by the fingers that wouldn't bury themselves deep enough in her pussy. The never ending slaps and the massive rough hand still tugging at her breast. She violently exploded then and there. The shock rolled through her to the end of her fingertips before rolling back inwards to the pit of her stomach before exploding outwards yet again as they continued their punishment of her poor little body through it. Ensuring that the sensation would never stop, nothing more than a communal resource.

Another hand appeared out of nowhere, she had no idea how many had joined this parade of non stop attackers but the realization of that last hand's intent was a new factor that started another wave of pleasure. This new hand landed under the hand circling and teasing her clit, under the second hand inside her, curled upwards and hammering in and out, three hands now existed between her legs, fighting for her attention. This one collects the constant flow of creamy grool extruding from her at Niagara-esque volume and circling it around her ass, using her own arousal to lube and penetrate. Pushing every so slightly more before collecting and repeating the process, trying to push past the tight clenching barrier she was desperately clinging to.

Unfortunately she couldn’t continue to tense. The onslaught didn't allow it. She’s simultaneously trying to run from the anal assault while also trying to rock deeper into the main finger buried within her pussy that just won't reach where she demands. Her body is in a constant state of tension followed by deep relaxation. The sharp sting as it plunged into her without remorse, as she swears the finger now deep and suddenly in her ass makes contact through her walls with the one aggressively attacking her g-spot. The pressure released itself in that brief second. Poured over her like a damn that finally gave way to its crumbling foundation. The feeling drove her somehow upwards and downwards, left and right, sending her uncontrollable reaction in all and opposing directions, as the muscles disagreed on where to go. It was so violent she could feel the rope burning into her skin as even it now struggled to restrain her throws. The shaking caused herself to drive deeper into the cock in her throat. She had never felt a sense of complete and total fullness like this and it caused another heavy reaction that rocked her in a tidal wave she couldn’t handle.

She laid there as they rotated places. Setting up a circuit and swapping their positions out as they each lined up. The punishment began again. Feeling various parts empty as they swapped, only to quickly be filled and replaced by another. She got into a rhythm here. Lost in a f