Beautiful, depraved: "6": Expose, exhibit

I never knew where we were headed. He'd call, give instructions about when he'd be picking me up, what I ought to wear or bring, and then he'd show up. Always precisely on time.

This evening he took me to a play club. Once a month, this venue held events by invitation, so the crowd was a carefully culled selection of players, all delightfully complicit.

When we entered, there was a grouping of people gathered around a bar. These places normally didn’t serve alcohol, to encourage coherence, but they served some kind of refreshments. The crowd was varied – 20 – 40 year olds in dark colors, leathers, all dressed in some manner of fetish attire. Many pretty topless women, some collared slaves. A particularly nubile blonde woman gyrated on the leash held by her Mistress - a rotund, beast of a woman who sat and ignored her pleas for attention. A very handsome young boytoy, shirtless and sculpted was being humbly led by his Mistress - a tall, willlowy brunette with long dark hair. The lighting was dim, and a variety of play stations were set up throughout the main area of the room, surrounded by an outer rim of tables and chairs. There were about 100 people in the space.

As per his instructions, I was wearing a severe black corset, a tiny black g-string and very high stilettos. When we entered, he had me remove my coat and stand before him as he sat and surveyed the room. “Take off your panties,” he said. I froze and then my fear thawed into excitement. I felt a rush to my groin as I noticed people staring at us out of the corner of my eye. I dutifully slid them down my thighs and let them drop to the floor, never taking my gaze off him. “Put your thumb in your ass and a finger in your pussy.” This was humbling and physically very awkward. My ass was dry and I struggled to actually stick my thumb inside it. I wiggled it as best I could and bowed my head. He then led me by the hair, as I hunched over, trying to walk and keep my fingers in place at the same time. He was diminishing me.

We approached a wooden rack that was built in the shape of an A-frame with horizontal slats. “Stand here,” he gestured as I stepped forward with my stomach leaning against the smooth wooden boards. He raised my arms up above my head. “Keep them here.” He reached down into the navy blue Adidas gym bag he carried with him whenever we went out to play in public. He pulled out some leather restraints and fastened them to my wrists, securing them to the slats above my head. He pulled out his riding crop, the handle of which I could always see poking out of the gym bag, like an ominous talisman. He began lightly tapping my ass with the crop. He used quick, light taps that, given the eroticism of the situation for me, only increased my arousal. He focused on my ass and my thighs, building the intensity of the tapping and I’d lean the weight of my body into the slats for support.

I let go. I didn't feel any pain. I had a heightened awareness of my body but still, even with the now stronger whipping, I only experienced pleasure. I was slipping into an altered state, my whole body vibrating like a giant erogenous zone. I stuck my ass out in the air, wanting my pussy to be exposed. My back was arched and I felt very sensuous and very sensitized. He’d press his body forcefully into mine, his stubble nuzzling against my neck as he spoke low and throaty. “Everyone is enjoying watching you.” His voice was like an anchor, and it left me feeling even wetter. I would look up out of the corner of my eye and I could see men, some standing against the wall, watching as he flogged me. One of them caught my attention. I recognized him from another life. My first reaction was panic, until I read the look on his face. He was enrapt and euphoric. The anxiety dissolved into a feeling of collusion and mutual secret-keeping. I didn't acknowledge him, nor he me.

I had waves of pleasure washing over me, and I felt near-orgasm when Andre would stop and press his body into mine. I loved seeing and feeling these men watch me. I could only see a handful of them, since my back was toward the center of the room.

Andre leaned into me again, this time reaching up above my head to untie me. He brought my hands down to my sides and held my wrists with one hand. He used his other hand to place a blindfold over my eyes. I stood and waited for his instructions. “Come this way,” he said steering me gently by my elbow to lead me to another station. I could see nothing as I walked gingerly, a little unsteady in my heels. He guided me to lie down and stretched my arms out to my sides and secured them. I could feel him placing my feet into stirrups, tying me in as well, and then spreading my legs open. I felt a wave of excitement. The gentleness of his movements was soothing and I felt I would let him do anything to me.

He placed clothespins on my inner thighs, and then fastened some that pulled and held open the lips of my pussy. My outer labia are large, so he was easily able to spread them open. Wide. I felt a rush of excitement heave from my groin into my stomach and chest. It was dizzying in its intensity. My pussy felt like it was on fire. Wet, throbbing, hungry. He continued placing pins, leaning over my chest at times to press his weight into me. “Many men,” he’d say, “are enjoying your open pussy.” I loved the thought of this room full of people staring at my cunt, my cunt being opened for them to look inside me. At their leisure. I could hear men coming up and talking to Andre. They would flatter me, flatter my cunt and he would repeat their words in his responses so I could hear. “You can touch her if you like.” I felt fingers, tentative hands, stroking my lips and the opening of my cunt. Someone's fingers edged inside and deftly probed me. I writhed and panted. I loved the thought of being a plaything for any random person who might approach me.

I loved the feeling of being stripped of any pretenses, with nowhere to run or hide. To reveal my cunt, my core, my vulnerable spot was to open to any possibility and to love it. Naked and raw, yet ready for anything. No pride, no fear.

Eventually he untied me, removed the pins and blindfold and very gently helped me to sit up. I felt unsteady with a rising feeling of euphoria. He led me with his arm around my shoulder across the room and back to the seating area to gather the rest of our things. I stood in front of him, with a warm feeling in my chest and a half-smile. I was soft, suppliant and peaceful.

A man came up to us and thanked us profusely. He was giddy. Andre smiled and nodded and made a little conversation. I felt flushed. I watched him but I had nothing to say.

As we left the building and walked back to the car, I marveled at how different I felt. My hips liquidized and diffused elation and satisfaction up and down the block. I walked slowly, with a deep, soft confidence and fearlessness.