Endless Nudity Ch. 02

My desire to put my naked body on display for the prurient enjoyment of strangers is a guilty secret of mine. The only person I've ever confided in my desires is my best friend, Melissa.

Melissa admitted that she found my exhibitionist tendencies to be odd, however, as my friend she wants to do whatever it takes to make me happy. As a result, she's become my accomplice in my plans to put my naked body on display in public.

Since it's illegal for ordinary people to display their naked bodies in public, I came up with the idea of pretending to be Melissa's sex slave. We flew out to Fairhaven, where nobody knows me, and I purchased fraudulent documents that claimed I was a slave named Jody. The documents also claimed that Melissa purchased me for $100,000.00.

Nobody has ever asked to see my slave paperwork. They get one look at my shapely ass and my cheerleader tits, and they're just too mesmerized by my body to think about legalities.

On our fifth day there, we were in our hotel room, waiting for room service and Melissa commented on how happy I seemed since I'd been pretending to be her slave.

"You're bouncy with energy," she commented. "It's like you're riding a wave of adrenaline."

"I am! I totally am," I exclaimed. "Being naked all the time and stared at is a huge thrill! It's a huge rush! And it's not just adrenaline! It's endorphins and dopamine and stuff! It's like I'm high, only I'm not taking any drugs!"

When our room service meals arrived, I was surprised to see the kitchen employee accompanied by the hotel manager. She introduced herself to Melissa, made polite small talk, and then explained that she had a proposition for her.

"Many of the hotel guests have approached me and told me flat out that one of the reasons they chose this hotel is that they caught a glimpse of your naked slave, and they're hoping to see more of her. I've noticed that you and your slave take all your meals up here in your room. It would make many of the hotel guests happier if you took your meals downstairs in the hotel restaurant."

"So, they can get a good long look at Jody's naked body," Melissa said.

"You can understand why they would want that. She is quite beautiful, even by sex slave standards. Almost every guest here is a fan. They adore her."

"And she'd be good for business," Melissa added. "Hotel guests will probably extend their stay if they think they'll be able to get a good look at her. They'll enjoy their meals more if they get to stare at Jody. They'll probably tip the waitstaff better."

"Probably," the hotel manager allowed.

This verbal banter went back and forth for some time. I was starting to get hungry, but it seemed wrong to begin eating while this was going on. Then, Melissa began to negotiate. She deduced that the hotel would make more money if my bare breasts, long legs and shapely buttocks were on display in public areas of the hotel like the lobby and the hotel restaurant. Melissa insisted that we should get free meals if I took my meals in the hotel restaurant and allowed the restaurant patrons to get an eyeful of my exposed nudity.

"I'll sign off on it," the hotel manager finally agreed. "All of your meals are free so long as your slave's naked body is on display while you eat."

Melissa and the hotel manager shook on it. I ate the last private meal I would have while staying in that hotel and wondered how many people would be staring when I had my next meal.

Of course, the guests at the hotel weren't the only people who wanted to see my sexy legs and perfectly shaped buttocks. Bidwell University was just a few blocks away from the hotel, and a whole army of students, teachers and university employees there had already seen me naked.

And after that naked spectacle, stories had spread about me. And the students who couldn't ogle my naughty bits felt cheated.

"I have text messages from two of the professors," Melissa explained to me. "They say that you've become something of a legend, and they want you to pay a visit to their classrooms. None of their students got a chance to see you in person."

"So, what are you going to do?" I asked.

Back before I was pretending to be a slave, I would have voiced my opinion and told Melissa what I thought we should do. But now that I was naked all the time and wearing a slave collar locked around my neck, my feelings of submissiveness were affecting the way I behaved. I no longer felt like I should be in charge, and I kept deferring to Melissa and looking at her to make the decisions.

"I'm going to text both of them back and tell them that you'll make an appearance in their classrooms. I'll schedule you to appear in Professor Dunham's class on Monday and then Professor Nowitzki on Tuesday. I think that should work."

Melissa then proceeded to text them both back without asking me if I approved of her plan. It seemed that her behavior was changing as well. I suppose people treat you differently when you're naked all the time. Of course, in addition to being naked and wearing a slave collar, Melissa had taken to using a leather strap on me every day. The other slaves in Fairhaven had welts or stripes or some sort of evidence of corporal punishment on their backsides. Melissa and I decided that I needed to get my buttocks marked up every day, so people knew I was being punished. We felt it would look suspicious if I was the only slave in Fairhaven who was never subjected to discipline.

I suppose that changed the way Melissa thought about me too. She left marks on my ass every day with a leather strap. Every time she saw those marks on my buttocks, it almost certainly changed the way she thought about my status. It made it easier to dismiss me as a person with authority or status. I suppose it would have bothered me if I wasn't so sexually excited all the time.

Monday morning rolled around, and Melissa got me out of bed so we could start the day. We both showered, and Melissa helped me shave my legs and armpits. I helped her to get dressed and then she wrapped an arm around my waist and said, "I hope you're hungry. There's an assembly of people downstairs in the hotel restaurant just waiting for you to make an appearance.

We took the elevator down to the first floor and as we approached the dining room, there were butterflies in my stomach and a soft, wet pulse in my sex. Forced nudity and public exposure like this was a personal fantasy of mine, but it still made me nervous to know that dozens of strangers would be staring and scrutinizing my naked body.

When we entered the room, all conversation stopped, and people looked up from their meals to focus exclusively on me. Everyone stopped eating and instead they all gave me intense looks, as if they were all predators eyeing delectable prey and getting ready to pounce.

I was temporarily stunned at the intensity of their gazes and then I was rescued by the hostess. She recognized me easily enough by my telltale nudity and slave collar and said, "Jody Banks? And you must be Jody's owner. Or do you prefer the term mistress?"

"Both are acceptable. Although mistress sounds more stylish somehow. Let's stick with mistress."

All eyes were upon me as the hostess led us to our table. I could feel the penetrated gazes of the restaurant patrons as they stared at my ass. My heart pounded in my chest as everyone watched me and scrutinized my naked body.

It was both thrilling and anxiety inducing. There was something about my being the only one naked in the room that filled me both with fear and potent arousal.

I tried to keep my head held high, to walk with confidence and dignity, but it was hard when so many eyes were on me. I could feel my heart racing, my breath coming in short gasps, and I wondered how I was going to make it

It seemed almost like a wet dream. Everything was on display, my abs, my toned buttocks, my erect nipples, my professionally waxed loins, nothing was hidden. And when we got to our table, Melissa made me stand there for several minutes, allowing everyone in the dining room to get a good like at my ass and smooth vulva before I was allowed to sit down.

My breathing became ragged as dozens of eyes admiringly zeroed in on my breasts and my visibly plump pubic lips, knowing that these people could see all my body while they were all fully dressed. Their facial expressions rapt interest in my exposed anatomy and suddenly I felt warm.

This was one of my naughty exhibitionist fantasies brought to life, but my heartbeat quickened, and I felt my cheeks redden. It was overwhelming to have so many eyes devouring my exposed nudity. I felt so exposed and vulnerable. I lowered my eyes, took a deep breath, crossed my arms tightly across my chest, and then Melissa snapped at me.

"Jody! Slaves don't cover themselves like that! Put your hands down!"

Exerting an extraordinary amount of self-control, I lowered my hands and placed them at my sides, once again revealing my boobs to the room, so they could be ogled without hindrance. I noticed the smiles on the faces of at least a dozen diners. They seemed to appreciate my willingness to bare my body for them.

"Okay, you can sit down now," Melissa finally said after people had ample time to ogle my tits and ass.

Once seated, my naked buttocks and pubic lips were no longer on display, but people still stared at my tits. Under the table, I crossed one leg over the other and bobbed my foot up and down.

"Sit up straight," Melissa said. "I can't have people thinking I purchased a slave who has bad posture."

I did my best to correct my posture. I sat up straight, raised my chin, pulled my shoulders back and thrust my chest forward. A waitress came by with our menus and she gave me a look of approval.

"My name is Janice. I'll be your waitress. We're pleased to have you dining with us this morning," the waitress said congenially. "In case you weren't aware, the two of you are local celebrities."

"You've never had a slave in your dining room before?"

The waitress gave Melissa a look and said, "It doesn't happen very often. Masters and slaves usually end up staying at the Regent. The last time we had a slave in our dining room was over a year ago, and she was nowhere near as attractive as your beauty queen here."

I smiled at the compliment and the way she glanced at my bare breast when she said that made me feel exposed and desired.

"You're really taken with my slave, aren't you, Janice?"

"She's adorable. She reminds me a lot of that blonde actress from those MCU movies. Most slaves are pretty, but yours has far more sex appeal than any of the others I've seen. She's an absolute dream."

All throughout the meal, Melissa and Janice chatted congenially. And then, at one point Janice turned to me and said, "So, I imagine going from being a free woman to being a slave hasn't been an easy transition. What part of being a slave has been hardest for you?"

I couldn't tell Janice the truth. I had to commit to the story that I had been forced into this life against my will, so, I did my best to look thoughtful and I answered, "Being naked. About the time I think I've gotten used to it, something happens and I'm blushing again."

"Any sexual thrills?"

This waitress was smarter than she seemed at first glance. I nodded and formulated my answer. "I hadn't expected it would be that way. I thought it would be just fear and humiliation, but there's been a lot of sexual arousal. I was sentenced to five years of slavery and stripped naked soon after. And while being naked all the time is a crushing humiliation, it's also roused my libido."

Janice nodded and replied, "I thought that might be the case. In some ways you're lucky. I know some slaves get their clothes taken away and they're just miserable. I think being sexually aroused all the time is fantastic."

After Melissa and I had finished our meal and Melissa was paying the bill, our waitress gave me a look and commented, "Believe it or not, I'd value a single incident in which I was taken from my current life and forced to exhibit my naked body in public. The shock of adjustment must be vivid. I'd like to experience it, but it's something I'll never know--except through you."

I found myself blushing. The way Janice looked at me was intense. It was like she'd fallen madly in love with me. Melissa noticed and suggested we might include Janice in some of our activities.

"Joby gets punished quite often. Would you like to be invited the next time she's spanked or given the strap?"

"I'd like that very much," Janice replied. "I'm sure the way that she squirms when she's punished it absolutely yummy."

I could not have felt more submissive. Even the kind, congenial waitress wanted to see me punished.

* * *

I arrived on campus, and we met with Professor Dunham. She was a bright-eyed, lithe woman and was dressed elegantly in black slacks, a black blazer and a white, silk shirt. She shook hands with Melissa and gave me a passionate hug before patting me affectionately on the ass.

"In the official school records, I'm recording your visit as an educational opportunity," Professor Dunham explained. "You know, unique perspective, the psychological outlook of the slave, stripped of her clothes and her freedoms and her status. What sort of psychological impact does this inflict? Blah, blah, blah. But the real reason you're here is because my students heard about the grand spectacle of the naked slave on the athletic field, and they feel cheated they didn't get to see you for themselves."

Melissa appreciated her honesty, however, when the students began to file in, she had me stand in front of the class and encouraged her students to ask me questions about my perspective as a naked slave.

I found answering such questions to be awkward. I wasn't really a slave. I was just faking it. As a result, my answers were mostly fiction that I made up without any time to think about what I was saying.

"How did you become a slave?"

"I gave up my freedom to pay a debt," I explained Ursula, blushing under the intense gaze of the student.

"Have you ever been whipped?" one of the students asked.

"No, I've been lucky. So far, all my punishments have been rather mild."

A redheaded girl in the back raised her hand and said, "Most of the female slaves I've seen are owned by men. Is it difficult for you being owned by a woman?"

"Not as much as you might think," I replied. "I've had lesbian tendencies my entire life. I tried to ignore and repress them when I was younger, but they were always there."

"What about being naked all the time? Isn't it embarrassing to put your naked body on display for quite literally everyone?"

I took a deep breath and replied, "Well, yes. There is a sensation of embarrassment. From an exceedingly early age, we're taught to cover our body and to be ashamed of our 'naughty bits.' But since I have no choice in the matter and just embrace it. And the more I embrace it the more I'm unable to deny the fact that my current situation is most sensual. When I walked naked across your campus today, I could feel the wind across my naked breasts and my bare pubic lips. And every student and any student or teacher or security guard was able to ogle my naked body."

"And you found that to be exciting?"

"Yes, I mean, it's scary. But a delicious, erotic sort of scary."

My answers led to more questions. Most of the students couldn't seem to understand how a woman that enjoyed freedom for years could suddenly embrace a life of forced nudity and sexual objectification.

"When I had my freedom taken away, I was subjected to intense conditioning to get me to accept my new status. With the right conditioning, people can adapt to almost any new circumstance," I explained.

I spent a good thirty minutes or so answering the questions of curious, young minds, and then there was a knock at the door. Two students came in and pushed a large, wooden frame on wheels in front of them.

"It's called a whipping frame," Ms. Dunham explained. "I'm borrowing it from the drama department."

She explained that she wanted to secure me to it.

"Slaves are often bound," Professor Dunham explained. "I thought my students should see what a slave looks like when she's naked and bound. You'll be reasonable about this, won't you?"

By reasonable, she meant would I voluntarily allow myself to be made helpless and bound. I suppose I spent a moment considering my options. Of course, if I resisted there was an entire university of students, teachers and school employees who could grab me and force me to stand in front of the whipping frame with my arms and legs spread wide while I was strapped into it.

I sighed deeply and took my place in front of the whipping frame, raising my hands and spreading my legs. Professor Dunham then chose two volunteers to secure my wrists and ankles with leather straps and make me helpless.

The two young women had eager smiles on their faces as the tightened and buckled the straps. With my arms and legs bound far apart, I was forced to acknowledge my helplessness and my vulnerability. And to make matters worse my pubic lips were very visible, plump, and glistening with moisture.

"Don't leave me like this too long," I said plaintively. "I'm afraid."

"Don't be afraid. You'll be fine," Melissa said reassuringly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Well, maybe not anything physically dangerous. However, Melissa was willing to allow the students in Professor Dunham's class to take advantage of my nudity and my helplessness. Young women came up to me in groups of two or three and enthusiastically groped me.

The redhead who asked me about the perils of being owned by a woman walked right up to me and placed her hands on my breasts. She proceeded to play with my nipples, first brushing her thumbs across them and then rolling them between her thumbs and index fingers.

"Ohhhhhh," I gasped and gave the young redhead a beseeching look.

"If you're a slave, you need to get used to being touched all over," she explained. "And if you're a lady's slave, you need to get used to being felt up by other ladies."

I moaned and began to pant as her wise fingers worked my nipples and caused my sex to throb in hungry spasms. What the attractive, young student was doing to me felt suspiciously like rape, and if I were a decent, virtuous girl I would have been outraged and demanded that she stop what she was going immediately.

However, deep within my guts, what I really wanted her to do was to intensify her exploration of my body until she brought me to a furious, piercing orgasm.

And while that student fondled my breasts, a girl with a boyish haircut stood behind me and fondled me. She began by smoothing her hand up and down my bare buttocks. And then she reached between my widespread legs and began to massage my defenseless vulva.

I shuddered and panted. Dozens of well-dressed students watched, as my naked body was groped. Melissa and Professor Dunham watched as well, with looks of approval on their faces.

At some point, a much bolder woman came forward, placed a hand between my legs and found the entrance to my vagina. She thrust two fingers inside of me and probed around into my most interior.

I gasped as her fingers went deep and then her fingertips brushed against my G-spot. My legs were spread wide, and I felt helpless as she fingered my defenseless sex, however, it throbbed with hungry spasms. I moaned and I knew that if she continued to work her fingers deep within my vagina, my whole body would soon be shuddering in ecstasy.

"Oh, God! She looks so delightful," one of the students proclaimed as I panted and gasped on my way to an intense orgasm. "Check out the look on her face!"

"Uhhh, huhh, uhhh, aaahhh" I moaned, and the young lady's fingers continued to delve deep inside of me. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and when I opened them, Melissa was standing nearby with a wicked smile on her face.

"Don't let her cum too soon," Melissa advised the student, "It's more fun if you delay that special moment for a long time. The suspense as she's waiting for an orgasm that may never come is delicious."

I gasped, and my eyes widened as the young lady withdrew her fingers from my vagina. I had been so close, and then Melissa snatched my orgasm away from me. Sweat trickled down my torso as my feverishly teased body shuddered in sexual frustration.

Another student stepped forward and began to touch me. This one took an interest in my nipples. She reached for my breasts, took my nipples into her hands, and rolled them between her thumbs and forefingers, watching my face for my reaction as they became swollen, throbbing and erect.

She then pinched both of my nipples cruelly, watching my face intently as she did so. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I gasped, however, with my wrists bound far apart and above my head, there was nothing I could do to protect my poor, abused nipples from being abused.

"Aaahhh!"

Of course, while my nipples were being hurt, other students found other parts of my anatomy to examine. One girl spent time examining my sex, pulling my labia far apart, inserting a finger inside of me and probing deeply into every spot inside my vagina that she could reach and smoothing back the hood from my clitoris so that she could examine it more closely.

"Oooooohh!"

"Her clit is remarkably swollen," she told Professor Dunham, squeezing it between her thumbs and forefinger, "And it's as hard as metal."

Professor Dunham's students examined me quite thoroughly. They kneaded my breasts, squeezed my buttocks, ran their hands across my taut abs and felt up my thighs. And then one of them pried my buttocks rudely apart so that she could examine my anus.

"Her butthole is so pink," she observed, "I think she's had her anus bleached."

"They probably did that before she was sold at auction," another student said. "Stuff like that tends to drive up the price."

Hands continued to touch me all over and then I felt one of those hand once again between my legs. I gasped and my thighs trembled. I strained against my bonds and Melissa then said now would be a suitable time to give me an orgasm. I groaned somebody thrust their fingers inside of me.

I felt them moving around, probing me and discovering every intimate spot within my pulsing vagina.

"Uuhhhhhh," I mindlessly moaned as female fingers worked their magic deep within the delicate, pink flesh of my sex. My clitoris was so swollen it ached, as I felt fingertips pumping my G-spot. I bit my lower lip as my whole body trembled.

Then there were two hands in between my legs, working my clit and my G-spot at the same time. I squirmed and whimpered and one of the students said, "Calm down. We're not whipping you with a belt. We're just touching you all over."

"Now, I kind of want to give her the belt. The way she squirms when she's groped is adorable. I bet her squirming would be even more fetching if we gave her the belt."

Her words spurred my libido almost as much as the fingers inside of me. The thought of being whipped by one of Professor Dunham's class while all of her students watched created an erotic image in my head, and then I felt a jarring explosion of orgasmic pleasure washing through my loins.

"Aaaaahhhhh!"

The climax originated in my sexual core, but the waves of pleasure spread. Wave after wave spread from my overstimulated sex to my naked torso and thighs and breasts and when I finally stopped screaming my throat was raw.

"Oh God," I exclaimed, and my beasts heaved as I panted and recovered from a soul-bending orgasm.

"That was quite the display," commented Professor Dunham after I was done gasping.

"She's amazing," one of the students responded.

They stood around for at least another twenty minutes discussing my reactions and the perfection of my naked body and how jealous they were of Melissa that she got to take me home every night.

I remained there bound spread-eagle and helpless while they discussed me. I felt helpless and exposed and vulnerable being bound like that, but nobody thought of releasing me from my restraints. They just left me there, with my legs bound far apart and my pink slit indecently on display.

I was still wet down there, and I felt humiliated with my glistening sex so visible, but apparently when you're a slave nobody considers how undignified and embarrassing it is to be exposed like that.

* * *

As we were leaving the campus grounds, Melissa showed me a pair of stainless steel handcuffs. She had me place my hands behind my back and handcuffed my wrists securely. Then a leash was attached to my slave collar. Melissa pulled on the leash, and I followed her, naked, bound and helpless.

"Why didn't you tell me about the whipping frame?" I asked as Melissa walked at a brisk pace and I struggled to keep up.

"Didn't you like it? I thought you enjoyed being naked, helpless and ogled by strangers."

"You could have at least warned me," I complained. "I've never done spread-eagle bondage before. And I very nearly had a heart attack when I heard the phrase whipping frame. When you're a slave, the word whipping has very scary connotations!"

"I thought it would be more fun to see the look of surprise on your face, dear," Melissa said as she pulled me along behind her. "And you're not really a slave. You're just pretending."

I looked around to make certain nobody could hear what Melissa had just said. Luckily, we were alone on the street. If anyone found out that I wasn't really a slave, Melissa and I could both be charged with fraud, and neither one of us would enjoy that.

"The psychological associations are still valid," I argued.

"I saw the look in your eyes," Melissa retorted. "You were afraid, but the fear was delicious. Admit it!"

I got an erotic thrill from being abused, objectified and made helpless by Melissa. I didn't feel like admitting it right then and there. I was mad at her for having me bound to a whipping frame without discussing her plan with me first.

"Next time, maybe I'll give you a warning before I involve you in something potentially traumatizing," Melissa said as I was pulled naked down a public street.

"Maybe?" I asked. "You're not sure?"

Melissa looked over her shoulder and she had a playful smirk on her face. She ceased all forward movement for a few seconds and then she responded.

"Alright. You remember that waitress from the hotel?"

"Janice?"

"That's right, Janice. She seemed quite smitten with you. I'm thinking of giving her an opportunity to live out some of her fantasies with you. How do you feel about that?"

I tensed up slightly and struggled against the handcuffs that bound my wrists. Janice was cute, but I knew very little about her. What sort of fantasies did she have bouncing around in her head? What if she were some sort of wicked sadist? Would she be too extreme for me to handle?

"I'm suddenly very afraid of her," I replied.