The Real You

Note: This is a loose sequel to my story

"Naked Girl Forever,"

though I've taken some liberties with characterization. That story is mostly straight exhibitionism, but this one has a healthy dose of domination and submission. It also goes to darker places, so be warned.

*****

For our extra-special graduation party, Alice wore a tightly tailored navy suit with a white linen dress shirt open to the waist, her short hair swept up and back, her angular features underlined in bold contours, and spiked heels. I wore chains, and nothing else.

We had reached this point in our relationship gradually, as one does. First, Alice had dared me to streak our school's big annual block party, and my humiliation had turned us both on so much that we fucked for the first time that night, going from roomies to best friends with benefits. After that, we had looked for ways to replicate that high, at first just during sex, but soon in every moment of the day. As friends we had lounged around half-naked together, but now Alice was always fully dressed, while I was always totally naked. The balance of power in the relationship shifted likewise—from an even split, to her all, me none. With my permission and encouragement, Alice went through my wardrobe and got rid of everything that wasn't at least a little bit revealing, including all my regular underwear. With a whisper in my ear from her, what little I wore would come off, no matter where we were, though she kindly limited this command to parties where I could pretend to be drunker than I really was. But that was just a courtesy, she made sure I knew, because my body belonged to her, to display when and how she pleased.

So all of our friends knew me as a sloppy drunk and an exhibitionist, and the sight of me naked must have been almost boring to them. But none of them had seen me exposed as I would be tonight—naked not just in body but in spirit, my darkest desires turned into a fun party game. Noticing how my hand shook as I struggled to finish her eyeliner, Alice took the brush from me and gently stroked my loose red hair.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to—you know that, right?" she said softly. "We can unbuckle the cuffs and you can throw on a dress and we can have a regular party. It's up to you."

She never broke character this way, never spoke to me with such kindness. Since we had been having sex, she had shut off the old lines of friendship between us and communicated only through erotic cruelty. It made what I was about to do feel too real, and my whole body trembled uncontrollably. She hugged me to her and whispered again that I didn't have to go through with it, but I knew that I did. This was the last night of college, the last time that these people I loved would all be together, my last chance to have them know me, right to the very bottom of my shame, before we would scatter into the adult world and I would have to behave like an adult, underwear and all. I gathered what breath I could and told her as much, in a ragged scatter of words.

With that, she slipped back into character, her face like a door locking behind me. Her gentle caress on my check slid down to become a tight grip on my throat. "In that case," she said coldly, "get yourself together and finish my makeup, and try not to poke my eye out, you silly whore."

I heard the key in the lock, saw it tossed away where I could never reach it, and somehow that soothed me. The trembling passed, and though a burning flush replaced it, I dutifully did as I was told.

***

The first guest to arrive was John, and that was by design. A dumb, beautiful golden retriever of a boy, he had helped me through my awakening as an exhibitionist, including the night when Alice had first forced me to streak. In some ways I trusted him even more than Alice, and so I had asked him to come a little early. If I couldn't do this with him, I thought, I shouldn't do it at all. As I watched his big blue eyes follow the chains from my collar down to the cuffs at my wrists and ankles, his initial confusion mixing with immediate lust, all my doubts melted. All I could think of was his long, thin cock in my mouth, something I hadn't tasted, I realized, since the night of the streak.

"Good evening, Johnny," said Alice, in the cool, commanding voice I had never heard her use with anyone but me. "As explained in your invitation, our Bonnie will be providing special entertainment tonight. This is your last warning to run away if that makes you uncomfortable."

John's eyes didn't leave my body as he stammered out his reply. "Um... I'll... I'll stay."

"In that case, would you like a sample?" Placing her hand on the back of my head, Alice gently guided me to my knees in front of him.

"Um... wow...," was all John could say.

"It's a yes or no question, actually."

John still couldn't find the words, but he bobbed his head up and down almost as enthusiastically as I was about to. Alice took control of unzipping his pants and extracting his gorgeous cock, steadying it with one hand as she pushed my head forward with the other. Once the tip of it passed my lips, though, there was no more need for outside force, and I devoured it as if I had been poisoned and John's cum was the only antidote.

While I did, Alice moved behind him, placing her deep red lips inches from his ear. "John, you're a good man," she whispered. "Kind. Respectful. You've found Bonnie in compromising positions more than once, and you've never taken advantage. You've always been her white knight. She loves you for that."

I raised my eyes to meet John's as she spoke. Alice's words felt almost more embarrassing than my chains, but like the chains, having them exposed in the open made me feel freer than I ever had. She nibbled John's ear as she added the final note.

"Tonight... don't be."

John's reaction was like a dam bursting. Suddenly, instead of kneeling in front of the impassive wall of him, I was swimming—drowning—in his fierce lust. His hands were everywhere, lifting me by the hair, spinning me, forcing me face down across the arm of the couch, crashing against my ass over and over. Alice kept goading him on, telling him to take whatever he wanted from me, to let me know what he had always wanted.

"I always wanted this," he was saying, as a pair of fingers (his? Alice's?) massaged my asshole with cold, slippery liquid. "Every time I helped you cover up, what I really wanted was to parade you naked like a dog on a leash. When I helped you deal with those boys, what I really wanted was to watch them gangbang you. Every time you get naked at a party, I just want to throw you down and pound you in front of everyone."

Quickly his cock replaced the fingers inside me. At Alice's command, I had cleaned myself thoroughly beforehand, in anticipation of this. Every part of me should be ready and available for our guests' use, she had said. And every part of me was. I had only had anal sex a few times before that night, had tolerated it without much enjoyment for the sake of pleasing an ex, but now I pushed back against John's hips eagerly, needing him all the way inside me, willing him to thrust harder and faster. Everything he was saying, I realized, all the ways he had wanted to humiliate and destroy me when he had chosen instead to preserve my last scraps of dignity—I wanted that too. Tonight, we would both be satisfied.

But not yet. My desire couldn't be satisfied by any cock, not even John's. What I needed tonight were eyes and mouths, to be seen and talked about, to become an image and a story and so to lose myself finally, completely. So when John pulled out and let his load shoot up my back, into my hair, I wanted more, but not more of him.

Then a cheer went up, and I realized that what I wanted was already happening. I had been so lost in John's cock and his brutal words splitting me inside and out, I hadn't noticed when Alice let in a whole crowd of our friends. There was Jana, who Alice knew from the track team, and her boyfriend Steve, a massive linebacker. There was Greg and Alan, who I met during my freshman stint building sets for the drama department. There was even Mr. Pennebaker, my favorite TA, who I still couldn't bring myself to call by his first name, even though he was only a couple of years older than us and had seen me naked more than once. They weren't standing around watching us like some kind of stage show. They were more like the audience at a coffeehouse open mic—settling in, mixing drinks, chatting like at any regular party, only pausing to applaud when we finished our act.

The one person who hadn't missed a moment of our performance was Alice. With just a look she told me how desperately she wanted to kick them all out, to have me all to herself so she could eat me alive, and that the only reason she didn't was for my sake, because she knew how I needed this. I almost giggled at how powerful it made me feel, as if, in spite of all appearances, I was the one in control here. Alice didn't let the moment linger. Instead, she lightly slapped both my cheeks before turning to the guests.

"Who's next?" she shouted, like a carnival barker hawking a ride. "Let's keep her in use, folks, until she's good and used up."

While everyone hesitated, Alice arranged me on all fours atop our coffee table, running her hands along my curves like a model showing off some product. "Don't be shy!" she said. "This slut has been teasing every cock in this room for years. She's been throwing herself at your feet, piece of trash that she is, just waiting for you to pick her up. Take her, she's yours!"

My skin blazed, as if I could physically feel the eyes traveling across my body as Alice highlighted my finer points—tits, ass, pussy—one at a time. Steve glanced at Jana for permission, and he must have received it, because he shoved his thick cock in my mouth without further ceremony. He grabbed my hair and forced it in so deep that I could flick out my tongue and tease his balls. At the same time, I felt another cock—Mr. Pennebaker's I thought—enter me from behind, like John choosing my ass over my pussy. Had Alice arranged that ahead of time, to keep me frustrated? Or did both men understand, on their own, that this was what I was here for—to be used like an object, to give pleasure without receiving in return?

Either way, as Steve and the TA bounced me between them, the mood in the room shifted. The regular party was over, all attention was now on me and what might be done to me. More guests arrived, and as one finished with me, another immediately took his—or her—place. More fetishes than mine were revealed, as the guests did things to me they clearly had never done, or even admitted to wanting, with anyone else. I was bound and punished, desecrated and forced to worship; I was taught, one by one, by each of them, exactly what they thought of me. All night Alice was talking, pushing them to hurt me for their pleasure, but me she never spoke to, only guiding me with her hands into the desired position. The one exception, deep into the darkest hours of the night, my body rocked by some unknown object, she pressed her lips to my ear and told me: "This is all they'll remember you for, and for that reason they'll never speak of you. But this is the real you."

By the time the sun was rising I was, as Alice had demanded, used up—laying on the floor, sticky with cum and sweat and other fluids, another piece of detritus left from the party. As the other guests filed out and John helped Alice collect the trash, I half-expected him to lift me into his white hefty bag with the rest of it.

And half-wanted him to. I had served my purpose and could be disposed of.

***

But he didn't. Instead, when he was gone, and the place had been restored to a semblance of order and good hygiene, Alice came and lay on the floor beside me, barefoot in her tailored suit. She undid my cuffs one at a time, gently kissing as she did every place where I was split or bruised. Then she lifted me (Alice was so strong), and carried me to the bath, which she had filled with steaming, scented water, and cleaned me until every freckle shone against my pale skin. When she had dried me off and laid me under fresh white sheets, she knelt by the bed and whispered to me.

"I loved sharing you tonight, little bonbon," she said. "I loved sharing your beautiful flesh, and your beautiful, willing spirit. I've always loved you, so much more than I've been able to say, and I'm sorry for that. Forgive me, I've been a coward."

In the light of day, her smudged and faded makeup seemed too much, clownish, but beneath it her face was more beautiful than I had ever seen it. "I love you too," I said.

"Now, with your permission, I'd like something for myself."

I nodded through tears, overwhelmed by all I had experienced and by the passion in her boyish eyes. Alice slipped into bed beside me and let her hands wander across my body, slowly, gently, lining my collar bone, circling my breasts, finally finding their way to the one part of me that had been left untouched. We both closed our eyes and met inside that touch, intertwining like crossed fingers. I gasped as she slid inside me, penetrating to the very bottom. Soon her lips followed, and soon I was shattered utterly—utterly, for the first time and forever, truly hers.