My name is Daphne North and I'm an exhibitionist.
I have an exceptional body, with toned abs, high, firm buttocks, dancer's legs, and the sort of boobs that can mesmerize both men and women.
And I love being stared at. I love being the center of attention. Of course, my stuffy, right-wing parents don't approve of me showing off my body for the crowds, so, I have to travel to Fort Lauderdale or Augustus Beach or someplace far away from home if I want to show off my tits and ass and get objectified in public.
I remember one time I went down to Fort Lauderdale during Spring Break with my friend Melissa. She packed a tasteful one-piece swimsuit to wear to the beach, while I packed a burgundy string bikini that was so tiny, it barely qualified as clothing at all.
The tiny bit of material that covered each nipple was only a couple square inches. And I do mean that it covered only the nipples, not the breasts. And the material was very silky and thin. When my nipples got hard, the thin fabric did nothing to obscure the shape of my stiff nipples.
The triangular piece that covered the pubic area was about the size of a playing card. It left my ass completely exposed, with only a thin strip of fabric wedged tightly between my butt cheeks. I couldn't imagine a swimsuit that covered any less and could still be called a swimsuit.
The whole effect was to make me look more naked than if I wore nothing.
I only wore that micro-bikini to the beach once. I went there with Melissa. Melissa is an attractive, young woman, but she was largely invisible as everyone at the beach fixated on my nearly nude body and ignored her completely.
"I can't believe that you're going out in public dressed like that," Melissa said as she kept giving me wide-eyed looks. "I'd be embarrassed to go out in public dressed in next to nothing!"
I flashed her a wicked smile and said, "I think it's exciting. I mean, yeah, there is a sensation of embarrassment, but the more I embrace it, the more my heart pounds, the more my blood heats and I feel energized and alive."
"You're an exhibitionist, you know that? You should have been a stripper."
"My mother would kill me," I said as I swayed my hips, putting my body shamelessly on display. "She's all stiff and stodgy and Republican. If I became a stripper, she'd disown me and kick me out of the house."
"That's probably true," Melissa allowed. "But I can see it in your eyes. And hear it in your voice. Having people stare at your naked body while you gyrate to rock music on a public stage would be a next level thrill for you."
My eyes went glassy for a few seconds as I envisioned the scenario she described. She was right of course, but I could never do it for real. My mother would kill me. Or at the very least, she would cut me off from the family money. And I didn't want that. I'd gotten used to a certain lifestyle that I could only afford with large amounts of cash.
"Okay, yeah. That's true," I admitted. "But it's never gonna happen."
It was Spring Break, and we were in Florida on one of the major beaches. There were plenty of both men and women, most of them were college age. It was almost like they emptied out the colleges from a dozen different states and sent them all to Florida.
Melissa and I walked across the sand towards one of the rocky breakwaters. I put on a pretty good show of wiggling my ass from side to side as I walked alongside Melissa. I was showing off and people noticed. Both men and women openly stared and smiled after they recovered from the shock of seeing a nearly naked woman on the beach.
Melissa wrapped an arm around my waist as we walked and pulled me close. We were hip to hip and walking in sync. I turned to her and asked, "What's this all about?"
"The people on this beach are all looking at you like you're some sort of delicious snack and they're starving. "I'm afraid that somebody is going to eat you if I don't show that you belong to me. Therefore, I'm keeping a possessive arm around your waist until people stop staring at you with hungry eyes."
"Aww, that's sweet," I said.
Call me crazy, but I felt a soft throb in my sex when Melissa said that I belonged to her. So I wrapped an arm around her as we walked and snuggled up against her as much as I could while walking. People still stared, but perhaps the looks in their eyes became less predatory. Perhaps they felt that they had no chance with me because Mel had already staked a claim.
I was ninety-nine percent naked and feeling incredible the way people stared at my body. I felt pride and excitement and I felt a sense of safety as Melissa kept an arm around me and advertised that I was her property. People could stare and ogle my body all they liked, but they knew that I belonged to Melissa, so they had better not try anything more invasive than fixating on me with their intense gazes.
Being almost naked and on display was a heady feeling. But the feeling of belonging to Melissa, of being her possession, was another heady feeling. I felt an intense desire to keep this going, so I talked Melissa into staying on the beach for hours. She paraded me around from one end of the beach and back again, making certain that everyone had a good look at me from every angle. It was a grand, erotic spectacle. And even though Melissa felt that my desire to make an erotic display of myself for hundreds of prurient strangers was weird, she knew that it was something I enjoyed, so she indulged me.
I was swept away after being nearly naked and ogled by so many people. There was a soft, wet pulse in my sex and my nipples were so hard that they ached.
When we got back to our hotel, Melissa smacked me on my ass and called me her "slave girl" and joked that it was a good thing she belonged to me or else I would have been dragged away by one of my many prurient fans.
Melissa was joking, but the idea of being her slave girl stuck in my head, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.
The more I thought about it, the more turned on I became. The thought of being naked, helpless, groped and examined by prurient strangers seemed so intimate and overwhelmingly personal. The idea of putting myself in that vulnerable and humiliating position was unexpectedly thrilling. Eventually, I came up with a mad idea to experience the thrills of slavery without truly becoming a slave.
I would need Melissa's cooperation with my mad plan, but she was a good friend who'd been willing to be my accomplice in other mad plans I'd had in the past. I had great confidence she'd help me with this one.
"Oh my God, Daphne," Melissa exclaimed. "This is a horrible idea! You should seriously have your head examined!"
