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!"
She thought my idea was self-destructive and reckless, but that didn't mean she wouldn't cooperate. She eventually gave in and became my willing accomplice.
I know people in the Office of Slave Commerce, and I was able to get one of them to provide me with a government issued slave collar with a blank tag. Then I took the collar to an engraver and had them engrave the name Jody Banks and a slave identification number of 12414. I also got some fake papers that declared Jody Banks to be Melissa's property, legally purchased at a slave auction in Seattle.
Strictly speaking, this wasn't legal. It's an act of fraud to issue a slave collar for someone who hasn't been sentenced to slavery. However, when you pay enough in bribes people are willing to overlook a little bit of illegality. And it's not as if I was hurting anybody, right? When you think about it, it was more like I was bending the rules rather than breaking them.
Right?
Neither the slave collar nor the papers would stand up to scrutiny, but Melissa and I soon learned that nobody ever bothers to check. Go anywhere in America and if an attractive naked woman appears in public, wearing a slave collar, submissively allowing herself to be led around on a leash, everyone just assumes that she's a slave. Nobody bothers to go to a government database to verify her status. People have been conditioned to believe that sexually appealing, naked people, with a collar locked around their neck in public MUST be slaves!
Of course, I couldn't pull off my mad plan anywhere near home. Melissa and I would have to travel to some place thousands of miles away for me to play the role of a naked slave. We discussed it, and we decided that we would start out in Fairhaven. It was a suburban town just outside of Augustus Beach. We wouldn't run into anybody there that would recognize us.
On the flight over, I was fully dressed. And when we got to the hotel, I was wearing a disguise. I wore nerdy glasses with thick frames, a tweed suit, and a brunette wig. It was sort of the female version of Clark Kent, but it made me look different enough from myself that nobody would link me to the naked slave girl named Jody.
After we checked into our hotel room and freshened up, Melissa gave me a look and asked, "Are you ready for this? It's not too late to back out."
"Oh, hell yeah!" I exclaimed. "This is going to be the thrill of a lifetime!"
Melissa gave me a concerned look and said, "Just remember, when we go out in public with you as my naked slave, I can't treat you like I normally do. If you're my slave, I can't treat you like a friend. I have to treat you like property. This is going to be a big adjustment for you."
I gave Melissa a brave, determined look and said, "I can handle it. I'm stronger and more resilient than you think. You can be as rough and demanding with me as you think is necessary. Treat me like a naked sex object. I'll forgive you, no matter how mean you are to me."
Melissa still didn't understand how I could enjoy being naked and ogled and objectified, but she agreed to do exactly as I asked. Then I proceeded to strip naked while she watched. Yes, there was a sensation of helplessness and humiliation that washed over me at first being the only one naked, but those sensations were soon joined by an erotic tingling. Then those erotic feelings became more intense when Melissa pulled the slave collar out of our luggage and locked it securely around my throat.
"Oh God," I gasped. "We should get outside. Presumably, you paid a lot of money for me. If you pay a lot of money for a slave, you should take her out in public and show her off and make everybody jealous that you own something so deliciously erotic."
"You're insane," Melissa berated, but she didn't argue. She clipped a leash to my slave collar and then she led my naked ass outside.
My heart sped up and my pulse raced. There was a potent feeling of submission being naked and led around by a leash. Even if this whole thing was my idea, I still felt dominated by Melissa and got swept up in the fantasy of being her property and being forced to exhibit my naked body against my will.
