Shibari on the Stage

Backstage was less chaotic than Becca had thought it would be. In her mind, the backstage of a basement club would be a buzz of performers--all in various states of undress, of course--carefully rushing through a clutter of discarded garments and racks of clothes in order to get to stage on time. In reality, she was alone with a woman in her late thirties and the faint hum of the crowd waiting just beyond the curtains. The woman peeled flecks of dried wax from her body and let them fall to the floor. Becca watched as the woman winced and peeled.

"Inside of the thighs, easily hurts the most," she said. There was a blacklight backstage, the woman standing just inside of its ray. Certain splotches of wax glowed a pale purple, while others seemed to disappear under the pale shadow.

"I would have guessed it would be your--you know--more sensitive spots," Becca replied.

"Nah, I'm at least used to it there. It only hurts if you let it really get dried on there, pulls the skin more. Speaking of." The woman reached up to her breast and pulled a quarter-sized chunk of wax off; her nipple shone slightly red in the light. A trill went through Becca's stomach. "You can stare. Those people saw too much for me to be shy now."

"Sorry, I just..." Becca tried to turn her eyes away, but they kept flicking back to the practically naked woman in front of her.

"No need. Take it you didn't watch my show?"

Becca shook her head.

"Stage name's Desiree--kinda cliché, I know." She pulled the wax off her other nipple and rubbed it between two fingers. "I started out naked out there, had my shirt poured on me." She smiled. "I don't mind if another performer sees me take it off, just want to get this wax off me. What're you getting ready for?"

"Shibari."

"Tying or being tied?"

"Being tied." Becca held up a plastic bag that contained the rope, as if it would prove her point.

"Your rigger coming?" Desiree looked around. "You're not gonna tie yourself, are you?"

"No, Mike said he'd be here soon. I'm just...waiting now."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, it's my first time in a club like this, let alone performing."

Desiree whistled. "Straight into the deep end, impressive." She slipped a shirt over her now wax-free chest. It was thin; Becca could see her nipples clearly through the material.

The back-entrance door swung open, and Mike walked through. He was dressed in the same outfit they had practiced their routine in: an open button-down shirt, black tights, and a bandana that he had tied around his neck. He saw Becca and smiled at her.

"Sorry I kept you waiting. The wand wasn't charged, and finding parking took way longer than I thought." He eyed her up and down. "You still need to change into your outfit?"

She shook her head. Underneath her t-shirt and shorts, Becca was wearing a white lingerie set that was made of more straps and belts than anything. Putting it on took almost thirty minutes, but it was what they had practiced in, and wearing it gave her a sense of confidence that just a bra and pair of panties could not. She lifted her shirt up to show her boyfriend, the straps that ran across her stomach glowed in the blacklight. He smiled.

"You look wonderful." He gave her a kiss. It was more passionate than she had been expecting: she tensed, then relaxed as his tongue caressed her lips.

"Save some for the act," Desiree said. "I'll let you two get ready. Good luck out there, hun."

Becca watched the woman as she left. She had put on a skirt that let glimpses of her ass show as she sashayed out of the room. Becca saw Mike tracing her legs. She couldn't blame him. Mike reached into the bag and started rifling through it.

"Pasties?" He held the cellophane pack up to her.

"I don't think so. The cups of the lingerie aren't see through."

"Are we still going to take it off?"

"I'm not sure. Can I decide on stage?"

"Of course. Say the word and we'll take it all off." He flashed his smirk then. It was the same smirk he always wore when he started to get turned on. It was wolfish and sly, as if he knew that he was going to get his way. He held up the hitachi. "Wand? Yay or nay?"

Becca had thought about that one for a while, constantly turning over just how explicit she wanted the show to get. "Bring it on stage. I'll decide once we're out there."

"Okay. Anything else we need before we start?"

"Don't think so."

The next minutes passed in hours. She watched as Mike set up the ring from which she would be suspended. He did it with expert, practiced efficiency. Together, they had practiced the routine they were about to perform over fifty times. It normally was a precursor to sex, as this night undoubtedly was as well. He put the supporting ropes into place, then checked the knots three times over. In less that five minutes, she would be hanging from the ropes, tied into various positions in front of a small group of absolute strangers.

Becca had been the one to suggest trying their tie in public. She had flirted with the idea during idle masturbation sessions, often in the middle of the night. She had enjoyed being tied up at home with Mike plenty, but she wanted to escalate the rush it brought. Being tied in public, on stage and for the viewing pleasure of other like-minded strangers, somehow codified their foreplay. It made it real. She was on the precipice of experiencing a sexual epiphany, an act that would usurp the fantasies she had been steadily developing in her mind over the past few years. She had no idea how far she would go, how much of her body she would show, or how completely she would follow the sexual elation she was chasing. She only knew that she wanted to experience it, at least once.

Mike had been surprisingly open to the idea. He had always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak: encouraging Becca to go to dinner without a bra or flash him while they were driving on the highway. But she had not expected him to so willingly commit to publicizing their routine, to allow others to see her in little to no clothing. Part of her thought that he was only doing this to provide her with immense sexual gratification. But as she watched him tie the final knot onto the ring, she noticed the outline of his erection straining against his pants. She smiled, knowing that both of them were about to wring a lifetime's worth of pleasure from the evening.

He gave her a thumbs up, and she walked over to him, taking her accustomed place directly beneath the ring.

"Ready, baby?"

She nodded and, with one, gentle finger, traced the outline of his cock. "You have fun out there, too."

"Oh, I will." He gave a nod to someone out of Becca's sight. And the curtains began to rise.

Just beneath the stage, heads began to turn. The others that had come to the club that night abandoned whatever idle chit-chat they had been engaged in and focused on the pair on stage. The lights were still low, so Becca could just make out the sea of faces before her. There was a somewhat even mix of men and women, most of them couples, at least for the evening. A few clapped at the reveal of the next act, but most just stared. A whirlwind of anticipation churned in Becca's stomach. The lights rose, and the faces were lost in the glare of the stage-lights. They begun.

Mike took his place behind her; Becca could feel his hardness against her ass. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and began to lift. Slowly, her lingerie was revealed. The white straps crisscrossed her ribs and chest, leading to two thick cups that hid her breasts away. They were the only part of her upper-body that was covered, the rest left exposed to the hot air on stage. She lifted her arms and let out a nervous giggle, and then she was practically topless. Mike tossed the shirt behind him, then spun Becca around by the shoulders. Compared to their practice runs, it was far more urgent. He knelt down in front of her and slipped his fingers in the waist of her shorts. Just as slowly as he had lifted her shirt off of her, he peeled her shorts down. She felt them slide over the curve of her ass, and heard a few whispers and shouts as they were caressed off of her. The lingerie's back was little more than a thong with a tiny patch of cloth that, if Becca didn't constantly adjust, would slide around and leave her labia exposed. Becca bowed down with an exaggerated push of her hips, making sure to widen her stance ever so slightly. The cheers came again, and she felt her face get hot as she plucked her shorts out from under her and tossed them away.

Almost completely exposed now, she felt calm, sexy. The nerves that had run their course on her sank completely away. Mike pulled her arms behind her and tied them together; it was the next step in their routine. From this point forward, she would be at his mercy. The fact excited her terribly. A little pulse ran through her body and culminated at her clitoris. She rocked her hips back and forth slightly, trying to sate the feeling. She could feel how wet she had gotten, much faster than when they practiced the game at home.

Next, Mike tied ropes above and under her breasts. They knot he tied pulled the ropes together, squeezing the tops of her chest. The cups of the lingerie pushed forward, and she could see the pink of her nipple when she looked down. Her piercing caught the light and glimmered for a moment. She barely felt Mike tie loose knots around each of her feet and lower-legs. The ties would be completed after she was suspended. Becca could only focus on how rapid her breathing had become. An intoxicating mixture of anticipation and sexual desire coursed through her mind. She rocked her hips again and again, feeling the sensual tickle of the fabric as the patch rubbed against her. The final rope was being tied around the small of her back, the one that would bear most of her weight as she would be lifted into the air. As Mike began to tighten it, she breathed in deep, and held it.

Mike pulled the rope, and Becca was lifted. The tie they practiced was front-heavy, so her head began to dip. She rose into the air, and Mike pulled another rope that balanced her weight better. She hung at a flat angle, her face pointed towards the ground. He loose, red hair feel free and covered her vision. She began to enter her pocket.

Whenever she was tied, Becca would drift into a semi-lucid state. Brought on by the pain of being restrained and the elation that brought with it, she would turn inwards, becoming deaf to the world around her. It was a voluntary release of control, one that left her in some purely instinctual stage where she was driven by physical sensation. The pleasure of sex would be heightened, her response to pain dulled. She could, if she desired, exit the pocket at any time. Now, suspended in front of strangers, she tried to climb out for a moment.

Mike had just finished tying her ankles to the backs of her thighs--the last tie of the routine--when he heard her whimpering.

"You okay?" He whispered.

"Can you pull me so I face more up? I wanna see."

Mike didn't reply. He pulled her face to his by the chin and gave her a long, deep kiss. She kissed back in the same way she always did when she was tied: greedily. She bit at his lower lip, but he pulled away. He pulled a rope, and she began to shift so that her head was upright and she could see the crowd. The front rows were obscured by the stage lights, but the spectators in the back were visible. They were rapt. A woman whispered something into her date's ear, but he barely seemed to notice. His eyes were on Becca, and they ravished every inch of her. The sight sent another jolt down to her vagina. She saw another couple, their arms wrapped around each other. The woman's hand trailed up and down her date's chest, but his eyes were much like the last's. Becca saw his vision fall to the little white patch on her panties. Her clitoris throbbed at the recognition.

She had been wet before, but now she was soaked. She could feel her thighs growing slick with her arousal. She rocked her hips as much as her bondage would allow.

"Baby," she moaned. "Can you use the wand?"

Mike smiled, then obliged. He presented the wand to the audience first; they cheered and hooted in approval. He turned it on and began to run it along Becca's body. He touched the rotating head to the top of her breasts, then over where the bra hid her nipples. Becca felt them stiffen and twitch under the wand's touch. He trailed it down her stomach, then to her thighs. He would bring the toy within inches of her swollen labia, letting the toy vibrate the cloth in only the slightest manner, then he would take it away. Becca began to rock and swing in torturous anticipation, trying to force her sex into contact with the toy. Finally, he relented. He brought the wand overtop the cloth, pausing where her clitoris was.

The sensation that shot from her vagina was electric. Little waves of radiating, hot ecstasy circulated from her groin. They cascaded over her in lazy, undulating spurts. Her cheeks were enflamed, now. She tried to stifle a groan, but succeeded only in amplifying it. She cried out in pleasure, and a few couples began to clap.

"Keep going!" One voice came.

"She loves it!" Came another, a woman's. Becca couldn't find the mental energy to decipher whose it was; she could only focus on the corona of pleasure that radiated from her crotch.

Mike pulled the toy away. Becca was overtaken by an empty feeling of need. Her appetite was rapidly shifting from a fun indulgence, to an insatiable lust. She bucked her hips again, hoping to catch his eye. Instead, she found nothing. Then, she was being lowered back to the stage. For one moment, she felt like crying. The routine had only just begun; it couldn't be about to end. She was relieved when he stopped lowering her, and he stepped back to her side. He leaned down to whisper into her ear.

"How're you feeling, baby?" He brushed hair away from her face and stared into her glassy, green eyes.

"My bra is digging into me," she said.

"You ready for the pasties?"

She smiled, bit her lip, and shook her head.

He got the message. Standing behind her, Mike ran his hands over her shoulders and down to the cups of the lingerie's bra. He squeezed her breasts, then pinched the top of the cups between his fingers. Just like he had with her shorts, he slowly peeled the fabric down. There was a cheer as one cup fell completely away, and her left breast was exposed. She had a piercing in that nipple, a hoop suspended at the end of a barbell, and it seemed to shine in the light. Mike peeled the other cup down, and Becca was totally exposed. She looked out to the crowd through hazy eyes, and saw Desiree for a split second. She was smiling and staring at Becca's exposed chest. When Mike unclipped the bra and tossed it behind him, Desiree cheered and clapped.

"Does that feel better?" He asked.

"Yeah," she trailed off, wanting to slip back into the pocket.

"Do you want these off, too?" He snapped one of the pantie's strings.

Becca nodded.

"You don't care if they see your pussy?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want them to see your pussy?"

She nodded.

"Say it."

"I want them to see my pussy, please."

He obliged. Unable to slip the panties off her, he first pulled the soaking cloth to the side. Becca's swollen lips and soaking pussy glistened under the lights. The cheers that came from the crowd only fueled her lust. Mike let the panties fall back into place, then reached into the bag. He lifted a pair of heavy-duty scissors, and slipped the blade under one of the thin strings that held the cloth in place. He snipped it, and the soaked fabric fell to the side, revealing her sex to the crowd again. He repeated this on the other side, and the panties fell to the ground.

Becca was completely naked now. The only thing hiding some of her skin was the ropes holding her and the few straps left of the lingerie. As if he had read her mind, Mike began to snip the straps as well, exposing more and more of her pale skin to the hungry audience. Before long, she was completely nude. The feeling was incredible. Becca looked out and saw every eye looking up and down at her body. She reveled in the attention, alternatingly feeling completely exposed and at their mercy, and like a perfect, sexual exhibit.

Lost in her delight, she did not notice that Mike had taken the wand back into his hand. She was torn from her reflection by the familiar vibration that sailed across her clitoris. Where it had been delectable before, it was orgasmic now. She shut her eyes and fell into her pocket. The cheers and claps seemed to fade away into a foreign din. She was focused solely on her pleasure and following it to an orgasm.

In the weeks prior to their show, they had discussed using the hitachi, but Becca had always insisted she did not want to cum. Now, as the toy sent her deeper and deeper into her own mind, she ignored her former inhibition. Each wave of ecstasy that surged from her clitoris brought her closer and closer to a sensuous cliff. She was quickly reaching a point of no return. Rather than fight it, she imagined what she must look like writhing and whimpering, totally naked, tied up, and on stage in front of everyone. She imagined how she would look attempting to fight her restraints as her orgasm overcame her, how her pussy would look as it twitched under the toy's touch. Just as she neared the cliff, Mike pulled the toy away.

"No, no, no," she whispered, too quiet for anyone but herself to hear.

Desperately, she fought to find the image again. She saw herself, her red, inflamed lips, exposed breasts--perfect, pale globes peaked with stiff, pink nipples. She thought of how her thighs would be shining with her excitement and she bucked and twisted against the ropes. She imagined the noises she would make as she submitted to the onslaught of her orgasm. It was enough, just enough. She felt the familiar tightening in her stomach. It compressed and shrunk, before exploding in a white-hot corona of pleasure that engulfed her entire body. Each throb sent another gush up her body, then back down to her restrained feet. She twisted against the ropes, and let out a deep moan as the entirety of the pleasure crashed down into her vagina. For a brief moment, she opened her eyes. She looked down and saw her tits rising and falling with her desperate breaths. She felt her pelvic muscles contract, and it was happening. With one, final burst of pleasure, she felt herself begin to squirt. Each little twitch sent out an arc of ecstasy that wrought out of her indecipherable moans of mixed elation and astonishment. Her orgasm seemed to last for centuries. But in reality, it was only a few, fleeting seconds. The cheers and claps of the crowd below were washed away as her ears popped, and a high-pitched ringing enveloped her hearing.

Becca tried to catch her breath, but it would not return. Her body was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat. She lolled her head onto her chest, and enjoyed the dwindling sensation of her orgasm.

[To be continued in part II]