Sue's Naughty Secret

A certain woman liked to excite herself by pretending that she was exposing herself to lots of men. She was a closet exhibitionist. She kept her secret to herself because she just couldn't imagine telling anyone - not even her closest friend. Once in a while, when she was alone, she would get so hot that she would go into the bathroom and masturbate while sitting spread out on the toilet. She would pretend that there were peep holes in the wall and that men liked to peer through them, and watch her.

This idea thrilled her, and she would put herself in the most open and exposed position that she could contrive. One of her favorites was to sit backwards and face the toilet tank (like sitting backwards on a chair). She would then arch forward so that her cheeks spread apart and made her vulva just visible from behind. In this position, she imagined that the men could look right up her asshole as well as see every shocking little thing that she did with her fingers.

One day, she was all by herself with nothing to do, so she went to see a movie. The film had a few erotic scenes. When she got up from her seat, she realized that she was wet - practically dripping through her pants. Just to be sure, she went to the ladies room to check that nothing showed.

Now she had never been to this particular theater before. It was quite large, and exceptionally well appointed with plush carpets, rich wood paneling, and chandeliers. It looked more like an opera house with lots of gold decoration and painted scenes about the walls. The ladies' room was equally unusual. It was richly furnished and intimate - so intimate, in fact, that there was no stall, just a toilet; and you locked the door for privacy. The room made her think of the sumptuous privy in some elegant palace.

Once safely locked inside the bathroom, she found that her underpants were hopelessly soaked, and that she would have to take them off to save herself from imminent embarrassment. Unfortunately, the prospect of undressing in that public place excited her, and she felt an overwhelming urge to masturbate right then and there.

She weighed the risks. The lobby was just outside - so close - and yet the room was still safely private. The movie was a matinee, and there were hardly any patrons in the theater. If someone wanted to use the toilet, she remembered that there was a second ladies' room available across the lobby. There was always the possibility that someone on the theater staff might begin to get worried, and knock, or try to open the door with a key.

The novelty of masturbating in that new and unfamiliar place goaded her thoughts along. She thought first about unzipping her jeans just a little, and then discreetly slipping her hand down the front for a few minutes before changing out of her underpants; but then another more dangerous idea excited her more. What if she took off every last stitch of her clothing in that elegant but very public little bathroom! Her stomach fluttered.

With fingers cold and trembling, she took off her shoes, and then her blouse. She imagined a silky male voice from behind her urging her on. Soon she stood bare foot and naked beside her clothes. She gathered them up, and put them neatly piled on a small shelf in a corner. This pleased her also, because the shelf was in a hard to reach spot beyond the sink. Getting to it required a reach, and a deliberate effort. If the door opened and someone surprised her, she would have no chance of easily retrieving them.

She faced the wall and straddled the spotless white porcelain bowl of the toilet. Sinking, she gradually let the broad icy rim brace her thighs and spread her open. When she was split uncomfortably wide, she leaned deliberately forward and set her breasts firmly against the freezing tank. Then she arched her back and rocked her pelvis down to show the opening to her vagina behind her.

The male voice hummed softly in her head, strong, deep, encouraging. The words were suddenly articulate. She slid her fingers down, and gently spread her own flesh for all to see. The voice admired her. Its sound was insistent. "You should be an actress... You would be an instant star... They would all admire you..."

She listened, and then she understood, to her horror, that the voice was real. An eye, a face, and then a whole man watched her from behind an impostor wall. Or at least, that is what she imagined: The partition was a sumptuous screen that looked like a wall and concealed a sizable space behind. The man did not move, but continued to speak to her. "Please don't stop. Do not let me spoil your pleasure!"

She gasped in dismay, and twisting astride her porcelain saddle, She lunged for her blouse but could scarcely reach it. After several fumbled tries, she caught the material between two fingers, and held the blouse modestly in front of her.

"Forgive me," the man went on apologetically. "I did not mean to disturb you. I was here by accident, and I will leave. Just let me say that I do admire you. If you ever want to try acting... Well, once again, I am sorry." He reached from behind the screen and slipped a small white card into her shoe and then vanished.

Trembling with anger and humiliation, the woman frantically stuffed herself back into her clothes and rushed from the room.

***

For a few days, the woman lived in a state of uncomfortable turmoil. During the day, when she recalled the man, and how he had trapped her, she felt irritated and ashamed. The fact that he had caught her red handed in an act that she wished to conceal doubled her ire. At night, however, her recollection of events in the theater thrilled her. She embellished what actually happened with fantasies of brazen female exposure; and she invented entertaining little scenarios of getting caught while masturbating in the ladies' room. As time passed, her daytime thoughts became less disturbing, and those she had at night became more compelling.

Finally, one night late, when erotic desire compelled her to leave aside all caution, she rooted about compulsively - almost desperately - in her trash for the card the man had given her. It contained only the one word, Introducing...', at its center; and then at the bottom was a phone number. She dialed. She could always hang up or claim a wrong number.

The same distinctive voice that she had heard in the theater answered. Even over the phone, the voice was both silky and hypnotic. It both approved of and encouraged her. "It is almost eleven thirty now. The films are nearly over. Come by in an hour. That would be an ideal time. That is not to soon, is it?"

With her heart pounding, and surprised by the speed and ease with which she agreed to recklessly hurtle forward, she made the date to return to the ornate theater for a live audition.

At the appointed time, she found herself in a dressing room near the stage. A well dressed usher, a young man no more than eighteen or nineteen, accompanied her. When she first saw him, his extreme youth and strong good looks made her uneasy; but he turned out to be so well behaved, so polite, so competent, so candid, and so professional in his manner and in the way that he treated her, that after a few minutes, she became quite accustomed to him. It soon became clear that the usher's sole charge was simply to attend to her, and see that she was completely comfortable - a job which he appeared to perform with the greatest sincerity.

"I am here to explain your part to you; to answer any questions you may have; and to give you any other assistance that I can," he explained. "I have also been told to emphasize that you are completely safe here. Any time you are tired, or loose interest, or your role ceases to please you, you must simply leave. If you would like, I am free to see you anywhere that you might like to go."

The young man paused and looked down for a moment in a show of polite deference, and then continued. "I am also told to say that your pleasure in this audition is most important to us, and we will spare no effort to see that you are as entertained as any of our patrons."

Since calling the number on the card, she had not heard any detail of what it was that they desired of her. All she knew was that it was an acting job with details that were perhaps too vulgar to discuss politely. "And just what is my role? How will I know how to play it?" she asked nervously.

"Your role is the same as the one you have played for yourself dozens of times before. You already know how to play it. The part is ad-lib according to your feelings. It is a method part. All you have to do is let yourself go.

"If you think that it would please you, there is even an audience ready for you right now. They are here on the chance that someone will perform; but you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. There is plenty of time to decide. If you are unsure, I can suggest one thing that may help you. Start by taking off something simple and easy like your shoes or the studs in your ears. Then wait for a while to see how you feel. Go ahead, try it. Why not take off your watch and lay it there on the table?"

She took this advice, and her heart pounded hard for a dozen beats. She could practically smell the stage smoke next door, and feel the heat from the lights.

The usher said, "Do you remember the theater from when you were here before? You may remember that the stage is round, and that we divide it in half with a wall to make two theaters for films."

She nodded and swallowed. Her mouth was dry.

"I should tell you that the configuration has changed. For plays, we use the entire stage and make it a theater in the round. Tonight, there are seats on all sides."

She took off her thin bracelet of charms. Her heart pounded again. The young usher looked at her for a moment questioning, and then when she did not respond, he politely moved away from her.

"No. No. Please stay," she said quickly.

"Yes ma'am," he replied and stepped forward again. "May I get you anything?"

"No," she replied.

She decided that she would undress in front of him because she needed him for support. She perceived him as a friend, and indeed, when their eyes met, there was only neutrality there, and not a hint of desire. She felt that she could trust him. As she undressed, he held her clothes for her.

When she was finished, he offered her a black satin costume mask with painted eyes. She saw that it was really a blindfold.

"I've been told to give you this," he said.

She looked at the blindfold more carefully. It was finely made, delicate and feminine with a faint pattern woven into the satin; but it was also a little sinister, and she saw that it would make her look catlike and somewhat nasty.

"Will you tie it on me, please?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

By depriving her of sight, the blindfold seemed to heighten her other senses. Suddenly, she was aware of the faintest air currents about her legs. She caught a faint scent of grapes, cigars, starch, perfume, and human sweat.

He led her onto the stage, and immediately, she felt the heat of lights against her skin and heard the resounding echo of hundreds of tiny noises that always mark an audience.

Masculine hands (not the usher's) took charge of her and urged her forward. They carefully guided her to the edge of a divan. Then they invited her to lie down on it. I should not say lie down when, in fact, she braced herself against it, knelt on it, straddled it, or, perhaps, draped herself across it. She did almost anything but lie on it. In short, the hands, and the hypnotic voice that once again seemed to speak inside her head coaxed her into an exposed position that could only appeal to an exhibitionist.

She lay like this, wide open, for a long time just breathing while the voice described her person in lewd detail. She felt the divan turn beneath her to offer all a view. From time to time, the voice addressed her directly, and suggested that she arch a bit more so that they could see her lovely vulva better, or spread herself a bit wider so that her lips parted and they could peek between. Before long, she no longer waited to be prompted but moved of her own accord. The voice seemed content to comment.

"Watch her now. She is holding both her breasts, the slut. She touches her own nipples to make them poke up hard and pointed. Now she puts her hand flat on her stomach and moves it down. She obviously likes the feel of it very light and slow. How many of you would bother do it to her patiently like that with just one finger slipping so nicely around her clit."

The dirty talk excited her, and she began to breathe a little heavier.

"Put your arms up over your head and out of the way, sweetheart. That's right. Lay them right back. Arch out and tilt your head way back. Let us see your lovely neck. See how hot she is. How voluntarily she does it. I think we can show a little more of her."

Alien fingers parted hair and cleared it from the slit of her vagina. They spread her open and gently stretched her wide and held her. There was a whirring sound and several clicks - the sound of cameras. A teacher's blackboard pointer with a resilient rubber tip worked its way between her legs to running commentary.

"This skin along her inner thighs is very fine. You see how smoothly it dimples under pressure. This woman is apparently very sensitive here as well. You see how she sucks in her breath or moans a little every time we touch her. Her responses are clearly progressive from the knee. Excuse me just a moment. I think we need her spread a little wider..."

The pointer delicately found its way between her parted lips. The rubber tip vanished momentarily inside her, and then withdrew again bright and glistening. From there the tip shot lightly up between the furrow to find her clitoris. It deftly felt the flaps of skin and explored around in a tongue-ish ribald dance of flesh and rubber that made her writhe and moan. They goaded her flesh erect and hard, and made it stand out of its little shelter; and then, commencing methodically at the base, they directed all attention to every private feature.

From there, the pointer delved inside again, and, with fingers holding her apart, it touched on ever deeper shades of crimson while the commentary pursued a tandem course of alternately serene and obscene adjectives describing color, texture, taste and smell. At the end they held the pointer down while fingers held her out on top (a kind of makeshift speculum) to give them all one last penetrating view of her. Then, by way of moving on, the pointer danced upon her perineum and traveled back and forth to demonstrate her darkened ridge, and test the strength and tone of her muscles.

Throughout all this, the unseen narrator addressed three separate audiences in three separate and shamelessly contradictory tones. Each party was completely privy to the speech intended for the others. To the woman herself he spoke only with gentle and admiring encouragement. To the theater spectators, he spoke as lewdly as possible. For them, no word was too dirty, vile, or sensational. He seemed to take a lascivious pleasure in the base character his language. Finally, to the men who handled and assisted her in exposing herself, he spoke only in a tone of ruthless imperative. His firm commands, however, in no way implied even the slightest disrespect for, or shortness with those he addressed, but rather, the harsh tone referred entirely to the results he expected from her.

"Now flip her over, please. Put an extra pillow underneath her to make sure her bottom's nice and high; and bend her down across the scroll. There's no need for her feet to touch the floor. Now spread her good and wide."

They ran the pointer down the backs of her legs. Each touch indicated some special characteristic of her person - some female musculature. The voice commented on the predilections of various cultures. "The English are renowned for their love of various extremities - their fetishes for feet, ankles, fingers, and toes. In China and Japan, there are strong fetishes for necks. This woman would do well in any of those countries. Look here at the pretty turn at the back of this delicious foot. She might also please a Gallic taste. Observe her mesomorphic outline and this well defined cut on the soft side of her thigh just above her knee. She might almost be a dancer. The shape is definitely most provocative to the lascivious eye."

The light touch of the pointer let her know where each of these important features lay. When it finally reached her crotch, they spread her cheeks apart with bold familiarity. Once again the fingers divided hair, and then they searched for purchase on the private rim of taught elastic flesh which marked her anus. The pointer made a light surveying pass about the newly widened area. Feeling the tiny tip so intimate and close, she gasped and raised her head.

"No need to start, my dear. We will only explore as far as we can see - or possibly just a fraction deeper. You may always scramble up at any time you please."

They paused and held her open. The divan turned and presented her to every quadrant.

"There, you see, she relaxes, and in doing so, she even spreads herself a little wider. Help her arch forward some, and let us see a little more of her. May I suggest, my dear, that we give you something to clamp down on while we do this. A rubber shaft to hold in your vagina, or perhaps something in your mouth. Lift the corner of her mask and let her see."

They laid a cloth and a dildo on the divan beside her where she could just see them under the corner of her blindfold. The cloth was made of white terry and appeared to be an ordinary wash rag. They had rolled it up into a tight cylinder. She saw that its real purpose was to serve her as a gag.

"The choice is completely up to her," the voice announced. "She must now decide how much of her personality to let us see. You can all understand her dilemma: Outside this theater, she is an outstanding citizen. She holds a respectable job and supports the community. She always strives to make herself attractive, but never too provocative. But now we see her true nature. She is nothing more than a brazen slut. She savors humiliation and degradation. She must choose between her public and her private self. The question is how brazen and degraded is she. How far will she agree to go? She knows that none of you can identify her, but there is always some small risk. You can see how heavily she breathes and how earnestly she contemplates the cloth."

One of them put her blindfold back in place, and then brushed the cloth lightly across her lips. She let them know by drawing in a quick breath between her teeth, and then parting her teeth just enough to admit the rag. As she opened for it, someone slipped the dildo deftly up into her vagina.

"She accepts," exulted the voice. A murmur of amazement and approval swept through the attentive audience.

"Now spread her filthy backside to its limit."

Once they had done this, she had no choice but to clamp down upon the gag and the dildo while the pointer explored her anus. It delved and penetrated. It became terribly insistent and pushed her flesh from side to side and forced her open. Then fingers spread her wide so all might look inside. The divan rotated. The camera clicked. She had never felt more exposed, and sensed it all the more because the hot stage lamps shone deep inside her. The light was noticeably hotter than her native ninety-eight-point-six degrees.

Then she heard an unexpected noise which broke her reverie. An audience of hundreds vanished suddenly. Twenty pairs of male eyes withdrew from secret peep holes. She was suddenly active and alert. She fumbled around the basin for her watch, and checked the time. Horrified at how much time had passed, she took her underpants out of her mouth and stood up from the spotless porcelain. She noticed that the toilet was no longer icy cold but warm where she had embraced it. Finally, she gathered up her clothes and dressed. On her way out of the theater, she felt terribly ashamed.