On Display

“Look at her” Kris says with admiration. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

He’s talking about me. Appraising scrutiny from our audience brings forth nods of approval and encouraging smiles. I’m awkward, nervous at being so exposed in front of this many people. They’re all looking at my naked body. There’s nowhere to hide. Heat rises to my face in an embarrassed blush and rushes to the pit of my stomach in a flare of arousal.

Chair Scene

The chair looms in the corner, all chunky bars and wipe-clean padding; the leather straps dangling, waiting for a warm body to enclose in their sturdy embrace. Mine.

The chair looms in the corner, all chunky bars and wipe-clean padding; the leather straps dangling, waiting for a warm body to enclose in their sturdy embrace. Mine.

One of them pushes me across the room, small contemptuous shoves as the others look on with predatory smirks, anticipation gleaming in their eyes. Today I’m playing the dumb terrified animal captured and tormented; I move as though in a daze, eyes wide and trembling, silent and passive. I’m a toy, a vessel, a doll for them to play with until they get bored or break me, whichever comes first. For this I need no words. Nothing is required of me but pliant flesh, open holes, a heartbeat.

B&W picture of my rear view in hotel room mirror

Solo Hotel Room Romps

You’ve done a lot of wanking in hotel rooms. Those one-night trips away for work, from the same anonymous chain hotels transplanted across the cities of England to the occasional quirkily unique independent hostelry; upon entering your chamber, the first thing you look for is masturbation possibilities. Full-length mirrors? Underfloor bathroom heating? A tiny slice of viewpoint within which a glimpse could be caught from the outside world? Perhaps a comfortable chair on which to sprawl, loose-limbed and wanton; imagining hands, eyes, tongues upon you?