Faceless Fuck Toy

A true story

He is my touchstone.

I am nervous, yes. Very. I try not to think about why I am here.

Sitting at the back of the room on a bench, clinging to His arm, my hair is in a simple ponytail. I have no makeup on... it's not necessary. I will be wearing my hood.

The workshop room is huge; larger than life posters of gorgeous people hang down from all sides in various erotic poses, leather or latex adorning some, others only in sexy shoes or bondage gear.

Front and center of the room, made of black leather, shiny metal, and raised higher than normal, is a modified gynecological exam table with wrist restraints. I will be on that table.

Naked. Except for the hood.

Situated around it are rows folding chairs set up for the workshop. Filled with people new to this lifestyle, mostly. The workshop, Networking for Kinky People, is sponsored by the Stockroom.

The instructors are a delightful husband-wife couple in an open relationship, flown in from Chicago. They entertain and educate the crowd with a kind of kinky sex & BDSM 101. I find them fun and interesting, as they skillfully involve the participants by asking questions and breaking the ice.

There is another model here, hired as a demo for flogging and electro-play. She sits across the room to the side of where I am in a bathrobe and I secretly wish I had her job instead of what I am about to do.

I like new experiences. I like testing my limits. I like doing things that make me feel good, feel alive. The rush of energy, the adrenaline and lovely brain chemicals are my intoxicating drug of choice.

But in leading up to these new experiences, especially ones that involve witnesses, sometimes the anticipation and nerves are overwhelming.

My Sir senses my discomfort. He wants me to have a good experience. He is there for me. I could not, would not, do this without Him.

The wife presenter comes over and says they will be ready for me in 10-15 minutes.

He takes me over to a side door and we disappear into the back room.

Leading me into the bathroom, He tells me to strip. My Sir Plays with me, preparing me more fully for the experience. His use of me turns me on. He asks me to stand, naked, and touch myself. To look into my own eyes as I do so. He speaks calmly yet passionately to me, commanding me to look at my beauty, to make love to myself.

I have never done this while looking in the mirror before, and I am a bit shy but do as he says. Tears well up as I realize I can easily look deeply into other people's eyes, and transmit emotion, acceptance, caring, passion, love... but for myself it is so much harder to do. I tell Him, haltingly.... He encourages me to do this for myself.

One hand on my pussy, the other on my breast, I step closer to the mirror and gaze deeply into my dark hazel eyes. I connect with my Self and my chest tightens as my heart expands and aches, tears pouring from eyes that become green, as they always do when I cry, as I sob at the beautiful feelings that emerge. The pure knowingness that I am ok, the feeling of self love, is powerful.

Experientially I am reminded that I am loved.

That I AM love.

The husband presenter knocks on the bathroom door to make sure we are about ready. I emerge teary-eyed and when he asks, reassure him with a smile that I am ok. He goes back out to the crowd.

My Sir places me into my favorite leather hood. It is a deliciously strict sensory deprivation hood... padded over eyes, ears and mouth, with locking straps over the eyes and under the chin; two small breathing holes where the nose should be. As He tightens the hood I feel that wonderful release of control as I give over my sight and become a faceless human body, ready to rely solely on Him and obey.

I am safe there, in a nice, comfortable, anonymous cocoon of darkness and leathery scented warmth. Standing barefoot on the concrete floor, my large, dark nipples contract and become hard from the chill that sweeps through my body, not entirely caused by the cold.

He opens the door and leads me out into the room, instructing me to step down and guiding me slowly since I cannot see. I walk on the balls of my feet, daintily, gracefully, my body posture erect and proud to display my magnificent female form, but my head bowed slightly to show my submissiveness.

I can hear the flogging of the other girl and can feel eyes upon me as I am guided to the high table. He turns me to face the crowd and helps me jump up onto it. I position myself as we had rehearsed before the workshop, scooting my sex to almost hang off the middle edge, allowing Him to spread my legs as I bend my knees so that my heels are touching my butt cheeks. I place my wrists in the restraints.

He uses leather straps to quickly bind each of my thighs individually to my ankles, and tightens the wrist restraints down so that I am secure. This soothes me.

He uses a plug-in the wall vibrator on my clit and I can hear the sounds of electro-play on the other girl as the instructor shows the participants how to use a violet wand. Being spread, bound, vulnerable and stimulated before a room full of strangers while naked and hooded is an incredible, new sensation.

He holds me down, a hand on my chest and I allow soft gasps to escape my lips, muffled from my hood.

I hear the wife introducing me, saying that objectification is one of my fetishes and that she will now demonstrate the Fuck Saw on me. I am wet from His use of me. I am no longer nervous, I am eager.

He stands on my right and continues to hold me down as the wife steps between my legs with a power tool style, handheld fucking machine. It enters me and I tilt my pelvis up to meet it, groaning as it instantly hits my sweet spot and jabs into it, thrusting in rapid succession, bringing me to the peak of orgasm almost instantly. I am straining against my bondage, whole body tightened; the room is quiet except for the sounds of the machine and my uninhibited moans of pleasure that become loud wails. She turns it off to check in with me. I reassure her I am enjoying myself so she starts up again.

The pleasure is so intense it is almost painful, and I wish I had a butt-plug in and stimulation to my clit, too. I am such a greedy girl! I want it all... I lose myself in the moment.

I move mindlessly to fuck the machine and cannot count the orgasms.

I am a faceless fuck toy.

All too quickly it is over, and she asks if I came. It is hard for me to speak in this state but I manage to say yes. When asked how many times, I can only shrug my shoulders and say I don't know, which brings laughter.

I am unbound and led back to the back of the Stockroom, hood removed, rewarded with a hug and a kiss from my beloved Sir. I get dressed and walk out to the room I'd been publicly fucked in, now nearly empty of people.

I am handed my pay in a Stockroom envelope by the owners and say goodbye to the workshop instructors.

It is time now to leave Los Angeles go to my regular job.