Risky, Risky

As usual, life happens and I get busy doing things - some fun and sexy, most not. But I wanted to write about what happened this past winter and spring with an online friend (master).

He knew just how to push my buttons. He knew I needed to be exposed, humiliated, embarrassed, pushed. He knew (most of the time) that if he pushed me a little at a time, I'd do what he said.... until I stood up and walked out of the fast food restaurant naked, holding the laptop under my arm, nipples rock hard, dripping... after having shown off for a guy at a nearby table, after having undressed at my table, gotten down under the table and licked the old gum, legs spread facing my gentleman viewer, being a slutty whore for him.... debasing myself, following his every instruction...

Barely dressed on the way to work, parking in the employee lot, having to flip my skirt up front and back before going in. Then fucking myself with my dildo on the drive to work -- and leaving the dildo in plain sight on the seat of the car all day, wondering if anyone would notice, and if they did, would they know it was my car?

Being ordered to carry the dildo in my purse in to the office. Seeing my purse sitting under my desk, knowing what was in it, my heart pounding all day, knowing that anyone could unzip the top and look in and see it. Paying for groceries at the store, reaching around it to get my wallet, wondering if the checkout boy (or sometimes girl) could see it, could smell it. Then being ordered to carry a dildo or vibrator to work in my purse every day, getting used to what a complete slut I was becoming.

For almost over a week I assigned myself a task of making sure at least one person a day saw my nipple. Stripping off my bra in the car after work, then driving to get a tea, buttons undone, blouse hanging open, showing the coffee guy -- or girl -- feeling so slutty. Finding a new person every day to flash, sometimes accidentally, sometimes very obviously on purpose.

Peeing my pants in public, outside a grocery store, the wet seeping through, darkening the pants, people looking, my skin hot from fear and shame and excitement.

I never thought it would go so far, but he got me to do a lot. I've dialed it back since then, doing little more than wearing a tight cami with no bra, or a light skirt on a windy day, with no panties, for a lonnnggggg walk in a nearby town.

Or recently going with the boyfriend to a county fair where we knew no one, wearing my tightest white cami, with a loose button up shirt over it, boyfriend catching glimpses, and liking it, even showing me off from time to time by putting his arm around me and catching the edge of the shirt, opening it as we walked through the fair... but it wasn't enough, and he's less brave than I am (or rather, he doesn't need to humiliate me as much as I crave the humiliation). So I plotted, and waited until we were a ways from a bathroom, then told him I had to go - badly - and that I'd meet him right back there. Then I trotted off to the bathroom, got out of his sight, and took off the shirt, holding it in my hand, my boobs, nipples, areolas on complete display, practically stopping traffic as I walked for nearly ten minutes, never going to the bathroom, until it was time to put my shirt back on and get back to him....

But what really got me going, that I still can't get out of my head, is stealing the photos from my boyfriend's computer while he was asleep, photos I was no longer trusted with (because I wasn't supposed to allow others to see them, wasn't supposed to share them with people - and I couldn't be trusted). Stealing the photos, my heart pounding, wondering if my boyfriend would wake up, knowing he might break up with me, leave me, over this... the risk getting me dripping wet, my nipples rock hard...

Then being "forced" to send them to him, my online master, forced to slowly reveal myself - first just the ones of my body, eventually the ones of my face, showing me posing naked, nearly naked, slutty, even sucking boyfriend's cock...

Having my fate in his hands. Being "forced" to beg for him to post them on the internet for all to see. Seeing them posted. Seeing people respond and comment on my body, compliment him for having such a slut... then upping the ante. Forced to beg him to post the ones that just slightly showed my face. Obsessing about it. Getting off on it. Hyperventilating when he posted them.... and went further, posting ones of my entire face... the rush, wondering if I was going to get recognized, caught, called to the my manager's office, get approached on the street...

And again upping the ante. Giving him the email addresses of a few girlfriends. Getting blind copied as he sent them emails, giving hints, risking it all...

I miss it so much. I miss the rush, the fear, the uncertainty, the sheer sluttiness, the complete lack of control... maybe someday I'll risk it all again.