In The Flesh

I sit in front of a jury of my peers, completely unclothed, vulnerable, judged. But it was something I HAD to do. With my bare ass on the stool, I rested my arms down at my side, my legs slightly parted so as only to display just a hint of fluff down below. I was told not to shave; to leave hair on my legs, my armpits, the area around my labia. I was told to choose a role to portray, to be somebody who I wasn't, to see if my fellow peers could guess who I really am just by studying my bare flesh. I wasn't allowed to speak, smile, cry. I hold my breath, not out of fear but out of giving away any secrets. This small group of men and women in front of me know very little about me, some may not even remember my name. Most do not know my true past.

I'm nothing but a cold marble statue, full of curves and shapes, rough edges and and smooth. Molded to society's rules. I feel a slight breeze sneak through a crack in the window in the room where we all are gathered. The chill caresses my nipples, instantly making them erect. I felt blood rush to my cheeks, surely turning as pink as the folds of skin exposed to the rest of the onlookers. But I hold my position. I can't shiver, move, scratch, sneeze, or else. I was on display.

This was unlike any experience I've ever had before. So embarrassing, but why wasn't I proud of what I did? What I AM doing. There is no shame I keep telling myself silently. Right now this is my life, my future. A lot is at stake, for me. For others.

I glance up at the clock without even the slightest movement of my head, the second hand almost matching the beat of my heart, as if it was a ticking time bomb. Another breeze rushes toward me, a blatent reminder of the frigid cold temperatures outside. Opening the windows to the elements was the only way to drown out the blasts of dry heat from the old radiators that still provide warmth to those this ancient building. Bricks and mortar that hold history, a landmark full of memories, ghosts, dark secrets, surely haunted.

I return my focus but I accidentally make eye contact with one man in the front row, who is staring at me. We lock eyes. Here, eye contact was not allowed, but we continued staring, I couldn't help myself. He's wearing a soft gray shirt, easy, casual, worn, comfortable, happy and with a sinister smile that shoots a volt of electricity through my bones. Surely he noticed. Surely they all noticed. I felt a bit of moisture creep out from between my legs. It's been a long time since I've been with another human. Not by choice but because of rules. Rules governed by another man who considers himself more powerful than any other man alive.

Despite the rules, I didn't shift my eyes. My heart begins to throttle as this stranger walks up to me, slowly. He makes his way to me and starts kissing my neck, tracing a line with his fingers lightly from my shoulder to my hip, plucking my hardened nipples along the way, seducing me with his touch and fucking me with his eyes as the rest of the group sits in silence and watches. I feel his hands explore the soft sensitive skin of my inner thighs, a finger skillfully sliding inside me to test how tight I may or may not be, then bringing them up for me to taste.

I suck on his fingers for a moment. They are salty, pungent, and sweet. Some of the flavors from me, some from him. I don't know where his fingers have been but for now I don't care. I need this.

He lowers himself to his knees in front of me, as if to pray or ask for forgiveness, but that's not why he was down there. He slowly spreads my legs wider and opens me with his tongue, a tongue so soft and wet. I grip the back of his head and pull it deeper into me. A live wire arced from his mouth to my toes and back again. Every lap of his tongue sending a shockwave throughout my entire body, electrifying me.

No touching! A stern male voice booms from the back, shrewdly reminding me of the rules, the biggest rule here. One warning is all I get. I can't touch, but I can be touched.

I'm unable to control my urges now. I squeeze my eyes shut and grip my seat with both hands, hanging on as I writhe with a pleasure I haven't experienced since that fateful night. I can't stop the waves of ecstasy from coming one after the other. I try to hold back but to no avail. A river flows from me, meandering playfully down my leg, a release of build up from years of being controlled both body and mind.

I finally open my eyes and I am once again shackled. My wrists, my ankles, chained and bound, locked up tight. Is it possible I can be punished for the same crime twice?

I look again at the man in front of me. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and winks.

They help me up and lead me back to my cell, where I will remain for now.