Katy's Body Pt. 19

Chapter 19: The Bistro

*With thanks to my editor - Chris6160

Author's note: this, like other parts of the story, is about BDSM . It is the story of a consenting female submissive. If such subject material does not appeal to you then please choose not to read it. The law in many countries is such that consent is not a legal defence against committing "harm" to another. The definition of "harm" in this sense is very unclear. To be safe only the very few images that exist which show red marks consistent with a light punishment can be shown in this series.

Over time my attitudes to submission had begun to change. I had started to fantasise more about the humiliation and exhibitionism of my body rather than its punishment. It was still very important that I be "forced" into these. Despite my narcissistic sexual attraction to my own body my strict upbringing would never allow me to flaunt it of my explicit free will. To do these things my body would need to be owned and controlled by my Master. Ultimately this would also require punishment from time to time. In any case punishment brings its own form of humiliation and is very effective in demonstrating my lack of control of my own body. I did still enjoy the cruelty but less so than before. In short, the main course of punishment had been downgraded to dessert and the starters of humiliation and exhibitionism had been promoted to the main course of my sexual desires.

One of my husband's old friends ran a small bistro in a town not far from London. From time to time the whole establishment would be booked by one of several different male sports teams. These occasions tended to be drunken and, to some extent, rowdy. He was looking for someone to provide a little glamorous distraction for these occasions. As my husband tells it this was mentioned in passing and was not initially a request for my services. However, my husband was never one to pass up an opportunity to show off my body and he put forward a suggestion that I work as a hostess for the occasions when the whole bistro was booked by a male sports team. His friend was very taken with the idea but was hesitant to accept the offer of my body, being naturally reluctant to exploit the wife of a friend. My husband took me to meet him to convince him that I consented.

The basic format was that I would start the evening by wearing a skimpy outfit (such as this) but would fairly quickly move to something even skimpier or more revealing, ideally just one item away from complete nudity. In this state I would be required to tease the customers throughout the course of their meal, perhaps dancing provocatively, but also available for fondling. By the end of the meal I would be fully naked. Groping of my body by customers would be permitted at my discretion. The climax of the evening would be a performance with the Sybian sex machine. My husband made clear that he would lend my body as a favour to his friend. This was, he said, with my consent and he was not at all wrong.

In the end the arrangements were fairly flexible. It was up to me to decide what to wear once the customers were seated, provided it was sexually provocative - an open invitation to a highly sexed exhibitionist such as me. My choice was different on each occasion. None of these images were taken at the time - it was simply too difficult to keep customers out of the photos - but the outfits shown here were all worn (just about) in the bistro at one time or another.

Sometimes I would wear a simple, easy to remove dress and remove it once the customers were seated and spend time teasing them with my body wearing only panties.

The following is an account of one evening. To a large extent it was typical of many of my "special" evenings in the bistro. I always found it a challenge to see how long I could tease the customers until I finally surrendered my panties. It was always certain that my body would end up naked but part of the tease was to keep my panties for as long as I could. On several occasions I never recovered them later; presumably some lusty sportsman kept them as a souvenir.

On rare occasions I would wear lingerie which had the advantage over a single item in that I could more gradually move to complete nudity. More often just a single item of clothing was more in keeping with the bawdy, rowdy nature of the occasion. The little black skirt almost always ended up with my body being fully naked much earlier than I intended. The fact that there were obviously no panties underneath and that it was simple to untie at the waist meant that it was inevitable that a drunken sportsman would untie them before I could stop them. I never worried too much. I knew better than them what was to follow.

As you might imagine that a room full of drunken sportsmen and a nearly naked sexy body could have only one result. They knew clearly that sexual intercourse was not permitted and they certainly also knew that groping was. Had I wanted to count it would have been impossible to say how many hands squeezed my breasts and buttocks or how many fingers probed my wet vagina. I didn't care - group groping was more than fine by me. In fact, the humiliation of being required to offer my naked flesh to be groped was incredibly sexy. The obvious and loud admiration of my sexy body and its humiliation combined to make it so sexually exciting. I just needed a few breaks to finish off what they had started in the ladies' room. Occasional masturbation is a fine way to make it through a sexually charged evening.

Once the meal was over and the plates in the process of being cleared the owner of the bistro stood up and called for silence. After several attempts the room was hushed. He called me over to him. I knew what was coming and was so sexually aroused by the prospect that I could only croak rather than speak, The mere prospect of my naked flesh on view to a room of young, fit and horny men who had been teased into a sexual frenzy by me was in itself an incredible turn-on.

"Gentlemen, I hope that Katy has been using her lovely body to keep you entertained?"

Loud cheers followed.

"The climax of your evening's entertainment is upon us. In case you have not seen one before, the machine in the front of you all is a Sybian. It comes with a selection of different dildos and clitoral stimulators. We are now going to fasten Katy's body to the machine so that she cannot leave it or resist its motions. You will be given the remote control so that one or two of you can control how the machine fucks her. The rest of you just sit back and enjoy the show!"

An uproar of load cheering and shouts followed.

"Please, please one request. The show will be very much sexier if you keep Katy happy and engaged with it. After a climax please give her a little time to recover. Pause and then continue when she indicates she is ready."

"I will lubricate the dildo. Katy will select one of you to lubricate her pussy!"

Despite the clamour I singled out one of the quiet, more reserved men. I handed him a bottle of lubricant gel and stood naked in front of him., my legs apart for access. He blushed but was clearly very aroused - the bulge in the trousers said so.

This was very much the stuff of my current fantasies. I couldn't think of anything sexier than being ordered to be naked and ogled by a group of men, then being "forced" to ask one of them to lubricate my pussy in front of all of them. The humiliation pf my naked flesh was extreme and intense. I was almost ready to come immediately. Better still, the thought that they would all watch my body restrained to be forcibly fucked by a machine was simply off the scale for sexy humiliation. I only wished that there was some way of recording my emotions and the sights, sounds and smells of the occasion so that I could fully re-live the humiliation over and again.

Once my pussy had been inexpertly lubricated, which wasn't really needed since it was very moist on its own account, I was ordered to the Sybian. The machine itself was attached to the top of a solid wooden box. To the front of the box on either side were leather cuffs for my ankles. I stood aside and gently lowered myself onto the large dildo. The sensation as it slowly and gently slid inside me was simply exquisite. This was going to be very sexy indeed. My ankles were fastened and then my wrists cuffed behind my back. In terms of submission I always find the point of no return - the moment when I am helpless to prevent others from doing exactly what they choose with my body - incredibly arousing. I felt so deeply turned on that the machine would fuck my subservient body in a manner that was utterly beyond my control.

I always find it strange that many men think that women are doing them a favour by having sex with them. They don't seem to fully realise that we want it and enjoy it too. The first person to take over the remote control for the Sybian was one such myopic individual. There was no finesse at all. It was straight to maximum power backwards and forwards. It didn't matter in the least on that occasion; I was already so desperately horny from the previous humiliation that I would probably have come whatever he did. All the preceding activities had acted like foreplay on a giant scale. Within very little time I, quite visibly had a monster of an orgasm. My body arched back, moaning ecstatically as what felt like a gush came from my pussy. Cheers and applause filled the room with sound.

The one operating the remote control at least had the sensitivity to pause to let me recover before re-starting. Perhaps it was not sensitivity but simply a practicality. The remote was handed to another customer. This one had much better imagination and sensitivity. Once I signalled that I was ready to resume the machine started with slow and gentle back and forward movement, My body instinctively moved with the rhythm. The operator added some circular motion and all the time the clitoral stimulator was adding to my arousal. In some ways, sometimes I can get a sensory overload from too much sexual pleasure, a little like being dazzled by a light. The excess of delightful sexual stimuli perversely made part of me to want it to stop. If used properly, the Sybian could be better than making love with a human in some respects - totally lacking in passion but outstanding in technique.

The to and fro movements gradually became faster and more powerful. Again my body instinctively kept pace with the rhythm of the machine, both front and back and with the circular motion. At the same time the clitoral stimulator continued to send waves of pleasure through my groin. Deep inside my intense feeling of arousal was growing. It is a slightly weird feeling to know that you are forced to take sexual pleasure, a sense of submission that increased my desires. At the same time the knowledge that I was performing to a rowdy audience was almost equally sexy. Being fucked in public had been a fantasy of mine since the beginning.

The one with the remote control turned up the speed and power again. The effect on my body was powerful. I began to lose focus on anything other than my animal desires. My body began to push back harder to the machine with each movement, moaning loudly. Finally I could feel the climax coming. I moaned even more loudly, my body contorted and a wave of warm, sensual pleasure swept through my body. For a short time I simply sat limply on the Sybian, unable to speak. I was just about aware of the loud applause and cheering from the customers.

Once the show with the Sybian was over I was given a break to clean up. By the time I returned to the room the tables had been moved back to provide room for dancing. The restaurant owner spoke:

"Gentlemen, any of you who wish may have a slow dance with Katy whilst her body is still naked. Please remember that it is a dance not just a groping session."

Not all of the customers wanted to dance which was a relief for me as it had already been a long but sexy evening. I have to say that all of them behaved like gentlemen to a significant extent. Given the drunken and rowdy nature of the evening I did wonder whether one or two might get carried away. I feared that it might get close to a sexual assault. For each dance I would hold them close to my nude body. This achieved two results. Firstly, the close contact allowed me to sway my hips so that my naked groin rubbed sexily across the hard bulge in theirs, a little like an inexpert version of salsa dancing if you like. Often they would follow suit. Secondly, the closeness made it hard to reach for my pussy so most contented themselves by slow dancing with their hands on my bare ass. From the look of it they enjoyed their dance and I certainly enjoyed rubbing my nude flesh with their clothed ones

One big drawback for both me and them was it was just further teasing. They could slip out for a discreet bout of onanism but I would need to continue with a way to release the passion and sheer sexiness of flaunting my body. In consequence when a few made a sneaky pass on my pussy I tolerated a quick squeeze of my labia or a quick probe of my still wet pussy. When an opportunity presented itself I intended to sneak off to the ladies room for a bout of what some old fashioned English schools called "beastliness".

After all those who wanted to dance had done so my evening's work was nearly over. Several of the customers wanted to take a photo of my nude body. I agreed to pose in a separate room so that there was no possibility of including a non-consenting person in the image. I adopted a pose in which I hid my face. I had no problem with images of my nude body being shared on the internet or elsewhere provided that the image that could conclusively identify me. On the contrary, readers please note that the thought of unknown persons being driven to "beastliness" by images of my naked flesh is exciting for me.

There was no question that, as a slut with an almost total absence of shame, I had offered and exposed my body. It might sound odd to the reader that such a brazen slut could actually be quite shy. The secret was in my submission - once I had handed control of my body to someone else I felt no longer responsible and could ignore my many inhibitions. I could indulge my exhibitionism, narcissism and submissive tendencies free of the extensive mental shackles of an excessively strict upbringing. At least I also did so as an enthusiastic amateur. My only tangible reward was a considerable number of gin and tonics.

Given the overwhelming inhibitions resulting from the brainwashing that was my strict upbringing there were only two options - to live a dull, fearful vanilla existence or to surrender my body to a Master who would forcibly use it as an outright submissive slut. I considered that my husband and I had done a remarkable job of balancing an outwardly vanilla life with a quite separate one as a disgraceful, exhibitionist, flirtatious slut and slave. A 100% inhibited vanilla life was never an option. I am a highly sexually driven person, whose kinky sexual fantasies fill a huge part of my thoughts and who could never enjoy such a bleak life. If I had to choose between the two the slutty slave would be it, but my husband and I had found it very convenient to keep alter egos. In short, the reason my face had to be kept out of any images was to preserve the contradictory, possibly hypocritical, appearance vanilla side of our lives. Psychological research suggests that we are far from alone in that.

In almost all cases I enjoyed my evenings at the Bistro so much that their memory still provides the motivation for discreet masturbation on occasions. I had felt similarly about several of my previous adventures but I think it was a matter of timing. The opportunity came just as I was changing my tastes towards more humiliation and less pain. What is not to like for an exhibitionist showing off her body to room of young, physically fit sportsmen?

Unfortunately, my Bistro appearances came to an end. The wives of several different customers had found images of my naked body on their husbands' phones. Inevitably these resulted in difficult questions for their men. Thankfully, my decision to keep my face out of the images prevented any accusations from coming my way but several letters of complaint were sent to the Bistro. In the first instance these were simply forwarded to the person in the club who made the booking but, over time and at the insistence of several wives, the bookings from the clubs specified no entertainment of the type that I provided. The possibility of being confronted by an angry wife was sufficient incentive for me to discontinue with the remainder.