“Eggplant!” [Public] [Light BDSM] [Audience] [Innocent] [Humiliation] [Exhibitionist]

I’m a spiteful girl.

I also tend to be foolish with the lengths I’ll go to in order to prove a point. So when a man accused me of being *too innocent* after he’d try to do some freaky act to me in the bedroom, I set out to right that wrong.

I mean, how *dare* he have the gall to tell *me* that I’m innocent? Especially after I’d sucked his dick and let him cum down the back of my throat! The ungrateful asshole! I went straight to a sex shop the moment I had some free time, filled with bitter determination.

Hanging on the walls of the shop, were things I’d never seen before in my life. Most of these toys were made of black latex or leather, and either had metal studs, long tassels, or just the overall appearance of a medieval torture device. As I looked around, I felt a bit clueless, and a bit like he might be *right,* but I angrily pushed that feeling away. I just needed to do a little research is all. I’d become the *master* of this, I told myself. I’d learn everything about the world of debauchery. I *had* to prove him wrong.

I grabbed a few items, and was on my way to the check out counter. When I came storming around the back of one isle, a beautiful woman who was roaming the store stopped me in my tracks. “You look like you’re a lot of fun.” She told me, referencing the assortment of things I’d torn from the wall.

“I *am.* I replied, feigning confidence. I had no idea what any of the shit I was holding was even meant for.

She eyed me up curiously. “Let me leave you this card then. Give the number a call if you’re interested in showing off just how *fun* you are.” She then left the shop without buying a single item.

I examined the card in my hand. It was for an event, it seemed— and judging by the latex mask the girl was wearing in the photo, I assumed it’d be a great opportunity to learn from some *real* experts. There’s no better way to learn something than with a hands-on experience, right?

When I returned home, I tossed the not-so-discreet bag of sex toys onto the kitchen countertop without bothering to experiment with them, or even worry if my roommates would see. I then picked up the phone, dialing the number on the card. After only two rings, a female voice filtered in through the receiver. It was deep, professional, and a bit intimidating. She started asking me a lot of weird questions, like— *how high is your pain tolerance,* *are you familiar with flogging,* and *are you able to have multiple orgasms.* I answered yes for most, and spouted out lies for the rest. I found it strange that she’d be asking me such personal things, but I concluded that they must be trying to suss out any posers trying to crash their sex party. She seemed pleased with my responses— gave me a time, date, and location— before promptly hanging up. The  conversation was less than ten minutes.

The whole next week, I prepared myself for the event. I was like an olympic athlete in training. I watched porn for the first time— it was jarring, truly. I mean, I’ve come across my fair share of dicks in life, but these girls were taking *monster* loads straight into the eyes like goddamned champions. How could I compete with that? On one such pornographic adventure, I stumbled across a video where a girl was getting fucked in *all three* holes, completely unfazed by the sheer girth of the men handling her. I’d be *torn apart!* I’d be dead! Cause of death: impaled by giant, suspiciously veiny penises.

So I thought, *to hell* with the porn. I traveled down to the bookstore and picked up a copy of *50 Shades of Grey,* with the hope of absorbing knowledge in a less confronting way. The book sucked. I mean, I’m not a writer or anything, but *god damn,* was that a pathetic read. The main character was, what, *twenty-something,* and hadn’t even felt her own pussy yet? I was ahead of that shit, I realized, so I gave the book to my roommate before even getting to any sexy parts.

The afternoon of this elusive event, I completed my usual pre-sex ritual— shower, exfoliate, shave, moisturize— the whole nine yards. I knew I’d be attending as just a fly on the wall— a simple spy— but I figured there might be a chance I meet someone hot there and decide to take him home with me. When wiping the fog away, I caught the view of my naked body in the mirror. For a woman of 24, I looked more like a teenager with my slim build, 34B cup size, and porcelain skin. My face was no help, either— I had that barely legal, wide eyed look à la Christina Ricci that let me know I’d be getting carded at every bar well into my forties. *Shit,* maybe *that’s* why the guy from earlier called me innocent.

To play the part that night, I threw on a black dress, a pair of high-heeled thigh-high boots, a shit-ton of eyeliner, and some chunky jewelry. I looked like I was *born* to fuck in that outfit. I drove to the location I was given, blasting some Black Sabbath to pump me up and ease my nerves. I kept trying to convince myself that I was satan’s pet— an insatiable, sinful sex machine.

When I arrived, the place immediately skeeved me out. It turned out to be a large, signless building way out of town in some warehouse district. There weren’t any windows on this building, and the parking lot was empty. I pulled my car into the lot, drumming my fingers against the wheel while wondering if I should just forget about it and head home. Then I noticed a tall, brawny man standing in front of the main door. He waved me over with the sweep of his hand. I cautiously inched his way, my curiosity overpowering my fear.

The man told me to park ’round back. This eased a fraction of my fear— I guess there *were* people there after all. In the back of the building there was another entrance, with two women guarding the door. Once I’d approached them, they seemed like nice, normal gals. This comforted me enough to finally enter the mysterious event.

Inside, I could hear the muffled bass of music playing from a different room. The entryway was dim, and lit with pink and purple lights. To the immediate left, there was a lounge area where people sat drinking and laughing on a white leather sofa. They all had their faces covered with intricate masks—the full face ones you’d see at a masquerade ball. My eyes investigated the walls of the room, where velvet curtains and strings of iridescent beads hung.

A short woman with a clipboard hustled over me then, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Can I get your name?” She asked, in a big hurry. I told her, and she scanned the paper in front of her, flipped it over, and found my name at the bottom of the second page. She crossed it off the list. “Good. You’re the last girl to show. Follow me— and *please* try to be punctual next time.”

I furrowed my brows, confused— but followed behind her anyway. The click-clack of our fast moving feet turned a few heads in the lounge area. A man with a muscular chest and perfectly coiffed black hair tipped his head at me. *Damn, I’ll be sure to find you later, sexy mask man.*

The woman led me into a locker room of sorts, shoving a new clipboard into my hands before I could even take a look around. “Sign this, and then put your things in this locker. Through that door there,” she pointed, “is where they’ll get you ready.”

I figured this was a normal thing for this event, so I simply nodded and signed my name at the bottom of whatever she’d given me. She stayed in the room, shuffling through papers while I set my purse in the locker and began to make my way to the other door. The woman stopped me before I got there, sounding exasperated. “What are you doing?” She questioned. “Take your clothes off first!”

“My *clothes?*” I repeated her, shocked by what she was suggesting.

“Yeah, what do you-” she then paused, nodding understandingly, but still with a hint of irritation. “This is your first time here isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah…” I admitted. All of my anxiety returned in one fell swoop. What sort of place *is* this? Is this even *legal?*

“Okay honey.” She tried her best to sound sincere. “What you’re going to do, is strip down and put *everything* in the locker— your jewelry, your shoes, your clothes, and your underwear. Then you’ll go in that room there, and they’re going to give you a mask and some binds. Capisce?”

“Excuse me— *binds?*”

She sighed, losing more patience with me. “Look, if you can’t handle it, then you need to leave. I’ve got a ton of things to do.”

Something about the way she assumed I couldn’t handle their whole scene made me angry. It reminded me of the man I’d slept with that brought me onto this wild goose chase in the first place. *You’re just too innocent for me.* The words rang through my mind, infuriating and emboldening me. *Fuck* it.

“I can handle it just fine.” I assured the woman. Quickly, and before I could chicken out, I began to strip out of my clothing. She watched me as I did this, nodding with approval. The room was freezing, making my nipples perk up the moment they hit the open air. I pulled down my panties last, feeling grateful for my decision to shave that evening.

“Perfect— on you go.” She shooed me off toward the door. I was eager to get away from her, so I walked on over— barefoot, terrified, and stark naked. I opened the door to find a dressing room filled with mirrors, chairs, makeup, racks of costumes, and five other naked women whose eyes met with mine through the eyeholes of their masks. Their arms were all bound behind their backs, pushing their shoulders back, and their chests out. *Holy shit, they’re going to do that to me?* I felt queasy with fear, and crossed my arms over my bare stomach, trying in vain to hide as much as I could.

“You made it. I didn’t think you’d show.” A sixth woman crooned from a seat in front of one of the vanities. I could tell it was the girl from the sex shop by her voice. She had her blonde hair down and loose, cascading into beautiful ringlets over her back. She stood up, and stepped over to a box of rope they had lying out. I widened my eyes as she bent over. Her outfit was impossibly skimpy- a tiny one-piece that showed off her massive cleavage and perky ass. She wore fishnets underneath, and had a pair of platform heels on her feet. Her mask was red, and had black feathers on either side of it which mirrored the darkness of the rest of her outfit.

She produced a mask for me to wear, along with some rope to tie my arms with. Every girl had a different mask, and of course, I had gotten stuck with the one that was meant to resemble a bird. I *was* a chicken, and now I’d have to look like one too. She positioned the mask onto my face, and then got to work on tying my arms back. I felt so vulnerable with all of these women looking at me in such a state.

“Is that too tight?”

“It’s fine.” I lied. It was tight as fuck.

“Try to get your arms free.” She challenged me. I pulled at the restraints, only causing the rope to dig into my skin. I realized I wouldn’t be able to get out of it unless someone *let* me out. The thought made my heart race.

“Good, good.” She smirked, letting her eyes briefly wander over my body. “We’re all ready to go, ladies. Follow me.” The feathered lady led the way, and we followed behind her like a group of ducklings. Before we left the dressing room, she reached back to pull a long coiled up whip off of a hook on the wall. *Oh god, oh shit, is she going to whip us??*

We followed her up a dimly lit staircase, where I was terrified I’d trip and not be able to break my own fall. I stepped up as carefully as I could, studying the feet of the girl in front of me for guidance. Our whip-wielding line leader escaped through a curtain at the top of the stairs, and I heard the unmistakable sound of *applause* ring out from the other side. Horrified at the noise, I halted in my step, causing the girl behind me to bump into me. I felt her naked tits hit my lower back before she snapped. “What’s *wrong* with you, *go!*”

“There’s *people* out there!” I snapped back. I heard the crowd go wild up ahead for the sharp *crack* of the whip. A cold flood of dread twisted my stomach. I tried to turn back, only to see the irritated faces of the other girls. They started shouting at me to move. I wanted to run away— I wanted to get the fuck out of that building, naked or not— but before I could make that happen, a hand grabbed at my shoulder from beyond the curtain, pulling me out on stage.

“*Here* they are.” The feather lady announced, prompting claps, cheers, and jeers from the audience that was now visible to me. There were *so* many masked people sitting before me— all of them staring at my nude body. We were in a spacious auditorium, with bright, hot lights illuminating the stage. I was shaking like a leaf— my knees were knocking together as the girls and I were arranged into a line.

“As you all know, the girls can use the safe word ‘eggplant’ at any moment they’ve had enough, and we’ll release them from the stage.” The woman explained. “But we picked these ladies in particular because they *enjoy* this stuff. Watch *this!*” She then whipped the ass of the girl just beside me, causing her to shriek, me to jump, and the audience to cheer. The women held the microphone up to her, asking if she liked that.

“I *love* it.” She gushed. The blood left my face. How had I managed to get myself into this mess? I was *not* like these people— I was innocent! I was goddamned innocent!

“Who wants to see these girls ride some Sybians?” The feather lady asked, beaming at the immediate cheer from the crowd. Before I could wonder what the hell a *Sybian* was, I was made aware of several men rolling six black leather devices out onto the stage. They looked like curved seats— and each one of them had a pale colored attachment on top. Some of these attachments were flat, some were rounded, some protruded out, and one had *several* dick-shaped protrusions. My mouth went dry.

“Choose your seat, ladies.” Feathers purred at us. The other girls sprang into action, two of them fighting over the Sybian that could fill the most holes. I watched them all mount their fuck machine of choice with complete and utter awe. They’re *seriously* going to get off in front of *all* of these people? I felt a quick snap of the whip on my ass, and instantly yelped at the pain. “Get a move on!” Shouted Feathers. The audience laughed at my expense.

I jolted forward, humiliated. Could I really be the *first* girl to say ‘eggplant’ before we’d even done anything? I could already picture the audience booing me all the way off stage, screaming that I was *too* innocent for them. No. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to prove them *all* wrong. With that goal in mind, I walked over to the last empty machine— it had one dildo-shaped attachment on top, and a few bumps where my clit was meant to go.

I swung one leg over top of the Sybian. The audience was watching me, making me sweat. I pressed my pussy against the tip of the attachment, and guided it in, sliding the whole way down until it was buried within me. The leather of the seat was cold against my thighs, and I could feel all of the eyes on me. I’ve never been more uncomfortable.

The feather lady began to turn the machines on one by one, and the sounds of buzzing and moaning soon filled the room. I saw the other girls throw their heads back, sighing decadently as they bounced up and down and ground their clits into the machine. When I surveyed the audience, I was shocked to see some of the people starting to touch themselves to the sight of us. For some reason, it turned me on a bit to think that strangers would soon be masturbating to me. When the lady came over to my machine, I watched her pick up a box and turn a dial. My Sybian then came to life, the attachment vibrating deep inside of me. The little bumps in front of it shook against my clit, making my stomach drop with pleasure. *Holy shit, I’m really doing this.*

My legs continued to tremble. The machine was very intense, and the whole publicness of the situation magnified the stimulation a hundred times over. I hunched forward, breathing in shaky breaths, when— snap! The feather lady whipped my ass, causing me to clench around the machine. “I want to see you *ride* that thing!” She commanded, looking down on me. I wouldn’t dare defy the woman with the whip.

I shifted my hips and pushed off the ground with my feet, rising and falling onto the machine. It was thick, and long, and seemed to hit every sweet spot inside of me. The fearful voice in my mind was silenced then— the only thing I could focus on anymore was how *good* this felt. I started to whimper, my forehead crinkling under my mask.

Then, one of the girls very loudly announced that she was going to cum. I saw her wail and shudder atop her machine as she reached her climax, gaining a lot of applause from the audience members who weren’t busy pleasuring themselves. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something shoot through the air— I turned to see a man in the crowd, mid-ejaculation. His cum burst out onto the floor in front of the stage, some of it spilling over the top of his hand. The sight of two people cumming together in such a public space made me *so* wet. I felt the slickness of myself mingle with my sweat, moistening the machine— there was enough of it to coat my inner thighs. I was close to orgasm too, but it was hard for me to let go completely with the audience right there.

As if the first girl had started a chain reaction, more and more ladies reached their end— each of them crying out and twitching uncontrollably from the heavy vibrations treating their pussies. Just like everything else that night, I ended up being the last one hanging on. By that point, there was sweat dripping down my torso. Beads of sweat ran from my neck, over the crest of my breasts, down toward my thighs. My legs were shaking badly— weakened from all of the bouncing and stage fright. My arms were aching where the rope had rubbed my skin raw. I was close to yelling the safe word.

The feather masked host wasn’t satisfied by my lack of performance. She asked the audience if she should turn up my Sybian, and they all shouted their approval. I watched in terror as the woman approached me, running her whip over my dampened back. I didn’t know if I could handle any more stimulus than this thing was already putting out. My body was close to breaking, and I think she could tell. She merely smirked as she turned the dial up, up, *up* until it reached it’s limit. I let out a deep, guttural wail at the intensity of the vibrations running through me. The audience went crazy. Then something terrible happened— due to my trembling, and all of the sweat, my mask slipped from my face. The audience cheered again, pleased to get a glimpse at my identity. They could see me for who I was— a baby-faced woman being a terrible slut— fucking my little pussy on stage. I froze up on my vibrating pedestal when I felt the cool air hit my face. *Eggplant!* The word was burning a hole in tip of my tongue. However, I never got the chance to say it.

To my surprise, the sexy masked man with the black hair from earlier recognized me and meandered toward the front of the room. A serpentine grin lifted one corner of his lips as he worked the front of his pants open. He *liked* me. My insides roiled with lust as I realized what was about to happen.

The man pulled out his cock— thick and hot in his hand— and started to stroke it to the sight of me. God, it must’ve been the sexiest moment of my entire life. The Sybian began to feel good again, and I fought through the burn in my legs to keep going— pretending his cock was fucking me instead of the plastic attachment. I kept my eyes locked on him as I rode it— each thrust feeling better than the last. His hand sped up. I sped up. Everyone was *ooing* and *ahhing* at the intensity of our exchange.

When I saw his glistening cum spray from the tip of his dick, I reached that sweet, sweet tipping point— the one where you can feel yourself being swept up to the height of sensation, right before you fall. I moaned and panted and bounced until I lost myself— right there in front of everyone. My body electrified— muscles jerking and clenching deliciously around the fake cock inside of me— all the while, the crowd applauded me for being the slut I was. It was *incredible,* but the thing that pleased me the most is that I’d proved my point.

*I guess I’m not so “innocent” after all, Derek!*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ksr3cn/eggplant_public_light_bdsm_audience_innocent