It a delicious thing, being naked.
I don’t mean being nude, without clothes, though that can be part of it. The allure of nudity, the tease of near nudity, tight clothes making sweet promises to everyone who looks your way, desperate to see more than just a hint of a nipple, or underboob. Calling to them, begging them to watch for the chance of something more.
That nudity is wonderful, but that’s not what this is about. I’m talking about a different naked, a different type of exposed. The best, most open, honest form of it.
The bareing of ones soul. Your true self, ripped clean of any facades. No ego, no pride, no dignity, no sense of self. Shaved down to your core, reduced, emptied, vacant.
Pure.
Dressed in 6 inch heels, a plug glistening between their cheeks, a dress that covers you completely yet leaves nothing to the imagination. Every piercing pressed against sheer fabric, every step exposing every muscle. Existing for only the moment, only for them, a gift, a prize, a toy.
Whatever they need, whatever they want – being that; dumb, young, smart, sexy, slutty. A whore made of clay, ready to be molded, destroyed, and molded again. Eager for every moment of pain, of exctasy, lost in it all, drowning in it, smiling when your head is pulled out of that ocean, still smiling when pushed back down.
Simply existing.
In that moment when a guest comes in, their looks make you wet. Their words, their touches, they smell your need as you see their need grow. Your heart races, breathing quickens, you bite your lip. Nipples stiffen, rubbing wonderfully against that fabric, begging to be pinched or tweaked. Bringing them dinner, as they talk to each other, not you. You are there for them. Hands caress your ass, tug at your dress, fingers probe. You moan. That’s all you can do. You’re nothing in this moment and that’s ok. You’re free.
When they shove you down, needy, hungry, thrusting in you, you grind back, moaning harder and harder, biting your lip, grunting if they hurt you. You need it, probably more than them. The pain gives you both release, pure.
When done, stinking of sweat, piss, and bruised and battered, you still smile. This is you, your truth, what you are. A cunt. A thing, used up.
But you flow like water and when washed, cleaned, held and loved, you are renewed, reborn, a wife, a mom.
Simply existing, quite happily, for them.
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Delicious