Hey all. There’ve been several requests for another GB story and I like to give the people what they want, in my own way. I hope you enjoy it. A couple notes, this is my paid subscriber post. I post a free-for-everyone post every Monday, and a paid post on Thurs or Fri. Please consider upgrading if you haven’t already. This one is very hot, and you’re helping me continue doing this. Also, I am my own editor. Editors are so important. So yes. there’ll be plenty of mistakes, but I do correct them as I go so the version online will generally be cleaner (while still dirty, ha) than the version that hits your email. Enjoy, and thanks for reading! XOXO, Beatrice.
The blindfold meant I couldn’t see how many people were standing around watching us, but I could hear what sounded like quite a crowd. I was on my knees, my ass against my heels and my legs apart. I had my hands folded behind my back, and my mouth was wrapped around a shiny black dildo. I tried to focus on the dildo as, one at a time, strange hands reached out to stroke my ass, pet my thighs, some were bold enough to pinch a nipple or slide between the puffy lips of my very wet pussy. Not enough were bold. Oh how I wanted each touch to continue, to give me more than the tease that I’d been getting for what felt an eternity. Instead, they touched, while moving past, leaving me to waiting eagerly, desperately for the next stroke.
My lips were painted a vivid red which I’m sure stuck out beautifully against the pitch black phallus they were wrapped around. I was wearing nothing but black opera gloves, and thigh high fishnets with thick black bands at the top, and of course my blindfold. My hair was slicked back to my head. I was on display at an after hours art show. The featured artist was Ed, my sometimes lover, and a talented and much in demand kink and fetish photographer.
It’s an amazing feeling to get to be someone else, to try on another persona, to maybe tap into a part of yourself that doesn’t normally get to come out and play. I don’t think I’m unusual in enjoying this sensation. Just look at how popular Halloween continues to be with adults, and what’s the dominant theme of Halloween, even surpassing spooky? Sexy of course! We love to be someone else, someone less inhibited, someone beautiful, someone slutty.
When Ed invited me to be “on display” at an erotic art show I was intrigued. I would be one of four live models, all wearing the same ‘uniform”. Two at a time we’d trade off for 45 minute shifts on a small round platform. Stanchions and ropes would circle the stage keeping audience members just out of touching distance. We’d have an escort assigned to us to for safety.
Ed had drawings of the layout and he showed them to me in the very public coffee shop as cheerfully as I might show one of my marketing clients a new campaign design. I noticed the models in his drawings included one who was a petite but curvy black woman. I pointed at the other and asked, “Is that me?”
“Well, yes. You and Claudette were my first choices when I planned this out, so I suppose it is.”
“Wow. I think I have to say yes just so I can wear that outfit. If I’m half as sexy as this drawing it’ll be worth it. Oh, and you have to give me the drawing.”
“Is that all? Lovely that I didn’t even have to negotiate your pay for the night.”
“Wait, wait, wait. I haven’t signed anything yet.”
Ed and I shared a laugh, and I told him I’d have to check with my boyfriend Blair and I’d give him my answer tomorrow tonight. He slipped me a card with his number on it and it gave me pause to realize I’d had this man’s cock in me on two occasions, and this was the first time I’d had his phone number. Up until now our communication relied on running into each other on our morning train commute. I put his number in my phone under Ed. I didn’t know his last name, and I didn’t ask. Our relationship still had room to grow.
Blair was thrilled with the idea, and I texted Ed to let him know. Only then, as I texted him did the reality of what I was saying yes to hit me. I’d be in a chic New York art gallery, full of people dressed to the nines and I’d be pretty much naked, and blindfolded as well. I imagined myself looking like Ed’s drawing, and I’d get excited. Then I’d imagine me falling off the platform, and I’d become terrified. I stuck to my yes, and reminded myself that Ed had proven thoughtful and trustworthy and that I’d be fine. Saturday came and I drank lots of water, visited the esthetician to have my body made hairless save for a small strip of pubic hair as requested by the artist himself. I grabbed a Lyft to the gallery wearing comfy yoga pants, and a tank top with no bra. Completely dressed down, and already I felt conspicuously sexy. This was heightened as I walked into the gallery full of people hanging photos, setting up the bar, arranging other display of props and fetish items, and immediately I was recognized as “One of Ed’s beautiful girls.”
I was guided to a room in the back where I met Claudette, every bit as sexy as Ed’s drawing, and found that they’d arranged a lovely area for us to relax between shifts.
“There’s a make up girl coming by at 8 to do our hair and faces. The nice thing about the blindfolds, we don’t have to worry about doing our eyes.” Claudette said, motioning toward several sets of blindfolds.
“Why the blindfolds?” I asked Ed, when he popped in to check on us. “Is that a big part of the turn on for some people?”
“No, that’s for you. To make it more intense of an experience. I’m applying the same philosophy I use when taking pictures. I don’t want you to have to be an actress. I want you to be actually having an intense experience. That we’re there to see it, or to photograph it, that’s secondary.”
“Wow!” I was impressed, but I couldn’t be surprised. There was something special to his photos. They looked staged in terms of lighting, composition, the color palette, but every one of his models looked unworldly beautiful. And now I knew why. People are beautiful when they’re turned on and enjoying being in their bodies.
Cheryl showed up a short time later. I’d recruited her, and a friend/lover of her’s named Suzanne. I’d be sharing my platform with Claudette. Early in the evening we put on a good show as we ran our hands over each other, teased each other with the toys, and made orgasm noises and faces for the unseen voices around us. We heard their appreciation and encouragement. As the evening went on though, we thought less of them and started to really explore each other’s bodies.
She was built like a gymnast, petite, fit, perfect small and perky tits. We smashed our heavily lipsticked mouths together, and her lips were strong and full. I heard cheers and whoops and I could tell the room was getting crowded.
Later in the evening, on our third shift up, with her hands between my legs Claudette whispered in my ear, “Can I let them touch you? Teasing, quick touches, unless you make it clear you want more. Jerry, our escort, will keep them in line.”
“Yes.” I answered. I was not Beatrice at that moment. I was sexy cartoon, a music video girl, a display, and this girl was saying Yes to everything.
Claudette spread my knees farther apart and positioned my arms behind my back. It was an award position but I guessed that she was mirroring me slightly off center. Her right shoulder met my right shoulder helping keep us both upright. “Have a touch.” she said out loud. “You may have a quick touch or stroke on your way by.”
After a brief moment of hesitation I started to feel hands run along my thighs, or giving a quick squeeze to my breasts. I guessed by her breathing and occasional “Oh”s that Claudette was being touched as well. A hand slid under my ass and parted my labia, sliding along my wet slit. I arched my back and moaned and then the touch stopped. A hand that felt feminine pinched my nipple, and a large course and strong hand squeezed my ass. Then another finger slid over my wet pussy. Again, I showed my approval and this started to have the desired effect of more of the crowd feeling emboldened to finger me. They continued to move past and I realized the crowd were circling our stage.
I heard Claudette starting to moan regularly, and it was clear she was being consistently stroked now just as I was. As one hand pulled from between my legs another replaced it. Fingers sliding between my lips, over my clit, as other hands gently tweaked my nipples, or squeezed my ass. Hands reached between my legs from the front after sliding down my stomach, from the back where my ass was pushed out, begging for more. The flow of the crowd continued to slow, and I was being fingered with several strokes by each hand now before they moved on. Still nobody penetrated me with their fingers. It was a crowd that understood consent and respect. I felt the shiny black hard dildo that had been onstage with us all night brush my lips, and I immediately opened my mouth and wrapped them around it.
“Five minutes” I heard our escort whisper close to our ears. The hand then on me was palm towards me, with two fingers pushing my labia open and the middle finger sliding slowly over my clit. “Slide inside me.” I insisted, and I felt his finger enter my pussy. After so much teasing it felt amazing and I moaned as he started to slide in and out, while another hand reached between my thighs and fingered my clit.
“Someone fuck me!” I heard Claudette say, and her moans a moment later told me her command had been met. The crowd was no longer moving around us, and I had more hands on me than ever. It was intense, wonderfully overwhelming. The man fingering my pussy had a wonderful touch amidst so many touches. The vibrator had been removed from my mouth. A hand squeezed my left breasts and I heard an approving “Goddamn.”
“I’m really enjoying fingering you. May I slide my cock inside of you?” a voice whispered in my ear.
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