My husband is in complete control of my body. He decides what I will wear, how I will groom myself, and who I will fuck. I love it that someone who loves me has complete mastery of my physical being.
His controlling behavior can be quite liberating but can also be terribly embarrassing at times. There have been situations when I wished he would let me dress more modestly, but this lifestyle choice really turns him on. He knows that forcing me to wear a tiny top that exposes my breasts a bit, or lets my nipples pop out “accidentally” is very humiliating for me. But also, is very exciting. He has forbidden me to wear any undergarments. I no longer own a bra. He wants me to jiggle when I walk. He wants to see my nipples harden when I get aroused or excited. I must wear thin, clingy shirts that perfectly follow the contours of my breasts. I do have lovely tits and secretly enjoy showing them off, but it is still very distressing to me for my nipples to get hard in inappropriate moments or around the wrong people. But my husband delights in that. So, I encourage him to “make” me wear revealing tops.
He also has recently forbidden me from wearing any panties. Before then, he had me wear thong panties and get rid of all my others. I didn’t mind because the thong fabric was stretchy and comfy. I loved the way they snuggled up next to my pussy lips. When I walked, they would just slightly pull against my clit, giving me a tiny bit of stimulation. I would sometimes be on the verge of a orgasm just from walking from the taxi to my office. I loved my thongs. But eventually my hubby decided that they were too restrictive. He wanted to have full access to my pussy whenever he wanted. And he wanted me to constantly be aware that my chooch could be exposed if a breeze lifted my dress. It is a thrill for him to see the occasions where I accidentally flash the world my bare cunt. I don’t have to shave it since Hubby had me get all my pubic hair lasered off. So, I am always bare and smooth and not hidden behind a thick bush of pubic hair.
So, you now have the background information about me and my husband. Therefore, it should be no surprise to hear that my husband signed me up to be a nude model in a body painting exhibition. When he told me, I was shocked. It is one thing to wear clothing in public that is a bit too scanty, or to expose myself “accidentally”, but this is a completely different matter. These nude models for the body painting exhibition are just that….completely nude, right out in public. I was aghast at the thought of going downtown where this event was to be held and be totally naked for the entire world to see. I knew that my husband would not be able to resist telling his buddies about it and they would come down to see me in all my naked glory. I was petrified, yet secretly excited about it.
The day came for the event. We drove downtown to the market center where all such events are held. It was a beautiful spring day. Cool and dry and perfect. The closer we got to the venue, the harder my heart pounded. I was nervous about stripping down to nothing in front of strangers, but I was more concerned about being naked in front of our friends. I knew they would all be there since my hubby did not make a secret of it around them. No one could believe I would do it, but they all wanted to see for themselves. I know why our male friends wanted to be there, but the women in our circle of acquaintances did too. I think they were hoping I would chicken out.
I signed in as a model and was assigned an artist. It was a man. I secretly wanted a man to paint my privates. The artist was instantly happy to meet me. He told me I was beautiful and would make an excellent model. We found the designated spot for him to work on me which was right on the edge of where the spectators were standing. I was on a short platform, wearing a thin robe and with nothing on underneath. When he was ready, he asked me to remove the robe. Here was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath, then slowly undid the sash, and let the garment fall from my shoulders. My heart was pounding. My nipples were rock hard. I was dying to cover up and race out of there, but I fought the urge. I was totally nude for the world to see.
The artist was speechless. I don’t know what he expected but I could tell he was happy with my body. He stammered a bit, then regained his composure and picked up his brush. He asked me to stand with my legs spread apart so he could study his “subject”. His face was right at pussy level with me so he saw every tiny detail of my womanhood. He stood up and began to apply paint to my upper chest. My nipples were at full attention as the brush tip danced over my areolas. It felt exquisite. All my time of going braless helped my breasts develop natural muscle support, so they were standing up well against my chest. He painted a base coat of paint on my skin that was a milky white color.
He worked his way down my tummy and to my crotch. The paint felt like liquid silk against my skin. I had a heightened awareness of touch, and the brush was stroking all my nerve endings. As he brought the brush up to my pussy, I had a sudden fear. What if I had an orgasm from the touch of the delicate bristles against my pussy lips? That would be awful. I wonder if that ever happens, and would the spectators be able to tell what had just happened? I did my best to fight the sexual tension as that brush lightly dusted my cunt and clit. It felt incredible, yet horrible, since the touch could lead to such an embarrassing situation. His brush explored every fold of my pussy lips and my clit. The female clit has twice as many nerve endings as a man’s penis, so you can imagine how difficult it was to stand still while the artist stroked it with his brush. It was exquisite pain.
Thankfully, he finished painting my cooch and moved around to my hips. He had me bend forward. His brush began coating my butt cheeks with paint, and then all the way to my asshole. The artist even asked me to pull my butt cheeks apart so he could more thoroughly paint between them. This was quite humiliating. I was subjecting myself to this public degradation, and I hated it and loved it at the same time. I don’t know what it is about my personality that I get so turned on by doing things that debase me. I love to be forced to submit to others.
As I was bent over, I looked around at the spectators and spotted a group of friends in the crowd. There were members from the Hunting Club and their wives. There were several of our neighbors. But worst of all there were the teenagers from our neighborhood that had come to see the “art exhibit”. I also saw that many of them had their phones out. They were taking photos and videos of me. Now my nakedness will be out there on the internet forever. I did not even think of that. Oh my god. I could imagine those young men jacking off while watching the videos they took of me.
Thinking of those teenage boys reminded me that many others have seen me naked. I have been exposed several other times, courtesy of my husband. He loves to share me with his Hunting Club buddies and a few other *** men. As I stood there on the platform my mind wandered back to the night where I first experienced two men at the same time. It was glorious to be the center of attention. As my thoughts took me back to that weekend, my pussy started to get even more tingly and wet. My female lube started to build up inside me. I suddenly realized my pussy juices might run down my thigh, taking the paint with it. It would have been very obvious that my cunt was leaking. The more I fretted about the situation the worse it got. My brain was overloaded. There was the crowd, taking my pictures, there were the strangers seeing my nakedness for the first time, and there was the artist, seeing my body from just inches away. My pussy was on fire, dying to be touched and relieved of the tension.
As I stood on the platform, I tried to rid my mind of the desire to have an orgasm. I was so hot and bothered that any erotic thought popping into my brain might push me over the edge. I was concentrating so hard on not having a climax that did not realize the artist was kneeling in front of me, examining me very closely. He was checking his work and realized there was touchup needed on my vagina. This was because a tiny glob of my natural juices was about to drip out from between my pussy lips. He had a napkin that he thought he should dab me with but decided to just use the brush. I was not aware that he was about to touch the brush to my pussy lips. I could only feel a delicate stroking of my lady parts when the brush contacted me. That was all it took. I had an explosive, and unexpected orgasm. My hips went into a spasm. My pelvis suddenly hunched forward as it reacted to the touch of the brush. I released a blast of squirt out of my vagina and gasped as a wave of pleasure erupted from my crotch. My knees buckled and I collapsed on top of the artist crouching in front of me.
We both ended up on the ground, tangled together. The other models and artists just stood there, dumbfounded, as to what had just happened. My artist helped me up and we regained our composure. Just at that moment an announcer came on the PA system and said time was up and for the artists to cease painting. The judges started circulating among us and I did my best to stand on the platform without shaking too much. When the judges came to my station, they spoke quietly among themselves, then moved on. I was then allowed to put on my robe and sit.
The outcome of the competition was interesting. There were several awards given out. The judges gave my artist an award for his interesting portrayal of “The Release”. I did not understand the meaning of calling his work “The Release” until I got home, in front of a full-length mirror. My orgasm and resulting squirt, had washed away the paint coming from my vagina, and it looked like an explosion had occurred between my legs. “Th Release” was what the judges dubbed my body paint design, and that was exactly what it was. As we were leaving the venue, I eagerly signed up to be a nude model again next year.