Choice of exposure

When the crowd's hunger reached a fever pitch — moaning, chanting, screaming for you to cum — Elanor raised her hand, commanding silence like a queen.

The room fell still.

You stood, trembling, your cock twitching uncontrollably, shining with precum.

Elanor's voice rang out:

"You’ve been a very good boy."

Cheers.

"But now," she purred, "it’s time for your reward."

You blinked, dizzy, confused.

"Would you like to cum?"

You nodded eagerly **** for release.

She stepped closer, her smile wicked. "But you must do something more for me. You see, this audience is way too small for such a grand finale!"

"You see, sweet skeptic... you get to choose who sees you cum."

The crowd erupted — gasps, shrieks, laughter.

Elanor gestured grandly to the left and right walls of the venue, both draped with heavy velvet curtains.

"I can make the walls on either side transparent. We will use your body to gauge what you want the most."

"Left," she said, her voice low and inviting, "leads to the Cocktail Lounge."

A sexy buzz rolled through the audience.

"Classy women," Elanor cooed. "Tipsy... flirty... dressed to impress.

They know that Skeptic Night sometimes spills over. They’re waiting."

Your cock throbbed violently at the thought — visions of women in tight, shimmering dresses and strappy heels, giggling, clinking glasses, watching your naked body stroke itself desperately.

"And right," Elanor continued, dragging the crop down your side, "leads to the Pilates Studio."

Another wave of gasps and giggles.

"Sweaty, toned bodies," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

"Stretching... bending... glistening with sweat... all packed into tiny sports bras and skintight leggings."

Your cock twitched again, visibly jerking upward, drooling precum.

The crowd howled with laughter and lust:

"He can't decide!"

"He's throbbing for both!"

"Poor thing — he's going to burst!"

Elanor smiled wide.

"Or," she added wickedly, "you could... choose both."

The room exploded into wild cheers.

Talia stepped close, pressing her body lightly against your trembling back.

"Do it," she whispered, her lips brushing your ear. "Let everyone see. I'll make it worth your while!"

Your hips bucked forward helplessly, your cock now dripping constantly, swaying in front of the crowd.

Elanor raised her wand, waiting.

Waiting for your answer.

You let out a long, low moan — head falling back, cock twitching, pre-cum dangling like a string from the tip.

The answer was clear.

You gasped, voice raw:

"Both."

The room erupted into screams and applause.

Elanor twirled her wand — and with a dramatic flick, both velvet curtains vanished.

You stared, wide-eyed and helpless, as dozens of women from the cocktail lounge and the pilates studio turned — and saw everything.

And they cheered.

The women raised glasses, clapped, whistled, screamed encouragement.

Some pressed to the glass, faces flushed, laughing and pointing and licking their lips.

The Pilates girls — toned, tight, stretching their slick bodies — smiled, waved, pressed themselves against the clear glass, teasing you with flashes of bare abs and cleavage.

The Cocktail women — glossy and glamorous — snapped pictures, blew kisses, mouthed filthy encouragements you couldn’t hear but could feel in every throbbing inch of your flesh. A few of the especially drunk women even flashed their tits at you.

You stood trembling at the center of a perfect storm of lust.

Completely naked.

Completely helpless.

Completely worshiped.

And utterly, hopelessly close to cumming.