Embracing your fetish

The room hums with a thick, waiting silence, the kind of anticipation that feels like it’s crawling up your skin, sinking into your chest, making it impossible to breathe. Ms. Fox’s eyes are pinned on you, her unrelenting stare as sharp as the perfect edge of her smirk. You stand there, exposed, trembling, your cock still throbbing in the oppressive air. Every nerve in your body feels raw, burning under the weight of the girls’ gazes.

“Well, John,” Ms. Fox begins, her tone light, almost conversational, though her smirk twists it into something crueler. “You’ve seen everyone else embrace their power. You’ve been the subject of their lessons. Now it’s your turn.” She gestures toward the class, the wave of her hand deliberate and sharp like a queen commanding her court. “Tell us about your fetish.”

Your mouth feels dry as dust, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. Every pair of eyes—Ruby’s predatory gleam, Sara’s manic glee, Madison’s wide, hesitant curiosity, even Sage’s lazy, half-lidded smirk—bears down on you, demanding an answer. The weight of their attention presses against your chest, your throat, and lower still, suffocating you.

“I-I...” Your voice cracks, weak, barely audible, and Ruby snickers at the sound, tilting her head like a cat stalking a cornered mouse.

“Speak up, John,” Ms. Fox commands, her tone cutting through your hesitation like a blade. “Everyone’s listening.”

Your cheeks burn, your heart hammering. The shame pools hot and thick in your stomach, but there’s no escape. They’re all watching. They’re waiting. “I... I like being ogled,” you **** out finally, the words spilling from your lips like poison, sour and unbearable.

“What was that?” Ms. Fox presses, her eyebrow raising sharply. The girls lean forward, eager, their gazes burning into your exposed skin.

“I like being ogled!” you repeat, louder this time, your voice cracking with the effort.

“Oh, we definitely noticed,” Sara chimes, her cheerful giggle cutting through the tension like a razor. She swings her legs off her desk, her pigtails bouncing as she grins. “You’re like a walking billboard for it.”

Ruby grins, leaning back in her chair with a smug flick of her crop against her thigh. “Honestly, the way you stand up there, throbbing for us? It’s not exactly subtle, John.”

The heat creeps higher up your neck, flooding your face and ears. You squeeze your fists at your sides, trying to **** the shame down, but it’s too much. Yet, even as you try to deny their words, a sick, undeniable part of you thrives under their attention. Your cock twitches painfully, throbbing visibly, and you want to crawl out of your skin.

Ms. Fox watches you struggle, her smirk growing sharper. “And why, John?” she asks, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Why do you enjoy it? Tell us.”

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to the floor, but her sharp tone snaps you back into place. “Eyes up, John,” she commands. “You’re here to be seen, aren’t you?”

The girls’ quiet murmurs and soft giggles buzz faintly in the background, but they’re nothing compared to the white-hot humiliation drilling through your skull. Finally, you **** the words out, like they’re being dragged from your chest. “It feels good,” you admit, your voice quivering. “Knowing they’re... looking at me. Appreciating me. It’s like... when someone has a crush on you, but... more intense. Like that, but... but more.”

Madison’s quiet voice cuts through, her words soft but heavy with curiosity. “So, um... you like it when... when we’re...” She hesitates, clutching her notebook tightly, her wide eyes flicking between your cock and the floor. “...when we’re enjoying it? Looking at you?”

Your chest tightens, the truth clawing its way out. “Yes,” you whisper hoarsely. “I like it when women... want me.”

The ripple of reactions that moves through the room feels like a physical ****. Ruby’s predatory grin widens. “Well, we’re definitely enjoying ourselves,” she purrs, her green eyes practically glowing as they rake over you.

Sara lets out a low whistle, her grin sharp. “Damn, John. You’re just eating this up, aren’t you? Look at you—totally wrecked, and we’ve barely done anything.”

Your cock twitches again, painfully. The heat burning through your body pools low in your gut, unbearable and throbbing, as if the weight of their attention alone could make you explode. Madison’s quiet, hesitant stare feels like a scalpel slicing through you, her shy curiosity somehow the most devastating of all.

Ms. Fox steps forward, her eyes narrowing slightly, a gleam of satisfaction flickering through them. “Well, John,” she says smoothly, her voice dropping into something dangerously close to a purr. “You’ve been honest about what you enjoy. Now, tell us—what are you feeling in this very moment?”

The words catch in your throat, your breathing shallow and uneven. “I... I’m...” You shut your eyes, the humiliation almost too much to bear. “I’m... really horny,” you admit, the words shattering something inside you as they leave your mouth.

The room erupts into giggles and laughter, Ruby leaning back in her chair with an unbridled laugh that smacks against your ears. “Oh, no kidding,” she drawls, gesturing lazily toward your cock. “We can see that, genius.”

“S-so obvious,” Madison murmurs, her cheeks flushed to her collarbones as she stares down at her notebook, though her gaze flickers upward every few seconds. Her lips part slightly like she’s about to say something else, but the words never come.

“Quiet, girls,” Ms. Fox says sharply, her raised hand silencing the room instantly. Her piercing gaze snaps back to you. “Thank you for your honesty, John,” she says, her smirk deepening. “Now, I’d like you to do one more thing for the class.”

Your stomach plummets. You can’t bring yourself to speak, only nodding hesitantly, the knot in your chest tightening as you wait.

“Start stroking yourself,” Ms. Fox instructs, her voice calm and unyielding. “Slowly. Let yourself feel it. Ladies,” she adds, turning her attention to the class, “this is your chance to get creative. Share your ideas. Help him visualize scenarios where his exhibitionism would truly shine.”

The silence doesn’t last long—Sara breaks it first, her voice bright, teasing, and utterly merciless. “Oh! I’ve got one!” she chirps, her grin practically audible. You don’t have to see her face to know it’s gleaming with unrepentant mischief. “What if we invited the faculty to a ‘special demonstration’? Like the dean, or maybe the art department head? They’re always going on about body positivity, right? I mean, this would be the ultimate live model session.”

Your cock throbs violently at her suggestion, your hand faltering mid-stroke as your mind betrays you, conjuring the horrifyingly vivid image of standing naked in front of stoic, clinical professors, their judging eyes dragging over every inch of your exposed body. Your breath hitches, and Sara’s delighted laugh rings out, her tone thick with knowing.

“Oh, wait!” she adds, her voice dropping conspiratorially as if she’s sharing a particularly juicy secret. “What about someone closer to home? Like, I don’t know... your cute little neighbor? Or—ooh!—that barista at the coffee shop. You know the one, John. She’d love to see this.”

A strangled groan escapes your throat, unbidden, and the class erupts into giggles and whispers as you squeeze your eyes shut against the fresh wave of shame washing over you. Your strokes stutter, your hand trembling, and the weight of their laughter feels endless, battering against you like a rising tide.

“Focus, John,” Ms. Fox interjects smoothly, her voice slicing through the noise with calm precision. “Keep going. Visualize. Let their words guide you.”

Ruby’s snicker follows immediately after, sharp and wicked, her grin almost palpable as she leans forward in her chair. “Oh, I’ve got another one,” she purrs. “How about posing for the art class? Nude, of course. All those first-year students sketching you. Taking in every detail.” Her voice lowers, dripping with mock sympathy. “You’d have to hold still, John. Same pose the whole time, cock out for everyone to see. Would you want a mask? Or... would you want them to watch your face as you twitch and get hard in front of them?”

The mental image crashes into you like a freight train—dozens of expectant eyes locked on you, pencil tips scratching furiously across sketchpads as your cock betrays you, twitching up proudly under their scrutiny. Your strokes quicken, your breathing shallow and uneven as Ruby’s words coil around your throat, threatening to **** you on your own arousal.

“Naked waiter,” Michelle’s calm, steady voice rises, cutting through the chaos of Ruby and Sara’s teasing with a sharp edge of authority. “Gender Studies dinner night. You’d wander around in nothing but a bowtie, serving drinks—like a good little host.” Her eyes rake deliberately over your trembling body, her gaze lingering on your cock with brazen, unapologetic intent. “Or maybe... no bowtie. Just this.” She emphasizes the last word with a slight tilt of her chin, her meaning unmistakable.

Her tone drops lower, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk. “Tell me, John—would you keep smiling? Or would your humiliation make you spill all over the guests?”

The room explodes into laughter again. Ruby barks a laugh so sharp it cuts, and Sara claps her hands together, practically bouncing in her seat. “Not just Gender Studies!” Sara chimes in excitedly, her pigtails swaying with the **** of her enthusiasm. “Every women’s organization on campus would love this. Imagine it, John: a packed dinner party, every woman there ogling your cock like it’s the main course.”

Her voice softens, adopting a mockingly sweet tone. “Could you handle it, Big Boy? All those eyes on you, waiting for you to mess up? Would you even be able to serve drinks with that thing bobbing around? Or would you spill all over someone’s lap?”

Your hand falters, your strokes slowing as the vivid, humiliating images take hold in your mind. The girls’ voices swirl around you, each one layering fresh mortification atop the last. Every giggle, every snide remark, every teasing suggestion feels like a physical weight pressing down on you, and yet—God help you—your cock throbs harder, twitching visibly in your hand.

Ms. Fox steps slightly closer, her smirk cutting through the haze of their voices. “Focus, John,” she says sharply, her voice low and deliberate. “This is still a lesson. Don’t lose yourself now.”

The heat burns hotter in your chest, crawling up your neck and pooling low in your abdomen. Ruby’s voice cuts through again, this time softer, more deliberate—a predator circling its prey. “Think bigger, John,” she murmurs, her grin audible. “If you love being watched so much, why stop here? We could market this... you.”

The room hushes momentarily, her words hanging heavy in the air before she continues, her crop tapping lightly against her lip. “A subscription service. Weekly content. Videos. Livestreams. ‘John: The Exhibitionist Experience.’ Can you picture it? Thousands of women across the country, watching. Waiting. Paying to see you stroke yourself like this. Clamoring for more.”

Your strokes quicken unconsciously, your breath hitching as the idea digs its claws into your brain. A camera pointed at you, beaming your naked, humiliated body into bedrooms across the world. Women watching, typing comments, critiquing every inch of you. The thought is unbearable—and yet your cock twitches violently at the thought.

“Oh my God, YES!” Sara squeals, nearly doubling over in laughter. “With the right marketing, you’d have thousands of subscribers. Tens of thousands. All those women, ogling you, sending comments—‘Oh, John, you’re so perfect!’ ‘Look at that cock!’” She claps her hands, tears of laughter in her eyes. “John, you’d be a celebrity!”

Sage’s voice cuts in, lazy and soft, but it somehow carries more venom than the rest. “And you’d have to keep smiling for the camera, right?” she murmurs, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Keep yourself perfectly posed. Vulnerability is key to the brand, after all.”

Ruby hums thoughtfully, her crop tapping in time with your strokes. “Stretch goals,” she adds, her voice low and sultry. “Special requests for subscribers. A close-up stroke here. A full turnaround there. Maybe even... personal meet and greets.”

Your breaths come faster now, each one shallow and unsteady as the storm of humiliating suggestions pounds against your defenses. The room tilts around you, the sound of their voices blending into a chaotic symphony that leaves you trembling, ****, and utterly consumed.

Ms. Fox steps forward again, her heels clicking sharply, her eyes boring into you with unrelenting precision. “And how would you feel, John,” she murmurs, her voice dropping into something dark and intimate, “knowing that every single subscriber isn’t just watching you... but imagining? Wondering what it would feel like to touch you. To own you.”

Your body jerks violently, your strokes growing erratic as her words cut you down to the bone. Sara’s laughter bubbles uncontrollably behind you, her voice sharp and gleeful. “Personalized voice messages! ‘Hi, I’m John, and I love being watched...’”

The wave finally breaks—your body trembles, the tension snapping as you cum uncontrollably, your release spilling over your hand in thick, hot ropes. The room erupts into applause and laughter, their voices blending into chaos as your chest heaves, your legs trembling beneath you.

The shrill ring of the bell cuts through the room, signaling the end of class. You stumble slightly, your legs trembling as you reach for something—anything—to steady yourself. The girls rise from their seats, their laughter and chatter buzzing around you as they gather their things.

“See you Wednesday, Big Boy!” Sara calls out, her grin almost glowing as she bounces toward the door. Ruby winks at you as she passes, her crop swishing through the air. “Rest up, John,” she purrs. “You’re going to need it.”