Naked Truth

The applause hadn’t even died down when instinct took over. You snapped your hands over your cock, shielding yourself, trembling from a hurricane of shame, humiliation — and worse, raw arousal that left you dizzy.

Talia stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper, sweet and devastating.

"You're doing amazing, handsome," she breathed, her fingers brushing tenderly down your forearm. "So brave."

The crowd, seeing your helpless stance, let out a chorus of awws, followed by delighted laughter and teasing whistles.

Boots clicked lightly on the stage.

Elanor began circling you, her riding crop tapping idly against her thigh, eyes gleaming with predatory amusement.

"Usually," she said, voice dripping velvet, "this is the point the skeptic scurries away, cock shriveled up with shame."

The audience tittered knowingly.

"But look at you..." Elanor's tone dipped lower, darker, almost admiring.

"So proud. So hard. Struggling so sweetly to hide yourself."

She paused right in front of you, tapping her crop lightly against your trembling thigh.

"If my boyfriend had a cock like that," she said, smiling wickedly, "I'd show it off, not hide it."

The audience roared with laughter and applause.

Talia chimed in, her voice teasing but adoring:

"If you were my boyfriend," she purred, brushing her fingers feather-light across your lower back, "I'd still strip you like this... but only because I'm not selfish."

Her hand trailed lower, grazing the curve of your ass before withdrawing playfully.

"I'd feel awful keeping this gorgeous thing all to myself."

The crowd howled — catcalls, clapping, teasing shouts blending into a wall of heat.

You whimpered softly under your breath, your cock pulsing against your palms.

Elanor smiled warmly. "But don’t worry, skeptic. We don’t **** anyone here."

She gestured, and with a ripple of smoky light, a golden lasso materialized in her hand — glowing faintly.

"You see..." Elanor said, looping it casually over her palm, "truth has a way of freeing us."

She handed the shimmering rope to Talia, who approached you slowly, the lasso dangling between her fingers.

"Hold still, sweetheart," she whispered, looping it around your chest, then sliding it lower — tracing down your stomach, just brushing the sensitive skin near your cock.

You shuddered at the contact, every nerve electrified.

Talia giggled softly as she clasped the loop in place just above your hips.

"There we go," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Now you have **** but to be honest."

The crowd fell silent in anticipation.

Elanor leaned in close, her voice a velvet purr:

"You like the attention, don't you?"

You tried to fight it, but the lasso tightened — and the truth spilled out of you.

"...Yes," you croaked.

Cheers erupted.

"You liked being stripped by Talia," Elanor continued, circling you like a shark.

Face burning, cock throbbing against your hands, you whispered, "Yes."

"You dreamed of her seeing you like this," Talia murmured, her hand gently sliding down your trembling arm.

You nodded helplessly.

"Yes."

The women whistled and stomped, delighted.

Talia brushed your shoulder tenderly, her voice low and affectionate.

"You're doing so well, handsome. So, so good."

Your chest ached with the intense mixture of humiliation, arousal, and — worse — pride.

Elanor smiled.

"One more question, skeptic."

She twirled her crop once, letting it land gently against your calf.

"Would it turn you on... if everyone here could admire you properly?"

You swallowed hard, heart hammering against your ribs. You would say no if she asked if you would like them to see you properly. But would it turn you on more?

"...Yes."

The crowd exploded in clapping and hoots.

Elanor grinned wide.

"Good boy."

"Hands behind your back," she commanded, voice warm, encouraging.

"Let them admire you the way you deserve."

Talia leaned in, her lips brushing your ear.

"You can do it," she whispered. "For me."

Your hands trembled — but slowly, shakily, you pulled them away from your cock... and locked them behind your back.

The effect was immediate.

Gasps, shrieks, giggles.

Hundreds of women leaned forward in their seats, devouring you with their eyes.

"Look at him leak!"

"He's begging without words!"

Talia's breath hitched audibly as she stepped closer, biting her lip hard.

She whispered — barely audible —

"Fuck, I want to taste you so bad."

Your knees nearly buckled.

Elanor, ever patient, ever predatory, circled once more.

"And now, skeptic," she cooed, "we will reposition the lasso, as it works best when placed around the organ you use to think."

She gestured, and Talia carefully unfastened the lasso from your waist.

With a wink to the crowd, she retied the lasso snugly around the base of your cock.

The golden rope glowed faintly against your flushed skin.

The crowd gasped, several women moaning aloud.

Elanor tapped the lasso lightly with her crop.

"Truth, now," she said. "Pure, filthy truth."

She purred into the microphone:

"Why are you hard?"

You groaned, body trembling, voice breaking:

"Because... I love being seen. I love being wanted."

Talia giggled, leaning against your side, stroking your hip.

"And how much are you enjoying this?"

You whimpered:

"I've never been more turned on before."

The crowd roared.

Elanor smirked.

"Would it turn you on to stay and... participate more?"

Again, the same trick. You didn't want to necessarily stay longer. But it would definitely turn you on more. Talia — beautiful, radiant, **** — whispered, voice trembling:

"Stay. Please, stay."

You looked at her — her flushed cheeks, her glistening eyes, her ****, hopeful smile.

You looked out at the crowd — the raw hunger in every gaze.

You felt your cock throb inside the lasso, leaking again.

You closed your eyes.

"Yes," you said hoarsely. "God, yes."

The audience screamed their approval.

But Elanor wasn't done.

"Would it turn you on," she asked smoothly, "if the women in this room touched themselves to you later?"

Whispers rippled through the crowd — breathless, eager.

"Would it turn you on if they took pictures? If they shared them... made you their little secret... their fantasy?"

Talia leaned in, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Please, handsome. Just for us."

You hesitated — but the lasso tightened around your cock, pulsing warm.

You swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yes."

The crowd detonated — whistling, clapping, shouting.

Talia stepped behind you, smoothing your posture — running her palms lovingly down your bare chest, across your stomach, tracing the muscles like an artist admiring her masterpiece.

Elanor stepped in front, tapping your thighs apart with her crop — opening you wide.

Camera flashes lit the room in quick succession.

Soft gasps and murmured praises followed:

"God, I'm drooling."

"Look at that cock twitch when she touches him!"

"I want him on my wall like art."

You stood there — trembling, leaking, utterly exposed, utterly adored — as the women captured every inch of you, their secret treasure.

And for the first time...

You didn't feel humiliated.

You felt worshiped.

You felt free.

And your body ached — begged — for what you knew was coming next.