Her submission is personal, but her humiliation will be public �
His to Expose contains three stories of submission and dominance, forced exhibition, humiliation, and discipline.
The See-Through Outfit
Since coming to live with her dominant Robert, neglect and boredom have become things of Jen's past. When she finishes her to do list and goes to him for a little excitement and attention, little does she know that he has in mind will bring her as much excitement and attention as she will be able to handle. Although Robert begins their outing by bribing Jen with a gift from a sex shop, he is well aware that she secretly enjoys his hobby of putting her in compromising and often humiliating public situations. Her secret's safe with him, of course, but as for the rest of what she might try to keep covered up � it's all fair game.
Robert has found a new toy, and he believes he has a way to program it so that it will measure a woman's arousal. When he catches Jen ogling a group of male models across the street from where they are having dinner, he decides to bring her in on his little experiment. If she can control herself and her body's responses while sitting through a male underwear fashion show, she'll be free to spend the rest of her vacation exactly how she wants. Eager to please and a little tipsy, Jen boasts that the challenge will be easy, but Robert knows her too well. For each threshold you pass on the thermometer, he adds, you take off a piece of clothing right there and then. Jen agrees, secretly turned on by such high stakes, but she knows that if she isn't careful, arousal and humiliation will form a compounding feedback loop that will leave her the center of an impromptu exhibition more than sufficient to steal the show.
Jen's partner Robert has always been a gentle and forgiving dominant, often indulging her whims and preferring to let her play her part rather than resort to harsh discipline or exploit her naturally trusting ways. But Jen's obedience has begun to slip, and Robert is forced to accept that a change is needed. To begin anew, he invites a fellow dominant and his submissive to dinner, thinking that their much stricter relationship might provide the eye opener he is loathe to inflict directly on his supposedly fragile submissive. Jen is excited at the prospect, but soon realizes that the evening will be far more intense than she is prepared for. As the night escalates, she will find herself torn between her natural reservations and the need to prove herself an equal of the visiting submissive in the eyes of their men. In shockingly little time, the drive to prove her devotion and obedience will have her doing things she never thought she could do � and still falling short.
"Jen?" I heard his voice call out softly.
"Here, sir," I said through the crack.
"Pass me out your clothes, please."
I squirmed as conflicting emotions of dismay and excitement fought within me. He didn't want to give me any choice. He didn't want me to see what he had picked out for me until I had already committed and until I couldn't say no.
Reluctantly, I folded my skirt and blouse and passed them under the door.
"Panties and bra, too, Jen," he insisted.
A knee-jerk objection caught in my throat and I stared helplessly at myself in the little changing room mirror. I didn't know if I was ready for this, and yet ... I trusted him. It was so much easier to just be his, do what he wanted and lose myself in the aftermath, good and bad, without any of the responsibility. It felt so good, being his, that it almost didn't matter. What happened happened.
"Yes, sir," I said, not trying to hide the quaver in my voice. In the end, I always did as he asked, but I wanted him to know that this prospect frightened me more than a little.
I stepped out of my panties and unclasped my bra, trying to imagine myself in the comfort of our home and not in the back of an unfamiliar department store with nothing to cover myself.
"Thank you," he said as he took the precious garments from my proffered hand. There was a rustling, and then a little bundle replaced them under the door frame.
I picked it up and waited for more. Perhaps it just looked small. I unrolled the cloth and spread it on the bench. My heart sank. What I had at first taken for one garment was in fact two. The tank top was simple, unadorned, and very thin. When I rolled the cloth in my hand, I could see my fingers on the other side. Folded inside the top was a skirt. The fabric was a bit thicker, but it was so short that it did not stretch more than halfway from my wrist to my elbow. I looked at them in dismay, and turned back to the door.
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