I have spent my entire adult life, and most of my childhood, hiding behind clothing, terrified to bare my body, hating every imperfection I saw in the mirror. Ironically, I was also that child who ran around naked most of the time, and putting on underwear was “getting dressed” to me. I have a very vivid memory of a friend of my father’s coming over to our house and greeting him at the door in only a pair of panties. I believe I was around six or seven.
For all the years I’ve tried to stay fully clothed as much as possible, the one time taking off my clothes seems normal is when I’m with my Dominant (he’s my Daddy, in case you’re new here). Nothing makes me feel more submissive than being fully nude while he is fully clothed. I’ve also learned that I have an exhibitionist side – a side that only feels safe to come out and play when I’m also feeling my most submissive. (I’m full of ironies and contradictions. I know.)
Under the eyes of Daddy, I feel beautiful because he believes I am. Alone in my bedroom or bathroom, all I see are the things I wish I could correct. I stare at pictures of naked women on Tumblr in total fascination, always looking for a woman who’s body looks like mine. Do her breasts hang the way mine do? Are her nipples as large as mine? Does her pussy bear any resemblance to mine? What about her stomach? Her legs? Her arms? I have long worried that my naked body is somehow unusual – in a negative way.
Knowing this, though, you may find it hard to believe that I stood in front of a room of total strangers in nothing more than a pair of thong panties.
I don’t know why I haven’t discussed the weekend I spent with my Daddy, just the two of us, being our Dominant and submissive selves. We spent five days luxuriating in the gifts of time and privacy. That poor hotel room bed will never be the same. I gushed. I squirted. I writhed under his tongue, his cock, his hand, his entire body.
My transforming moment came when I was nearly naked in front of strangers – because he asked me to be. With my back to them all, in the local BDSM club, I took off my dress in one fluid motion. I felt the flush cover my skin, embarrassed and worried. The moment he latched my wrist cuffs to the St. Andrews Cross, I stopped thinking about the audience. Each strike of the paddle, the flogger, the crop, the cane, his hand drove more worry and self-doubt out of my mind. Under his ministrations, I was simply a feeling, living, breathing sexual being.
When he was done, and I was no longer attached by the wrists, I turned and faced the room, unaware that I was showing my entire torso, naked breasts, not-so-tight belly, and all. When he handed me a surprise, I completely forgot myself and jumped up and down, clapping in delight, at the soft, pink blanket he wrapped around me. I lounged on a couch soon after, cocooned in the soft warmth of the blanket, baring my breasts to any eyes who chose to see, and I never blinked. Being naked, at least in that room, felt completely natural. The one man who mattered looked upon my body with lust and love. If there was anyone who found my body unappetizing, I didn’t care because their opinion didn’t matter to me.
Outside of the spell of that place and moment in time, I still feel very uncomfortable with my body. I look at my body more as something to work on and less as something to love. When I’m in his presence, I forget much of those negative feelings, though. And I know if ever asks me to bare my body at the club for him again, I will do so without hesitation. I realize now that the initial moments of discomfort will fade. There is something freeing about baring it all.
I really liked this week’s prompt for Wicked Wednesday – nudity. I could have written something sexy, I guess, but finding any amount of comfort with my own body is important to me.