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“Now remove those panties,” barks a voice from over my right shoulder.
This order is so much firmer than the previous, it almost takes me by surprise. Instinctively I turn my head to see its owner, but am met by the hard stare of Shaw.
“Now, number sixteen …”
Still unsure which man had made the request I wiggle slowly out of my black satin panties. Moving them down my thighs, I allow them to pool at my feet, before stepping out of them and bending carefully to collect them in my hand. I notice to my shame that the gusset is wet and sticky from my own arousal and I feel my face colour again.
“What have you seen?” asks Shaw, not missing a trick, “bring them here, number sixteen.”
Reluctantly I lower my head and take a small step towards him.
“Not like that!” snaps a voice from behind me – the same one which had ordered the removal of my panties. “Get down on your hands and knees!”
The flush in my face flames at the sound of his command. I suspect my embarrassment is more from being so publicly chastised then from the demand, but nonetheless the effect is the same. I am suddenly a ball of mortification in front of these men – my new masters. I take a deep breath and fall silently to my hands and knees.
As I assume this new, more vulnerable position, the atmosphere in the room changes perceptibly. The air is now charged with palpable energy. The nervous ball of arousal in me drives me on and I arch my back shamelessly, pushing my ass and wet pussy out for everyone behind me to see. I am no longer particularly young and even though I work to keep myself in shape, I am still wrecked with the type of body insecurities that plague most people. Strangely in this most exposed of moments, I feel powerful, even in my submission. I know that every pair of eyes is on me, every pair of hands wants to touch me and every cock is straining to fuck me. The result is the most incredible feeling of wanton depravity I have ever experienced.
I glance up at Shaw. I can clearly see his hard length visible through his pin-stripe trousers. The desire to take it in the mouth and taste him is strong and yet the desire to submit to his will is even more powerful. Without being told I dip my head to my right hand and pick up my panties in my teeth. A low hum of appreciation rattles around the circle. Then, panties hanging from my mouth, I crawl as seductively as I can across to where Shaw is waiting.
Two things strike me. The first is how much harder it is to crawl with grace than I’d imagined. The unforgiving wood under my knees cuts into my skin, making each movement a temporary agony and the progress feel awkward and clumsy. I hope in vain that it looks lither then it feels, and yet somehow I doubt it… As I move drawing in deep breaths through my nose, the second thing becomes apparent. The smell of my own arousal fills my senses. The panties in my teeth seem to radiate it. I’m sure that everyone else in the room can also get the scent. I would no doubt be blushing furiously about this new shame was it not for my already humiliating predicament! And yet this humiliation is exactly what I’ve been craving for so long, my drenched pussy a testament to how much I am enjoying the experience.
As my mind dwells on the depths I have already sunk into since my arrival less than an hour ago, I approach Shaw’s feet and legs. Unsure of how to proceed, but sure that looking up at him is not an acceptable response, I wait on all fours in front of him, like an untrained animal. I squirm at the prospect that he may be making the same comparison.
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Wow! Objectification at its finest. No name, only a number, heaped with a humongous helping of humiliation. Though it would appear they are giving the lady exactly what she desires!