Exposure

Here’s a paradox. I haven’t met her in the flesh yet, but I know that when I do I’ll have no problem getting her clothes off. But when we chat online, she’s shy and reluctant to show me anything. Surely it should be the other way round? When I see her on a computer screen she’s half a world away. I can see but not touch. She’s in no danger that taking off a few garments will lead anywhere she doesn’t want to go.

Most girls, I think, have an exhibitionist side. They know how much men like to look, and they know and enjoy how much power that gives them; even submissive girls can feel that way. They like to tease, they like to arouse. And yet, she’s coy, almost virginal in the way she blushes and giggles nervously and turns away if there’s just a hint I might ask her to show me something. Maybe lots of submissive girls aren’t like this. Maybe they wait impatiently hoping their dom is going to make them do bad things. And maybe deep down, in a place in her mind not yet accessible to me, she is the same. But it’s not obvious. Not yet.

I don’t say that in the flesh there wouldn’t also be shyness. She’s not one to flaunt herself, I think. But she would know that I intended to fuck her, and so there’s no point in endlessly delaying revealing herself. Whereas on-screen there’s no such end result. There’s only the dance.

Is her hesitancy on-screen because she fears I may be not just looking but recording, storing away images of her for she knows not what purpose? I do think she trusts me, that I would never misuse any images I had, so I don’t think that’s the reason. I think part of it is vanity. It’s not so much that I can see her; it’s that she can see herself, in that little square frame at the corner of the screen they give you on gchat. Now girls, it has to be admitted, are inclined to vanity. They care deeply about how they look to others; to other girls and to men. They want to look their best.

If you are physically present with a man, you certainly hope he likes what he sees. But the immediacy and excitement of the situation are apt to overcome your hyper-critical thoughts about your appearance, and anyway you can’t see yourself (unless you sneak a glance in the mirror, which has been known.) Whereas online there’s that picture of you there all the time. Is your make-up smudged? Is your hair just right? Surely that isn’t the roots showing. This lighting is so unflattering to the shape of your nose. Your eyes are surely a deeper blue in real life? And then if you were to take something off, how much more critical would you be of your appearance. Does he like my tits? Are they too big? Too small? Not quite the right shape? Are they quite as firm as they should be? As they used to be? Etc, etc.

The thing is, I know, and I believe she knows too, that eventually I’ll have my way. Eventually the last vestige of modesty will be stripped away. It’s only a matter of how long it takes to get there. I’m very patient. That’s because I don’t want her to do things under pressure. I don’t want her to show herself because she thinks I’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t, or because she’s afraid I’ll be pissed off by her shyness. I want to bring her to the point, however long it takes, when she is ready to offer herself. When she so much wants to please me that she will do it, anything I ask. It’s even more than that. I want her to want me to see her naked. I want her to crave it. I want her to yearn to offer herself online, to be impatient for me to ask her to show all, to do anything at all while I watch. The greatest pleasure for me is not in seeing her, it’s in knowing that she wants me to see her, in knowing that she wants to give me her all, despite all her instincts towards modesty. And then there will be just one extra exquisite pleasure for me. When I hear her beg, ‘please, sir, may I undress for you?’ maybe I’ll answer ‘Not now, little girl; later, perhaps.’