The Watch List

"Sit, pig."

The man's voice was flat and firm. The woman he was speaking too, however, was no pig. She was surprisingly slender, wearing a floral print dress that accentuated the nice curves of her hips and high heeled sandals with cork wedges that made her legs look longer. Dark hair cascaded down her back. The only thing out of place was the leash connected to a two inch wide stainless steel collar around her neck.

She obeyed immediately. Leaning forward on her toes, falling to her knees, smoothing her dress out under her thighs as she lowered herself onto her heels, her back remained straight upright with her shoulders back. Perfect dancer's posture, kneeling on the ground next to a park bench, head slightly bowed.

The man sat next to her on the bench. He looked older, maybe ten years older than the woman, and completely unperturbed to be walking a woman on a leash. Form-fitting jeans, a open necked shirt and a salt-and-pepper beard. He stretched his arms out on the park bench, and sniffed deeply, inhaling the warm night air.

I sat directly opposite them on a park bench, trying not to stare, but neither of them gave any indication that I was even present. A shiver ran down my back, even though the night was warm. It was dark out, but I was sure my nipples were poking through the thin cotton dress I was wearing. The woman was so pretty, I wished I had worn a prettier dress, or at least my special-night-out push-up bra, which was silly to think, Nervously, I reached back to put my hair up in a ponytail, then I felt foolish so I settled for checking my watch instead. It was 7:45 PM. These had to be the people I was here to watch, but I might as well have been invisible. The man didn't need to check the time at all, he looked into the sky as if he could read the stars like a clock. He knew exactly what was happening around him, and he would make his next move whenever it was time.

****

This was my second trip to Harris park, but the first time I'd been here with my clothes on.

I have an exhibitionist streak, fantasies of watching and being watched had always turned me on. When I explored the internet for erotica, 'hidden camera' and 'caught' were the first keywords I searched any site for. Eventually, I heard rumors of a secret e-mail list. It was only mentioned in passing, and it seemed to be called "The Watch List". I didn't even know exactly what it was, but it seemed to have Fight Club levels of secrecy. It was for voyeurs, and it was very, very exclusive, and that was about it.

Naturally, I had to know more.

For weeks, I chased rumors around some fetish forums. On a couple of sites that seemed to mention The Watch List the most, I started posting self shots that quickly degenerated from mild, to wearing revealing tops, to topless photos, to complete nudes, to a couple of things that make me blush to think about.

I had grown up as a very good girl in a very restrictive household, and I'd never posted a sexual image online ever before. I had to get someone's attention to find out about this Watch List, and that seemed to be the only way to do it. The first picture I took was just my cleavage, my C-cup breasts in a bra and a tank top. I know it's funny as someone who has an exhibitionist streak who'd never shown her body off before, but that was just how I was raised. Once I got a taste for the real thing, it was impossible to stop. In an hour, that first picture got a message from five different guys about how much they had cum from looking at my tits, and messages from 15 people asking for more.

Of course, I obliged. I took requests. I quickly developed a lot of fans, but nobody claimed to have heard of a Watch List. Once I started, I couldn't stop showing myself. I bought a tripod. Photo retouching software. I quickly converted a corner of my bedroom to a photo studio with lights to take better pictures. Pictures of my tits. Pictures of my feet in heels. Biting my lip. Sucking a popsicle. Mentions of the Watch List faded, but I was hooked on showing myself, exposing myself to anyone on the internet. After causing a thousand orgasms, I had to up my own ante and I finally exposed my pussy. The night I first posted those pictures, I masturbated for about four straight hours until I collapsed as a wet, sleepy mess in my bed, and then I woke up two hours later and masturbated some more.

A week later, I was posting videos fucking myself with a pink dildo. One of my fans started making some very edgy requests. He was into some serious BDSM and wanted me to write "CUNT SUCKING WHORE" all over myself with black marker. The name calling wasn't my thing, but the requests from unknown viewers got me as wet as anything, so I obliged.

The next morning, I got the email.

****

From: THE WATCH LIST To: Snow_Bunny

You have been selected as a potential member of The Watch List.

The first rule of The Watch List is that you never discuss The Watch List. If you mention us, anywhere, in any context, you will never hear from us again.

The second rule of The Watch List is that to be a member, first you must participate.

On August 21 at from 2000 to 2010, you will walk the following route through Harris Park, completely naked. (See attached map). Sexually enticing high heels ONLY are permitted.

You will be watched and evaluated, but you will not be contacted by any member of The Watch List. Compliance or non-compliance will be duly noted. Further instructions will follow.

TWL

****

"Suck, pig."

The man sat on the bench in silence for five minutes. One older couple rolled by on bicycles, and almost got in an accident by trying to look at the kneeling, leashed woman without being completely obvious. They failed at that. The woman didn't move as muscle, she sat there still and serene, as if she was completely above her situation. Her leash was tied to the park bench, like she was a pet. Even if she wanted to run, she couldn't have gone far.

When the man spoke, she finally moved. I couldn't stop staring at her, at the grace and fluid way she moved. She must be a dancer of some sort. Classically trained like ballet, most likely. The man made no movements to make her job easier, but still she somehow managed to open his jeans. I couldn't see what she was doing, but the head movements are recognizeable anywhere. She was sucking his cock, without an ounce of self-awareness.

My pussy got soaking wet immediately. I wished I had worn panties, because I was definitely going to leave a wet spot on the back of my skirt.

Meanwhile, the man was stone-faced, as if he was completely unaware there was a woman sucking his dick with silent enthusiasm. He didn't even look over at me. If he did, he'd have seen me squeezing my legs together and rocking my hips back and forth just a little, trying to rub that burning need between my legs without being completely obvious about it. It was silly to worry about, because ten feet away a guy was getting blown out in the open.

I watched her head bobbing up and down. She was skilled at sucking cock, I could tell. Her hands wrapped around his cock, twisting in an up-and-down, half-circular motion. The deep plunging back of her dress revealed smooth skin and the tight fit around her hips made her round bottom look amazing, almost hypnotic as it swayed from side to side as she worshipped her Master's cock.

****

I was 10 minutes early on my audition night. Then I realized I didn't want to leave my watch sitting there on the edge of the park, so I ran back to my car to hide it in my trunk. When I ran back to my starting point, I still had about five minutes before I had to start. I kneeled down to tighten the straps on my heels. I'd worn a pair that a fan with a massive foot fetish adored. Four inch high stilettos with slender straps running from my toes up to my ankle.

The route marked on the map was just about a quarter mile, but it would take me 10 minutes easily to walk in these heels. I was an absolute bundle of nerves, barely able to believe what I was about to do. The park looked empty, but strangely, I didn't feel the least bit unsafe.

What I did feel was arousal, an almost out of control, burning arousal. My hands were shaking so hard I almost couldn't unzip my dress. I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to stop the trembling enough to grab the little plastic zipper, and then with one swift move, the dress opened up behind my. My heart pounded once, twice, and then I just did it. Pulling it off my shoulders and over my arms and pushing it down below my hips in one smooth motion. Suddenly my dress was pooled around my heels.

I was naked. Completely naked.

The night was warm, but my nipples were rock hard. As far as I could tell, nobody was around, but I have never felt more exposed in my entire life. Or aroused. I felt giddy, ashamed, high, delighted, aroused, and embarrassed all at once. So many emotions crashed through me I couldn't begin to process them all, so I just started walking.

With the fine stiletto heels on the smooth but unpaved path, it took some concentration to walk. After a moment, I was relieved. I had to focus on my steps, and soon the bouncing of my breasts, the hair tickling my back, the tingling of my labia, the cool night air on my exposed ass, all those sensations receded to manageable levels. One step, then the next.

At the half-way mark, I was tempted to stop and masturbate right there, but I didn't want to disobey my instructions. When I rounded the corner at the far end of the park and saw my clothes piled at the entrance, I thought about taking another lap. A car drove by on the road next to the park and for a moment I was completely bathed in their headlights. After the car passed, they hit their brakes, slowing but not stopping, and then they drove onward. That was the only encounter I had that night, and I was disappointed. If these shoes weren't such a bitch to walk in, I might have actually done another lap.

Instead I shimmied back into my dress and hurried back to my car. I slammed the driver's door shut and my hand found my clit immediately. It felt like an ocean was pouring out of my legs and in seconds, crashing waves of an orgasm shook me over and over and over again. It was 2045 before I could pull myself together enough to drive home.

****

From: THE WATCH LIST To: Snow_Bunny

Congratulations on passing your audition.

Your first event as a member of The Watch List is at Harris Park. Sit on the third bench on the left hand side, from 1945 - 20:30.

Report back.

TWL

****

"Fuck, pig."

His voice is clear and strong, easily carrying to where I was sitting, but the two of them seemed to be in such synchronicity that I think he was announcing this for my benefit, not her instruction.

She rose with a dancer's grace again, and somehow her dress fell to her ankles and she was nude. Her skin was flawless and smooth under the moonlight, almost as if she was glowing slightly. Naked didn't begin to describe her. She was nude.

Just like I was. And I was insanely jealous.

She stood and turned and bent over at the waist. Legs spread wide in a V. Hands on the ground, palms flat. She was braced, hair tumbling over her face, and I realize I still haven't gotten a good look at her. She's just a nude, exposed body, exposing her back side to the man behind her.

He stands now and I can see his cock, glistening from her saliva. He reaches down and positions it at her pussy and slides in, disappearing into her with one motion.

I am dimly aware that my right hand is rubbing my clit through the thin cotton of my dress, palm flat, pushing down hard, rubbing in a circle.

He grabs her hips and begins to fuck her. His face is calm, but his motions are strong and determined. I hear the slaps as their skin rushes together, and then I realize that she is moaning and grunting with each shove.

He grabs her harder, every movement harder and more forceful than the last. Her palms start to lift off the ground. His breathing gets more ragged. I can see glimpses of the base of his cock as he draws it out and rams it into her over and over and over again. Unconsciously I rub my clit in the same rhythm, then pull my dress up, exposing my own shaved pussy and start fucking myself with two fingers, following his rhythm.

That's when he seems to look in my direction. He doesn't formally acknowledge me, but I know he's watching me, watching my fingers disappear into my pussy, itching and pushing and twisting and rubbing to find that magic spot. My legs tremble, the orgasm is going to come quickly but I hold off, not yet. Not yet I tell myself. But I can't stop my fingers from going and going and going, three fingers now. The ball of my hand bearing down with all my strength on my clit. Knees shaking. My own breathing ragged. With her hair spilling down to the ground, the moonlight gleams on the woman's polished steel collar.

Oh fuck me. That is the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen. My orgasm winds up but won't release, no matter how hard I push myself. The woman is getting close too, grunting louder and louder. Her head finally lifting up and giving me a glimpse of her beautiful face, lost in the ecstasy of being fucked hard. At the moment I realize I'm locked into her, that I can't cum until she does. Despair and delight and desire race through me. At the moment I can't take any more, he speaks.

"Cum, pig."

We cum. Immediately. Bodies exploding together, ten feet apart. Chests heaving. Sweat trickles down my side, under my breasts. Breath heaving. Hair flying into my face. Juices dripping down my thighs.

By the time I collect myself, the man is standing, buckling his pants up. The woman stands, too, stretching out to the night sky. I see his cum trickling down the inside of her leg, and she doesn't move to wipe it away. He unties her leash from the bench and picks up her dress, smoothly hanging it over one arm.

"Walk, pig."

Only now does the woman smile at me. I smile back, floating on a mix of lust and jealousy and bliss and joy. As they disappear around a curve, I realize it's time for me leave as well, and I head for home, silently counting all the orgasms I'll have while writing up my report.