Tami at the Sexpo

This is Parts 9 and 10 of “The Long Escape”.

        It was not one of your more glamorous exhibition halls, a little run down, Tami told herself as they drove up to it.  It reminded her of the auditorium part of her high school, only bigger.  Actually it was a remodeled hockey rink, with a modest front entrance, above which was a little banner that said, “Sexpo 2001”.

        The nude girl bit her lip.  She knew McMasters would be demonstrating some of his sex toys, using her as the model, and the exhibition was going to last all afternoon.  Surely she wouldn’t be strapped into something the whole time.  And what about during breaks?   Could she come back to the car?   Probably she’d have to stand around and answer fool questions.  She tried to steel herself for what was to come.  Next to her in the back seat, Wanda smiled her evil smile as she noticed Tami’s discomfort.

        At least they would have nice digs.  They had just unpacked in the rooms set aside for them in the hotel down the road.  The hotel was nicer than the exhibition hall.  In fact to Tami it seemed downright luxurious, what with old-fashioned chromed faucets and huge, fluffy towels.  She had never been in a true hotel before, merely motels, and it seemed doubly insolent and impolite to move about in such elegant surroundings totally naked.  They’d even set up separate rooms for her and Wanda, though any thought of covering up away from Wanda’s view was quickly dashed when Wanda stripped Tami’s bed, took all the big towels, and propped open the pass-door between their two rooms.  Still, a nice place, and amazingly discreet.  While walking through the halls she passed a couple of porters and they nodded politely, seeming to take no notice of her nakedness.

        McMasters, clearly excited with anticipation, crept the Cadillac forward as it waited patiently in line behind other cars discharging their cargo into the entrance.  Mostly freaky-looking men carrying big suitcases for women in their 20’s and 30’s who loudly chewed gum and wore trashy dresses, too much lipstick, and outrageously high heels.  There were a few people who looked “gay”, but they seemed humorless and drab, not pretty and graceful like Jen or good-natured and easygoing like Jeffrey.  Thinking of this, Tami realized how much she missed her friends at college, and looked forward to the day when she could return to them as a clothed person.

        These people, part of the exhibition obviously, were greeted and helped through the door by a portly tuxedoed man holding a clipboard.  Finally their turn came and McMasters stopped the car and got out to shake hands and sign the clipboard.  As he went around to pop open the trunk he said, “Tami, Wanda, give me a hand with this please.”   With a deep sigh Tami opened the door and put one bare foot on the warm asphalt --

        “Hey!   You!   None of this!   None of this!” the man pointed at her angrily.  “Get some clothes on or stay in the car!”  When McMasters walked up in confusion the man said, “We have a strict dress code here.  We don’t want any trouble!”  Tami shot back into the car in shame and shock, feeling like a little girl being scolded by grown-up.  Naked?   How dare she come here naked??!!   She felt like she was being yelled at by a nun during catechism.  Or by Charlene’s father at the Christmas party when he found her drunkenly dancing around with Christmas tree ornaments tied to her nipples.

        “But she’s a religious nudist!”

        The man rolled his eyes.  “Yeah right!”  He calmed down a bit and said, “Look, Mr.  -- ” he looked at the clipboard -- “Nevada, what goes on in there is our business, but we can’t afford any trouble with the authorities.  It was hard enough getting the permit for this place.  Outside, in public view, we’ve got to be prim and proper.  Capeesh?”

        McMasters thought for a minute, then told Tami to stay in the car.  He and Wanda unloaded the suitcases and boxes and carried them in.  Tami knew it was wise to crouch down out of view, and stayed hidden in the space behind the front seat as McMasters returned and parked the car in the nearest available space.  He then went back in and was gone for a few minutes, while Tami stayed hidden like a nude refugee.  Then McMasters came back and drove the car around to the rear of the hall.  In the middle of vast, bare brickface there was a little metal door without a handle.  “Stay here, I’ll go around and open it for you.”   Five minutes later, the door was furtively propped open with a stone.  The naked girl parked the Cadillac nearby and then slipped into the exhibition hall.  In her life of public nudity, she had never had to go through such subterfuge in hiding her nakedness as now, trying to get into a sex toy exhibition.

        The place was huge, well lit, and busy, reminding her in a way of the college Job Fair.  Rows and rows of folding tables and folding chairs, and maybe dozens of exhibits, of liquid gels and vibrators and lingerie and books and things that Tami could not identify, the men mostly setting things up, the women, some of them stripped down to sparkly bikinis, clicking around in their high heels.  Standing on the perimeter, Tami’s bare shoulders drooped as she realized that not only was she the youngest person here, she was also the only one naked.

        The teenage girl, toughened by months of enforced nudity, chided herself.  What did she expect?   A room full of religious nudists?   Of teenaged Tamis forced to be naked all the time?   No, in all the world she was unique.  And right now, she felt as much on another planet as she did in the banquet hall at Chalfont.  Only that banquet hall was friendly, educated, refined.  This place was tacky, degenerate, glitzy.  She most intensely didn’t want to be here.

        Gamely, she straightened her shoulders and went to look for McMasters and Wanda, her bare feet padding silently and gently on the hardwood floor, which fortunately was pretty clean, her firm breasts bouncing ever so slightly with her step.  She felt the stale, cigarette-tinged air hitting and irritating her eyes and her nipples and even creeping between her bare pussy lips.  She immediately attracted stares, astonished faces she had not expected.  Why was it so surprising that there would be a naked girl here?   She did not realize that she was distinguished not only by her total nakedness, but by her youth and air of innocence.  (In fact, she looked so young, like a mere adolescent, that McMasters had had to give the exhibition organizers a copy of her college I.D. as proof that she was 18.)  Also she was distinguished by the perfection of her body, unmarred by that scratch Wanda had inflicted which had healed quickly.

        She tried to smile and nod politely, but was distracted by some of the exhibits.  She had been given a crash course in dildos and stimulators the past few months but still couldn’t guess what some of these things were for.  Odd shapes, some motorized, made of plastic, some of wood.  Vibrators -- some of them were huge!   Where did women put them?   With little round things on the end.  “Magic Wand.”   What the heck was that?   These people were degenerate and old, too jaded to enjoy simple loving screwing like she and Rod did.  The naked teenager felt soiled just walking by.

        Her eyes tried to look past the staring people near and far as she searched for McMasters and Wanda.  When she saw them way on the other side of the hall she stopped and her eyebrows went up in resignation.  Yes, it was what she dreaded.  They were fussing around their table but the exhibit was already up.  Way, way up, she noticed as she approached.  On top of the table was a little platform, and on top of that the two dildos, the Godzilla dildo for her pussy, and the big white dotted one for her butt, set up on their metal pistons and angled inward so that they were almost touching.  And then, the little half-chair that would support her back and buttocks and thighs.  And metal supports going up maybe six feet on each side, from which hung the tubes and cups for the purpose of nipple suction.  Her throne for the day, her seat.  And so high up that her pussy would be at people’s eye level and her sweating, spasming body would be up on display, visible from anywhere in the hall.  On the base of the platform was the word, “Total Lover”, written in a florid script logo.

        She cleared her throat as she met Wanda and McMasters, well aware of people behind her staring at her bare butt cheeks, suppressing the ridiculously inadequate urge to clench them and squeeze her legs together.  Wanda raised her eyebrow insolently.  “Almost time for your show, Tam!  Bet you can’t wait to come .  .  .  and come and come and come .  .  .”   She patted the Godzilla dildo and then the rectal dildo.  “I’ve heard this gizmo really turns you on, Tam.  Think of how far inside you this will be, and this .  .  .”   She patted the tip of each dildo.  Tami’s glare was like a dagger, but it was defeated by Wanda’s evil little smile.  Wanda continued muttering, “.  .  .  and come and come and come .  .  .”

        McMasters was too caught up in things to notice this interaction.  “Sit down, Tam, rest up,” he said.  As her bare butt made contact with the cold metal chair Tami couldn’t help looking at what he was doing.  He was setting up charts next to the pedestal, one of which she recognized as a chart of her orgasmic response.  The “X” axis was “Time”, and the “Y” axis was “orgasmic level”, divided up into “plateau”, “threshold” and “contractions”.  She told herself a nerdy math major joke: I wish the equation of my response was, f(x) = 0.

        There were other charts too, dealing with respiration, contractions .  .  .  And then came the pictures.  Tami’s eyes widened with horror as she saw the big color glossies being arranged in order on the other side of the pedestal.

        They were pictures of her face, showing the various stages of arousal!   Taken, obviously, by the camera in Lab 6, they had little captions underneath.  In the first photo, entitled “Level One Arousal”, she was looking down to the side, one eye squinting.  The second photo, “Plateau”, showed her reddened face and eyes half-closed as if in deep concentration.  The third photo, “Threshold”, was filled with her sweating face, her wrinkled forehead strewn with disheveled hair, and anguished eyes looking up as if delivering an urgent prayer.

        And the last photo -- Tami closed her eyes and looked down.  She had caught a quick glimpse and couldn’t bear to look, but morbid curiosity got the better of her and she looked again.  “Orgasm.”   Her desperate eyes opened wide as if in terrible agony, pleading right at the camera, and also right at anyone passing by this table.  With her mouth opened in mid-scream.  Tami shut her eyes again and looked down, squeezing her butt cheeks together, remembering the feel of the dildos pummeling past her clit, ramrodding her front and rear.  She wanted to bolt out of this hall and run into the street, hiding her breasts and her pussy with her hands, crying tearfully, “Help!  Save me! I don’t want to come for the crowd!   Give me clothes!   Anyone!   Please!   Clothes!!”

        A deep breath and she was O.K. again.  Control.  She had to keep her wants and needs under control for now, and pick her time for escape with a controlled mind.  Escape will be soon.  And certain.

        “All set,” McMasters said, as he eased into a chair behind the table.  “The doors open in ten minutes.”   He and Wanda would be sitting behind the table, but Tami’s seat was in front, leaving her nakedness in full view.  She sullenly conceded that this was the best setup to attract attention.  Then McMasters tapped her on the shoulder and said in a low voice, “Tami, I can’t thank you enough.  I know this affair looks a little chintzy.  Most of these ladies are probably strippers, maybe a few porn actresses here and there.”   Tami’s nose crinkled in distaste.  Stripping and porn films were kinky, yucky things she had only heard about.  What kind of girl would do things like that?   Then McMasters whispered.  “Some hookers too, at least in their spare time.”

        Then back to the low voice.  “But think of all the people, all the women, who can’t have an orgasm, or who are single, or who have husbands who can’t get erections any more.  For them, think of how fulfilling this ‘Total Lover’ will be.  And it relieves tension, gives them the ultimate pleasure that is everyone’s birthright, for many of them, for the first time ever in their lives .  .  .  Think of an older couple, he can’t get it up any more, but he sits next to her as she sits on the Total Lover, as they kiss and hug each other as she goes from crest to crest.  .  .”

        Tami glanced up at the “Total Lover” again and found herself actually touched by what McMasters was saying.  And she was indeed lucky to be able to have so many orgasms, when some women couldn’t have even one.  This was probably a useful invention, and it could not have been perfected without her.  Still, the shame of it .  .  .  Why did it have to be her?   She looked around at the passing spangled bikinis.  These women would have been much better candidates to test this thing out on, not a shy and unwilling 18-year-old.

        “The first demonstration will be at two o’clock,” McMasters said, pointing to a little sign he had put up.  “Until then, I’ll answer people’s questions.  You might get asked some things too.”   He patted her bare shoulder.  “Here they come,” he said, motioning to the big entrance doors as the opened.  A depressingly large number of people began milling in, most of them actually looking pretty respectable, some of them yuppies in casual clothes.  Tami closed her eyes and said a little prayer.  Please God, give me the strength to live through this.  Please don’t make this very bad!

        And so it went, as McMasters said.  Tami sat upright in the metal chair as people stopped by.  Typically, they would take a long look at her and then up at the Total Lover and then ask, “How exactly does this work?   As if I couldn’t guess!”  Whether flippant, sarcastic or genuinely curious, their comments were answered by McMasters in the same earnest tone as he did his spiel.  “.  .  .  Motorized pistons .  .  .  ridges which stimulate her G - spot .  .  .  tiny holes to keep her anal ring lubricated .  .  .  “  Tami tried to tune him out, but couldn’t avoid the feeling that whenever he said “her”, he meant Tami.  She felt the eyes of the prospective customer shift between the device and her, specifically her nipples and her bare pussy lips.  “Does this thing really work?” someone finally asked her, a middle-aged woman in a prim professional outfit, looking down at the naked teenager with the air of someone who is used to getting quick answers to her questions.

        Tami was proud of how well she handled herself.  She looked this woman right in the eye and smiled, hiding the deep hurt in her eyes.  “Yes, very much.”   She thought of adding “You should try it,” but somehow that would seem impertinent.

        It was much harder to answer the slimy - looking guy in the greasy hair and ratty sweatshirt who cocked his eyebrow and said, “So how many times did this thing .  .  .  ring your chimes?”

        Tami’s eyes darted to McMasters’s proud grin.  She cleared her throat but found it hard to meet this guy’s eyes.  “One hundred and .  .  .  th - thirty six times.”   She tried to manage a smile but just could not do it.

        “Yeah, bullshit!” he muttered, shaking his head and moving on, leaving Tami mortified and McMasters shaking his head in disgust.  As for Wanda, her attention was focused on the clock up on the wall.

        McMasters had put up a little sign that said, “Demonstrations at 2:00, 3:30 and 5:00”.  At the first appointed time McMasters told Tami to get up on the table and then, to her horror, he started barking.  “Time for our first demonstration!   Come see the ‘Total Lover’ in action!   With a live model!   Time for our first demonstration!   Come see the ‘Total Lover’ in action!   With a live model!”  Though there was hardly any need to bark, because the sight of the naked teenager awkwardly getting up on the table and resting her widely spread thighs on the little half-chair drew enough attention in itself.  People gravitated toward the table.

        When a sufficient crowd had gathered McMasters leaned over from behind the table so as not to obstruct the view, and said, “The first dildo, as you can see, is angled directly into the vagina.”   He pointed to the big dildo with ridges on top that looked like the scales on Godzilla’s back.  He then pointed to the dildo’s target, the teenager’s bare spread pussy lips, now slightly opened but seeming far too small for the impending penetration.  “Note the many holes through which lubricant continually seeps via the pump down at the pedestal.  And if some of you could come behind and see the rectal dildo back here.”   Tami felt the movement of people behind her.  “We call it a ‘rectal dildo’ because it penetrates not just the anus but all the way into Tami’s rectum, in fact when Tami shifts her hips it will go straight into the colon.  This further stabilizes Tami’s body and will increase the force of her contractions.”

        Tami wished McMasters wouldn’t use her name.  She looked up into the middle distance with a neutral expression, trying not to focus on the fact that she was brightly lit and up high and everyone around her could see every inch of her nakedness and knew what was about to be done to her.

        The video camera appeared to the lower left of her view.  She determined not to look at it but couldn’t help noticing through her peripheral vision: a nerdy guy with a camera.  And a well-dressed woman with dyed green hair with a microphone.  She was saying something into the camera with a perky voice.  “And now what looks like the main attraction, the ‘Total Lover’.”   Surely they can’t be putting her on actual TV, Tami thought.  Maybe it was just a cable TV show.  Still .  .  .   The reporter put her microphone up to McMasters as he continued his description of the many fine features of his invention.

        The equipment got closer, closer to Tami’s bare, exposed, brightly lit, displayed body.  She saw the woman stick the microphone up near her face and the cameraman point his lens up from the side.  “Miss Tami Smithers, this is Valerie Johnstone of ‘Actual Sex’, Cable TV’s top rated adult education show.  Tell our audience how it feels!”  Tami was thinking of what she could say to make the microphone go away when her concave tummy flinched at the touch of the cold, lubricated head of the Godzilla dildo pressing against her pussy lips, then parting them and going inside, slowly splitting her open.  She couldn’t help but breath faster as she accommodated more and more of Godzilla, then found herself moaning as the ridges got inside and began to flick her G - spot.  Her face was a mask of agonized shame but she answered the reporter’s question.  “G - good.  .  .”   The chuckles and cackles this evoked caused her eyebrows to knit in mortification.

        The reporter, realizing the naked girl was not a very good interview right now, returned to McMasters and he described the play-by-play.  “ .  .  .  notice how she is feeling the ridges inside .  .  .rectal dildo must be inserted with care .  .  .  longest possible dildos .  .  .  stability .  .  .  important to immobilize .  .  .  tying ankles and thighs .  .  .”   Then there was that uncomfortable feeling as her anal ring was invaded and stretched, wider, wider, wider.  Then Wanda helped to tie the naked girl’s ankles and thighs to the half-chair.

        Tami had been strapped in and hooked up many times, but not in so public a place.  Lab 6, in spite of its little complement of theater-style seats, seemed like a private cubbyhole compared to this big exhibition hall.  And now she was on national TV!

        She now keenly felt the two big dildos way up inside her.  McMasters carefully fitted the suction cups over her nipples.  Though she kept her eyes on the far wall, she could not avoid noticing the continued movement of people toward her, the probing lens of the video camera.  It seemed like everyone in the hall was crowding around the table now, looking up at her.  Even some of the jaded spangled bikinis stopped chewing their gum as they looked up at this beautiful naked teenager, high enough up on her pedestal so that no one’s view was blocked by anyone in front.  The other exhibitors, with no one at their tables, sat and watched intently from afar.

        The machinery went into motion and Tami grunted, prompting the reporter to once more put the microphone up near her face.  The suction cups drew up her nipples harshly and rhythmically, sending a direct jolt to her pleasure center.  The camera man crept around behind to take a close-up of the rectal dildo plowing in, its immensity stretching her rear ring wide and piercing her deep into her guts.  Though he had his “game face” on, the camera man was amazed at such a sight, and in his job he had seen a lot of things!   In front, the Godzilla dildo repeatedly stuffed her pussy, its ridges driving her crazy as they bumped past her clit and inside past her G - spot.  The slim naked body heaved back and forth within its bonds as each dildo pushed her forward and back, forward and back.  The girl’s skin flushed and she began to sweat.  Her eyes closed as if savoring the pleasure.  Actually she was praying.  Please God, please God, help me, help me through this torture.  I am being tortured in public now, I’m about to have my most public orgasm ever, on TV, people I know will probably see this someday, this is my worst shame yet, please help me be strong!

        “Go Tami!”

        The naked girl’s eyes opened but she refused to look down.  But below the center of her vision she sensed it to be  Wanda, enjoying her first view of Tami on the machine, cheering her on, letting her know she was watching.  Tami thought she sensed Wanda’s hand moving to a pocket as if to remind her of her little tape recorder.  Want to confess now, Tam?   The naked girl shut her eyes again, then grimaced as she heard the reporter take up the cheer.  Soon several people were chanting, “Go Tami!  Go Tami!”

        Tami was dimly aware of strangled screams echoing in the big hall, of the reporter straining to stretch up higher to get the microphone closer.  She gritted her teeth and opened her eyes as she gave up the ghost of her orgasm.  With widened eyes beseeching above, in the harsh light of the exhibition hall, the flash of camera bulbs, a female Jesus dying on the cross.  My Lord, why hast thou forsaken me??!!

        Of course one orgasm was not enough.  The undoubted authenticity of the naked teenager’s response surprised her audience, who were used to fake porn-style female orgasms.  But they were even more astonished when the demonstration continued.  A second orgasm!   And then a third!   “This really is amazing, this machine really works!” the reporter said loudly into her microphone, as McMasters beamed.  The people with their little cameras quickly reset them, and another series of flashes began.  The air around the table was humid with the girl’s sweat, her heavy breathing and gasps clearly audible because the audience was completely silent, they themselves hardly breathing, they were so transfixed.  Then they saw the tears begin to run from the girl’s eyes.  “This is a .  .  .sacred .  .  .  moment,” the reporter enthused.  Deep inside her thoughts, Tami survived by thinking of being under the covers, alone with her dear Rod, tenderly making love in a freezing room in a ratty apartment in the dead of winter in a place far away and long ago, six months ago a thousand miles from here.

        When McMasters finally turned off the machine and the naked girl’s sweaty body slumped, her tummy heaving in and out with catching her breath, there was a moment of silence.  Then applause.  A few minutes later, with the naked, zoned - out teenager accepting compliments on sweaty, unsteady bare feet as she stood to one side of the table, holding onto it for support, McMasters began taking the first of many orders.

        It was a bizarre post-game interview with a star athlete.  “You’ve just had three powerful orgasms on the ‘Total Lover’.  How did it feel?” Valerie Johnstone said, putting her microphone in front of the dazed naked girl.

        Tami was still catching her breath.  “Uhhhh .  .  .  g - good .  .  .”   She desperately wanted the reporter to go away, but of course she had to look eager.  Some people around chuckled at the understatement.  She noticed Wanda to the side, minutely observing how the naked girl comported herself.

        “Those .  .  .  things .  .  .  looked kind of big.  Weren’t they uncomfortable going into you?”

        Tami imagined for a moment that they were both Rod’s dicks, Rod somehow fucking her in both places at the same time.  She wearily shook her head with a little smile.  “N - not at all.”

        Valerie Johnstone and her cameraman stepped back a moment.  “You don’t usually see an absolutely naked woman at these shows .  .  .  Let me say, Miss Smithers, you have an outstanding body.”   Tami tried not to look at the camera man as he made a long, slow sweep of her evenly tanned body, from her sweaty hair down past her erect nipples and sweaty flat tummy, past her bare, tanned pussy lips, down her long, toned legs, ending at her pretty bare feet.  “Do you work out often?”

        Tami thought for a second, remembering how the ordeals of the past months had been true workouts of her body as well as her mind.  She blinked as she began to become fully alert again.  “Yes.”

        “Let’s see those muscles,” Wanda said.  Knowing it was required of her, Tami stretched her arms and legs out in an “X” so that the camera could get a good view of her stretched muscles.  The camera man zeroed in on her slightly opened pussy lips, which the reporter thought was tacky.  “No, no, Sam, get her scooped-out tummy, look at those abs.  .  .  Men!”  she said in exasperation.  Sam did as he was told, as every inch of Tami’s body made it onto cable TV.  “Show them your backside, Tam,” Wanda said.  Tami turned around.  “Look at those tight buns!  I hate you, I hate you!”, Valerie Johnstone said playfully.

        Then the reporter cleared her throat and spoke in a lower voice.  “They might cut this from the show,” she said, “but I’m just curious.  That rear dildo was huge.  Are you still ‘opened up’ back there?   If you could bend over .  .  .”   Glad at least that she was facing away from them, the naked girl dutifully bent over and spread her butt cheeks.  She sensed people crowding around back there to look.  Sam turned on the light over his camera as it zoomed in, recording the brightly illuminated ring of Tami’s stretched anus, still slightly open, in fact the light showed a little of the pinkness of the upper part of her rectum deep inside.