Chapter 30: Market of Humiliation: Part 2

Omari led Sylvia through the narrow, dusty paths of the marketplace, her bare feet kicking up small clouds of dirt with each reluctant step. Her nude body was a beacon in the sea of dark-skinned locals. She clutched the pitiful scrap of a skirt in one hand, a reminder of the last vestige of modesty she’d had. Her voluptuous breasts bounced slightly with each step, her curvaceous hips swaying as her legs moved in slow, hesitant strides. Her other hand, trembling, her arms reaching back, was pressed desperately between her plump buttocks, trying in vain to hide the flashing butt plug lodged inside her. The soft vibrations from the plug hummed against her insides, sending small jolts of discomforting arousal through her body, but it was the flashing light at the base of the plug that filled her with the most dread.

As they approached the food stall, Sylvia’s heart sank even further. The stall was simple and rustic—a rough wooden table covered in mismatched bowls of food, shaded by a sun-bleached yellow tarp strung between poles. A few men sat on stools around the table, eating bowls of porridge, chatting quietly amongst themselves, but their conversation halted abruptly as their eyes landed on Sylvia. Their expressions quickly shifted to intrigue, then amusement, as they openly stared at the naked white woman standing before them.

The owner of the stall, a middle-aged woman with a stern face and rough hands, looked up from her work. Her sharp eyes quickly took in the scene, her gaze narrowing as they landed on Sylvia. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she let out a small scoff, shaking her head in clear disapproval. “What is this?” she demanded, glaring at Omari. “What do you think you’re doing, bringing her here like this? You expect a naked white whore to work here? She’ll scare off my customers!”

Omari, ever calm and smug, shrugged casually. “She won’t scare them off. If anything, she’ll bring in more business. People love the sight of a white woman, especially one as ... well, as naked as she is.” He chuckled softly, glancing over at Sylvia with a knowing grin. “Trust me, auntie, they won’t mind.”

As if on cue, one of the men sitting at the table cleared his throat, drawing the owner’s attention. “We don’t mind at all,” he said with a grin, his eyes lingering shamelessly on Sylvia’s bare body. The other men around the table murmured their agreement, their gazes never leaving her. “In fact, it’s good for business. We’ll come by more often if she’s around,” another added, his voice thick with amusement.

The owner scowled, clearly unimpressed with the situation but also not willing to argue against her customers. She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression hard. “Fine,” she muttered. “But she better not disrupt anything, and she’ll need to clean up around here.”

Meanwhile, Sylvia stood frozen in place, her body trembling with a mixture of humiliation and dread. Her full breasts rose and fell with each shaky breath, her large, soft form exposed to the elements and the eyes of the market. She felt as though her skin was burning under the scrutiny of the men at the table, each of them drinking in her voluptuous curves and nakedness without any shame. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, but there was nowhere to go, no way out of this.

Her face burned as she fought the urge to cry. Her hand remained pressed against her buttocks, trying desperately to conceal the blinking light of the plug, but she knew it was useless. Every time she moved, the light flashed in bright, colorful pulses, a visual beacon of her humiliation. Her body vibrated faintly with the low hum of the toy inside her, a constant reminder of Omari’s control. The rag in her hand felt like a cruel joke, too small and insignificant to offer any real coverage, but it was the only thing she had to hold onto.

Her posture was slouched, her head hanging low as she avoided eye contact with the men who openly ogled her. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, and her legs felt like they might give out beneath her at any moment. She couldn’t stop the flush of shame that crawled up her neck, making her skin tingle as the reality of her situation weighed down on her. She was stuck here, naked and humiliated, with no choice but to serve and clean for the very people who were reveling in her degradation.

Sylvia stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her humiliation pressing down on her like a physical force. Her naked body felt exposed in ways she had never imagined possible, but Omari’s indifferent gaze and the impatient glances from the men seated at the table forced her into action. There was no escape. With trembling hands, she clutched the rag and began to move, slowly at first, her bare feet barely making a sound as she padded across the dusty ground.

Omari took a seat at one of the stools next to a family he seemed to know. He greeted them casually, exchanging pleasantries as though nothing unusual was happening, as though a naked white woman serving food was a completely normal occurrence. His laughter mixed with the idle chatter of the market, and Sylvia could hear it even as she tried to block everything out, focusing only on the tasks ahead.

Her first task was to clean the table, where half-eaten bowls of food and scattered crumbs lay. Sylvia approached the table timidly, her large breasts swaying heavily with every hesitant step. She could feel the eyes of the men on her, watching her every move with a hungry intensity that made her skin crawl. Her hand, still instinctively covering the flashing butt plug nestled between her buttocks, moved slowly, her body stiff with shame.

As she bent over to clean the table, the men took the opportunity to reach out. A hand grazed her plump buttocks, squeezing lightly before slipping away as though it were nothing more than casual touch. Sylvia tensed, a shudder running through her body, but she didn’t dare speak. She didn’t dare react. Her hand gripped the rag tightly, her knuckles white as she scrubbed the table in silence, trying to focus on the task and not the groping fingers. She felt another hand, rough and calloused, brush against her breast, pinching lightly before pulling away. A hot flush of shame rose in her cheeks, but she bit her lip, knowing better than to resist too much. She couldn’t afford to offend any of the customers.

Sylvia’s heart raced as she finished wiping the table and gathered the dirty dishes in her arms, balancing them awkwardly as she turned and headed inside the tent. The soft vibrations of the plug were a constant reminder of her vulnerability, and the light blinked rhythmically as she walked, her other hand still awkwardly cupped over her buttocks in a feeble attempt to shield the flashing glow.

Inside the tent, the air was hot and suffocating, filled with the smell of cooking food. She placed the dirty dishes down and hurried to the garbage drum nearby, tossing the discarded scraps inside. Her mind raced, barely able to process the constant stream of humiliation. It was as though her body moved on autopilot, carrying out the menial tasks without her consent, her mind too overwhelmed to do anything else. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. She was simply a vessel of shame, moving from one task to the next.

When she returned outside with more food to serve, the groping resumed. This time, a man grabbed her crotch as she passed by, his fingers pressing against the sensitive skin between her thighs. She flinched, a soft whimper escaping her lips before she could stop it, but still, she said nothing. Her hand shook as she placed the bowls of food on the table, her body trembling with every step. Another hand reached out to cup her breast, squeezing it firmly before letting go, and Sylvia swallowed hard, her throat dry as she forced herself to endure it.

She couldn’t fight back, couldn’t bring herself to speak up. The fear of what Omari might do if she resisted was too strong, and her naturally shy, submissive demeanor left her powerless. She could only endure, her body stiff with tension as the hands of the men wandered over her, touching her as if she were a piece of meat.

With every touch, every squeeze, Sylvia’s shame deepened, but there was no escape. This was her reality now—naked, groped, and humiliated in front of everyone. She kept her head down, her long hair falling forward to hide her flushed face, and continued working, trying her best to block out the leering eyes and wandering hands that seemed to claim her as their own.

Sylvia continued her humiliating work, her body moving on autopilot as she cleared tables and brought out food. Each trip to and from the tent was marked by groping hands—new customers eager to cop a feel of the naked white woman working as a server and cleaner. Some of the men who had already touched her took every opportunity to do so again, squeezing her breasts, grabbing her buttocks, and even brushing their hands between her thighs as she passed. Each touch felt like a new wave of shame crashing over her, but she said nothing. She kept her head down, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing as she endured it.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as Sylvia worked under the harsh gaze of the marketplace. The soft buzz of the butt plug inside her was a constant, humiliating reminder of Omari’s control, and the flashing light at its base blinked rhythmically, adding another layer of shame to her already unbearable situation. She had tried her best to cover the light with her hand, but with her arms constantly occupied by cleaning and serving, there was little she could do.

Eventually, however, the absurdity of the situation—of a naked white woman working as a server—gave way to something even more absurd. It took a while for anyone to notice, or perhaps, they noticed but was too busy, too occupied with groping, but when finally someone spoke up, the laughter that followed was deafening.

“What’s that light blinking between her fat ass?” someone finally said, their voice loud and mocking. Sylvia froze, her breath catching in her throat as her worst fear came true.

A new family of four had sat down at one of the tables, and the father of the family leaned forward, squinting as if to get a better look. “Ya, there’s a light shining out of her asshole!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and amusement.

The marketplace erupted into laughter. People from nearby tables turned to look, their eyes locking onto Sylvia’s trembling form as the light continued to blink from between her buttocks. The laughter grew louder, more raucous, as everyone around her realized the absurdity of the scene.

Sylvia’s heart pounded in her chest, her face burning with shame. Her entire body felt hot and exposed, as if the very earth had conspired to make her suffering worse. She could feel every pair of eyes on her—each one taking in the humiliating sight of the flashing light, each one laughing at her degradation. Her throat tightened, her vision blurred with unshed tears, but still, she did nothing. She couldn’t do anything.

Omari, sitting comfortably among his acquaintances, looked over at her, clearly amused. He had been waiting for this. With a casual chuckle, he said, “Oh well ... Miss. Sylvia, it looks like people want to know what you’ve got in your ass.”

Sylvia’s stomach twisted in knots. Dread washed over her, heavier than before, and her knees trembled beneath her. She knew where this was going. She could feel it deep in her gut, the inevitable humiliation that Omari was about to make her endure.

“Why don’t you climb up on this table right here?” Omari said, pointing to the empty table next to his. His tone was light, almost playful, but Sylvia could hear the underlying command in his voice.

“Please, Omari ... don’t do this...” Sylvia’s voice was small, barely audible over the noise of the market. She felt like a child begging for mercy, but she knew her pleas would fall on deaf ears.

Omari chuckled, his grin widening. “Remember the choice you made?” he asked, his tone mocking. “Get up, or I’ll go for the other option.”

The “other option” hung in the air like a threat. Omari’s absurd logic—that she had somehow “chosen” the butt plug over thirty public pussy whacks—loomed over her. It had never been a real choice. But Sylvia knew better than to resist now. There was no point. The consequences of defying Omari were far worse than the humiliation she was already enduring. Reluctantly, her legs shaking, Sylvia stepped forward.

She walked toward the table, her steps slow and hesitant, every eye in the marketplace now fixed on her. The laughter had died down to a tense anticipation, the crowd waiting to see what she would do. Her heart raced as she reached the edge of the table and climbed up, her body trembling as she stood atop the wooden surface.

Sylvia stood on the table, her voluptuous body fully exposed, her pale skin gleaming under the hot sun. Her breasts, large and full, jiggled slightly as she shifted uncomfortably, her wide hips drawing the attention of everyone in the crowd. Her curves, once a source of quiet pride, now felt like a burden—too prominent, too noticeable. She felt like a statue on display, every inch of her body scrutinized by the marketgoers.

Her hands moved instinctively to cover herself, one hand desperately reaching behind her to cover the blinking plug lodged between her buttocks, while the other hand covered her crotch. Her fingers trembled as they pressed against her skin, trying in vain to hide the flashing light, but it was no use. The light continued to pulse, glowing between her fingers, betraying her efforts to shield herself.

The marketplace was filled with a quiet murmur as people pointed and whispered, their eyes never leaving Sylvia’s trembling form. The sight of a naked, voluptuous white woman standing on top of a table, clutching herself in a feeble attempt to preserve her dignity, was too much for them to ignore. Sylvia’s shame was palpable, her humiliation so intense that she could barely stand upright. Her body trembled with every breath, her legs weak beneath her as the weight of the moment pressed down on her.

Her tears threatened to spill over. She stood there, trapped in her shame, knowing that the worst was yet to come.

The command that came from Omari was like a dagger to Sylvia’s chest. She could feel the air being sucked from her lungs, her body freezing in place as the weight of his words settled over her like an unbearable weight.

“Miss. Sylvia, bend over, spread your buttocks, and show them what you’ve got in your ass.”

It was an unthinkable command. Sylvia’s vision blurred as panic surged through her veins. Her legs trembled beneath her, threatening to buckle at the sheer horror of what he was asking. The marketplace, filled with murmurs and whispers, seemed to fade in and out of focus, the world closing in on her as she tried to process the cruelty of the moment.

“Please...” Sylvia choked out, her voice barely audible, trembling with desperation. Her hands instinctively moved to cover herself even more, but it was pointless. Her mind swirled in chaos, grasping at anything—any excuse, any plea that might make him relent. “Please, Omari ... don’t make me...”

Tears streamed down her face now, uncontrollable, her body shaking as sobs wracked her chest. Her humiliation was already unbearable—naked on a table in the middle of a bustling marketplace with everyone staring at her, and now this?

Omari, however, was unmoved. He leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he reminded her in a low, almost teasing voice. “Didn’t you say you wanted the butt plug in your ass, or did you not?”

Sylvia’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she could barely hear his words. “Please...” she whimpered, hoping that somehow this time he would let her off, that he would grant her some mercy. But deep down, she knew there would be none.

Omari’s tone shifted from casual to commanding, his voice sharper. “Answer me, please. English teacher, I expect full sentences. Now, Snowflake.”

The use of that nickname—Snowflake—sent an icy chill down her spine. It was a signal, a warning that his patience was running thin. She had heard it before, just before he inflicted some punishment on her. Her entire body tensed as she realized there was no escaping it. No more room for pleading or begging. She knew what would come next if she didn’t comply—something far worse than she had already endured.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her face burning with shame as she fought to find her voice. “Y ... yes...” she finally managed to stammer, her throat so tight it hurt to speak.

Omari raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied. “Yes what?” he asked, his tone filled with mocking amusement. He was enjoying this, dragging out her humiliation as much as possible.

Sylvia swallowed hard, her entire body trembling. “Y ... yes, I wa ... wanted the b-b-butt plug inside my ... my ... anus...” She stuttered over the words, her humiliation so deep that it was hard to even breathe. The words came out broken, each syllable feeling like it was tearing her apart inside.

There was an audible gasp from the crowd, the noise spreading like wildfire through the marketplace. People whispered amongst themselves, their shock evident.

“She wanted that?” one voice rang out, incredulous.

“What a filthy whore!” another voice sneered. “She’s disgusting!”

Sylvia could hear their words, every insult and cruel comment sinking into her skin like thorns. She sobbed softly, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold herself together, her hands still attempting to cover herself in vain. But the insults kept coming.

“Shame on you!” a woman’s voice shouted from somewhere in the crowd.

“What kind of pervert is she?” another added.

Omari wasn’t done. He watched the scene unfold, satisfaction clear on his face, before leaning forward again with that same cold grin. “Okay, Miss. Sylvia. Now, bend over and spread your buttocks. Show everyone what you love so much.”

Sylvia’s body went rigid. If she had thought it couldn’t get any worse, she had been horribly mistaken. The idea of doing what he asked—bending over, exposing herself completely—was beyond anything she could have imagined. Her mind rebelled at the thought, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might pass out.

Omari wasn’t going to let her off easily. He turned to the crowd, his voice loud and clear for everyone to hear. “Everyone, Miss. Sylvia here likes to play shy, pretending she’s innocent. But the truth is, not only does she like her butt plug, she loves to show off her asshole by bending over and spreading her buttocks. In fact,” he continued with a cruel smirk, “she did it last night in her cabin, right in front of me and my friend.”

The crowd gasped again, louder this time, their shock and disbelief palpable. All eyes were on Sylvia, her shame and humiliation laid bare for everyone to witness.

Omari wasn’t done tormenting her. “Did you or did you not do that, Miss. Sylvia?” he asked, his voice carrying over the whispers and murmurs of the crowd.

Sylvia’s legs felt weak, her entire body trembling as she stood there, completely exposed to the cruelty of the world around her. She didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but she knew she had no choice.

“Y ... yes...” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“Yes what?” Omari snapped, his patience running thin. “Next time you don’t answer in full sentences, I’m gonna get mad. Do you believe this woman? How can she call herself an English teacher?” He glanced at the crowd, raising his eyebrows in mock disbelief.

Sylvia swallowed back a sob, her voice barely above a whisper as she forced herself to answer. “Y ... yes, I di ... did bend over and sprea ... spread my bu ... buttocks ... for ... you ... and your friend...”

The crowd erupted in loud gasps, some covering their mouths in shock. The whispers turned into sneers and rude comments, the people around her now openly mocking her.

“What a slut!”

“She’s even more filthier than I thought!”

“I can’t believe she’s a teacher!”

Sylvia’s heart broke with every word. She could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on her like a physical force. Tears streamed down her face as she stood there, weeping openly now, her body trembling from the shame and humiliation she could never escape.

Omari’s voice cut through the air like a slow, deliberate blade, slicing away at what little remained of Sylvia’s dignity. He leaned forward slightly, his tone calm, almost coaxing, but dripping with cruel amusement.

“Now, I say for the last time, Snowflake. I mean, Miss Sylvia, please bend over and spread your ass. Show all these people who are wondering why light shines out of your asshole. Show them what you’ve got there, between your fat white ass.” He spoke each word with excruciating slowness, drawing out the syllables, savoring the moment.

Sylvia stood frozen, her body trembling violently. She felt like a leaf in the wind, shaking uncontrollably as if the weight of the shame might tear her apart. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurred by the constant stream of tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. The laughter and jeers of the crowd grew louder, their curiosity turning to cruel anticipation as they waited to see how far she would be pushed. Her body, pale and exposed, was already a spectacle—her curves, her large breasts, her wide hips all laid bare for the crowd. But now, Omari wanted more. He wanted complete degradation.

Sylvia’s knees buckled slightly as she hesitated, her entire body screaming in protest. But she knew she had no choice. Every part of her wanted to collapse, to curl into herself and disappear from the cruel eyes watching her, but that wasn’t an option. Omari’s command echoed in her ears, and the fear of what he might do if she didn’t obey was stronger than the urge to resist.

Slowly, painfully, Sylvia began to bend over, her body shaking with each agonizing movement. The humiliation made her stomach twist, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, thudding so loudly she thought it might burst. Her knees wobbled as she leaned forward, the weight of her large breasts pulling down as she bent more and more, gravity taking hold as her body succumbed to Omari’s command. Her breasts hung heavily, swaying slightly as she bent at almost a 90-degree angle, her long hair falling forward like a curtain, offering no shield from the gazes that burned into her exposed flesh.

“More,” Omari’s voice came again, sharp and commanding.

Sylvia’s entire body tensed as she forced herself to comply, bending lower until her back was nearly parallel with the ground, her large breasts hanging freely beneath her, the soft flesh swaying with each trembling movement. Her mind was a whirlwind of shame and terror, every nerve in her body screaming in protest, but still, she bent, her body moving against her will.

Then came the final command—the one she had dreaded most. “Now, reach back and spread your fat ass,” Omari said, his tone dripping with cruelty.

Sylvia let out a small, broken sob as the reality of what she had to do settled in. Her body shook violently, her mind reeling in disbelief that this was happening, that she was being forced to expose herself in such a degrading way. But she had no choice. The fear of disobeying Omari in front of the crowd, of being punished even further, was too great.

With shaking hands, Sylvia slowly reached behind her. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably as they moved toward her buttocks, her entire body stiffening with every inch closer. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, her sobs quiet but heart-wrenching as she moved her hands to grasp the soft flesh of her plump buttocks. The weight of the humiliation made her head spin, and she felt as though she might faint, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

The crowd fell into a tense silence as Sylvia reached back and, with trembling fingers, spread her buttocks apart. Her pale, alabaster skin stretched as her hands gripped her flesh, pulling it apart to reveal the humiliating glow of the butt plug nestled inside her. The colorful lights blinked rhythmically, casting an almost surreal glow against her skin, illuminating the most intimate part of her body for all to see. The light blinked steadily from between her spread cheeks, casting small pulses of color against her white skin, the plug now fully visible to the crowd.

Gasps of disbelief rippled through the marketplace as people leaned in, their eyes widening in shock and amusement. They had never seen anything like this—a naked white woman, bent over, spreading her own buttocks, revealing a glowing plug that flashed brightly from inside her. The scene was beyond anything they could have imagined, and their reactions were immediate.

“Look at that! She’s got a light in her ass!” someone yelled, their voice thick with amusement.

“Disgusting! What kind of pervert does this?”

“She’s filthy!” another voice called out, laughing harshly.

More cruel comments followed, echoing around her, the words cutting into her like a thousand tiny blades. “She’s loving this! What a whore!” someone sneered, while another woman shouted, “Shame on you! I can’t believe this is happening in public!”

Sylvia’s vision swam as the shame overwhelmed her. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she stood bent over, her hands still holding her spread buttocks apart, the light flashing out for all to see. The humiliation was so intense that she felt lightheaded, her legs threatening to give way beneath her. Her heart raced, and she could barely breathe through the sobs that wracked her chest.

She wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but here, exposed and degraded in the worst possible way. Every fiber of her being screamed for this to end, for some kind of mercy, but there was none. The crowd watched her with mocking smiles, their eyes glued to her exposed form, taking in every moment of her humiliation. She had never felt so powerless, so utterly destroyed.

The weight of the humiliation was crushing, pressing down on her with every passing second, and Sylvia felt as though she might collapse from the sheer force of it. Her sobs grew louder as she remained bent over, her body shaking with each ragged breath, her mind spinning with disbelief and despair.

Sylvia stood frozen in her bent-over position, her hands gripping her own buttocks, trembling violently as she kept them spread apart. Her entire body was shaking, her heart hammering in her chest as she waited desperately for Omari to give her the command to stop, to release herself and get down from the table. Her muscles ached from the strain, her legs weak and wobbly, but she held her position, terrified of what might happen if she moved without permission.

The moments stretched on painfully, the weight of her exposed position growing unbearable with every passing second. She could hear the murmurs and whispers from the crowd behind her, the laughter and mocking comments swirling around her, making her feel small, like a spectacle, not a person.

But Omari wasn’t finished with her humiliation. As a few people seated in front of her began to shift, trying to get a better view of the scene unfolding behind her, Omari’s voice rang out, dripping with casual authority.

“Oh, please, remain seated,” he called out to the crowd, his voice loud and clear. “We don’t want to disturb your meal, do we, Miss Sylvia?”

Sylvia’s breath caught in her throat. No ... no, please, she thought, her body stiffening in panic. She was already shaking, her legs barely able to hold her up, and now ... now he wanted her to continue?

Omari’s tone was smooth, almost mocking as he continued, “Go ahead, Snowflake. Slowly turn around. Don’t move, though—keep your ass spread. Just slowly ... turn.”

The horror of what he was asking hit Sylvia like a sledgehammer. He wanted her to turn? In front of everyone? While still keeping her buttocks spread wide? The very thought made her stomach twist in knots, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. She could barely breathe, her throat tight with the weight of the shame and fear that gripped her.

Tears streamed down her face as she let out a broken sob, her body trembling violently as she struggled to keep herself steady. She could feel every eye on her, every gaze boring into her exposed flesh, waiting for her to make the next move. The pressure was unbearable, but she knew she had no choice. Omari’s words echoed in her mind, and the unspoken threat was clear—if she didn’t do as he commanded, things would only get worse.

Her sobs grew louder, her chest heaving with each painful breath as she slowly began to turn, her body moving with excruciating slowness. Her hands remained firmly in place, still gripping her own flesh, pulling her buttocks apart as she twisted awkwardly on the table. The strain on her muscles was immense, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she turned, each movement making her feel more and more exposed.