My husband is in complete control of my body. He decides what I will wear, how I will groom myself, and who I will fuck. I love it that someone who loves me has complete mastery of my physical being.

It is quite liberating, but terribly embarrassing at times. There are situations when I wish he would let me dress more modestly, but I love it that this lifestyle choice really turns him on. He knows that forcing me to wear a tiny top that exposes my breasts a bit, or lets my nipples pop out “accidentally” is very humiliating for me. But also is very exciting. He has forbidden me to wear any undergarments. I no longer own a bra. He wants me to jiggle when I walk. He wants to see my nipples harden when I get aroused or excited. I have to wear thin, clingy shirts that perfectly follow the contours of my breasts. I do have lovely tits and secretly enjoy showing them off, but it is still very distressing to me for my nipples to get hard in inappropriate moments or around the wrong people. But my husband delights in that. So, I encourage him to “make” me wear revealing tops He also has forbidden me from wearing any panties. About the time when thong panties first became popular is when he started controlling my clothing choices. He had me wear thong panties and get rid of all my others. I didn’t mind because the thong fabric was stretchy and comfy. I loved the way they snuggled up next to my pussy lips. When I walked, they would just slightly pull against my clit, giving me a tiny bit of stimulation. I would sometimes be on the verge of a orgasm just from walking from the taxi to the office. I loved my thongs. But eventually my hubby decided that they were too restrictive. He wanted to have full access to my pussy whenever he wanted. And he wanted me to constantly be aware that my chooch could be exposed if a breeze lifted up my dress. It is a thrill for him to see the occasions where I accidentally show the world my bare cunt. I don’t have to shave it since Hubby had me get all my pubic hair lasered off. So, I am always bare and smooth and not hidden behind a thick bush of pubic hair.

So, you now have the background information about me and my husband. Therefore, it should be no surprise to hear that my husband signed me up to be a nude model in a body painting exhibition. When he told me, I was shocked. It is one thing to wear clothing in public that is a bit too scanty, or I expose myself accidentally, but this is a completely different matter. These nude models for the body painting are just that ... completely nude, right out in public. I was aghast at the thought of going downtown where this event was to be held, and be totally naked for the entire world to see. I knew that my husband could not be able to resist telling all his buddies about it and they would see me in all my naked glory. I was petrified, yet secretly excited about it.

The day came for the event. We drove downtown to the market center where all such events are held. It was a beautiful spring day. Cool and dry and perfect. The closer we got to the venue, the harder my heart pounded. I was nervous about stripping down to nothing in front of strangers, but more concerned about being naked in front of our friends. I knew they would all be there, since my hubby did not make a secret of it around them. No one could believe I would do it, but they all wanted to see for themselves. I know why our male friends wanted to be there, but the women in our circle of acquaintances did too. I think they were hoping I would chicken out.

I signed in and was assigned an artist. It was a man. I secretly wanted a man to paint my privates. The artist was instantly happy to meet me. He told me I was beautiful and would make an excellent model. We found the designated spot for him to work on me which was right on the edge of where the spectators were standing. I was on a short platform, wearing a thin robe. When he was ready, he asked me to remove the robe. Here was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath, then slowly undid the sash, and let the garment fall from my shoulders. My heart was pounding. My nipples were rock hard. I was dying to cover up and race out of there, but I fought the urge. I was totally nude for the world to see.

The artist was speechless. I don’t know what he expected but I could tell he was happy with my body. He stammered a bit, then regained his composure and picked up his brush. He asked me to stand with my legs spread apart so he could study his “subject”. His face was right at pussy level with me so he saw every tiny detail of my womanhood. He stood and began to apply paint to my upper chest. My nipples were at full attention as the brush tip danced over my areolas. It felt exquisite. All that time going braless has helped my breasts develop muscle support, so they were standing up well against my chest.