“I’m a hole.”

I thought this to myself as I walked into the museum alone. It was a Saturday afternoon, an art museum in the summertime, the place crowded with culture-seekers enjoying the break from the overheated air.
I bought my ticket, thanked the cashier and walked to the bathroom. I thought it again.

“I’m a hole.”

This was the thought I was to focus on as I completed my assignment, the thought I was to hold in my head as I helplessly orgasmed as silently as I could in a quiet public place. I only cum when you tell me to cum. When and how and what to hold in my mind as I do, that’s all under your control now. I pull the Bluetooth vibe out of my purse and wiggle it into my already embarrassingly drippy cunt. I push the button to turn it on and adjust the settings on the app, suppressing my moan. The vibration is audible in the quiet bathroom, but if I keep my legs close together you can barely hear it. I tell myself that anyone who heard would probably just attribute it to someone’s phone receiving calls from someone very insistent.

I adjust my clothing and head out into the museum, breathing carefully, walking slowly, pretending to be thoroughly absorbed in my surroundings. I cruise around the special exhibit on the first floor looking at the patterns in the aboriginal art on display.

I’m on display.

None of these people know it, but I am. I’m on display for you even though you’re not here to see it. The pleasure from the vibrator washes over me in waves; it’s building. I’m going to need to find a place to sit or stand still to orgasm though, as long as I keep moving I won’t find my way over that edge. I think it again, “I’m a hole,” as I carefully make my way up the long staircase to the modern art exhibit on the second floor.

I see it as I enter the second gallery. It’s perfect. A bright blue neon circle against a white wall hazily reflected in the satin wood floor of the gallery. It’s a hole. I’m a hole. I stop, stand, cross my legs, and squeeze my thighs together and feel the pleasure build. I stand still, trying to appear lost in contemplation.
The thing about cumming in a crowded public place is that you can’t just relax and cum, you have to be vigilant and casual at the same time, all while blocking off enough of the outside world to be able to stay in the right headspace. It’s complex.  There were people EVERYWHERE. I squeezed my legs together and tried to look casual and not stand out in a way that would make the security guard notice me.

I was just a blonde in a low-cut romper and insensible shoes in quiet contemplation of a neon circle. A hole contemplating a hole. My mind emptying out entirely as I obey your commands. I only cum when you tell me to cum. You only tell me to cum when you’re conditioning me. I love to be conditioned by you. Please condition me, Owner. Empty me, open me, fill me with your words and your ideas, create me over and over again in the image you decide for me.

“I’m a hole,” I thought as my cunt spasmed around the vibe and I tried not to audibly pant or let my knees buckle as the orgasm washes over me. It’s slow, dream-like, the muscles of my entire pelvis contracting in slow waves of silent pleasure as my eyes roll back in my head and my everything empties out and drains away into an eternal moment of perfect vulnerability and exposure.