The Unseen Purpose of Zoom Meetings
Having a job that allowed me to work from home during the pandemic was a blessing at first, but it quickly became a curse. I still had my job, which was a good thing, but the reality was that with many client businesses closed, there was only so much customer service program maintenance to do. Zoom meetings just weren’t the same as exchanging ideas and moving forward with new designs and ideas in person. After three or four weeks, things started to get really boring, really, really boring.
I’d wake up around 8:30, wash my face, brush out my hair, get dressed, and then set up my laptop on the dining room table facing the curtains. At 9:00, the boss would invite us all into a Zoom meeting to “keep everyone in the loop.” After the meeting, I’d work for a couple of hours until I broke for lunch, and then for a couple of hours after lunch.
It wasn’t until after a couple of days that I started suspecting the real purpose of those meetings was to make sure we were up and working and not sleeping all day. I also quickly realized that no one could see me from the waist down, so there was no need to put on a skirt or pull on a pair of sweatpants. A few more days and I didn’t even bother with panties. I sleep nude, and I’m a closet exhibitionist.
Being a closet exhibitionist doesn’t sound like a real thing, but it is. I’d love to go walking down the middle of Main Street at noon wearing nothing but what my momma gave me, but we live in a world where there are cameras everywhere, and ten seconds after I started walking, I’d be posted online in all my glory. And once it’s online, it never goes away.
Most people aren’t stupid enough to post explicit pictures on their own profiles, but HR departments are now starting to use facial recognition searches when vetting someone for a job. I want to be something more than the third member of a programming team someday. I might even want to be the head of an IT department for some big business, and having a picture of me strutting my stuff in the buff would put a big negative on my background search.
“I’ve done some pretty daring things before,” I told myself, thinking about the times I’d worn a relatively short skirt and no panties to work. I didn’t have to worry about it flipping up in the wind because I had a parking place on the second floor of the building I work in. It has to be really windy to get to skirt flipping where I park. One time, I took the enclosed stairway on the outside of the building rather than the elevator, but even if someone looked up at me while I was climbing the four stories to our offices, they couldn’t see anything really clearly through the windows on the stairway. And as far as I know, no one has put out an ass recognition software… yet.”
“Meetings then were in the big conference room,” I thought, remembering the way I’d sit at the table in the middle on the left, pulling my skirt up slightly as I sat down. Then I’d sit there during that whole meeting with my legs spread wide, facing the glass wall and door to the main area. No one could actually see me unless James, the head of IT, and Maria, the number two programmer, stood up for some reason. I don’t know what I would have done if they did. I imagined myself sitting there in shock as everyone who was not in the meeting stared at my cunt. Actually, everyone who wasn’t in the meeting was buried out in the main area in their cubicle, but the thought still caused my juices to flow.”
It was in the middle of the third week that I started thinking about the state park that was right next to the apartment complex where I live. It’s a huge park with miles and miles of hiking trails and a couple of lakes. It’s usually full all summer. If I go out on my balcony, I can often hear people walking through the woods and sometimes even catch a glimpse of them. Some evenings or weekends, I’d slip into the park on a small path that deer have worn between the park and the small grassy area behind our building. You have to know it’s there to even see it, and you have to be used to following deer paths to stay on it.
“What I was really thinking about was an observation tower about a mile into the park,” I thought, remembering the way it stood tall in the trees. It was still labeled an observation tower on the park maps, but you couldn’t see anything from the top of it except the trees that surrounded it. When it was built many years ago, it was probably twenty or even forty feet taller than the forest, but that was many years ago, and forests grow. Now the trees were at least ten feet taller than the tower. With the park closed and no one able to come in the main gates, it was the perfect place for a closet exhibitionist.”
One warm spring day, as soon as our Zoom meeting was over, I shut down my computer and headed for my goodie bag. I’m also a closet bondage freak, and I have several sets of handcuffs and a spreader bar and chrome-plated chains and three different kinds of ball gags and, of course, two high-quality timer locks. I pulled on a pair of jogging shorts and a black t-shirt, but I didn’t bother with bra or panties since everything was coming off as soon as I got to the tower anyway.
“I thought about just walking naked the mile to the tower,” I thought, but a lot of the trail inside the park was visible from the upper floors of the apartment complex, so I waited ’til I was at the base of the tower to strip off. I could have put everything in my goodie bag, but I didn’t want my clothing with me on the tower. So I scrunched up my t-shirt and stuffed it into one of my sneakers. That way it wouldn’t accidentally get blown away or something. I did the same with the shorts in the other shoe, but less of them actually fit in the shoe.”
As I padded naked up the stairway of the tower, carrying my bag, I began wishing that I’d inserted one of my vibrators before I started. At the second turnaround landing for the stairway, I sat down in the wide area and inserted Mister Right.
“I’d never walked with Mister Right in place before,” I thought, remembering the way it started slipping out. I have a harness that’s supposed to keep everything in place, but it really doesn’t work right unless there is a butt plug that it can connect to. I really didn’t want to walk up the rest of the stairs with a butt plug in my ass, but Mister Right had started to get things flowing, and I really wanted him in place, so I got out Big Blue Monster.”
“I was having trouble getting Big Blue in place,” I thought, remembering the way I’d sat down on the second step up from the landing and managed to get him in. It hurt, but in a strange sort of way it was almost like a mini-climax as he pushed in and my asshole snapped closed around the thin neck next to the base. I felt really full and really, really, horny.”
So I stood up, pushed Mister Right back in, got him turned just so, and then strapped the harness in place. The waistband of the harness is intentionally too small to fit around my waist, but there are laces which draw it together in the front. Those laces also fit through a metal grommet on the front of the crotch strap. If I do the laces correctly, I can cinch the waist tight and the crotch strap even tighter. I made things especially snug to keep Mister Right in place and then picked up my goodie bag and continued up the stairs.
I had to stop twice on the way up to let things settle down. Big Blue Monster was really filling me up, and Mister Right was purring right where I wanted him to, and my body really wanted to explode, but it wasn’t time yet. If I gave in too soon, I would usually punish myself, sometimes by spanking myself, sometimes by filling the bathtub totally full of cold water and then forcing myself to stay in it for five or ten minutes. I preferred the spankings. I hate being cold.
“I finally got to the top of the tower,” I thought, remembering the way it stood tall in the trees. I knew that the wooden railings were badly weathered, but the floor, which was about ten feet by ten feet, had recently been repainted. At one time, there had been a roof over the platform, but it was long gone. Four big square posts which had supported the roof, however, were still in place.”
I had big plans for this day. My carefully laid out chains, restraints, and spreader bar were all set up in the tower, awaiting my arrival. I climbed up to the first post and secured the chain in place, locking it with a screw-together link. I did the same for the other post, double-checking to ensure everything was secure. Holding onto the chains, I stood on the platform’s floor to test the length. They were just right – I could barely hold them in my fingertips.
Next, I slipped on my leather cuffs, making sure they were padded properly to avoid any potential damage. I wrapped them around my wrists and ankles, buckling them to the right tightness. I stood on one side and adjusted the chain, checking that it would reach the floor when I put the lock on the seventh link from the end.
With everything in place, I sat down on the platform and activated my timer locks. I double-checked that each lock was set for three hours, knowing that if something went wrong, I could try to override the timer and open the lock. I then closed a lock onto each of my wrist restraints and attached a carabineer clip to each lock, making sure they were secure.
I was almost ready. I picked up my red ball gag, admiring its safety features – several air holes to prevent accidental choking. I held it in my hands for a few moments, savoring the anticipation. Finally, I strapped it in place, the loop-over-and-buckle design making it easy to secure behind my head.
With the spreader bar closed down to 18 inches, I clipped it to one ankle and checked that the swivel and clip were working properly. I then stood next to one of the posts, clipped the bar to the other ankle, and hopped up onto the little shelf. It took a few moments to adjust to standing on the narrow shelf with my feet locked together, but eventually, I found my balance.
The next step was the most challenging – jumping from one post to the other. I had done it before, but with my feet free and one hand unchained. I stood on the shelf, bouncing my knees to work up the courage to jump. Finally, I took the leap, landing on the shelf and grabbing for the chain.
I made it! I was breathing heavily through the holes in the ball gag, my body covered in sweat. I stood there, catching my breath and adjusting the chain to line up the seventh link with the carabineer clip. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air again, my feet hitting the floor and my body bouncing back up. My legs spread wide, and I felt the spreader bar stretch to its limits.
As I came back down, my legs were almost touching the posts, and my arms screamed in pain. But then, things stretched out a little, and my feet were back on the floor. I was in place, and I could finally let myself go and enjoy the orgasm that had been building up.
Just as I was quivering with anticipation, I felt the vibrations of footsteps coming up the stairs. The park was closed, and I had never seen anyone else around the tower. Who was it? I pulled against the chains, but there was nothing I could do.
A man’s voice called out, “Are you okay?” He came running around to where I was hanging, and I couldn’t respond – the ball gag was still in place.
“Oh, I’ve interrupted you, haven’t I?” he said with a smile, eyeing me up and down. He was holding two cameras around his neck, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.
“I was trying to get a good shot of that woodpecker I’ve been hearing,” he explained. “But I didn’t expect anything like this.” He raised his camera, and I screamed through the gag, trying to break free.
“I’ll take that as a refusal to allow photography,” he said with a laugh, digging into his backpack. He pulled out a lightweight cold-weather mask and tied it over my head, covering my face.
“Now you’re properly masked,” he said, adjusting the mask. He raised his camera again, and I felt a sense of panic wash over me.
“I’ll take that as permission to engage in photographic journalism,” he said with a smile, snapping photo after photo. I felt myself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, and when it hit, I shook and bounced in my chains.
As I finally came back to reality, the man was standing in front of me, holding my phone. “Welcome back,” he said. “I was starting to worry about you. Do you often have such extreme orgasms?”
I “umphed” in response, unsure of what to say. He turned my phone to show me the screen, where he had sent me a link to a website where the photos were being posted.
“If you really don’t want me to,” he said softly, “I won’t post them. But I’ll keep them for my own personal enjoyment.” He held up his hands, showing me that my face was hidden from view. “You don’t have any tattoos, scars, or birthmarks that would make you easily identifiable.”
He set down my phone and walked in close, running his finger down my front. “But if you like exposing your body to the world, I’m going to be back up here Thursday looking for more woodpeckers. You can do some freestyle posing or let me use my bag of tricks and see what kind of poses I can come up with.”
As he walked back over to the stairs, he said, “Either way, you can keep the mask. I have several more in assorted colors.” I just hung there, my mind reeling from the encounter.
When the locks finally opened, I was able to free myself and pack up everything. I took off the keeper harness and slid MR out of my cunt, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. But I knew I was in for a long day – I was going to be sore everywhere for a while.
I rushed back down the stairs and found my shoes, shorts, and t-shirt. Then I dashed back to my apartment to look at the pictures on my phone. As soon as I saw them, I knew I had to send an email to him immediately.
I typed my message in all caps, my fingers flying across the keyboard. “BRING A RED MASK! 10:00 THURSDAY!”
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