Version 3.4 of my Omnibus is up!

As always, my linktree is the best place to find links to all my work.

You can access my Omnibus here - Warning, it now only downloads the HTML file. Just open it in the browser of your choice and it will work exactly as it did before as everything is self-contained in one file.

Anything tagged with an * cannot be found on Reddit.

Version 3.4
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
*Welcome to the family (Read the tags)

Version 3.3
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
*The breaking of the Batgirl (Added chapter 2)
*The Truth (extensive update)
*How I started online (extensive update)
She knew who she was

Version 3.2
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
It wasn't supposed to be like that
The breaking of the Batgirl

Bare - A true and personal story

From the beginning, they wanted me bare. Almost everyone one of them wanted to see a slick, smooth pussy without a trace of hair on it. Even my peach fuzz needed to be gone. Only then, did I get their approval. What's funny, at the time, I mostly thought it was because that's how most of the women in porn were. At first, I didn't realize there were other reasons that they liked it like that. How it changed how they visualized me in their head. I felt mature and grown because I thought they were seeing a porn star in their head. I was their porn star. But really, I was something else to them.

Not that all of them pushed it. Mostly, the men just wanted to see me naked on their screens. Some politely asked and some demanded. Both strategies were likely to work with me. They used sweet words and cruel. Some of them made me feel like the most special and grown-up girl on Earth. Others tore me down and left me sobbing. But all of them wanted me naked.

It's probably why it's so natural for me now; nudity is just another facet of my life. I only think about it when I go out. The only clothing I need is my collar, a plug, and heels. Then I'm fully dressed and ready for the world. Because that was what they wanted then as well as what I want now.

And it was exciting, to show myself, to get praise. It was so easy. Lift up my t-shirt, let them see my tits, and they liked me. Part my legs, pull my panties to the side, and they loved me. It was intoxicating. People who haven't had to fight to feel worth something or good enough have no idea how addicting that feeling can be. And all I had to do was undress for them. Easiest fix in the world. I'd watch their cocks grow hard as they lusted after my body. Another hit of validation that made me desperate to do more.

Of course, the nudity wasn't enough. They always wanted more as well. More suggestions on how to look, how to dress, what to do, and what they wanted to see. Some wanted close-ups of my mouth. My tongue sticking out, drooling, as they called me a good little cunt. That word still stung then, but all I truly heard was "Good". I stole lipstick, makeup, whatever they recommended for me to make myself prettier for them. I bought some too, but it was expensive and I couldn't ask my parents for the money. I'd never used much makeup, both not allowed and didn't care about it. But I did then for them. Bright reds, pinks, even blues and blacks for my lips. Blush, even painting my nails in secret. Mostly, they wanted red or pink. I didn't realize the difference then. Red made me look sluttier. Pink made me look fresher.

Clothes, I couldn't do much about. I bought a thong and a lacey bra and hid them away. But I didn't have much variety there. They didn't care. They wanted to see the soft skin, not the clothes. Sometimes, I did my hair up in pony or pigtails. Again, I was oblivious. I'd seen enough porn to know that pigtails could be "handlebars". Rarely did it click that it was another way to see me differently. I didn't know of concepts like dressing someone up to dress them down. I only understood how makeup and clothes could make me look older. The opposite didn't occur to me at the time.

And they constantly badgered me for my face, for specific details about my life. Sometimes, I stupidly said things I shouldn't have. Usually, I didn't.  But as time went on, I wanted more attention. I wanted to give them everything they wanted. My rule about my face went out of the window. They praised me for my smiles and pouts, biting my lip, seeing it quiver as I came. They didn't know I practiced in the mirror, in the hopes of making them happier. I let them see me fully so they could direct me and control me. I read what they wanted me to read. I watched what they wanted me to watch. I looked at all the images they sent me and touched myself to them. Most of the time, they were on there, watching me watch or read their perversions as I perverted myself. They loved when I got off to something they sent me. They loved when it bothered me and made me cry. They were the most excited when I did both.

And even then, I didn't realize what they were doing. Pink lipstick, pink nails, freshly shaved, naked, and touching myself. Grooming me? Conditioning me? Probably. I didn't care. They loved everything I did. I was their dirty little girl and they were my dirty little secret. Perversely, we needed each other. I found a side of myself, a taste of freedom, that I had never experienced before. They got to spend time with someone, good or bad, who wasn't going to report them. A dark symbiotic, or perhaps parasitic, bond between those strangers and myself.

I learned how to use baby oil to soften my skin after showers from them. What smiles were coy and what ones were teasing. I learned to laugh at myself, at their jokes, and how to sexually keep up with their banter. They taught me so many lessons and trained me. Showed me truths I didn't know existed and cravings I didn't think were possible. I had lived in a black and white world and now I was seeing colors I didn't know existed. I learned the smell of my sex, the taste of it, of a wet pussy, a fingered ass, the stink of a sweaty orgasm.

And it all goes back to that spot, between my legs. A decade without hair there. Once shaved, now regularly and professionally waxed. If I see an errant hair, it's plucked and removed. I can't imagine it any other way. The shape may change. My hood was pierced. My labia looks different from those early days. So much stretchier than the tightness I once had. But I'll always be perfectly smooth. I don't mind hairy cunts, but if mine had hair, it would feel wrong. It's not how I'm supposed to be for them, or him.

Skin soft, silky, unblemished. The only blemishes now are those given by hand or fist or belt. Smiling in the way I knew they liked it best. Biting my lip, parting my legs so they can see my worth. Validated, valued, dripping wet, as we touched ourselves. How they saw me then, how they see me now, it's still the same. These days, I'm just holding my stuffy, a paci in my mouth, dressed in pink outfits that are too small. I'm still being a good little girl. Only now, it's for my Daddy and his friends and they love me.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here -

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