Eolake Stobblehouse
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Letters To DOMAI

"How much more flattering can anything be than for someone to tell you they really want to see your body?"

Dear Eolake,
 
I have only recently come across your site and I just wanted to say how much I love it – and its naughtier, kitty-rich sister too, of course!
 
I’m not entirely sure if you want to hear from a female perspective, but having read a few of the heart-warming stories from your other readers, I thought I’d share my first domai-moment with you, in case you’re interested.
 
I’m a writer (not a very successful one in sales terms, but I pay the rent!) so I suppose you might say I move in fairly bohemian circles, or at least what passes for them in this part of Britain.  I’ve never been particularly shy about my body, so nude beaches on holidays and the pursuit of an all-over tan at home (sometimes with friends)  isn’t a big deal to me and I’ve even did a spot of photographic modelling for a (male) friend-of-a-(girl) friend once. None of this was to bring me to what I would call my own domai-moment, however.
 
That happened when I posed for another girl friend – an artist who does illustrations for book and CD covers.  To cut a long story short, I was broke, having maxed out my credit card on all sorts of things a girl just has to have, but actually doesn’t need, principally shoes and clothes.  It was a rush job to a tight deadline and Andie was offering an obscenely large amount of money, so of course I said “yes”.  Aside from her insistence that I shave – completely - the posing itself wasn’t anything unusual and it wasn’t actually my “moment”; we had skinny dipped together many times, so I didn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before, although never quite so baldly as it was on show now! 
 
The domai moment came months later, at the book launch; she had wangled me an invitation and the publishers had even paid the cost of a first class train trip to London and a hotel, so how could I refuse? Besides, there was all that champagne; it was my duty to come.
 
There is something distinctly weird, however, seeing your own naked body 12-feet high on a giant mock-up of a dust-jacket; weird, but at the same time, rather wickedly fun.  And then there were all those people, wandering around.  I have to admit, I did derive a certain lascivious pleasure watching the moment when realisation dawned in their eyes, and the glance went first to me, then to the image and then back to me.  I loved it when they made the connection, and stared. 
 
A few hours later, as the party had pretty much wound down and only a few die-hards were left, I couldn’t help but notice that almost all of the ones who had smiled the most at me were still amongst them.  When I eventually caught up with Andie, she was busily chatting away with the book’s author – Dan –  a delightfully handsome young man, a few years older than both of us, who asked me “ so is that really you?  My friends and I were wondering if Andie had been using her artistic licence.” 
 
“Oh sure, that’s all me,” I replied.
 
“Honestly?”
 
“Honestly,” I assured him – enjoying the slight tingle of electricity I was beginning to feel between us.
 
“Prove it!”  The voice wasn’t his.  It had come from behind me and it was unmistakably female.
 
I look around; it was one of Dan’s friends – the one who had been giving me the largest and sweetest of smiles all evening. 
 
“Pardon?” I said.
 
“Prove it – if it really is you.  I dare you.”
 
Now, it may be my Welsh blood, but I just can’t let a dare go by; I don’t think it’s in my DNA.  I weighed up my options; I could laugh it off; I could play it all huffy and offended, or I could just give her what she wanted.  After all, they’d pretty much seen it all anyway – at least in Andie’s pretty authentic facsimile – and I wouldn’t be likely to meet any of them ever again.  I thought about it for all of a nano-second.  How much more flattering can anything be than for someone to tell you they really want to see your body?
 
“OK,” I said, just a little louder than I had intended.  I swear I heard a slight gasp from someone as I put down my glass and pulled my dress off, over my head.  My boobs are, I think, rather disappointingly small, which means I almost never wear a bra – so in that instant I was standing in front of them all, in nothing but my shoes and knickers.  I couldn’t help but notice that Dan was beaming but I knew I had to go all the way, now I’d started.
 
Looking Pam, my original inquisitor, fully in the face, I stepped out of my heels, and peeled off my panties – and was rewarded with another little gasp as she realised that my ‘kitty’ was still as naked as the day Andie had painted it.
 
It was the very first time I had ever been the only naked person in an otherwise fully clothed  social gathering – and if Andie hadn’t been there, I probably wouldn’t have felt safe doing it, but I’m awfully glad I did.  I wouldn’t have missed the buzz of for anything – so if there are any other reluctant Domai women reading this, take it from me, there’s nothing quite like sharing the sight of your body as nature intended it with someone who really wants to see it – even if you’ve never met them before!

- C.W.

"The young women portrayed are absolutely beautiful, tasteful and honor the beauty of the female form. [...] The membership, affordable -- the images... outstanding. It is truly rewarding to find a site that treats women with dignity and respect. Each time I view your offerings, I sit back in awe of the beauty of a woman, and the artists that captures it on film." - Respectfully, R. J. Pine

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