The Idol Trainee's Secret Exhibitionist Live
"Nnh… My heart's pounding so hard I feel like I'm going to lose my mind…."
Arara replayed the orders Doctor Pleasure had given her.
The message he'd sent over Tuwitter was a demand too filthy to speak aloud. He had clearly already figured out she was an idol trainee, and the way he meant to handle her like some lewd little toy was written all over it.
Her head knew full well that if she kept doing this, only ruin awaited her. And yet—
"It works on the panic disorder even doctors couldn't fix."
Knowing that, she still found herself wanting to obey Doctor Pleasure's filthy methods of treatment — because right now, she felt free of the crushing anxiety that was her panic disorder.
"This is different from just being dirty for the sake of it."
Arara had tried masturbation before. But even mid-act, if her panic disorder flared and flooded her with extreme anxiety and depression, she couldn't focus on the act itself. In other words, mere lewd behavior alone couldn't solve the mental problems her panic disorder caused.
So why, then, did the exact same kind of dirty act make her panic disappear the moment she followed Doctor Pleasure's commands?
"Is it the difference between doing something dirty on my own… and doing something dirty because someone ordered me to…?"
She didn't know. What she did know — and what mattered — was that Doctor Pleasure's treatment worked. No matter how absurd it was, if it could cure her, it was worth trying anything.
Thinking that, Arara slipped off her skirt.
Ssshh.
"This is so embarrassing…."
She checked her surroundings over and over before stripping completely. She knew no one would come at this hour, and still, facing her own naked body in the full-length mirror made shame seize her throat shut.
"Haa… Underwear in the practice room, of all places…."
With trembling hands, Arara fixed her smartphone to a tripod and prepared the stream. It was a private live broadcast — only someone with the link and password could watch.
"What if… the viewer count goes higher than one…?"
He'd promised secrecy, so the only viewer should be Doctor Pleasure. But if there were two or more? Should she stop the dirty broadcast? Or keep going?
"Th-then… I'd have to shut it off fast, right?"
Feeling her heart race faster and faster, Arara started the private live stream.
"Ah… I didn't put on cute underwear today…."
The moment the broadcast began, she suddenly became self-conscious about her lingerie. Since she never expected anyone to see it, the set didn't even match — a complete mess. The bra was red with polka dots; the panties were blue with stripes. Mortifying.
Knock knock knock.
Out of nowhere, a knock sounded at the door.
"Hik!"
She spun around, both hands flying up to cover herself. But there was no sign of anyone at the practice room door. Just in case, she carefully approached, cracked the door open, and peered down the hallway.
Empty.
"Don't tell me… an anomaly…?"
It had been years since anomalies became part of everyday life. Corporations even commercialized their power into products. That didn't mean the chance of falling into an anomaly's ghost story was zero, though. Just because science made travel convenient didn't mean traffic accidents vanished.
Gulp.
Arara ran through every countermeasure she knew for ghost-story encounters, her body starting to shake with fear — and then—
Ding.
"Kyah!"
The sound from behind nearly dropped her to the floor. But thanks to it, she finally realized what that knock had been.
"Ah, right. That was the knock notification when a viewer joins… I'm such an idiot."
Belatedly grasping the source of the earlier sound, she turned back and approached the smartphone. Fortunately, the viewer count was exactly one — and the nickname was Doctor Pleasure.
"Ah, hello, Doctor Pleasure!"
The instant his message appeared, Arara's body gave a sharp jolt. She'd half expected it, but hearing he was actually going to record made fear slam into her chest. And yet, strangely, the worry lasted only a moment — the word recording wrapped her body not in shame, but in a searing rush of pleasure.
This feeling… is it a thrill? Don't tell me I'm… enjoying this?
It was more than a little shocking. Despite how abnormal the situation was, she felt no real resistance. Curiosity outran her fear, and her body itched to commit something outrageous.
Oh my god. Was I… a masochist all along?
Confronting a hidden side of herself for the first time in her life, Arara trembled faintly.
If I really am a masochist, then that means Doctor Pleasure's treatment actually works.
Panic disorder and masochism both lived in the mind. So wouldn't taking pleasure from sexual play hit far harder than simply shaking with anxiety? Maybe this method truly could be a cure. Proof was already in her body — right now, far from anxious, she was flooded with sweet, rising excitement.
Of course it was only a guess with no medical basis. But if it worked, it was more than worth trying.
Having reached her conclusion, Arara fixed the phone at a proper distance so the camera framed her full body.
"Let me introduce myself again, Doctor Pleasure. I'm Choi Ara — your personal patient. A college student and idol trainee. My nickname is Arara."
The moment the introduction ended, Arara clapped twice. Pre-set music burst out, bright and lively.
The me reflected in the mirror, still clumsy for now♪
Gathering little lights, spreading them bigger and bigger~♫
As the familiar idol song filled the room, Arara began to dance. Every hand gesture, every roll of her hips — the timing of it all—
—was completely off the rhythm.
"I-I'm trying…!"
Whether his eyesight was that good or not, Arara checked the chat on the distant phone screen and her face flushed red as a beet. Even so, she didn't stop dancing. The timing was a disaster, but her skill itself was top-tier.
"E-even if I fall, I get back uuup~! My dream never stooops. Leave the fear behiiind~ spread your wings and Fly!!"
"Hiiing…."
She wasn't completely tone-deaf — the problem was that her timing kept drifting in this weird, subtle way. Come to think of it, Arara was the kind of trainee who washed out of every idol debut survival show. The only reason she'd ever held a mid-to-upper ranking was pure goddess-tier looks.
"The singing and dancing are a mixed bag, but damn — that face and body are pure art."
I swallowed dryly, staring at Arara through the big monitor. A live stream existing solely for me. A drop-dead gorgeous beauty in her underwear, dancing on my command. If a man didn't get hard from this, he might as well be castrated.
Which is why I'd gone and paid for the premium live app I never normally touched — just to capture every detail in ultra-high definition. Free maxed out at 720p. Paid unlocked a full 8K. Naturally, I'd told Arara to stream at the highest resolution. So right now, I was archiving an elite-beauty trainee's underwear dance in 8K.
Who knew when her little rebellion might stop? Better record every last second while I still could.
I sent the chat. Without stopping her dance, Arara rolled her eyes to check the message and answered. Her professional instinct was something else.
"It's amazing! I don't feel a single scrap of the anxiety I used to before the panic disorder. Doctor Pleasure, your treatment really works!"
Right. So that was the concept she was using to keep this dirty little detour going. Then I ought to match that perverted taste properly. After all, Arara was basically my precious employer — the one paying me.
"Our little gold-spoon trainee. If I want to keep milking that money long-term, I'd better keep the heat at a manageable level, right?"
So for today, this should be enough.
"……."
That was the plan. But ending it at an underwear dance left me wanting more. So I decided to push the board one last time.
"What?! Ah, ahh… y-yes…!"
Arara's face went scarlet. Straining to keep the dance line intact, she casually unhooked her bra.
Bounce~!
Her liberated, massive breasts swayed as if mocking gravity itself.
"Holy shit. That's insane. This is an absolute keep forever."
Watching those tits dance wildly in time with her movements, my lower half went rock-hard enough to burst. "I want to shove myself between those giant tits and shake them however I want…."
Well. A dream with zero chance of becoming real. No matter how much of a deviant she was for these little thrills, she wasn't about to meet me in person and service my cock.
"Haah, fuck. What a waste. If I could just rail Arara properly one single time, I'd die with no regrets."
On the other side of the screen, Arara kept dancing, her chest bouncing nonstop, and the ache below became nearly unbearable. Nothing I could do about it. Just grit my teeth and endure. Getting paid to watch her on-screen rebellion was already more than enough of a blessing.
"Guess I'll jack one out to this tonight and call it a day."
The thought had barely formed when—
"Last time~♬"
Matching the song's finale, Arara slowly spun — and then, as if it were choreographed, her hands naturally found the panties riding her hips.
"Huh?!"
Lifting one foot, then the other, with a sultry sway, Arara let the panties drop.
"Whoa, what the hell! I didn't even tell her to do that. What a good little girl."
I'd only ordered the bra off, but whether she was drunk on the mood or something else, Arara stripped the panties without a second of hesitation. The meticulously maintained, clean white pussy of an idol trainee was laid bare in full 8K glory.
And in that same instant, I witnessed something incredible.
Plip.
"Huh?"
From between Arara's tightly closed folds, a clear droplet fell. Not just a drop — a thick, viscous liquid stretched like a thread before it snapped free.
"No way… is that… love juice?"
Add the stiff, pink nipples and the flushed face, and it was undeniable proof that Arara was thoroughly turned on.
"Haa… haa…."
Even the eyes fixed on the camera were going wet and lewd.
"Doctor Pleasure… you're incredible. Thanks to you… I danced without anxiety for the first time in so long. The panic disorder always made everything so hard… but with your dirty prescriptions, I think… I could have a normal life again…!"
If she made this kind of filthy act her "normal life," that just made her a full-blown pervert. Well. Fine by me.
Unable to hide her excitement, Arara strode straight toward the camera. Her lewd naked body filled the screen at a perfect, devastating angle.
"Haah…!"
With one hand she roughly squeezed her own full breast; the other reached down toward her thoroughly soaked pussy.