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Unconsciously–or at least she tells herself–Purity's left-hand moves for her heart-trimmed bush but not to cover it.

“They won't touch you," he explains, “because you don't want them to. All they'll do is watch, but that's all you really need from them, isn't it? To perform in front of others, to be acknowledged as you protect them and sacrifice yourself for them?"

Her right-hand moves to her heart, to her left nipple, again not covering it up. She can feel her heartbeat quicken with her breath, her chest rising and falling. In front of her, the audience starts to chant to encourage her to continue; they start low, barely a whisper, but they steadily grow more audible.

“Don't disappoint them," Mesmer murmurs by her ear, not that she needs much more motivation. “Give them a show no one will forget…."

Purity sighs. The chants grow in her ears, becoming a steady rhythm within their soul. Her fingers swirl, one around the heart shape of her areola and the other down to her clitoris. Her bare feet curl against the ground as she lets out broken, sighing breaths as two fingers work on either sensitive spot on her body.

The chanting increases, and soon the audience adds their hands and feet to the mix, letting the reverberations thrum through her body. Unable to close her eyes, Purity watches them, her fingers speeding up, and soon two of them sliding deep inside of herself. The fingers pump within her, first to the speed of the chants, but that is not enough to satisfy her. Instead, she speeds up and rocks her hips against those digits, her mouth agape, gasps escaping and transforming into moans that rise up from within her. She scans over the crowd, a smile curling on her lips as her gasps increase in pitch. Excited and smiling faces watch her in a mix of leering lust and blushing excitement. There are many different people, each bringing their own experiences and desires. Perhaps, like her, some of them yearn for the moment when they cast off all their inhibitions and do what makes them feel their best?

“Aaaaann?" She gasps, arching her back, pushing her hips out, her fingers fucking herself as her thumb rubs against her clit, smashing that button in a need that she cannot fulfill, or is it that she won't fulfill it? While she rocks against herself, she also pinches her nipple, rolling it between her fingers, letting that shock of pain add to her delight.

And she is aware of the man who brought her here, watching her from behind her periphery. Was he enjoying the show as much as the viewers were? Why did she even care for the desires of a villain? Yet, she tries to turn. She tries to look over his way. She tries to figure out if he has joined in on this, but she cannot.

His voice returns to her ear. “This show is for you," he adds. “Anything you want and desire can happen here, but you must also be aware of the desires of the others involved."

“W… what?"

“For now, at least," he says, a hand hovering close to her side, “you must enjoy yourself with your own touch."

She bites her lips, rocking against herself, fucking her fingers, squealing and bending over, her knees turning inward. “I… I want… waaaant!"

“Have everything you want," he says, and ride it out until the end of your release…and, when you indeed climax", he instructs, “you will give them a new name to recognize you as. Your other name."

Purity's eyes roll back, and a long moan erupts from her throat, ripping out of her without her control as her sex practically drools over her hand, but it's not enough. It can never be enough; even as she desperately tries to give the crowd what they want, she cannot, or will not, climax. Not yet. But is it because she wants to protect herself, or is it because she wants it to never end?

“I need… mmm… I need mah… moore!"

“More can be provided", Mesmer says, “If only you truly desire it."

She nods, her eyes rolling about, looking to the audience, her smile the lewdest thing yet, as she pulls her arms away and holds her hands out. “I need… I need your… help!"

“My, my," the hypnotist says, “you aren't going to make a liar out of me, are you, Purity?" he says, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. “I did say they weren't going to touch you."

“But… but I want them to!" she whines, stomping her foot ineffectively upon the floor with a wet slap.

“Well then, who am I to deny you your demands?"

Mesmer steps aside, leaving Purity's vision but always existing in the back of her mind. She, however, is well aware of the audience, whose glares and leers only become more and more ravenous as they stare at her.

She swallows a lump, her lips spread apart, her heart thumping through her chest, the warmth growing around her. This is it, then. This is when she reveals her taboo desires but in front of him?

In front of who?

She takes a deep breath, her voice cracking into what is no more than a whisper. “Take me."

Granted permission to participate, the audience rushes onto the gazebo, practically climbing over one another to approach the exposed magical girl. Purity's bare skin tingles in the breeze while her eyes, never able to close themselves to this oncoming wave of lust, watch the mad desire in their eyes. They are much like the monsters she faces to defend the populace.

They are much like how she is.

Many are in attendance of all species, genders, and ages of adulthood. Regardless, they all have one singular purpose their eyes, hands, and lips.

They want her, and they must have her.

Their coordination is unreal as they climb and climb onto the stage. They are not some stumbling mob but a wave of flesh, weaving in and out from one another to approach and reach out for Purity.