An Indecent Awakening (10 page)

On the screen, the good part of
The Adulteress
had begun. Lady Margaret had been marched down to the dungeon she hadn’t known existed in her manor house, through a secret door in the basement. The production values of the video were not terrible, really, Ben thought as he watched Lord Palmer rip Lady Margaret’s gown off. The interiors and the lightning were both well done: Lord Palmer’s dungeon looked like the crypt of a medieval church, and his disciplinary equipment looked suitably antique.

Lady Margaret, a blonde with long curly hair and no discernible tattoos, struggled in the arms of her husband, a standard tall, dark, and handsome porn star. He dragged her toward a spanking bench that didn’t really look very different from the one over which Stacy herself now lay.

Ben put his hand once again on Stacy’s little bottom, running his fingers over the taut ovals of her cheeks. “What did you come up with for the first question?” he asked. “Why does she get punished?”

Stacy turned her head to try to see him, but Ben said, “That’s alright, porn-girl. You just keep watching while we talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Stacy said. “Um, well, obviously…” She giggled, and Ben gave her a sharp, but not very hard, spank to her left bottom-cheek. “Ow!” Stacy said. “What did I do?”

“I’m not sure you’re taking this seriously enough, Stacy,” Ben said, delivering another spank—this one to her right cheek.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Stacy said, her voice giving evidence of the arousal that had been Ben’s primary intention for the mild spanking. “I was saying that obviously Lady Margaret committed adultery. So, Lord Palmer punishes her.”

On the screen, the nobleman had secured his wife to the bench. She was still dressed in her shift, a costuming decision of which Ben thoroughly approved. The garment was simple, but also nearly transparent, and although Ben loved to take underwear away from a girl, he liked to see her in revealing underwear even more—even if that underwear was as old-fashioned as the shift worn by Lady Margaret. Lord Palmer walked to a rack that hung on the wall of his dungeon, and looked at the various canes and straps he had hanging there.

“Of course,” Ben said. “What other levels did you think about?” With the fingertips of his right hand he began to rub very gently around Stacy’s clit. She gave a questioning little moan.

“Well, I think another way to answer the question might be to talk about why she… you know… let the footman… you know… doggy-style.”

Ben chuckled, and took his fingers away to give her two more spanks, one on the right and one on the left. Stacy yelped. “Porn-girl,” he said, “you’re going to learn to talk dirty if I have to paddle your bottom purple. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t want you to talk dirty unless I tell you to. But when you’re reporting to me about your homework, I want you to show that you know how much I enjoy hearing you have to say bad words for me. Do you want to try that again, or should I punish you for an academic infraction?” Ben spanked her twice more.

“Yes, sir, “Stacy said meekly. “Um, well, when the footman puts Lady Margaret on her hands and knees, and fucks her from behind? Well, she didn’t say no—she just let him. So maybe she gets punished because she… I don’t know… needs it?”

Lord Palmer, in the video, had selected a long thin cane, which looked like it was made of rattan. He stood behind Lady Margaret, raised her shift to her waist, and tucked it up to leave her backside bare. Ben noted that although Lady Margaret’s bottom was very pretty, Stacy’s was even prettier. Lord Palmer tapped his cane against Lady Margaret’s bottom-cheeks. A close-up of Lady Margaret’s face showed a passable expression of alarm. Ben remembered from his viewing a few days before that if the sound had been turned up they would have heard some terribly acted dialogue at this point, as Lady Margaret pleaded for forgiveness, and Lord Palmer told her that he should have caned her a long time ago. Sometimes porn was better with the sound off, especially if you had a girl like Stacy to provide an even sexier soundtrack than the video itself could.

Ben rewarded Stacy’s thoughtful answer with the return of his fingers to her cunt. “That’s very well put,” he said, as he made her sigh with a gentle circular motion of his middle finger.

He heard Stacy gasp then, and he turned his attention from her pussy to the screen to see that Lord Palmer had begun to cane Lady Margaret. Ben increased the pace of his ministrations to Stacy’s clit, and murmured over her moans, “Any other levels?”

“Oh, God,” Stacy said. “I… well, because… because he… likes to punish her… and she likes… oh, God, please, sir…” Her voice trailed off into a kind of strangled squeal of pleasure. She seemed very close to a climax, so Ben abruptly took his fingers away. On the screen, Lady Margaret was screaming in close-up, and then the angle shifted to a view of her beautiful bottom now crisscrossed with double lines of red. Ben had chosen
The Adulteress
as Stacy’s homework in part because it was one of the two videos on her laptop that had what seemed to him truly authentic discipline in them. The sight of a realistically caned bottom moved Ben more than almost anything else of an erotic nature. His cock strained against his jeans at the combination of the sight and Stacy’s reaction to it.

He knew that Stacy must be thinking of the cane that hung on the back of the closet door, and he loved knowing that she must both fear and long for the knowledge of what it would feel like.
Not today,
he thought,
but soon,
porn-girl.

“Finish what you were saying, Stacy,” he said. “You said that Lord Palmer likes to punish Lady Margaret, and that…?”

Stacy panted with the frustration of interrupted arousal. To his delight, Ben saw her cute pink inner lips contract, helplessly showing him how very naughty a girl she was.

She whispered, “She likes being punished.”

On the screen, the time had come for Lord Palmer’s pleasure. He was fucking his wife’s cunt with abandon, holding onto the spanking bench at the level of her waist, and using it for the traction he needed to pound her bottom-cheeks with his hips so that she cried out. That, however, only went on for thirty seconds or so. From his breast pocket—Lord Palmer hadn’t even taken off his breeches, which were conveniently fitted with a flap in front to allow for the easy fucking of disobedient spouses—Lord Palmer took a little vial.

In perfect sync with Lord Palmer, Ben put a lube-covered forefinger on Stacy’s anus. Stacy cried out, “Ah! Oh, please, sir… I’m… I’m not… ready.”

But Ben pushed the slippery finger firmly into her bottom as she whimpered in protest. Lord Palmer had three fingers inside Lady Margaret’s ass now, but Ben was still letting Stacy get used to the feeling of having something small imposed there. In his left hand, though, Ben held the little blue butt plug that represented the smallest end of his collection.

“Please,” Stacy wailed.

“Answer the second question,” Ben said, as Lord Palmer put the head of his cock at the well-lubricated anus of Lady Margaret. Ben touched the tapered end of the rubber plug to Stacy’s little ring, and she yelped again.

“What’s that?!”

“If I wanted you to know,” Ben said severely, “I would have told you. Answer the question: why does Lord Palmer fuck Lady Margaret in the ass?” He started to push the butt plug in, rotating it very slightly as he did so.

“Oh, God,” Stacy whimpered. “Because… Because she needs it.”

Ben pushed further, and Stacy gave a little shriek. “Why does she need it?” he asked.

Stacy’s breathing was harsh and quick. “It’s…” she started. Ben pushed and turned. “Ah! It’s where bad girls get fucked,” she finished in a whisper.

On screen Lord Palmer had taken hold of Lady Margaret’s long blond hair in both hands and the bottom-fucking had grown frantic. “Are you a bad girl, Stacy?” Ben asked softly. He pushed much more firmly on the plug.

“Yes,” Stacy moaned, as the widest part of the rubber invader filled her. Then her little anus closed around the slim part at the end of the plug, before the flared base, and Ben’s porn-girl had her first ass-training device inside her.

On screen, in the most unusual part of
The Adulteress,
Lord Palmer had pulled out of Lady Margaret’s ass. He unstrapped her right wrist and elbow, and commanded her to play with herself for him. Stacy wondered if it was this scene that had attracted Ben to the video as a homework assignment for her. It wasn’t the kind of thing that happened often in the videos on her laptop—or in porn more generally, as far as she could tell. The camera focused in closely on Lady Margaret’s frantically rubbing fingers, as she made circles around and over her little pink clit.

Suddenly Stacy heard a click, and a buzzing sound filled the air. She had a bizarre moment of cognitive dissonance:
this is the eighteenth century—they didn’t have
… and then the vibrating, tormenting head of the thing touched her clit, rubbed up and down her pussy.

Ben had clearly decided to go off script for this lesson: surely that couldn’t be anything but a magic wand ‘massager’ with that wicked attachment, could it? Stacy screamed, and felt her hips writhe against the top of the bench, as all her limbs accompanied that writhing with a terrible, intensely pleasurable struggle against the sturdy leather straps.

The wonderful, shameful thing began to push inside her pussy. She felt much, much too full; she had only just had her very first experience with taking a butt plug—really with anything anal. She screamed her pleasure.

“What about the third question, Stacy?” Ben asked.

But Stacy couldn’t even think about any subject that required more than a ‘Yes’ answer to the question, “Do you want to fuck?” She cried out again, still straining hard against the restraints of the bench.

She heard Ben tsk, clucking loudly with his tongue so that she could hear him over the sounds of her own pleasure: the buzzing, the wet noises from her pussy, her moans. Another click, and the terrible buzzing stopped. Stacy whimpered with mingled relief and disappointment.

On screen, Lady Margaret bucked her own hips against her hand, while Lord Palmer gave her light spanks to encourage her. At each spank, Lady Margaret cried, “Thank you, my lord.” A close-up of her face showed a grateful penitent, as she came at last.

“Why does Lord Palmer let Lady Margaret come?” Ben asked, as he replaced the vibrator with the head of his cock. Stacy had been so wrapped up in the video that she hadn’t even heard the sound of him lowering his jeans. She gave a happy little cry. The feeling of having Ben’s hardness there, alongside the plug in her bottom, was easier to bear than the vibrator’s big latex dildo had been.

The angle changed again, to show Lord Palmer jerking off and splashing his semen on his once-again-faithful lady’s bottom-cheeks.

Ben eased himself further into Stacy’s pussy, and she sobbed at the feeling of being so very full, at being made to take so much by her sex teacher.

“Why does he let her come?” The brief credits rolled on the screen. Ben had thrust all the way in, and held Stacy lightly around the waist.

“B-because he… he knows that if she c-comes…” Ben gave the tiniest tap on the end of the butt plug, and Stacy sobbed to know herself both full and open; open now to whatever Ben wanted to do. “…if she comes, she’ll want to…” Ben began a slow withdrawal, easing himself out of Stacy’s pussy. The lovely friction of his cock made her sigh. “…to come to the dungeon again?”

“Would you like to come, porn-girl?” Ben asked, fully withdrawing, and putting his hand on her pussy.

“Y-yes, sir,” Stacy whispered.

Ben began to rub lightly, and to turn the plug, with his other hand. Stacy whimpered, moaned. The plug kept turning, but the hand on her pussy left for a moment. Then the click and the buzzing came to her ears. Almost instantly the head of the vibrator touched her clit, Stacy screamed at the pleasure, and started to come, feeling her pussy contract helplessly. As her body shuddered with the climax, Ben invaded her pussy again with the vibrator, fucked her with it, returned it to her clit, all the while still turning the plug in her backside.

Stacy’s orgasm went on and on, and Ben didn’t let it end; for the first time, Stacy came twice, and then three times. The buzzing stopped, the vibrator departed, and Ben replaced it with his cock, fucking her hard and fast, now.

“Do you want to come back to my dungeon, baby?” he asked.

“Y-yes, sir,” Stacy wailed, feeling like she might come yet again; she seemed to hover just above the cliff of her orgasm, looking down upon it, as strange as the image seemed.

Ben kept fucking, giving little grunts of pleasure as he filled her full over and over, slapping his hips against her bottom-cheeks and making the sturdy bench creak.

“What do you think is going to happen next time?” he said, panting the words as if the pleasure were too great to speak rationally. Stacy certainly knew that feeling.

She saw for the first time that when the screen in front of her was dark it worked as a mirror, and with a thrill of terrible recognition she realized that she could watch Ben fuck her over the spanking bench, his own eyes fixed downward on the sight of Stacy’s bottom with the butt plug and his cock going in and out of her cunt. Stacy couldn’t see that angle of course; she could only see the ghostly reflection of her own, arousal-puckered brow, her eyes troubled with wicked pleasure, and above her, big, hulking Ben Weathers, fucking her like a porn star.

She came again at the wicked sight, the vision of herself on the big TV screen—herself as porn-girl. She cried out and shuddered, thinking about the reflection on the screen and about Ben’s question, and in her cry she found that she was whimpering, “Anal, sir? Anal?”

Ben didn’t answer, but came instead, pumping his seed into her with hard jerks of his hips. His cock inside her pulsed warmly, and she looked again at the reflection in the TV; a more tender expression had appeared on his face, as he stroked her back gently.

“Would you like that, baby? Would you like to have my cock in your butt?” he said, echoing the words from the video she had been watching the day he had barged into her room,
Tiny Butt Trouble,
when the bad policeman said, “You like it, baby, don’t you? You like having my cock in your butt.”