An Indecent Awakening (14 page)

No, it was worse: how could you love that person
because
he did that?

Maybe it started with the complete clarity with which Ben showed her, in doing those things, that he valued her, and—in his unconventional way—loved her. You didn’t give something to a friend that way unless the gift meant something. What Peggy had said about Pete, and about little Ben, had affected Stacy in ways she couldn’t define, but which seemed nevertheless to have a terrible, wonderful power.

The more she thought about it, the more she began to see that whatever society said, or other people said, her idea of what sex
was,
and what it should be—what it
could
be—had changed utterly since Ben had taken her in hand.

Society said sex was supposed to be about Jack on top of you, thrusting gently, his eyes closed. A dark room, and a man on top of you, but not on
top
of you, really, just there above you because that happened to be the way you were supposed to do it. Maybe you were on top sometimes, and that was a little better, because it was kind of naughty.

It
wasn’t
supposed to be a guy whipping you because he found you playing with yourself while you watched dirty videos. Or that same guy shaving your pussy. Fucking you in the ass.

Giving you to a guy named Derek who liked to make dirty videos, whom you had never met but whose cock you were about to be told to suck. Who was about to fuck you, but not in the ass because Ben reserved naughty girls’ asses for himself. Who apparently would now serve as your boyfriend because Ben said so.

But what did ‘boyfriend’ even mean, now that Stacy had gone through the looking-glass of porn? Real, not porn. Porn, not real. Sex, not love. But—love, all the same, in unexpected ways and for unexpected people. A porn-boyfriend was a guy who decided how you would fuck. Or, sometimes, he watched while somebody else fucked you.

A porn-boyfriend was whatever the fuck you wanted him to be, so that you could have awesome sex. Did you have to marry him? Of course not. Did you even have to go on dates with him? Well, if he asked you out, you probably owed it to yourself and to him to see whether maybe you did want to be more than fuck-buddies Ben Weathers had brought together.

Stacy gave herself to Ben’s hand, between her legs.
C’mon, baby. You know you wanted to do this.
She moaned, picturing the man she had never seen; picturing his cock, and the way he would look at the porn-girl Ben had bestowed upon him. The way he would whip that porn-girl; the way he would fuck her.

“Are you ready?” Ben murmured in her ear.

“Y-yes,” Stacy gasped.

* * *

Derek stood at the bottom of the stairs. As Stacy descended, and saw his warm smile for the first time, she had a strange vision of herself as a debutante in the nineteenth century, descending a grand staircase to meet the man who would escort her to the ballroom.

My God, he’s handsome,
she thought.
He’s even hunkier than Ben. And… for a man who’s supposedly about to treat me like a filthy slut, he looks surprisingly… well, nice.

She looked into Derek’s blue eyes. “Hi,” she said, when she had stepped off the bottom of the wooden stairs and onto the carpet.

“Hi,” Derek replied. His voice wasn’t as deep as Ben’s, and it had a very pleasant, mellifluous quality.

“Derek,” Ben said, behind her, “this is Stacy.”

Derek hadn’t taken his eyes off hers. “I thought it might be,” he said. Yes, he was nice, but now, in the way that he looked at her and the way his voice sounded so confident, Stacy could hear that he didn’t lack dominance—it just came across more… smoothly, maybe?… than Ben’s did.

“You know what to do, Stacy,” said Ben. “Derek, do you want to film her taking off her clothes? So you know, she’s not wearing panties.”

Stacy felt herself blushing crimson. She looked at Ben, and then back at Derek. Something fascinating seemed to be happening, and it gave her a thrill of a strange kind of joy she had never felt before. Both Derek and Ben were smiling, but beneath their smiles lurked something else.
What is it?
she wondered, and
Why does it make me happy… and, okay, yes, wet?

Competition. Derek wanted her, and Ben wanted her. They were in a kind of friendly rivalry, here at the very beginning, when Derek had only seen her for the first time a few moments before. Stacy felt like she had taken wing, despite the hotness in her cheeks.

“Actually,” Derek said suavely, “could you film it while I do the directing?”

That seemed to be a reference to some private joke, because Ben laughed. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “But remember the rules.”

Now Derek chuckled. “Sure do,” he said.

“Rules?” Stacy asked. Had Ben made some sort of regulations for the way Derek would… have her? But she already knew that he must have, because of that thing he had said about his girls’ bottoms—how he reserved them for himself.

Derek looked at Ben. “Does she not know the rules?” he asked, with an expression of mild concern on his face.
An
adorable
expression of mild concern,
Stacy corrected, in her mind’s running transcript of the momentous meeting.

“Not all of them,” Ben said. “But she does know the one about her ass.”

Stacy’s blush had begun to fade, but now it returned in full force. The idea of the rivalry for her body between Ben and Derek, though, suddenly made her brazen. She said to Derek, “Ben owns my ass. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

Just having said it made her pussy clench. She couldn’t help a smile that nearly turned into a giggle.

Derek laughed uproariously. “Sweet Jesus, girl, you just got me hard as iron. No, I don’t have a problem with it. But apparently I can…” He hesitated, as if about to take the plunge into the altered world of filthy sex that lay before all their feet. He dove. “…fuck you in that sweet booty as often as I like, as long as I get permission first.”

Stacy looked at Ben. One thing that hadn’t gotten covered in the conversation with Peggy was the question of just how restrictive Ben was about his naughty girls’ backsides.

“That’s right,” Ben said, though Stacy saw his brow cloud just a bit. “And as long as when I decide she should wear a plug for a day or two, you make sure she does, and you send pics.”

“Oh, God,” Stacy whispered. Instinctually, feeling like the strength of her knee-shaking arousal at these men’s humiliating way of speaking about her might make her faint, she put out her right hand and laid it on Derek’s left shoulder, which suddenly seemed like the most stable point in the universe.

He smiled, and looked into her eyes again. “Of course,” he said to Ben, though he did not break eye contact with Stacy.

After a long, silent moment, he did look over at Ben. “Why don’t you get behind the camera on the tripod? Stacy, you just stand in front of the couch, okay? You’ll be taking ‘em off in a sec, but for now let me just make sure everything’s set up right.”

“Okay… sir,” Stacy said softly.

Derek smiled at her. “I like that,” he said. “I could get very used to that.”

Stacy glanced at Ben. He nodded. The same joy filled her heart that she had felt when she first became conscious that there would be a rivalry between these two men. Her two men—her two masters.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and went to stand where she was supposed to stand. Derek had put the tripod between the couch and the armchair, so that the angle, in a wide shot, would take in both the spanking bench and the TV. Stacy stood in front of the spanking bench while Ben took a place behind the camera. Derek stood behind the couch, to Stacy’s left.

“Alright, sweetie,” he said. The way he said ‘sweetie’ made it sound wonderfully like he was actually saying ‘slut.’ “Go ahead and take off your top. Show me what kind of bra you’re wearing.”

So ridiculous to blush at that, after all the sex lessons she had had in this basement.

“Ben,” he said, “as she takes off the top, can you zoom in on the tits?”

“Oh, wow,” Stacy said softly, overwhelmed by the wave of arousal that came with the objectification.

“Take it off, now, sweetheart,” Derek said to her. “It seems strange at first, I know, but I can tell you’re the kind of girl who’s gonna love it. You like fucking, right?”

Stacy nodded, feeling her eyes go wide as she looked at him.

“Well,” he said, “taking off your clothes for the camera is like getting fucked. A pretty girl like you just needs to let it happen. Then, when we have sex for the camera, it’ll be like you’re getting double-fucked—by the camera and by me.”

As if in a trance, Stacy moved her hands to the button at the neck of her white cotton top.

“There you go,” Derek said. “Just take it off, and show me your bra.”

Stacy took the bottom hem of the top in her hands, pulled it slowly up over her flat tummy, and then over her breasts in the cute blue nylon bra.

“Nice,” Derek said. “Did you notice how slowly she did that, Ben? She’s a natural.”

The cotton was covering Stacy’s eyes as Derek said this; somehow that made her blush even more fiercely—to think that they were looking at her, and using the camera to look at her, but she couldn’t see them. Then the top was over her head, and she was holding it in her right hand, at her hip.

She looked at Derek.

“You’re a natural porn-star, sweetheart,” he said, “and your tits look adorable in that bra. But why don’t you go ahead and take it off, too, nice and slow just like you did with the top.”

Stacy bit her lower lip, reached her hands back slowly, and started to unhook the bra.

“Nice,” Derek said. “What color are your nipples, sweetheart? Are they pink or brown? How big are they? Go ahead and show me.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

“Do you like it when I talk that way, sweetie?” Derek asked. “I thought a little slut like you might like that kind of thing.”

Ben zoomed the camera in on Stacy’s pert little breasts as she slowly let the bra fall from her shoulders a bit.

“Brown,” Derek said with an air of satisfaction. “And just the perfect size, too. Hold your bra just like that for a sec, sweetie. Right there on your arms.” He started to walk around the couch, and around the spanking bench. Ben couldn’t see him in the frame, because he had zoomed in, but suddenly there Derek’s hand was, handling Stacy’s right breast, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger so that Stacy drew her breath in sharply through her nostrils, somewhere above the shot.

One of her bra straps remained in the frame, and it gave a suggestion of bondage that made Ben’s cock leap at the sight of Derek playing with the breasts that belonged to Ben, still slightly constrained by the bra they had made her take off.
They
. Well, Derek—but Derek told her to take off the bra because Ben had consented to let him have Stacy.

Ben took his eyes off the viewfinder to glance over at Derek, where he was going from nipple to nipple with the casual arrogance of an owner. He had the other camera in his left hand, taking footage of Stacy’s face though he only flicked his eyes at it from time to time to make sure he still had her centered there. He smiled and nodded to her, to encourage her to give herself over to her porn-girl side.

Stacy’s lower lip was caught between her teeth, and her brow had a deep crease. She gave a little whimper as she looked into Derek’s eyes, as if his taking her sweet nipples in his fingers was going to make her come all on its own.

“That’s it,” Derek said. “Show me how much you need it. Show me what a dirty little cock-whore looks like, Stacy.”

Stacy gave another whimper, and her mouth fell open as her breathing grew faster and harsher.

“Are you a dirty little cock-whore?”

Ben’s cock was so hard in his jeans that it was a little distracting. When he had given Julie to Joe and Peggy to Pete, he had felt a little jealousy—and of course that jealousy had contributed hugely to the hotness of the scene. Something about the cameras, and about Stacy’s special status as porn-girl, seemed to double the jealousy, and with it the hotness.

Do I want to stop this, and say that Stacy’s going to be mine, and Derek should leave?
Ben returned his eye to the viewfinder, and saw again Derek playing with the sweet tits of the girl Ben had trained for him.

“Loosen the angle, Ben,” Derek said. It felt very strange to be obeying his orders—with Joe and Pete, Ben had been like the fiddler at a square dance, telling both the girls and the guys exactly what to do: what to kiss, what to suck, what to spank, and above all what to fuck.

He zoomed out, so that the camera saw both Stacy’s breasts and the look of helpless arousal in Stacy’s hazel eyes.

“Answer me, Stacy,” Derek said. “I think you already know that I have to whip you today. I’m sure you don’t want to get more than you already have coming.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, not sure why he was contributing, but feeling that he couldn’t remain silent, since he was the instructor here. “And I’ll whip you too, baby. Answer your director: are you a dirty little cock-whore?”

Ben’s mouth felt dry as he watched Stacy’s chin quiver a little in the viewfinder.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

“Say it,” Derek demanded.

“I-I’m a… a d-dirty little… c-cock-whore.” The last word came out as a sob.

“Good,” Derek said. “You can let your bra go, now, and take off your skirt. I hear you’re shaved just like you should be. Is that right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to see a pussy as much as I want to see yours, sweetie. Go ahead and get that skirt off for me.”

The bra dropped, and Stacy’s fingers fumbled at the skirt.

“Hold on a sec, sweetie,” Derek said. “Ben, close on the fingers, and then zoom out as the skirt falls down, okay?”

The jealousy and the arousal returned equally. Ben nodded.

“Then tight on the cunt, okay? I’m going to go in there and touch it for a while. I’ll put her on the bench, sitting on her ass, and spread her legs.”

“Oh, no,” Stacy whispered.

“Hush, sweetie,” Derek said. “Just let it happen. You don’t have to do anything but be sexy. Ben, I’ll keep everything as open as I can, so you can get a nice close-up of what she’s got going on down there, but let me know if I’m in the way, okay? This shot is about Stacy’s cunt.”