An Indecent Awakening (15 page)

“Sure,” Ben said, his mouth still very dry. Something in him felt very satisfied that he would get to direct this part of things, at least a little.

“Okay, sweetie,” Derek said. “Go ahead and unbutton the skirt. Nice and slow.”

Ben kept the camera tight on her fingers. She gave another whimper; had Derek pinched a nipple again? No, it was just Stacy’s natural arousal at the scene they were playing—that they weren’t just playing, but filming.

She had the button open, and she tugged gently at the little zipper so that it descended slowly. The revelation of skin was just out of sight, which frustrated Ben a little, but only an instant later Stacy began to lower the skirt.

Ben pulled out wider, so that he had both her hands, at either side of the waistband of the little blue polyester miniskirt, in the frame. He became aware suddenly of what an incredible moment it was: Stacy Miller was in a very important sense about to become porn-girl for real; here on their makeshift porn set, she was about show her little cunt to the camera.

“Nice and slow,” Derek repeated in that dominant voice that Ben had to admit had at least much confidence in it as his own. He’d come out of left field, really, while Joe and Pete had been old friends, but Ben had no worries that Derek would take could care of Stacy. Ben had actually begun to worry a bit that Derek might take
too
good care of her. The chemistry between them had been obvious from the moment she greeted him at the bottom of the basement stairs.

The skirt descended, and the beautiful sight of the tender triangle between Stacy Miller’s legs began to appear: milk-white skin, with just the naughtiest hint of a tan line between her taut belly and her pussy’s little hill. Then, at last, the modest little cleft that told the eye where to fix its lustful gaze. Ben felt his mouth watering. Yes, Derek would fuck her first, but Ben would get in there, too. Just as he had with Joe’s and Pete’s first times with Julie and Peggy, knowing that the other guy—by Ben’s own permission—would fuck Ben’s girl first seemed to increase Ben’s arousal remarkably.

“So sweet,” Derek said, stepping forward. He brought his right hand down and began to stroke Stacy between her legs. “Are you nice and wet, sweetheart?” he asked.

Ben pulled out wide, so that he could see both what Derek was doing down below, with his fingers, and the look on Stacy’s face. Her look of troubled arousal enchanted him, as she nodded in response to Derek’s question.

“Does that feel good?” The hand’s motions continued, pushing a little further in, as Stacy bent her knees slightly, and tried to spread them to give Derek more access to her cunt. She nodded again.

Ben kept the shot wide as Derek lifted Stacy onto the spanking bench, positioning her so that her feet rested on the knee and elbow supports. Ben zoomed in a bit: the view of Stacy’s pussy, glistening with the arousal Derek had called into it, was perfect.

Stacy, however, looked a little precarious atop the bench like that. Derek said, “Does that work for you, Stacy?”

“Well,” she replied hesitantly. “I kind of feel like I’m going to fall off?”

“That’s no good,” Derek said. “Ben, I think we’ll put her over the bench and strap her down. We can do the close-up of the cunt and then go right to whipping her. Sound okay?”

Ben heard Stacy’s breathing quicken. “Sure,” he said.

“I’m thinking the tripod should go behind the couch, with a bit of a higher angle, down onto her ass.”

They spent the next five minutes positioning the camera and adjusting the lighting—the recessed fixtures Ben had installed in the basement weren’t going to do anything spectacular for the video, but at least everything would be visible.

Derek strapped Stacy down to the spanking bench and went to get the punishment strap from its hook on the back of the closet door. Ben watched him take in the box of toys, and pick up a flesh-colored, penis-shaped dildo. He came back and put the strap on the couch, and then he crouched down and began to play with Stacy’s cunt, while Ben shot the action.

Stacy moaned louder and louder as Derek put first his fingers, and then the dildo, inside her, kissing her from time to time on her clit, on her butt-cheeks, and on her sweet little asshole. He spanked her from time to time with his hand, saying, “Are you a bad girl?” or “Naughty!” Stacy yelped at the little slaps, but Derek always went right back to the pleasurable caresses.

“Ben,” he said, “really tight on the cunt, now. I’m going to show it off.” As Ben pushed in with the zoom, Derek used both hands to spread Stacy open for the camera, while she made humiliated little whimpers at the feeling and the knowledge of what was happening behind her.

“How does it look?” Derek asked.

“Perfect. Nice and pink,” Ben said.

“Time for her whipping?”

“Think so,” Ben responded.

“Stacy,” Derek announced, as Ben pulled the camera angle back to take in Derek standing up next to the backside that would now receive punishment, the strap in his hand. “I was a little surprised when I heard that if I want to be your boyfriend I have to agree to punish you regularly, but I can’t say I don’t approve, especially now that I see what a dirty little cock-whore you are.”

He brought the strap down, hard. Stacy yelped. Ben zoomed in on her bottom, where a curling red line appeared. The strap came down again, and in the viewfinder Stacy’s bottom squirmed deliciously. Another stroke, and Stacy let out a full-voiced yell.

“Ben,” Derek said, “can you get the handheld and shoot her face? Just leave that angle on her ass, okay?”

Ben got the little camera, and went around to the front of the spanking bench. Stacy looked up at him, her face a mask of woe.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, though her eyes were watering.

“You’re welcome, baby,” Ben said.

Derek brought the strap down again. “Oh, God,” Stacy said. In the camera, she looked pitiful, but so arousing in the pain of her punishment that Ben had to suppress the urge to take his jeans off so he could jerk off. He pictured giving his porn-girl a facial, and that only made his arousal worse.

“I’m going to whip you every day, Stacy,” Derek said, “when you’re with me.” He lashed her backside again. “You need to learn to respect a man’s authority. The men who know how to whip you are the only ones whose whore you are.” Another lash. Stacy screamed.

Derek dropped the strap, and came around the other side of the bench, unbuttoning his jeans as he arrived there. His cock sprang free. Stacy gave a little gasp. The shot, in the viewfinder of the little camera, was perfect: Derek’s big, hard cock, confronting Stacy’s tear-stained face.

Stacy’s bottom hurt terribly, but it was the kind of pain she already knew so well from her lessons with Ben; the kind you couldn’t help loving, because it added to the warmth in your pussy and because it told you that you were porn-girl, subject to the desires and commands of the man—the men—who would look at you, and fuck you.

She opened her mouth; she didn’t think she could have kept it closed if her life depended on it, after the whipping, the humiliating dirty talk, and the cameras.

“Good girl,” Derek said, and then he groaned with pleasure as he sheathed his cock inside her lips and over her tongue. He stroked her cheek and started to fuck her face.

How could she possibly feel so gratified, she wondered.
Sex is just… strange. A lot stranger than I ever knew even as I collected my dirty videos.

A man she had just seen fifteen minutes before. A cock she had just seen seconds before. If he weren’t so cute, or so dominant, or so… well, competent, when it came to the cameras and dirty talk and even the way he had touched her nipples, and her pussy—if he weren’t the guy he seemed to be, maybe she would have called a halt to it.

She could always call a halt to it, right? Ben had said it wasn’t a question of safewords, and yet somehow she knew that if she showed that she really didn’t want to do this, Ben would stop Derek, and stop himself. In the amateur videos, you sometimes got a vibe like,
This girl couldn’t stop this even if she wanted to—the guys wouldn’t let her.
Stacy didn’t download those. That was a thing with real porn—the professional stuff and most of the amateur stuff—she knew: if the girl wanted to stop the scene, she could, at any time. That was why the scenes looked realistic, when they did—because the girls who really were dirty little cock-whores like Stacy felt like they could trust the guys in the scene, and whoever was shooting the scene.

The girls could let their real needs come out and play. Derek and Ben between them, with their two hard cocks, had made Stacy feel like she could admit to knowing what she had known deep down for so long: she was a porn-girl. Stacy Miller was a dirty little cock-whore.

Stacy Miller loved the discomfort of having Derek—Jesus, she didn’t even know his last name, did she?—hold her head and fuck her face as she lay strapped to the spanking bench. The length of him, invading her mouth, over and over—the girth of him, holding her lips terribly, shamefully open as he worked only for his own pleasure.

Then they took her off the spanking bench and had her go stand by the closet, with her hands on her head. Derek set up the camera on the tripod with an angle on a spot on the carpet, in the big, open part of Ben’s basement. He lay down, so that his hard cock, still wet from Stacy’s labors with her mouth, was in the center of the frame.

“Ben,” he said, sounding just as dominant as ever, somehow, despite being naked on his back on the carpet. “I’m gonna have you get some shots of my cock in Stacy’s cunt, and then a POV as we transition to DP. Okay?”

“Got it,” Ben said.

“Strip down anytime you want,” Derek said. “Just get a close-up of my cock going in before you do. Kind of a special moment, you know?”

Ben chuckled. “Stacy,” he said, “get on over there, now, baby, and get your pussy on your new boyfriend’s cock. Let him have a taste of how nice and tight you are.”

On slow feet, Stacy moved there.
Kind of a special moment.
Was she imagining it, or could she actually hear in Derek’s voice that he was keeping it light for Ben, but he really did think that something important was about to happen?

Two weeks ago, Stacy would have found the state of mind into which she entered then borderline insane if not outright nuts. But the amazing erotic things that had happened since that day Ben had walked into her room seemed to make it perfectly reasonable to position herself in a straddle over Derek’s close-to-six-pack abs, so that he could put the head of his cock right at the entrance to the hottest, wettest part of her. They made it perfectly reasonable, also, to see that as a simple, bodily, animal act and as the beginning of something special between herself and a guy who seemed really nice.

Stacy moaned uncontrollably at the top of her voice, as she slid down Derek’s cock, looking into his eyes the whole time. She had never fucked in this position—she had once thought of asking Jack if he wanted to, but chickened out, and Ben always took her from behind. Derek smiled up at her.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” he asked.

Stacy started to laugh, but then Derek took firm hold of her bottom, and started to make her go up and down on his cock.

“Oh, God…” she whimpered. “Um, I don’t know, sir.”

“You’re having dinner with me, sweetie. And then we’re going to fuck without any cameras, okay?”

“Yes!” Stacy screamed. The feeling in her pussy was like no sex she had ever had. Being able to go up and down, and grind the way she wanted, seemed to make orgasms come in waves and bunches. She gave herself over to that feeling, and then to the feeling of Ben lubing her anus, and even to the feeling of her first real DP—two cocks, rather than a cock and a butt plug—as Ben showed no mercy in the way he pounded her ass, making her pussy go up and down on Derek’s cock as Ben wanted, rather than as Stacy did. Surely you were absolutely, definitely a porn-girl after you did DP?

* * *

Before Stacy started in on her homework for her next lesson, she thought about that idea—that having undergone double penetration she was now irrevocably the porn-girl Ben had made of her. Especially considering that she had to watch
Pretty Pussy Party
before the promised Tuesday lesson with Julie and Peggy, she wondered whether being porn-girl just meant a never-ending series of points-of-no-return.

They had both come inside her, after they had shared her between them for what felt like hours; all sense of time had gone long before Derek, clutching her little breasts, hard in his strong hands, had grunted, and thrust his hips up hard until she felt his cock pulse out his climax. Ben had only taken a minute or so more, riding hard as Stacy cried out at the feeling of his hardness even as Derek softened inside her pussy. Then he, too, had come, with his right hand on her shoulder and his left gripping her hip firmly, saying, “Good girl, Stacy.”

And, that night… well, it was Monday afternoon, now, and Stacy was still sore. After a simple dinner of veggie pasta, wonderfully cooked by him, Derek had taken Stacy over his lap for a long, but not a very hard, spanking. He had given her no reason, and she had not asked why she must be spanked; Derek just said, “It’s spanking time. Take your clothes off.” Stacy blushed, remembering the way he had first roused her pussy with his knowing fingers, and then started to spank her, and then just touched her clit so that she screamed—then back to the spanking.

After that, in his bed, doggy-style, for what seemed like hours; her bottom turned up and offered, and her huge new boyfriend crouched over it, hands around her waist, to fuck, and fuck, and fuck her. She hadn’t come, then—she already had over his lap, and now her pussy was just already so sore. But the soreness seemed to tell her that her new golden-haired boyfriend would have his way, whatever Ben said or didn’t say, and that kept her hot and wet through the whole ordeal of pleasing him. She had fallen asleep on his chest, and caught hell from her parents for coming home at 7:00 Sunday morning.

Hell from her parents didn’t matter as much as it had, though. Being porn-girl seemed to have cleared that up—ironically enough. If anyone had threatened to tell her parents that she watched porn, or went to Ben Weathers’ house for sex lessons, or had just had a screen test for dirty videos of her own, and taken two cocks like a porn-star, she would have said, “Sure. Go ahead.”