An Indecent Awakening (8 page)

They stood in the basement, at the bottom of the stairs. Stacy had certainly seen that Ben had set up the spanking bench, facing the entertainment center and replacing the coffee table, but she had given no sign of recognition. Three of Stacy’s videos involved spanking benches, if Ben remembered correctly, so he felt certain that she knew the thing’s purpose.

“Get those clothes off, now,” Ben said. “From now on, unless I tell you different before we come down to the basement, you must always take all your clothes off as soon as get here. We both know what you’re here for, porn-girl, and you need to learn to show me how well you understand what that means. Next time you don’t strip immediately, you’ll get a whipping.”

He looked at Stacy, who now seemed to register the presence of the bench, and seemed frozen in place in the open space on the carpet at the bottom of the stairs.

“Stacy? Do I have to repeat myself? Get those clothes off for me this instant.” Ben reached forward with his left hand and took hold of the hem of Stacy’s short green skirt. He pulled it up to reveal blue nylon panties. He took a small step forward and brought his right hand down hard in a spank to the seat of those panties.

“Ow!”

Ben spanked her again, hard. “Do I have to repeat myself, porn-girl? Now’s not a time for clothing, where you’re concerned.”

“No, sir!” she cried. Stacy’s hands went to the button at the neck of the white cotton top she wore.

“I think you just lost your panties for the next few days, Stacy,” Ben said conversationally, letting go of Stacy’s skirt but being careful to leave it hiked.

“What?” Stacy whirled to face him.

“From now on,” Ben said, “panties are a privilege, for you. You just lost that privilege.”

“Oh, please… sir, please don’t.” Her fingers fumbled at the buttons as she looked pleadingly into his eyes.

“This is what the path of virtue means for you, Stacy,” Ben said. “I can’t let you get away with thinking that you can take your time obeying me. A few days without panties is exactly what you need. You should feel lucky that I’m not telling you to wear that cute short skirt without your panties. You may wear a sundress, and remember what a man like me would see if he lifted it up high enough. Especially since you’re getting shaved today.”

Stacy’s fingers seemed to have even more trouble with the buttons, then, but she finally got them undone and, trembling, lifted the top off over her head and laid it on the little table where she had laid her clothes at her previous lesson. Ben smiled to see the blue nylon bra that matched the panties he had exposed.

Stacy tugged the hem of her skirt down so that she could get at the button at her waistband, and covered over those panties. Ben had an urge to reprimand her for that, but to do so seemed unfair even to his dominant impulses; after all, Stacy couldn’t remove the skirt otherwise. The thought of making sure that his porn-girl always asked permission when there was the slightest chance she might be about to deny him the shameful sight of her nakedness made him hard nonetheless. Maybe next time he would tell her that even covering up her panties to follow another instruction of his, without permission, would earn her a spanking.

Stacy undid the button at the back of her skirt and pulled the zipper down, looking at the floor the whole time, clearly unable to meet Ben’s eyes. She folded the skirt and put it on the table. In her pretty blue bra and panties, she faced Ben. She bit her lower lip as she put her hands behind her back to unhook her bra.

Then she seemed to pause, and she looked at Ben, standing there with his arms folded across his chest. The pause lasted only a second or two, but Ben loved it, and the way it aroused him, to see that she still resisted; she still didn’t want to be made to strip for him. He hoped, as had happened with both Peggy and Julie, that the resistance would never go completely away; the idea that the lessons Ben gave were shameful, and embarrassing, made up a big part of the method behind them, such as it was. Stacy should never be shameless; every time Ben made her take off her underwear, she must pause, realize how naughty she had been to watch porn, and how naughty Ben demanded that she be now that he had taken her in hand as his very own porn-girl.

But she didn’t protest, because of course she knew Ben would punish her. And he thought he could tell that the idea of the punishment for protesting aroused her even further. Stacy unhooked the bra, shrugged it off, and put it on the table. She pulled her blue panties down, off one bent leg, then the other, and she stood naked before him.

“Go into the bathroom,” Ben said, pointing at the door in the far wall, which led to the very nice bathroom he had built himself. “Leave the door open. Take a hot bath.”

“What? Why?” Stacy’s brow furrowed in dismay.

“I think you know why, baby. It’s time for your pussy to be bare, just like Polly’s, and just like the other girls I’ve taught, and just like every porn-girl on your videos. Give me your phone before you go in there, and I’ll set up your homework video so we can watch it at the same time—while we watch Polly herself.”

Stacy’s jaw dropped a little. She clearly hadn’t thought about the possibilities that Ben’s skill as an amateur media engineer opened up. She reached to where she had laid her purse, on the same table by the bottom of the stairs, and fetched the phone. As she handed it to Ben, she looked like she wanted to say something. Maybe something like, “Please don’t make me watch it.” Ben smiled, as he thought of the effect it would have on her to have to watch the two videos together, especially the way he planned to make her watch them.

“Tell me your passcode,” he said. “From now on, I’ll be checking your phone at every lesson, to make sure you’re on the path of virtue. You don’t have to bring your laptop, because of that monitoring program I installed.”

“Oh, God,” Stacy whispered. “You… you can’t do that, can you?”

“I did, Stacy. Now go get in the tub. Door open, so I can see you.”

* * *

Ben made Stacy sit on a towel, on the side of the tub closest to the wall, which he had designed for precisely this purpose in the bright white bathroom. He had tiled a little shelf there—of the perfect width so that a girl could place her back against the wall, her knees wide spread, without worrying that she would slip. Once she sat there, of course, her teacher could comfortably lean forward and first cut her pussy hair down, then apply the shaving lotion.

Then, finally, her teacher could use a disposable razor to make her naughty pussy all his own in a very special way; something about knowing
he
had shaven a pussy made Ben feel like it belonged to him.

Stacy remained silent as Ben used his barber’s scissors to cut away, carefully, as much of her private fleece as he could. The hot water had made both the hair and her skin there nice and soft. Though Ben occasionally got a little naughty with a finger, running it up and down her lips to show her that her arousal was at his command, Stacy protested no more than to sigh a little, in her throat.

Stacy whimpered loudly, though, while Ben rubbed the lotion in. He said in an intimate, degrading tone, “Shh, baby. You’re just gonna get nice and smooth here for me, now. That’s all. Good girls look the way their teachers like them to look, down here.”

Stacy moaned as Ben accompanied his last words with a very firm caress, all the way from her asshole to her clit, which, Ben knew, lubricated by the shaving lotion, must feel terribly naughty. He looked into her face; she had closed her eyes, and her brow had a deep crease in it that made him want to strip naked himself and step into the tub for at least a brief fuck in Stacy’s terribly wet cunt.

“Do you know what it means, porn-girl?” Ben asked as he took up the safety razor at last. “What it means to have a bare pussy? Not to be allowed to have your hair there?” He looked into her anxious eyes. She shook her head, the ghost of her arousal still haunting her face.

Ben leaned down and focused his attention completely on her sweet pussy. Its longer hairs lay shorn upon the towel, around Stacy’s adorable little bottom-cheeks. That backside, primly seated on the side of the tub, showed him its tiny hole, with its own short hairs to be trimmed, open as it was by the spreading of her legs for her teacher’s care.

He started to shave her in short, careful swipes of the razor, loving the feeling of control it gave him to prepare her thus for his own pleasure in looking and in fucking. “It means that you have been specially prepared, for a particular kind of training.” He kept shaving her in silence for a little while, to let the idea sink into her quick mind, and to let her turn it over there for a while.

“But,” Stacy whispered, “the… the people… the girls in the videos—they’re not in training… I mean, like me…”

Ben stopped shaving for a moment, to rest his middle finger against Stacy’s pink clit. He rubbed gently, and she gave a gasping moan. “I think they’re in training in their own way, Stacy,” he said. “They might not even know it, but I think a girl who has a bare pussy—who’s not allowed to have her hair there for some reason, whether because a man took her in hand or she’s going to be in a dirty video all on her own and she knows that the girls in the dirty videos have bare pussies—I think she’s always in training to be a better girl, in one way or another.”

He went back to shaving her. She stayed quiet. Ben had almost finished now, and had begun on the sensitive area that led back to her anus. “I think,” he said quietly, “that maybe you’ve sometimes thought about doing this yourself. Is that right, porn-girl?”

“I-I…”

“How could you not, when you’ve watched so many videos? I think you didn’t do it because you were waiting for a man to do it to you, whether you liked it or not.” Ben spread her bottom open with the fingers of his left hand, so that he could reach the last stubble.

Stacy whimpered at that, but she didn’t answer.
All the better,
Ben thought.

“Alright,” he said, straightening up, and putting his hand on her pussy so that she could feel how much more thoroughly he could claim her, now that she was bare. “Go ahead and take a shower, and then come on out and lay yourself over the bench, facing the screen.”

He rubbed her pussy gently, as if it were a little creature who needed tender affection. Stacy’s breath came in short little pants of arousal. “Do you want to come, porn-girl?” Ben said softly.

“Y-yes, sir,” she said. “Please, sir.”

“If you’re good for me today, maybe I’ll let you come, on the spanking bench. Would that be nice?”

“Yes, sir,” Stacy whimpered.

“Will you be a good porn-girl for me?”

Stacy cried out, “Yes, sir.” Ben could tell she was very near her climax. Reluctantly, he took his hand away.

He bent forward and kissed her—the first time he had done that. “Do as I’ve said, then,” he said, smiling.

In the shower, Stacy couldn’t stop thinking about what Ben had said while he had shaved her. Did it really mean that she was in training, and on that strange path of virtue he talked about? Well, wasn’t she in training? Hadn’t she done the homework, watched the video, and then come back here? Hadn’t she just let him bare her between her legs?

But what he had said had seemed so… well,
existential
. And he had told her before that she had lost her panties until her next lesson, so as she walked around in her sundress, feeling wicked without her underwear, she would be constantly conscious of her bareness, of the way her pubic hair had been taken away, just like her underwear. She shivered despite the warmth of the water raining down on her.

Would she really not wear her panties? He wouldn’t know, of course. Unless he came over unexpectedly and ordered her to raise her dress for him… Stacy felt her pussy growing warm again at that thought. What the fuck was wrong with her?

But she knew what was wrong with her: she didn’t want to be porn-girl, but the more time she spent under Ben’s tutelage, the clearer it became that Stacy Miller
was
porn-girl.

She dried herself in one of the fluffy white towels that lay on the white shelf in a corner of the bathroom. The only thing there that wasn’t gleaming white were a few of her hairs, which she self-consciously cleaned up with the towel she had sat on to have her pussy shaved. She put the towel in the hamper.

She almost walked back into the main part of the basement with the fluffy towel wrapped around her, but then she got scared that Ben would whip her for covering herself up that way, so she dried her hair as much as she could, and dropped that towel, too, into the hamper. At least it was nice and warm in Ben’s basement.

Stacy’s heart started to flutter when she remembered what she must do when she re-entered the big room, with the entertainment center, and in front of it the strange bench that she had recognized immediately from those videos—the ones with the punishments that went on and on and on. She saw through the open door that Ben was standing next to the bench, facing the TV. On the screen he had a split screen of Stacy’s face at the beginning of her homework video, on the left, and the opening scene of
Polly Gets Caught
on the right.

Stacy swallowed hard, and moved into the room toward the spanking bench.

“Ah, there you are, porn-girl,” Ben said with a cheerful air. “Get over the bench, now.”

There were arm rests at the front for her elbows, and knee rests at the back. And there were leather straps, eight of them in all, which Ben quickly fastened: wrists, elbows, knees, ankles. Stacy started to breathe hard and fearfully as she felt the leather buckled tightly—though not painfully—to keep her in place, for both spanking and, she was sure, fucking as well, since her knees were fastened wide apart on the padded supports.

Then she watched as Ben went to the closet.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Stacy asked.

He said nothing, but opened the door and took the wooden paddle from its hook.

“Please, sir,” Stacy pleaded, panicking and beginning to struggle against the leather restraints. “Please! Just your hand! I only hesitated for a moment!”