Page 37 of Shamefully Trained

Pussy bared.

Waxed. Exposed. Prepared for a man’s use.

When Gowry had said it, it had felt contaminating. Another expression of appetite without care, entitlement without structure. From Porter, even now, with my face wet, my bottom aflame, and my body still shuddering from climax, the thought exerted an entirely different force: demeaning, but also somehow careful.

My sponsor meant to degrade me for the specific purpose of teaching me about myself. He would clearly take more pleasure in using a hairless pussy than a furry one, but he also wanted to help me understand that I would, dismaying as it felt, get more pleasure that way. Having a smooth pussy because my sponsor liked me that way…

I let out a helpless sob.

He let me come down slowly, his hand easing, then leaving me only when my body had stopped jerking. I lay there panting, scarcely able to think, my head hanging down, my bottom burning, my pussy still fluttering around the aftershocks.

Then, at last, he said, “I’m going to put you on your knees, now, and you’re going to finish thanking me. You’re going to be doing a lot of this, so it’s best to start learning immediately how I like to have my cock sucked.”

CHAPTER 12

Porter

Alex let out an adorable little whimper as I slid her gently to her knees on the Persian rug in front of me. She fit neatly in between my thighs, and she looked up at me with wide, tearstained eyes. My cock felt harder inside my trousers than I could ever remember it feeling.

“Hands on my thighs,” I said.

She obeyed at once, though I could feel the tremor in her through the light pressure of her fingers. Her eyes looked red from crying, her cheeks flushed a deep pink over her pale skin. The sight of her there—naked, chastened, kneeling properly for me with that mixture of shame and need she had not yet learned how to manage—sent a possessive hunger through me so sharp it nearly made me abandon patience.

Patience mattered here, though.

I touched her hair, smoothing it back from her face. “Look at me.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“You are not going to rush. You are not going to perform. You are going to learn. Do you understand?”

“Yes…” Her eyes went wide as she thought of the word part of her had already learned she must say next, and part of her wanted to say, despite still another part of her rebelling against that helpless need. “Yes,” she repeated in a whisper, “sir.”

“Good girl.” I let my hand rest at the back of her head for a moment. “Your first lesson is that my cock is not something you pounce on, as if it belongs to you. You are about to be allowed to please the most important part of my body. That privilege deserves respect. And, although this may sound a touch formal, it’s important to me that once my penis is visible you show your submission to it properly. You will be punished if you look me in the eye without permission, when you are in the presence of my uncovered manhood.”

The words sent a deep shudder through her lovely, naked form. I watched the understanding of them move through her, the trembling clearly half humiliation and half arousal. I could already tell that Alex responded to framing almost as strongly as she did to touch. She needed structure around shame, or it would become chaos for her. Give it a ritual, a logic, and she could bear it. More than bear it.

“Undo my belt,” I said.

Her lips parted. Then she closed them and swallowed hard. She reached out for my waist, her hands visibly shaking.

She did it carefully, with the grave concentration of a girl handling something both important and dangerous. The buckle gave her a little trouble because of the tremor in her hands. I let her struggle with it for a few seconds.

“Steady,” I said quietly. “There’s no hurry.”

She drew a breath and tried again. This time the leather slipped free with a soft hiss through the loops. Her eyes flicked up to mine, then down again at once. I felt my lips curve into a smile at that.

“Now the button and the zipper.”

She opened the waistband, then lowered my fly. She blushed harder. I could see the pulse jumping in her throat.

“Use both hands,” I told her. “Take hold of the waistband and lower my pants for me.”

She did, as I lifted myself a little to allow her to ease my trousers down over my hips. Alex seemed almost entranced: she acted with a care that had in it the reverence I always liked to find in a girl I meant to train.

My black boxer briefs bulged a few inches from her face. I watched her swallow again. Her forehead creased, and she took her lower lip between her teeth.

Then a tiny sound escaped her, mortified and breathy. She stared at the outline of my hardness it as if the shape alone might overwhelm her.