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An Indecent Awakening by Emily Tilton – Sample

Chapter OneAn Indecent Awakening by Emily Tilton

Ben Weathers thought he knew what was making the noises from the moment he heard them coming from Stacy Miller’s bedroom. The sound emerged through her door as he walked by it on his way to check out the damage left by ice dams on the Millers’ roof. He had come as a favor to Stacy’s dad Jeff, and let himself into the house with the key they kept under the watering can. Inside Stacy’s room, a girl was crying out, “Oh, God,” in a strangled voice, and a man was grunting.

Eighteen-year-old Stacy Miller was watching porn.

But Ben’s brain, focused on the roof, filed the knowledge that Stacy was a very naughty girl away in the back of his mind. It was only when, an hour later, he had fully assessed the state of the roof—it was early summer now, so he could do a thorough job—and was walking back down the upstairs hall, and he heard a man’s voice say, “You like it in your butt, don’t you?” that the urge to do something—though at that moment Ben wasn’t sure what—came to him.

Part of him suspected he should just keep walking. The Millers were friends of Ben’s parents from way back, and to use what he had just learned about their daughter to have the kind of fun Ben liked best might make for some uncomfortable times, down the road.

Part of him thought he should knock on Stacy’s door and make up some excuse just to put the fear of God in her about watching porn at so high a volume. She was a good kid, and he didn’t want to see her get into any trouble—or at least not trouble that he himself didn’t cause.

But the largest part of Ben wanted to press the advantage, barge in, and see if, as he suspected, Stacy were playing with herself. Ben saw no use in denying that desire, nor the hardness of his cock at the thought of how he could use the situation to make Stacy provide the sort of pleasure he knew he could teach her to give him.

Ben Weathers, after all, was no novice when it came to taking naughty girls in hand, and teaching them very special lessons.

Ben opened her door, and saw exactly what he had hoped to see: chestnut-haired, hazel-eyed Stacy sat on her bed, with her laptop in front of her. Her panties were still on, but she had pulled the gusset aside so that she could touch herself shamefully with her right hand, her fingertips lost in her light brown pussy curls, while her left played with her little breasts under her white T-shirt.

She looked up from the screen, where from the sound of it a girl was not enjoying the cock in her butt all that much, panic in her wide eyes.

“Stacy Miller,” Ben said. “You’re in a great deal of trouble.”

“Wh-what?” she said, reaching to close the laptop, her face bright pink.

“Don’t close the laptop, Stacy,” Ben said. “I need to see what you were watching.”

“No!” she said, her fingers now on the screen. But Ben was too quick for her; he grabbed it off the bed and turned it toward him.

“Let’s see,” he said, “just how naughty you are.” On the laptop screen an authority figure of some sort—probably a police officer, Ben thought—had a girl over a couch, his cock pounding hard into her ass, while she screamed out her discomfort at the impalement of her rump.

“Very naughty indeed,” Ben said, pausing the video. “And playing with yourself, too.”

“I’m eighteen!” Stacy said. “Get the fuck out of here. I’ll watch what I want, and you’re the one who’s in trouble!” Finally thinking to close her legs, she desperately put her panties to rights. Ben felt a moment’s sadness at the loss of the naughty sight, but of course he knew he would soon have the chance to observe it much more intimately. She stood up, facing him, trying to look furious. “Give me back my computer!”

“Oh, I don’t think you want your parents hearing about this, do you, Stacy?” He paused, looking into her eyes and seeing the uncertainty arise there. “Do you?”

“No,” she confessed quietly. “Okay, just… just go, please. I won’t say anything if you don’t.”

Ben laughed. “That’s not how this works.”

Stacy swallowed hard. “How… h-how does it work?”

“You come to my house tomorrow at 10 a.m., and you start learning your lesson, for watching this filth and for playing with yourself.”

“But…”

“No buts, Stacy. Rearrange your schedule if you have to. If you’re not at my house at 10 tomorrow, I’m going to tell your parents. I’ll take your laptop with me, and you’ll get it back tomorrow.”

“What?” Disbelief filled her tone.

“What you did today, Stacy Miller, carries serious consequences. Having your laptop taken away for a night is the least of your concerns right now. I’ll see you tomorrow. Wear a dress, please: you’ll be wearing more feminine clothing from now on, whether you like it or not. We’ll discuss that further tomorrow.”

Ben turned, snapping the laptop closed, and left the room. He heard the door close behind him. His mind already whirled with the possibilities.

For starters, he would watch every porn video Stacy had watched on this computer. That would be fun.

As he drove home, Ben considered the shape of the lesson plan he would design for Stacy.

First of all, Stacy would go over Ben’s knee, like it or not, for a long hard spanking: he owed that to Jeff Miller, didn’t he? No father deserved a daughter who played with herself while watching porn, and it would be better for Ben to take care of it himself, to spare Jeff the embarrassment and trouble.

Afterwards, of course, though perhaps Jeff wouldn’t approve of this next step quite as much as he might approve of Ben spanking his lustful daughter, Ben would lay down the law. He would start Stacy on what he called ‘the path of virtue,’ and he would require certain naughty things of her. Once she had accepted his ‘invitation’ to undergo training at his house, and become familiar with how things would work, Ben would make her do several things with which she would clearly be familiar, from her porn-watching. Stacy would obey him, and please him: she would embark on the special course of study Ben proposed, because she wouldn’t want either to be spanked again or to have her viewing habits shared with her parents.

Ben felt real, if very complicated and highly unusual, moral outrage as he thought of what Stacy had been doing in her room. He wasn’t a prude—very, very far from it—but he believed very strongly in making sure that girls like Stacy learned to walk the straight and narrow path of society’s standards when they might be observed, while also learning other, more intimate lessons about the way they must conduct themselves behind closed doors. He thought himself very well equipped to give young women the instruction they needed, and he didn’t mind taking a great deal of erotic enjoyment for himself in the process.

The lessons Ben gave involved teaching a wayward girl as much as possible about what an unscrupulous man might do, if he had her in his power. He considered it his duty to portray that unscrupulous man as accurately as possible, to ensure that the girls he trained understood their position. Ben thought of the pleasure he got from teaching this sort of lesson not only as a fringe benefit of the avocation to try to set girls on the path of virtue, but also as a sort of natural seal of approval on his activities: how could the severe punishments and thorough sexual use he gave them be wrong, if it felt so good for both Ben and the young woman he taught with his belt and his cock?

So the fresh memory of finding Stacy masturbating, and the notion of starting her on a course of regular training in virtue, attracted him very strongly indeed.

Ben’s tutelage of naughty girls always began by finding the proper moment to tell them that he would be in charge of their private parts from then on, since he had discovered their naughtiness. That he would discipline them as necessary. That he would ascertain their fitness for advanced sexual training. That they would need to accustom themselves to the idea that Ben would enjoy them whenever and however he liked, in order to acquaint them thoroughly with the perils and pleasures that befall a virtuous girl who comes into the power of a teacher like Ben Weathers.

That, when their training had reached a satisfactory standard, he would find new boyfriends for them: boyfriends who could take them in hand just as Ben had done, and continue their lessons in giving the pleasure they owed to the men who took care of them.

Last year, he had had a girl named Julie at his mercy that way. He had caught the pretty nineteen-year-old blonde giving a rich guy a blowjob in a bathroom at the mall for fifty bucks. He had sent the asshole running with his pants around his ankles, and had told Julie that if she wanted to avoid her parents knowing about the embarrassing details, she had better come to his house to discuss the matter.

When Julie rang the doorbell of the tidy little house Ben, now thirty-five, had bought three years before with the proceeds of his very successful carpentry business, he ushered her inside and led her down to the basement, where the soundproofing meant there was no chance the neighbors would overhear, as he taught Julie her lesson—the same kind of lesson he now thought he probably needed to give Stacy.

The fear in Julie’s eyes had made him hard; Ben loved to give that kind of lesson. A girl who couldn’t follow society’s rules needed to be brought to a healthy awareness of the consequences of her wickedness, whether that wickedness consisted of minor prostitution or any of the other peccadilloes, like masturbation, that girls got up to when their panties came down.

The basement room where Ben taught girls these lessons—Julie Morton, and Peggy Warren, before her, whom he had caught letting her meth-addicted bad-boy boyfriend feel her up behind a school building, and soon Stacy Miller—was a pleasant place that looked like a conventional media room, with a comfy green couch, and even comfier green chair, and an entertainment center against one wall. All the things Ben used when giving girls their lessons—disciplinary implements and sex toys, above all—stayed in the closet until it was time for a girl to undergo a sort of training that involved one or more of them.

So all Julie saw when she came down the stairs for the first time, to the place where she would learn so much about conducting herself morally, and about pleasing the man who taught her this morality, was an ordinary looking sort of room. The command to take off her clothes had clearly caught her very much off guard.

“What?” Julie wore cut-off shorts and a cute blue top with a ruffle at the neck. She couldn’t have looked any sweeter, despite being a thief.

“You heard me, Julie,” Ben said. “You’re going to learn about consequences, now. Your consequences will start with a bare bottom spanking, but they’re not going to end there by a long shot. By the time you leave my classroom here today, you’ll have had a thorough fucking, to get you started on learning how to give pleasure for the right reasons. Girls like you need to learn what happens when they tread the path of vice. Here in my house, you’ll get to know your danger very well indeed, as I demonstrate to you exactly what a man likes to do with a naughty girl.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Julie said. She shook like a leaf. “What do you mean about… about a classroom?”

“Why did you think I told you to come here?” Ben asked severely.

“I guess… well, I thought you’d just… talk to me?”

“I think we both know that’s not true. I think you came here expecting to give me a blowjob, perhaps.” Ben wasn’t vain, but he knew that girls like Julie Morton found his 6′2″, well-muscled carpenter’s body attractive enough that the naughty ones like her and Peggy generally didn’t mind the thought of sex with him. That in itself was a reason to give them his course of moral lessons here in his basement classroom.

Julie didn’t answer, and Ben could see in her blue eyes that he had gotten her expectation exactly right.

“Well, you’ll definitely be giving me a blowjob today, Julie Morton. That part is one hundred percent correct.”

“B-but…”

“But,” Ben said patiently, “you’ll be learning a lot more here than how to take my cock deep in your throat. You were a bad girl, Julie, and I’m very skilled at giving bad girls lessons they never forget. You’re going to come here twice a week from now on, for panties-down discipline and panties-down pleasure. You’re going to learn that the two go hand in hand. When I feel that you have become a virtuous young woman who is ready to serve a man properly, I’ll help you find a boyfriend who can take you in hand as thoroughly as I have. Until then, you belong to me, so if you know what’s good for your bottom, you should take off your clothes.”

But Julie still hesitated, so Ben grabbed her and dragged her to the comfy couch, and bent her over its arm as she cried out in alarm into the couch cushions.

“You’re going to learn very quickly, Julie Morton, that I don’t mind spanking you. Pretty soon I think you’ll try hard not to give me excuses to punish you, like you just did.”

He started to spank her sweet bottom then, over the denim of the cutoffs. “Now, Julie,” Ben said conversationally as he spanked her at a steady, even pace, “your real spanking won’t begin until you take your clothes off for me, but I can also spank you this way as long as you want me to. You just let me know when you’re ready to start being a good girl for me.”

It had only taken twenty or so spanks before Julie had said tearfully, “Okay, I’ll… I’ll do it.” Then the fun had really begun.

It was six months later now, and Julie lived with Ben’s friend Joe. Last Ben had seen them, she had earned a spanking for falling behind on the laundry. Joe had administered it in front of Ben, saying, “You’re not gonna see anything you haven’t seen before,” and Ben enjoyed the sight of the caring discipline greatly.

Then they took Julie to the bedroom, where Ben, according to the rules he had laid down for handing Julie onto Joe, by which Ben continued to be the owner of her adorable backside, had her ass while she gave her boyfriend a blowjob. Ben had to admit that Julie had come along very nicely in her anal training, as he rode her hard back there while she whimpered adorably around Joe’s big cock. The four months of lessons he had given her, including making her wear a butt-plug harness for two weeks between lessons to make it easier to get his cock into her backside, had yielded good results: Julie Morton’s anus gripped him so pleasurably that he couldn’t help rewarding her with his seed up her tight little bottom, as he watched her swallow Joe’s, his friend’s big fireman’s hands keeping her mouth on him until he was sure she had done her duty completely.

Yes, Julie Morton had turned out very well. And Stacy Miller would, too.

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