As soon as Stacy came in the front door, the next Tuesday, Ben said, “Show me your cunt, Stacy. I want to make sure you’re not wearing panties.”
The look on Stacy’s face showed a perfect mixture of shame and arousal. It got him instantly hard. Her hands began to move downward, but then they stopped. Stacy bit her lip.
“Go ahead, girl,” Ben said. “Do you want a paddling?”
Stacy shook her head. She took hold of her blue sundress at the front of her thighs and started to lift it up, while Ben regarded her lovely bare legs with an appraising eye. Stacy pulled the dress up slowly, until at last she gathered the hem into her fingers and held it, trembling a little above her bare pussy, of which Ben could just make out the little cleft, peeping out modestly between her thighs.
“Did you shave this morning?” he asked softly, as he put out his left hand to touch her there lightly, just to let her know to whom her cunt belonged.
She nodded, and made a little whimper deep in her throat at the delicate caress.
“Alright, you get downstairs. I’ll be down in a sec.”
To his satisfaction, Ben found Stacy naked, in front of the chair, with her hands on her head.
“Good girl,” he said. “That’s just the way you should be, if I don’t give you any other instructions. I’m proud of you, Stacy.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, turning her head to look at him as he advanced across the carpet.
“Now what was your homework again?”
Stacy blushed. “The Adulteress,” she said softly.
“Oh, that’s right,” Ben said. He stood next to her, now, and casually reached out his right hand to play with her breasts, giving her nipples a possessive little tweak. Stacy’s nostrils flared, and Ben reached down to run his middle finger along her smooth pussy, pushing it further in, so that he could pinch her little clit between that finger and his thumb, and make Stacy’s knees buckle and open further to him.
“Naughty,” he said softly. “Tell me about The Adulteress, like it’s a book report. Do you remember the questions I asked you to think about?”
“Yes, sir,” Stacy gasped. Ben kept up the caress of her pussy, running two fingers down and inward, to seek out her wetness. He brought the fingers up and put them at Stacy’s lips. At first her brow furrowed and she compressed her lips, but when Ben seized her jaw lightly and squeezed just a little, she opened her mouth with a little sob, and greedily sucked her cunt’s arousal off his fingers.
“There we go, porn-girl,” Ben murmured in her ear. He took the fingers away and returned them to her slippery, warm cunt. “What were the questions?”
“Th-they… I mean, the f-first… one was why d-does Lady M-Margaret get p-punished?” Ben had put his left arm around Stacy’s waist to support her, while he forced her legs open with his right hand, so that he could claim her pussy and anus completely with his hand.
“And I asked you to think about it on at least two levels, didn’t I?” Ben said, nodding like a teacher prompting a good student.
“Y-yes. And…” Ben relented a little with his hand, so that she could finish answering before he brought out his little surprise.
“And you asked, why does Lord Palmer fuck her in the ass, after he whips her?”
“That’s right,” Ben said, just gently running his middle finger up and down, so that the little noises came from Stacy every few seconds, but she still had enough reason to carry on a conversation.
“And… why does… does he let her come, at the end.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ben said. “Let’s get you on the bench, so that we can discuss your answers.”
“Yes, sir,” Stacy whimpered. Ben helped her stand up, and she took the two steps to the bench and laid herself over it so sweetly and obediently that Ben wanted to hug her. He resisted that urge, but couldn’t help patting her bottom and saying, “Good girl,” before he strapped her down.
He started The Adulteress playing on the TV, with no sound, and went to the closet. The first few minutes of the video were a ludicrous setup of the restoration-era-esque situation, in which Lord Palmer discovers his wife Lady Margaret in bed with a footman. The sex with the footman was a little hot, Ben would admit—the director tapped into a fantasy of a proper lady getting from a footman what she had never dared asked for from her noble husband.
Lord Palmer’s discovery of the footman riding Lady Margaret like a pony, though, made Ben—who thought of himself as something of a porn connoisseur—cringe. So he didn’t mind having his back to the screen as he went to the closet to get the vibrator, the butt plug, and the lube.