Chapter 23

Grace

I found it nearly impossible to get to sleep. The expression on Cal's face as he had told me, It's definitely going to happen seemed to have burned itself into my imagination. Despite how much fun, frankly, I had had during dinner, as we had skirted around the enormous elephant in the living room—well, the dining nook, really, I guess—that memory of his handsome face had stayed there at the back of my mind.

As soon as I had come through the door of Jake and Shelly's house, with just a chaste hug and relatively chaste kiss from Cal on the front stoop, the look in his eyes when he had promised he would fuck me—though not of course in so many words—had risen to dominate my thoughts. I had said goodnight, absently, to Jake, when he had emerged from his office. It seemed like he could see that I had had a good time, but there wasn't much use talking to me about it right then, and he had let me go upstairs to my room without having to answer any embarrassing questions.

He had called after me, though, to my dismay, "Go ahead and change your training panties, honey. And they stay on in bed. No playing with yourself tonight. After a date, a girl needs to keep herself from that kind of self-indulgence."

I had taken two more steps upward. Jake had spoken again, from the bottom of the staircase, his voice getting a little stern.

"Did you hear me, Grace? No masturbation tonight. I'm going to inspect your panties in the morning."

Part of me wanted to defy him and refuse to speak the words I knew I would have to speak to end this latest bit of terrible humiliation. But Cal's face in my mind, his eyes seeming to blaze with authority and desire, made me want to just get into bed and go to sleep and hope that I would be able to figure things out in the morning.

"Yes, sir," I had told Jake, my face on fire. "I heard you."

In bed, though, clad in the knee-length nightgown made of light, white cotton that Shelly had bought me, sleep stayed far away. I saw Cal's blue eyes, looking at me, promising on their own—beyond even the firmness of his verbal promise—that he would take my virginity at a time of his choosing.

It's definitely going to happen.

I fidgeted in bed. I wondered, desperately, what it would feel like. How Cal, my suitor, would do it, when he decided the time had come. What he would say… what instructions he would give me…

Kneel down, darlin'. I heard it in my head, and I felt my forehead crease deeply in the darkness of the little bedroom.

Sir, may I… may I take out your beautiful cock? Shelly had said that. Would Cal make me say it? Or… or would I just… say it? Because I couldn't help myself, because I needed it so, so much?

Take off your clothes. He would definitely say that, wouldn't he? I could tell from the look in his eyes, in my memory, how much my suitor wanted to see me naked. The thought sent an electric thrill over my skin, and I had to turn over onto my other side and put my hands in front of me, to keep them out of trouble.

I could see them, barely visible in the little bit of light coming through the window blinds, curled into frustrated fists, because the idea of trouble had reminded me of being over Cal's knee. To my dismay, I felt my hips thrust and my bottom clench, as if I were still riding my suitor's firm, knowing hand.

I whimpered at the unwelcome—and yet so very welcome—way that bit of motion had made the trouble much worse. I found myself squeezing again, down there, and I had the sudden fear that even if I didn't put my hands between my thighs and—I blushed, but I couldn't deny the idea—my bottom cheeks I might still leave evidence of my helpless need on the gusset of my training panties.

I hadn't even looked at the ones I had taken off and put in the hamper. At Cal's house, when he had let me go to the bathroom and freshen up after my mortifying but overwhelmingly pleasurable lesson, I hadn't looked, either. I hadn't been able to help catching the scent, though, that wafted from my damp underwear and my still wet pussy. Musky. Naughty.

Trouble.

I tried to think about something else. Anything else. About corn. About dirt. About trucks.

Trucks that Cal could fix, with those enormous hands. The same way he would fix a wayward young woman, taking her naughty backside into his firm hand and teaching her about her pussy, and about her bottom hole too. The places he would put his hardness, when the time came.

It's definitely going to happen.

I turned over again, clenched my fists anew. I tried to count sheep. Soft and white. Like my nightgown. Like my awful training panties.

My hand began to drift downward, as if just to see how soft the fabric was. I raised the hem of the nightgown, something that could happen just as a girl tossed and turned in bed. I put two fingers on the thick-woven cotton, and I could barely feel them through it, atop the place Cal had explored so fully and dominantly.

Wouldn't my suitor want me to play with myself, as I thought about him?

I rubbed, just to see what it would feel like. I couldn't keep back the little cry of arousal that surged from my throat.

The floor outside my bedroom creaked, and then the door did, all in what seemed a nanosecond, and then a nanosecond later I heard Shelly's voice.

"Grace, honey? Are you still awake?"

She just came into my bedroom without any further warning. I froze, and then as she stepped closer to the bed I started to draw my hand slowly back up to my belly.

"Grace? Are you okay, honey? I thought I heard something."

Should I pretend to be asleep? But hadn't Shelly just spoken loud enough that I would have woken up anyway? The panic crawling in my stomach clouded my judgment. I pretended to be half-awake, stirring as if sleepily, and turning over. It gave me the chance to bring my hand further up, so as to avoid any suspicion that I had had it between my thighs.

"Huh?" I said, blinking and looking up at Shelly with what I hoped looked like heavy-lidded eyes.

"Did I wake you, honey?" Shelly said. Her tone didn't sound guilty; it sounded knowing—so knowing that I felt heat rush to my cheeks.

"Um," I said, swallowing hard.

"It's not easy, is it?" she asked.

"Um," I said again, searching my mind for some kind of neutral response. "What? What… what isn't easy, ma'am?"

"Getting to sleep after a first date," Shelly responded, sitting down on the side of the bed.

I blinked again. My lips parted, as if to say something, and I closed them—then opened them again. But "I…" was all I managed to say.

"It's okay, honey," Shelly said. "If I know Cal, I'm guessing he gave you a lot to think about."

I felt my brow furrow, and I nodded, my lower lip between my teeth.

"Did he make you come, honey?" Shelly asked. "Over his knee, maybe?"

I felt my eyes go wide, and my whole body seemed to flare with heat.

"I…" I said stupidly, again, still with no idea how to continue.

"I know that's one of the things he asked Jake about doing to start training you. Did he do that?"

My lips had parted once again, but not to speak. I had to breathe through them, raggedly, because of the effect Shelly's soothing but also terribly arousing words had started to have on me. I nodded, looking up into her wise, compassionate eyes.

"You'd like to play with your little pussy, wouldn't you?" she asked, with a smile I could just make out in the light from the hall, but not a mocking smile. No, Shelly asked the question as if it were completely natural.

I couldn't nod in confirmation, though. It just seemed too embarrassing. Instead I whispered, "I never did… before," hearing a bit of fierce defiance in my tone, as if I needed to make sure my foster mother didn't get the wrong idea about me. The sympathetic expression on her face, though, made me continue, "But after… after I saw you…"

I thought Shelly might have blushed at that. I couldn't really see in the half-light. Her mouth definitely twitched a little to the side in what might have been embarrassment.

"I know Jake told you not to, but I asked him for permission to help you get to sleep, and he said yes, as long as you pull your training panties back up afterwards. Go ahead and pull them down for me, then turn over on your other side."

I frowned deeply, wondering despite everything I'd seen of Shelly so far whether she might be trying to trick me into getting a whipping from Jake.

"Did… did Jake really… I mean, he said… he said he would inspect them."

"He's not a mean man, even though I know he seems that way sometimes. He said it was alright, and he won't punish you for getting your panties a little wet. I know how it feels, honey. I persuaded him that if… well, if I make you come it's not the same as you indulging yourself that way."

"But…" I whispered, "I've never… you know… with…"

"With another woman?" Shelly asked. Now I felt completely sure her cheeks had gotten red, even if I couldn't see them. I nodded.

"Well," she said. I could see she had taken her lower lip between her teeth. "I guess… I mean, Jake says it's okay. And in Grasskiln wives are allowed to… to do it… if we have our husbands' permission."

I felt my mouth twist to the side. I wanted to ask so many inappropriate questions—and I also wanted to sink into the bed and disappear, because of how embarrassing it felt, and yet how urgent the need had grown, in my training panties, at the idea.

"Let me make you feel good, and help you sleep, honey," Shelly said softly and soothingly. "Go ahead and turn over, and pull down those panties. Just to your knees."

I didn't know why, exactly, but the thought of only pulling down my underwear that far seemed to make it seem more acceptable, somehow also more sexy, and in my current state, more irresistible. All I had to do was turn onto my other side and pull my panties down a little. I wouldn't even see Shelly, would I?

I gave her one more searching look in the darkness, still not entirely sure that this wouldn't end with me over the arm of Jake's chair—or maybe even turned over to Cal for a more painful kind of training than he had given me tonight. But Shelly's face reassured me, and I could hardly keep from putting my own hand back between my thighs at the thought of Cal's discipline. I turned over, and as I felt Shelly draw the sheet down the bed so that she could watch me and touch me, I hooked my thumbs a little awkwardly into the waistband of the thick training panties and swiftly yanked them down to the bottoms of my thighs.

"There we go, honey," Shelly said. I heard a moist little sound and I turned my face over my shoulder to see my foster mother had her fingers in her mouth, wetting them. My eyes went wide as I understood—the gesture seemed to speak of many past experiences of touching, perhaps even of kissing, other women's privates.

"Just close your eyes, honey," Shelly purred. "Think of being over Cal's knee, now."

I turned to face the wall, and I closed my eyes. When I felt Shelly's fingertips urging my thighs apart, I pulled my left knee—the upper one, closer to my chest, and I whimpered as my foster mother began to fondle me.

"Shh, honey." she murmured. "Such a sweet little pussy. You'll have a nice hard cock here soon, won't you?"