The others had all been shaved already. I hadn’t needed the table, though it was laid out ready just in case. Just another way that Zoey was different.

I worked the razor slowly downwards until all that was left of the hair encircled the folds of her pussy. Dipping the razor into the water again, I held it ready in my right hand. With my left I reached out and moved her skin, listening as she gasped above me, her legs shuffling in place.

“Keep still!” I snapped. “You don’t want me to cut you, do you?”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Sorry, what?”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“That’s better.”

I loved the feel of her pussy lips under my fingers, so I took the chance to move her more than was needed, playing with the folds, exploring them, all the while telling myself it was just to help make it easier to shave her.

I didn’t tell her when I was done. I dropped the razor into the bowl and brought my two hands to her thighs. It was a second of work to spread her pussy lips wide open, to stare at her pink wetness, find that little hole of hers, examine it closely.

“You’re wet,” I said, leaning closer.

“It was the water,” she said, the lie evident in her voice.

“The water?” I echoed back to her as I pulled up the hood that protected her clit, letting me see just how swollen it had become.

I was close enough to lick it. All I had to do was stick out my tongue and…

“Get up,” I said, stepping back. “Now!”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, swinging her legs off the table.

She looked shaky when she stood, her cheeks and her chest both flushed with colour.

“This way,” I said, beckoning for her to follow.

I walked away, trying not to think about how hard I was, the fact that she was naked behind me. Instead I thought about how best to get back on track. I was already changing the system, doing things in the wrong order, ruining my process, the tightly honed set of steps I’d developed.

Break them first, then touch them. I hadn’t even broken her yet.

I opened the door to the next room, stepping inside and waiting for her to join me. “Sit there,” I said, pointing to the armchair with the stirrups sticking out at the end, just ready for her ankles.

“Why?”

I leant towards her, lowering my voice to a cold whisper. “Because I said so.”

“But-”

“It’s simple. Bad girls spend a week in an empty room with just a pot to piss in, maybe not even that. Good girls spend a week in here with everything they could want as their reward for their behaviour. You either sit in the chair and get your reward or you go back across the landing. Which is it to be?”

“I don’t think I should do this. I think-”

“You think too much about things. You want this, I know you do. You need permission to be a slut? Fine, you have my permission. Get in the chair.”

I was gratified to see she did as I asked. She walked past me and I couldn’t help but stare at her ass, it looked so fucking hot, my hands ached to grab it, to squeeze those buttocks, to ram myself into her, to spank her cheeks bright red.

“Feet in the stirrups,” I said coldly as she sat down.

She lifted her legs, not even bothering to protest. With her ankles in place, her pussy was right where I wanted it, in full view.

It was a magnificent sight and I took it all in. From the way her eyes darted about to the hardness of her nipples, all the way down to her curled toes. But my attention was mostly held by her freshly shaved pussy. “You look much better like that,” I said, sinking to my knees and looking more closely at it. “Now touch yourself.”

“Wh…what?” she stuttered.

“Touch yourself for me. I want to watch.”

“But why?”

“No questions, just do it. I know you want to.”

“I don’t, I really don’t.”

“Then why,” I began, reaching out and slipping my finger between her folds, “are you so wet?”

The instant I touched her, I saw her whole body go rigid. I grinned as I brought my finger upwards towards her clit, not touching it, just hovering near it. “Do you want me to touch you?” I asked, taking my hand away.

There was a long pause before she muttered, “Yes.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Her hand moved slowly across her hip, as if she was waiting to be told off for doing this, to be admonished for being so dirty. She’d be waiting a long time.

Her hand moved between her legs, two fingers dipping into her wetness, scooping it up and sliding it over her clit. She let out a quiet sigh as she did so, glancing at me for approval. I nodded back at her. “Keep going.”

Then I said nothing. I just stared at her pussy as she touched herself, as her inhibitions melted away in that perfect moment.

It was like taking a layer off her, the layer of social rules, the layer that said you only did this kind of thing alone, in private. With that gone, she relaxed further, her hand starting to move in a pattern that looked like she had used it many times before.

Her eyes closed as her knees started to shift, her tits heaving as her breathing grew heavier.

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. A day ago, she’d been a stranger in a pub. Now she was naked, her legs wide open, her hands on her pussy, all because of me. I was the cause of this, I was the reason she was here and that thought made me feel powerful, made me feel like the master of her already, crazy an idea as that was. I was her master.

And we were only on our second day together.