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I had barely noticed the little room she had led me to, after my whipping and her fucking; I had fallen into a dreamless sleep the moment I had pulled off my jeans all the way and lain down—on my front of course. In the morning, awoken by the sounds coming upstairs from the kitchen, I had found a new toothbrush and a fluffy towel waiting for me in a neat little pile on the bathroom sink.
Back in the bedroom, I had noticed a chair with a dress hanging on the back, looking like it had last been worn in the 1950s. On the seat of the chair had sat a pair of pink cotton panties a size too large for me. With deeply mixed feelings, I had put them on, and then the ankle socks and black flats I found under the chair, feeling like a country schoolgirl from a movie.
“We’ll go into town after breakfast,” Shelly told me as I crunched buttered toast. “We’ll shop for some things for your room, if you want, and some proper clothes of your own. Then we’ll go to the doctor to have your IUD inserted. You and the other girls have a New Modesty meeting at eleven: they’ll fill you in on the details of courtship in Grasskiln.”
My lips parted and my heart rate sped up, but Shelly had said all these alarming things as if she were telling me about the day’s weather, and I couldn’t manage to find any words to challenge these clearly benign—in my foster mother’s mind, anyway—facts about my day.
Shelly took me to the town’s little department store. She encouraged me to choose two posters from fantasy shows I liked, and a big handbag—“for your activities,” she told me. Then she led me to the lingerie section and stopped in front of a rack with white shorts that seemed to be made of a very thick, stretchy cotton fabric. Their legs looked long enough to come down almost to my knees.
A sign on top of the rack said, ‘Training Panties: $0.99 (subsidized by the New Modesty Authority).’ I felt my face go bright red as I remembered what Jake had said about using these embarrassing things to keep me from playing with myself. I had dismissed his words as a silly attempt to threaten me with a childish punishment that didn’t actually exist in the real world. The row of underwear in front of me told me he had spoken only the truth.
“They’re a tradition here in Grasskiln,” Shelly told me. “One of the town’s founders, Elijah Peacock, told his wife to sew drawers that way, because she couldn’t keep from masturbating. Her friends noticed one day at the women’s swimming hole, and told their husbands—and much to the girls’ surprise their men asked Mrs. Peacock to share the pattern. Soon enough, every proper woman in Grasskiln had to wear training drawers until she showed her husband she could keep her hands off his property.”
I felt my whole body go cold, and then immediately blaze up with a blush that seemed like it might set my face on fire. I glanced over at Shelly, who stood beside me in front of the rack, with my lower lip caught between my teeth. To my distress, I found her gazing back at me with a knowing smile.
“Yes, honey,” she told me. “I wore them too, as a young bride.”
I turned back to the panties, my forehead creasing hard. I couldn’t help asking, in a whisper.
“And… did they… I mean… did you…?” I couldn’t manage to get any further than that, but Shelly of course knew what I wanted to ask.
“They’re a reminder,” she told me, her voice low and confidential. “Every couple handles it differently, I’m sure, but when I started feeling needy I knew that when Jake got home, if I’d been a good girl and I asked politely, he’d let me take them down, even if he didn’t have time to, you know…” her voice fell even further, “…use me.”
I felt my brow furrow even more deeply as I remembered what it looked like when Jake used his wife. The way he controlled her with his hands… the way his huge, hard penis surged relentlessly in and out of her soaking wet sheath.
Shelly broke me out of my reverie. “You’d better get seven pairs in your size, honey,” she told me. “You’re responsible for keeping them nice and clean between laundry days. And…”
For the first time, as I looked at her expression, I thought maybe our conversation carried at least a little bit of embarrassment for her.
“Well, Mr. Carpenter likes to inspect my panties sometimes. I think he’ll probably do the same with yours.”
A deep frown broke out on my face. “Why?” I asked, turning back to the rack as a new blush came over my face, because I felt sure I knew.
“If he thinks I’ve been touching myself, or just not keeping my panties clean,” she murmured, “he puts me over the arm of his chair. After that… well, maybe it won’t bother you as much as it does me… but I’m not allowed to wear clothes the next day.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. I could see why Shelly had supposed I might not care about being forbidden to wear clothes, given that I had arrived without any panties on. But the way my tummy had flipped, and I had even felt mortifying stirrings further down, at the thought, told me that I would care a great deal.
“But…” I whispered fiercely. “But wouldn’t…”
I managed to glance over at her, to see that Shelly had her eyes lowered, and that her cheeks had spots of pink on them.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Yes, it makes it worse. But…” Her voice trailed off.
“But what?” I breathed, desperate to understand.
“But it… helps, too? Even when Jake catches me and whips me again. You… I think you’ll probably understand when it happens to you.”
CHAPTER 12
Grace
The doctor’s office seemed perfectly ordinary at first. I needed that because checking out at the department store and on the short walk to the doctor my heart had been going a mile a minute, just thinking about the things Shelly had said and trying to sort out all the feelings they had awakened inside me.
Sitting in the ordinary waiting room with the ordinary magazines and the ordinary aquarium, I gradually seemed able to dismiss what she had told me as a serious concern. Jake’s way of taking an interest in his wife’s underwear, I thought, really didn’t have to do with me. The idea of ‘courtship’ and of having a ‘suitor’ had taken on a degree of reality, and I acknowledged that although it made my tummy flutter a little, I didn’t actually object to meeting guys who wanted to date me.
I didn’t take seriously, though, the assumption that Jake and Shelly had both clearly made, that my suitor would behave to me the way Jake behaved to Shelly. I could see, I thought, why Selecta and the government wanted to send girls like me to towns like this one. I already felt like a new kind of future had opened up, one in which I wouldn’t feel the temptation to shoplift—unless out of sheer boredom with my comfortable life.
But I would have the choice of what guys I wanted to date, obviously. I had no intention of choosing a man like Jake. All the crazy shit that had gone down in my foster parents’ living room last night… it was already in the past, and only getting further away. Eventually, I probably wouldn’t even remember what it had felt like.
