How to Train Your Daughter Ch. 3

When Ramer arrived, I poured him a glass of scotch, grabbed a notebook and pen, and led him up the stairs to Jennifer’s bedroom, where she was doing her homework. I knocked on the door and opened it.

Despite Jennifer’s age, pink was still the main color of her personal space. Her white princess bed frame and pink bedspread dominated the center of the room; though she was normally quite tidy, she had just washed a load of her panties, which were arranged in a colorful, lacy profusion along the metal rail of her footboard to dry. Her desk was in front of the window, and she sat in an office chair with her back to us as we entered, working at her computer. Her long, dark ponytail bobbed in surprise as she turned and saw that I had brought a guest with me.

Like most families, we had raised her to be comfortable in and out of clothing; from childhood we treated her body as something to be proud of. The general rule was that young girls should wear the least amount of clothing appropriate in any given circumstance; they needed to be accustomed to being visually enjoyed by others at all times, and it was a sign of poor upbringing if a girl was excessively covered. Though she was perfectly happy being nude in front of other people, we taught her that being naked was still something special she should share with special people for special reasons. For instance, when family or friends visited, we would often have her undress so that a full appreciation could be made of how much she’d grown and changed since last time they’d seen her. More often than not, as her own preference, she would simply stay naked for the rest of the visit, which was usual in private situations. When out and about in public, normal clothing was customary, but it was always designed to showcase her maturing figure, not cover it. When at home, we expected her to wear light, simple clothing for the sole purpose of covering her modesty.

Turning around in her chair and standing up to greet us, she wore a white, loose-fitting tank top that was nearly sheer. The clinging fabric outlined her pert bosom, and the faintly visible darkness of her areolas drew our eyes to the tips of her breasts. Her only other article of clothing was a pair of light cotton panties-her usual lounging-around-the-house outfit. I introduced her to our guest, and Ramer extended his hand.

‘Honey, this is Mr. Ramer. He’s been helping me get you ready for the Festival, and I wanted him to come give me some advice about a couple details. Can you help us out?’

She giggled and nodded, ‘Of course, daddy! What do you need?’

Ramer chuckled as he shook her hand. ‘Good to meet you, Jennifer. Goodness, she’s not shy at all, is she? You are a treat, young lady.’ Raising her hand above her head, he gently twirled her around to get a good look at her backside. Jennifer giggled again and spun back around in mock embarrassment, clasping her hands in front of her crotch.

I smiled at her coy behavior, but couldn’t let her instinct for modesty go unchecked-certainly not in front of one of the best coaches in female handling in the state. I gestured with my hands and gently reminded her that a lady doesn’t cover herself when she is being appreciated. She pouted for an instant, sorry that she had disappointed me, and quickly brought her hands back to her sides, standing up a little straighter and pushing her chest out a little further than was necessary, just to show that she was really trying to be a good girl. Her nipples pushed against the loose fabric, and the edge her right aureole just peeked out from the side of the skimpy tank top.

‘I’m sorry, Mr. Ramer, I didn’t mean to cover myself,’ she apologized, smiling and looking him in the eye like a mature, polite woman and carefully speaking the phrases she’d learned in her etiquette classes. ‘I’m glad you like my body-please feel free to enjoy looking at it.’

‘Honey, Mr. Ramer is here to help us decide how to style your hair in your bikini area for your big night. It’s an important part of your look, and since this is my first time doing this, I’m not sure what would be the best choice. He’s an expert, and he’s helped a lot of girls place very well in the Festival, so I wanted him to take a look at you and give me his opinion.’

As I spoke, Jennifer’s eyes moved from me to her panties to Ramer, and they grew a little bigger. She had been naked in front of other people many times over the years, but with the exception of the thorough evaluation I had needed to do on her when I had started Ramer’s Festival Preparation Course, it had always been an informal, casual nudity-never with an actual focus of attention on her genitals, and certainly not by a stranger. She knew that as she grew up, however, that that would start to change, and she apparently decided that this must be part of that change. She nodded her head understandingly, and then smiled in assent.

‘Of course, daddy! I was not sure of that either-I had some ideas, but I’m glad you found someone to help. Thank you, Mr. Ramer, for being willing to do this. I was kind of worried; I know that it’s really important to get good scores on that whole area. I read a magazine that said I can’t change the way my vagina is shaped, but that the way I style it is important to the overall score the judges give it.’

Ramer nodded kindly and smiled.

‘Certainly, Jennifer. It’s my job, and I wouldn’t want you to feel anything but confident when you are up on stage for your big night. We’ll make sure you feel and look great. My daughters have all been styled differently for their Festivals, and they all got top marks in that area, and I help several other girls each year with lots of different aspects of preparation. So I think I have a pretty good chance of helping you do well, too.’

He sat down on the edge of her bed and motioned for her to stand in front of him. She complied, her light purple panties at his eye level. I pulled her desk chair around next to them and opened my notebook.

‘Now, why don’t you help me holding your tank top just up above your belly button for me like this, and I’ll take a look here,’ he said in a cheerful, business-like fashion, and as she did so, showing great care to do exactly as he’d asked, he looked at her panties for a long moment, then began talking me through his method.

‘First thing is to see the shape of her mons, and how her hips join with it, and the overall proportions and shape of this whole area,’ he said, spanning his hands from hip-bone to hip-bone and then using his fingers to lightly trace the edges of her panties down to where they plunged between her legs. Jennifer shivered as she felt him touch her there.

‘She doesn’t have really wide hips, and she’s fairly lean, so first of all we’ll want something more tightly trimmed and sculpted,’ he explained. ‘She has a nice flat stomach, and her mound is not terribly prominent, but it’s obvious she has some well-defined outer labia here-you can see them quite distinctly through her panties. It’s usually a good idea to accentuate them, if they’re nicely shaped. Let’s see what we’re working with, here.’ As he said this, he grasped the waistband of the panties and eased them down Jennifer’s thighs, leaving them just above her knees. My daughter’s left hand moved to cover her mouth, and she pouted slightly as the cool air from the open window made contact with her pussy, but she maintained her composure and held tightly to her tank top with her right hand, holding it just above her navel as she had been directed, knowing how important it was that our view of her private area remain unobstructed.

Her pussy was beautiful. It was a clean, perfectly symmetrical slit in the middle of a surprisingly plump mound of soft flesh, and just visible in the depths of the fissure was an irresistible glimpse of her clitoral hood enfolded in the delicate, finely detailed edges of her inner labia.