Climbing The Shamelessness Ladder Pt 01

Part 1 -- First babysteps at home and at friends'

INTRODUCTION

Here you find the story of the journey our girl nude Joanna undertakes to get to know and conquer shame and embarrassment. She is eighteen-years old and a senior at highschool. At this point, it comes in three parts. In the first, she takes her first nude baby steps at home and hence takes a giant step when she exposes herself to her friend Louise and her boyfriend Robert. In Part 2, she takes another big step, but in a different direction, when she claims the right to be naked at home, amongst her mum and dad and two brothers. Part 3, finally, for now, sees her be exposed and inspected at a party, under the guidance of her elder brother.

I hope you find it a sexy story. I try to paint a picture of how things look, sound and smell and how the protagonists feel. It may not be for everyone, however. In this story, there is no penetration, for example. Or fucking, if that is your word. But I know there is a category of readers that like my kind of story, with details of things, sensations and feelings.

NOTE: The main narrative passes twice. The first time, where we have a narrator, who talks of Joanna in the third person and we see the proceedings from an external perspective. The second time, IN ITALICS, where Joanna describes the proceedings herself, obviously along with her feelings. If you are in a hurry, you could skip the second version of the narrative, but you would miss certain details and an account of what Joanna felt and thought.

JOANNA'S EXHIBITIONIST HIGH -- SO FAR!

Here is a look forward -

'Who?'

There is a short period of no sound, no movement -- all eyes are on Joanna, who hides behind her mask, in a tense posture. Then a voice replies, a woman's voice, 'I will make the first cut!' Heather! Is she a friend or a foe? She goes to Julian and receives the pair of scissors. She then comes to stand right in front of Joanna. 'I have an idea. Why don't you go and stand on the coffee table? It will be a sort of stage, you see.' Assent all around, so she moves and climbs on the coffee table. Heather looks at her, approving but wearing a mischievous smile. 'Yeah, much better, but why don't you go down on all fours? After all, you want to play the dog here... Help yourself!' We see Joanna stiffen and clenching her fists. Who knows what she is thinking, but she relaxes again and complies. Right, she wants the degradation! There she is, a nice girl in nice clothes, on her hands and knees, waiting.

Heather lifts up the dress at Joanna's butt and snips off the fabric she is holding, thereby creating a roughly circular hole when the rest of the dress falls down again. The hole exposes the grey pantihose and pink panties shining through. She then turns to the audience, triumphantly holding the scissors high and exclaiming, 'Who is next?' There is immediate response now. And so, a sequence of guys and gals take turns to cut away Joanna's clothes.

After Heather's first cut, the next few cutters continue in the area of her bottom, pinching the pantihose there and cutting a hole directly underneath that in the dress. The next cut, you guessed it, is in the panties underneath. There we have it: part of the crack of her ass is the first hidden flesh to be revealed. The following cutter manages to sever the waistband of her pink panties, rendering the garment sloppy and useless. The skirt of the dress hanging down from her butt is then removed in about half a dozen goes. The next frenzy of cuts stays in the same area, cutting up the pantihose there and what remains of the panties. You can imagine the excitement among the audience grows as the baring of her cunt grows closer. As chance has it (is it chance?), it is Heather again who cuts the final bit of fabric away and reveals the vagina opening. What Joanna will feel when air instead of fabric touches that opening, we can only guess. We do know she does not move, but to say that she does not respond? There are sharp intakes of breath and sighs.

What area is targeted next, you think? Yes, naturally, her tits. The first cutter there has to pinch and pull the dress down and has perhaps hoped to bare the nipple in one, but, no, more layers were revealed -- a camisole (easy) and a sportsbra (hard, in fact could only be done when dress and camisole were gone.) So, it will take a campaign of snips to bare the breasts.

To be sure, it takes more than one snip by each of the guests to complete the job of baring Joanna. Heather, for example, takes five. Recordholder is one of the hosts, who takes no less than seven! Thankfully, the audience is sufficiently sophisticated to not take the shortest route to Joanna's nudity, thus sustaining the curve of the arousal at a high throughout. Naturally, Julian abstains. Joanna all the while manages to stay put like a statue. Like a saint!

There are many, many cuts to go before she is naked (save the bootties. Those are off-territory! What is a woman

sans

shoes?) Highlights are when to back of the dress was fully severed, rendering the beautiful garment a mess of red velvet around her body, only requiring cutting off the puff-sleeves to complete the job of making her dressless. The pantihose -- the quickest would have been severing the waistband, but somehow people decided to leave that to the last. Patience is good! Instead, they pinched the hose material up, cut and made holes, then cut from hole to hole, thus joining them and slowly shredding the pantihose, next cut off the feet and finally severed the waist and let the hose drop away. As we know, the panties had already lost its shape and function early on. A few more cuts see the pink panties drop to the table.

So, Joanna is nearly naked by now. There is just the sports bra to go at this point. It would have taken more than a saint's patience to stretch that beyond the minimum of three cuts. This is how it happened. Finally, Joanna is stark naked. Save the red bootties of course.

Throughout the doggy-style cutting process, the attention of audience members not active cutting or standing in line feasts upon her cunt. Don't forget that at the time, fully shaven vulvas were very rare. Moreover, it was not common even for steady boyfriends to study their girlfriend's naughty parts in detail. The baring of Joanna was a little local revolution therefore.

Julian gathers the pile of once coherent material around her body. He briefly embraces her in her doggy-style position, awkwardly. A moving sight. Now there is nothing left to remind us of the time Joanna was not naked, with her free breasts hanging down and on display. Touching is not allowed. Honestly, we imagine emotions would run high at this point and are sure some would kill for a touch...

WHERE THE GIRL IS COMING FROM

There is a picture of her as a baby, you know the one, on the changing mat after her bath, nice and pink and rosy.

There were occasions when the album with this photograph would be passed around. During puberty she hated that, aunts and neighbours giggling over her vulnerable, nude baby self. Still, the operative word here is embarrassment. She was not ashamed. The baby was perfectly acceptable.

Nor was there any shame involved in playing doctor behind the garden shed, age six, seven or eight, although she and her friends knew it was 'wrong', for some reason they did not quite understand. They just felt some excitement they were unable to describe.

She did get know embarrassment full-on during puberty though. She started to hide her body from her parents and siblings, and did not particularly like the communal showers at highschool at first. There was even a period during early puberty when she did not like her own body. She was ashamed of her developing breasts and of the dirty pubic hair that began to sprout, and that in her armpits.

At fifteen, she started to grow out of that. Her confidence was blossoming. This was due in no small measure to the signals she received from her peers and also from the boys. She had found out that she was attractive. (Beautiful? No, she wouldn't say that. She was a modest girl.) This meant the end of the feelings of embarrassment during the school showering and she no longer minded when she appeared in bikini at her family swimming pool or at those at her friends' houses.

A quick aside: at this moment, having just turned eighteen, she still was a virgin. We hasten to add that was not through lack of opportunity, but entirely by choice. She did not want to give herself away too cheaply.

She did, however, remember the days when she had experienced embarrassment. It sort of amazed her that she had felt uncomfortable during communal showering. She liked the look of her nude body in the mirror, so what had that feeling of embarrassment really been? It fascinated her. She researched the issue of embarrassment and shame and found this quote:

"Embarrassment is a feeling of discomfort that often doesn't last very long. What differentiates embarrassment from shame is that when we do something embarrassing, we know we're not the only ones who have done that thing. Shame makes us feel completely alone."

Completely alone? Yeah, she felt alone during those showering events, the rest of the girls against herself. The article discusses that the same event can hit the one person lightly, in the form of embarrassment, and the other hard, in the form of shame, making the person fold into herself and be miserable. And alone, then. Her feeling must have been somewhere in the middle of shame and embarrassment, if you want to be technical about it. But when the aunties giggled at her baby photograph, she had clearly felt embarrassment.

Embarrassment, shame -- not the end of the world, but a loss of control in any case. She decided to see if she could train herself to leave all that behind. She had to think this through and progress gradually from embarrassment to shame, or bigger embarrassment, whatever. That is, imagine a process of graduation from the one stage to the next. She figured that as she would progress, what appeared as shameful at the start, might only be embarrassing when she got there! The thought excited her no end. She had turned eighteen and would leave home to go to college soon. She considered that that might be as good a moment as any to see her process peak. But, impatient as she was to start, she had to do something sooner. Now!

She had to think of an appetiser, that she could eat now, so to speak. She had overheard one of her brothers excitedly tell a friend that pornstars sported bare pubes. Wow! Pretty extreme! You have to know this story played out two decades ago, when pubic shaving was the exception, not the rule it is right now. She had not seen a hairless crotch since childhood, a time, of course, when she paid no attention to such things. So, on a certain night, before bed, she locked herself in the bathroom, assembled her shaving tools plus a small pair of scissors and set to work. Somewhere along the line she had to employ contortionist moves to reach the area between her vagina and anus and the folds between her labia and legs, regularly checking with a little magnifying mirror. In private, she had never been particularly shy, but had not devoted such lengthy concentrated attention to her naughty parts. She did only experience a flash of true embarrassment, however, when her brother Ben suddenly rattled the door, crying, 'Come out, it's my turn!' and she had to cry back, 'Won't be a minute' and rushed to complete the job.

The next day after PE she flaunted her newly denuded pubes and made sure that everyone around her could see the effect. She was sure a number of girls did, and the teacher too. No one spoke to her about it though. She didn't think she experienced any embarrassment. If anything, a few girls that saw appeared a tad flustered. That was interesting! The tables turned! To feel embarrassed observing, rather than showing a scandalous deviation from the norm!

OK, let Joanna herself talk about her plan to progress.

CLIMBING THE LADDER OF SHAMELESSNESS -- THE PLAN

I want to become shameless about my body. My naked body, of course. My body in clothes, easy! I am fine with it. Why do I want to become shameless? I guess the best way to get to know what shame is, is to experience and then conquer it. My aim is not to become a naturist and feel natural about my nudity. I just want to be in control of it and play.

As the first step, I want to spend time at home naked. Innocently in my room for now, when no one is home. A small thrill will be that someone may surprise and catch me in the act. Going to the bathroom outside my room will be a modest exhilaration. A bit lame perhaps, but I certainly don't want to drown first time.

The following step will have to involve other people, obviously, at home territory. A girlfriend most likely. Then more people than one. Then shift away from home territory. The steps after that -- too far to be specific on for now. Public nudity of sorts, no doubt... and to be without the fall-back of clothes somewhere in a non-nudist context... Exciting prospects!

STEP 1 -- NAKED AT HOME

According to their school schedules, she should arrive home an hour before her brother should. She resolves to prick up her ears, just in case a sick teacher alters this. She is excited. She is not sure why, as she has spent naked minutes in her room before, deciding what to wear or whatever, and obviously has migrated between her room and the bathroom in just a robe about a million times.

She enters her home through the front door and throws it shut with a bang. Then listens to the silence, which is only not absolute because of the air-conditioning unit buzzing ever so lightly. It is her own house, in which she has lived for about a decade, but she feels she is trespassing. Perhaps this is because she has decided to bare all right here and now, on the doormat. And she does. Off come the pink T-shirt with the white 'what are you staring at?' text on her chest. She looks in the hallway mirror and sees herself in a lavender padded bra and white skirt. She has been everywhere in her bikini and has therefore been seen in much scanter garb than what she wears just now, but, again, she feels very naked already. She kneels down so as to undo the laces of her red Converses and takes them off, along with her little white socks. She gets back up again, smiles at her reflection in the mirror and takes a deep breath before undoing the buttons of her skirt. Oops, and down it goes. Bra and white cotton panties -- again, she knows this ensemble is less revealing than her bikini. But it feels the opposite. Another deep breath and off go the panties -- she likes the bottomless look -- and another, and off goes the bra.

The mirror shows her an attractive naked form. A very nice young woman indeed. Only one who is naked in her own house, in an unusual place. And one without pubic hair gracing her vulva, which she can therefore not mock-absentmindedly ruffle. She bends over in a deliberately ungraceful way and picks up her stuff. Her clothes she deposits on the stairs.

What to do?

She will visit every space in the house, naked as on day one. In theory, voyeurs could observe her only in the dining room and lounge at the front of the house. She makes sure she stands still quite close to the windows of each of these rooms for a couple of minutes. The streets remain deserted. The thought that a neighbour might be spying on her from the shade of one of the houses across the street exhilarates her, however. The kitchen and family room at the back appear as safe as always. She makes a point by sprawling shamelessly on the family couch, legs wide open. She chuckles. In the kitchen she pours herself a big glass of juice and drinks it at the kitchen table. Normally, if anyone, her mum reigns over this space. Now, if anyone, she feels she is the one. She burbs and scratches her open groin. No one protests. The pantry and the boot room present no particular excitement. Time for a pee. The downstairs bathroom has a floor-to-ceiling mirror, which gives her another opportunity to inspect herself. After doing the business looking into her own eyes, she adopts all manner of postures, from matter-of-fact relaxed girl-next-door to a pouting Marilyn to a downright slut with open legs, squeezing her tits. She did not know she had it in herself! The basement, this rickety hobby and workshop area, is too cool for comfort. She could sprawl again or play the captive slavegirl, but she feels she will be repeating herself. There we have it: she is getting used to being naked here in her house.

She goes upstairs, not forgetting to pick up her clothes on the way, which she casts into her bedroom without entering it. The guest bedroom at the back of the house presents no excitement, as it harbours no spirit, and she leaves it in a shot. The deserted bedroom of her brother at college appears to make her feel uncomfortable, as she frowns. She is close to him, but he has never seen her in anything less than a bikini, not even fleetingly. She also misses him. Her parents' room makes her momentarily shudder, as if she is cold. She sits down at her mother's dressing table and looks quite seriously at herself. Then she suddenly gets up, offhandedly strokes the seat clean and leaves the room. Her second brother's room is the usual mess. She sighs, as she would do when dressed. Then she sits down on the edge of his bed, hanging back, supported by both arms. She slowly opens her legs as wide as they will go, but for just a moment. She snaps them back shut and lets herself drop to her back. She closes her eyes and lies there motionless for a few minutes, before shooting back up and leaving the room.

Finally, she arrives in her own room, where she steps over the clothes she just dropped there. Without further ado, she casts herself on her back on her own bed, eyes shut. She remains motionless for at least five minutes. The image we see is that of a still-life painting. Or, better, the scene reminds us of Millais' Ophelia. She is playing dead. Or she could be sleeping. Lord knows what goes through her mind. In another sudden movement -- she is quite impetuous today! -- she gets up again and positions herself at her window, facing the street, about 2 foot back. From across the street, an adult viewer would see her face and most of her chest. From the opposing bedroom windows, her neighbours would get the additional view of her hips. She can't be sure whether they would see her sex -- it would be hit or miss. As it is, the street is empty and judging from the shimmer in the bedrooms opposite, no one is there. But after a few minutes, two or three houses along and across, a neighbour leaves his house and walks in the direction of her house. His friendly gaze openly surveys the street ahead. In the two dozen seconds it takes for him to pass her house, her breath is stuck and ends in a sigh when he has failed to look into her bedroom window. After another few minutes she sees her brother slowly enter the street, far to the left, and bicycle home. Would she risk it...? No, she steps back, breasts jiggling, strides to her clothes and puts them on. She is properly dressed when her brother is heard entering the house and make his way to kitchen and the fridge.

She greets him there and he says, 'How was your day?'

JOANNA'S REFLECTIONS ON THE ABOVE

I just got home. About to get naked and roam the house that way. Excited! Nothing unpleasant, naturally. I will do an unusual thing, but in my own house. On my way home, I decided to waste not a second and get naked the moment I'm inside. No rush, no fake-striptease either. Just slow enough to be conscious of what I am doing. Still on the doormat, I take off the handful of items I am wearing. I look at myself in the hallway mirror. I am naked. Feel more naked than ever. A fleeting hint of shame, as if I am desecrating the home temple. But that is the point, to feel proper shame and deal with it. I want to be seen, so I have to be somewhere where that's a possibility. I go and stand within arm's length from the windows in both front rooms in turn. Stand still for 5 minutes (300 counts, to be precise.) No one passes. Anyone watching me from the houses across the street? I wish, I wish... Wonder what they'd think of me. The neighbours across superficially know me of course, but they are not family friends. If they see me and were family friends, would that be good or bad? Not sure. I'd have liked it to happen regardless, though.