Hazuki's Sexual Awakening by Imouto Kitten

Chapter 1: The Shower

As the first rays of dawn cast their light on her sleeping form, Hazuki 
Fujiwara starts to slowly stir from her slumber. Sitting up, she rubs 
the gunk from her eyes and combs her fingers through her long, brown 
hair to handle the worst of her bedhead before reaching for her 
nightstand and grabbing her glasses.

As she perches the wire framed lenses on her nose, her mouth curls into 
a smile at the pleasant dream she had, even as the details fade into the 
ether and only the emotional impression is left behind. Slipping out 
from between her silk sheets, the young lady smoothes out her 
cream-colored nightgown and stretches a bit before quickly and 
efficiently making her bed to save Baaya the effort when the elderly 
housekeeper and nanny does her morning rounds.

That task done, Hazuki walks barefoot over to her massive, walk-in 
closet to pick out her clothes for the day.

The weather in Misora has been quite warm recently, so Hazuki passes by 
the rack holding several copies of her usual orange, cream, and white 
ensemble as well as the rack holding her slips to head for one from 
which more summery fare hang. After a minute or so of browsing, she 
pulls down a hanger holding a sleeveless sailor top, orange with white 
collar and a pleated skirt that matches the white of the collar.

The hanger with her chosen outfit in hand, the meganeko heads back to 
the entrance of her closet to a dresser and hangs the outfit on a drawer 
pull before opening her underwear drawer. Deciding she'll grab her 
sandals as she leaves the house, she ignores the stack of neatly folded 
socks and focuses on picking out a pair of panties. She's about to 
choose a pair of plain, white cotton panties from a stack of identical 
pairs of plain, white cotton when one of the most unique pairs she owns 
catches her eye.

As she holds them in her open palms, it would be obvious to anyone who 
knows Hazuki that these panties are out of place anywhere near her 
wardrobe. It isn't the cut, as they offer as much coverage as any other 
pair she owns, nor the color and fabric as no one would question a 
refined lady, even one so young, wearing black silk unmentionables. What 
makes these stand out as something you wouldn't expect to find in her 
underwear drawer is that the entire front panel of the garment is made 
of fine lace. The lace has an abstract pattern that reminds the young 
violinist of the curves and embellishments of her chosen instrument, 
which is quite appropriate, but there is no backing to the lace, 
rendering the front of the garment translucent.

They are, by far, the sexiest pair of panties the young lady owns, one 
of many items her mother purchased without consulting her when the 
Fujiwara Matriarch had made an attempt to get her daughter to dress 
'more maturely'. Hazuki had never actually worn them before, having 
always thought them too sexy, but while part of her brain nags her about 
what kind of gossip will spread if anyone gets a good look up her skirt, 
something deep in her belly urges her to take these panties on their 
maiden voyage.

Before shutting the drawer, she glances at a stack of unopened packages 
of training bras, another unauthorized purchase of her mother's. Placing 
her palm flat against her chest through the fabric of her nightgown, she 
decides she's still a ways from needing one of those even as a small 
voice whispers they'd only clash with the sexy panties.

Her clothing selected, she heads for her en suite bathroom. Hanging her 
top and skirt on a hook on the door and laying the panties on the 
counter by her sink, she pulls her nightgown over her head and tosses it 
in her hamper. As she reaches for the waistband of the white, cotton 
panties she slept in, she feels a pang from her bladder. Thanks to a 
lifetime of being discrete about her toilet needs, partly out of 
manners, partly out of shyness, she had trained her body to all but 
ignore her bladder until she reached the point of desperation, so it was 
no surprise to the young lady that she was just now noticing how much 
she needed to pee.

Gently rubbing, practically caressing the rather obvious bulge of her 
bladder, she knows she should just discard her panties, use the toilet, 
and take her shower, but the same, unfamiliar sensation that encouraged 
her to pick the sexy panties is making her want to be naughty.

Hazuki removes the panties she slept in, and after untangling them drops 
them in the hamper. She glances towards the toilet, but instead of 
walking over, lifting the lid, and sitting to let out the tinkle that 
has gathered overnight as she usually would at this point in her morning 
ritual, she ignores it as she unties the ribbon that holds her hair and 
shakes out her chestnut tresses. Letting the ribbon join her sleepwear, 
she retrieves a large, fluffy, pastel orange towel from a linen closet 
and places it on the toilet lid where it will be within arms reach when 
she's done showering.

Placing her glasses on the counter by the lacey panties, she walks over 
to her shower and turns on the hot water. As soon as the spray begins, 
Hazuki regrets her decision to postpone her first pee of the day, her 
bladder spasming in desire to make its contents gush forth like the 
water from the shower head. Only her upbringing keeps the young lady 
from grabbing her naked crotch, but her desire to become more confident 
and overcome her insecurities pushes her to reexert control over her 
bladder rather than give in, put the towel aside, and use the toilet.

Once convinced she's not going to leak, Hazuki steps under the spray and 
pulls the curtain close. At first, she just basks in the sensation of 
the hot water running through her long hair and over her pale skin, 
closing her eyes as every muscle not responsible for maintaining her 
upright posture or keeping her golden liquid contained relaxes under the 
shower's cascade.

After a minute or two, she combs her fingers through her wet hair to 
remove any knots before reaching for a bottle of shampoo. Coating her 
hands liberally, she steps out from under the spray and starts massaging 
the cleanser into her scalp. Normally the sound of the running water 
would add to the tranquility of this ritual, but her bladder provides a 
counterpoint as it throbs in time with her heartbeat.

Once she's coated every strand with shampoo, she rinses her hands before 
reaching for a fluffy, pastel orange washcloth and a bottle of 
moisturizing body wash. Pouring a generous amount of body wash on to the 
washcloth, she works it into a lather before washing her face, being 
careful not to get any in her eyes. before moving to her neck. She 
slides the wash cloth down one arm and then back up before repeating on 
the other side. She rubs the cloth in circles over her flat chest and 
down her abdomen, enjoying the pleasant tingle as it passes over her 
tiny nipples, making sure to get in her tiny belly button, and avoiding 
putting any pressure on her now hard bladder bulge.

Done with her front, she holds the wash cloth by one corner and uses a 
whip-like motion to toss it behind her and catch the opposite corner 
with her other hand. Pulling back and forth accross her back, she starts 
at her shoulder blades and slowly moves downward, stopping right above 
her small half-moons.

Putting one foot up on the sidewall of the tub and fighting off a wave 
of desperation that comes with parting her legs, she starts at the hip 
and works her way down to her foot, making sure to clean between each of 
her tiny toes before repeating with the other leg.

With only her intimate places left to wash, she turns her attention to 
her hairless, but slightly tingling girlhood. She gently runs the 
washcloth over her slit, and when she grazes her clitoris, her hand 
freezes as a jolt of electricity shoots up her spine, making her let out 
an unlady-like moan. Though pleasurable in a way she's never felt 
before, she mistakes it as a sign her bladder is about to betray her, 
being unable to remember ever being this full before. Even though any 
evidence would be washed away immediately, the thought of peeing in the 
shower, even accidentally, is too scandelous for the young lady to 
contemplate, so she ignores the urge to try and replicate that 
pleasurable sensation.

After quickly cleaning her rear, she steps back under the spray to rinse 
her hair, and once satisfied that the shampoo is gone, reaches up to 
detach the shower head from its mount. Using much the same pattern as 
before, she uses the shower head to rinse her body, making sure to 
remove every trace of soap from her skin. As she moves to rinse between 
her legs, she again freezes as she again experiences that strong, 
unfamiliar, but very pleasurable sensation, and unlike with the 
washcloth, this prolongs the stimulation rather than short-circuiting 
it. Flooded with unfamiliar pleasure, her brain is unable to order her 
hand to pull the shower head away and her thighs press together, holding 
the shower head against her delicate bits.

After a minute or so, her body trembles in what she will only much later 
realize was her very first orgasm, and as what little energy she has 
left goes to keeping her from falling, her bladder gives way, her golden 
liquid mingling with the spray from the shower head.

Once she's regained her senses, she notices she no longer needs to pee 
and blushes at the realization that she really did pee in the shower and 
hopes no one ever learns of this incident. Finishing rinsing off, 
putting the shower head back in place, and turning off the water, she 
grabs her towel and dries off, being careful not to tangle her hair 
before wrapping it around her several times, covering her from just 
under her arms to right below her knees.

Wiping fog from her glasses, she places them on her nose and grabs her 
clothes. Back in the bedroom, she hangs the outfit on a wall hook before 
sitting down at her vanity to brush out her hair.

Once her hair is tied up with a fresh ribbon, she unwraps the towel from 
around her and pulls the sailor top on. She then steps into the panties 
and pulls them up. The lace feels unfamiliar yet pleasant against her 
skin, and a glance in a full-length mirror has her thinking they make a 
cute contrast with the top. Putting on the skirt and taking a longer 
look in the mirror to make sure nothing's askew, she decides she's ready 
to face the world.

Deciding to skip breakfast, she heads for the entrance of her family's 
mansion and selects a pair of brown leather flip flops and slide them on 
before walking out the door to start her day.