Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Audrey moved woodenly to the table, lowering herself carefully onto the chair. The pressure of sitting clearly forced the plug deeper, making her gasp audibly. I felt my smile widen slightly at the reaction, and I saw her cheeks redden another shade as she saw the knowledge in my eyes.
“The tuna nicoise is one of my favorite dishes,” I told her, watching her face as she struggled to focus on my words rather than the sensations clearly running wild through her body. “Balancing the acid of the vinaigrette against the richness of the tuna requires a careful hand.”
I poured white wine into both our glasses, noting how Audrey’s eyes followed my movements with a mixture of wariness and fascination. Her pupils looked dilated and her breathing seemed slightly irregular—clear signs of her arousal even in light of her obvious discomfort.
“How was your morning?” I inquired conversationally, as if we were any normal couple discussing their day over lunch. “Did you enjoy the Jardins?”
“It was… nice,” she managed, shifting slightly in her chair and immediately freezing as the movement disturbed the plug. “The gardens were beautiful.”
“And the film?” I pressed, cutting into my tuna with deliberate precision. “Was it amusing?”
Her blush deepened, and I knew immediately what had happened. The thought of her squirming in her cinema seat, trying not to react as laughter moved the plug inside her, sent a rush of heat to my own loins.
“It was funny,” she admitted in a small voice, her eyes dropping to her plate. “I… I had trouble sitting still.”
“I imagine you did,” I replied, my voice dropping to a register that made her look up sharply. “Eat your lunch, Audrey. You’ll need your strength for what comes next.”
She picked up her fork with trembling fingers and began to eat, taking small, careful bites. I watched her throat work as she swallowed, imagining how it would look later when stretched around my cock. The memory of her virgin mouth struggling to accommodate me the previous night made my erection throb against the confines of my trousers.
“I find myself bewitched by you,” I told her honestly, observing how she struggled to maintain her composure despite the plug in her bottom, the absence of her underwear, and the knowledge that she would soon be fucked in the ass for the first time. “Your combination of intelligence and reluctant submission is… intoxicating.”
Her eyes widened slightly at the compliment, confusion flitting across her features. Perhaps she had expected only crude domination from me, not this hint of genuine admiration.
I decided to test the theory that had been forming in my mind since our first meeting. Could this girl be more than just another conquest? Might she possess the kind of mind that could make her a valuable asset beyond the bedroom?
“Tell me, Audrey,” I said, leaning back in my chair with my wineglass, “what’s your best idea for making energy markets more resilient as the worldwide economic collapse continues?”
Audrey
Pierre’s question took me completely aback. I blinked, momentarily forgetting my physical state as my mind engaged with the problem. A new surge of heat came to my cheeks as the notion that this wealthy man—the sponsor who had bought my virginity, had whipped me, used me roughly, trained me for his pleasure in the most humiliating possible way—had just expressed real interest in my professional opinion. The thought broke through any attempt I might have made to guard my words, and I answered without really thinking through what I intended to say.
“To my dismay,” I began, feeling a furrow crease my forehead, “I suppose I have to say that I think Selecta may have the right approach with the New Modesty. The behavioral interventions I was working on at International Energy Partners were so small-scale compared to what’s needed.” I took a sip of wine to steady my nerves, surprised at how easily the words flowed, my physical discomfort notwithstanding. “We need widespread cultural change in how people approach energy consumption, and traditional policy interventions just aren’t effective enough.”
I watched Pierre’s face carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression remained thoughtfully neutral, though I thought I detected a hint of pleased surprise in his hazel eyes.
“But,” I continued, emboldened by his apparent interest, “I don’t think the patriarchal structure is necessary for the model to work. The surveillance and accountability aspects could be implemented in more egalitarian ways.”
Pierre’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Yet you respond so beautifully to the hierarchy,” he observed, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my insides quiver. “Your body seems to crave the very structure your mind resists.”
The plug shifted inside me as I squirmed under his penetrating gaze. I couldn’t deny the truth of his words—my body’s response to his dominance had been undeniable, humiliatingly so.
“That’s… personal,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to my half-eaten lunch. “It doesn’t mean the same approach would work for everyone.”