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)
“Would you consent to that?” Pierre asked, his voice silky with danger. “To be disciplined and used in front of my servants? To have them see what a good, obedient little slut you’re becoming?”
I couldn’t answer, couldn’t form words as the competing desires in my body and mind warred against each other. The need for release had become almost painful, my muscles trembling with the effort of holding back my orgasm.
“Answer me,” Pierre commanded, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust that made me cry out. “Would you consent?”
“Yes,” I gasped, telling myself I wasn’t really consenting, that I was only saying what he wanted to hear so he would let me come. “Yes, I consent. Please, Monsieur, please let me come now!”
“Such a shameless little whore,” Pierre murmured approvingly, his pace increasing once more. His fingers found my clit, circling it with practiced skill as his cock drove into me with renewed vigor. “You may come, Audrey. Come for your master.”
The permission broke the last of my restraint. The orgasm exploded inside me with devastating force, radiating outward from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. I screamed into the bedspread, my inner muscles clenching rhythmically around Pierre’s rigid shaft as surge after surge of pleasure crashed through me.
As I came, my mind filled with the forbidden image of the Duboises watching Pierre fuck me—their dignified faces impassive as they observed my complete degradation. The fantasy intensified my climax until I thought I might pass out from the alloy of shame and sheer ecstasy.
Pierre’s rigid manhood pulsed inside me, his hands tightening around my waist to keep my pussy still for his final thrusts. The thought that Monsieur Dubois might highly approve of the sight, of the way his employer exercised his mastery, brought another spasm to my vagina, so hard that it made me cry out.
What did I just consent to? I swallowed hard as the pleasure began to recede. Can I take it back?
Do I want to take it back?
CHAPTER 26
Pierre
The next morning, I resolved to let Audrey have the day’s early hours to become used to life at Chateau Lemieux, before I truly began the little drama I had planned. I intended to teach my lovely girl several important things, but I knew she would learn them much more securely if she had the chance to settle a bit first.
She had fallen asleep in my arms and had barely stirred when I had disentangled myself to return to my own bedroom. Now I followed Aimee, carrying Audrey’s breakfast tray, into the Lavender Suite, to find my sweet little fuck toy scrambling to cover her nudity up in front of the housekeeper.
“Merci beaucoup, Madame,” I heard her say in her charming, really-not-bad American accent. Then she noticed me approaching in my dressing gown and blinked, as if trying to remember when I had left her to sleep alone in her lovely boudoir.
“Je vous en prie, Mademoiselle,” Aimee replied. Her control over her voice, as always, impressed me. Aimee never failed to suggest, through her politeness, the sort of degradation I knew Audrey craved so much. My housekeeper always seemed to append a silent you little whore to everything she said, when speaking to a young lady I had brought home.
“Bonjour, Aimee,” I greeted her cheerily. I went to the side of the bed and looked down into Audrey’s gorgeous, questioning eyes as she held the hastily gathered sheet up to cover her sweet breasts. “Et bonjour, ma petite,” I said more softly, then bent to kiss her, noticing as I did that her face and neck had gone scarlet.
My decision to ease Audrey into my plan for her training notwithstanding, I couldn’t resist: as I continued to kiss her deeply I took hold of the sheet and began to pull it away. Audrey whimpered in protest up into my mouth as I drew the silken fabric down, past Audrey’s midriff and even further—to uncover those beautiful breasts and the adorable furrow of her pussy between her trim thighs.
I broke the kiss at last and turned to Aimee, my arm around Audrey’s shoulders as I displayed to the housekeeper’s assessing gaze the girl I had confessed to myself—and to her—I loved. Audrey, blushing like the sun, turned her face into my chest, burying her nose in the material of my dressing gown.
“Tres jolie, n’est-ce pas?” I inquired of Aimee, still waiting patiently with the tray, on which I saw a croissant and a bowl of plump, deep red strawberries along with a pot of coffee.
“Very pretty,” Aimee replied in English, her voice prim. “I can see you enjoy Mademoiselle greatly, Monsieur.”
That drew an adorable sob of mortification, mixed with helpless arousal, from Audrey, directly into my chest. I felt my cock harden along my thigh at the sound, so evocative of her submissive need.