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)
I giggled, and tasted, and swallowed. For a moment silence fell in the grand dining room. Pierre put the spoon down, and wrapped me tightly in his arms for a long moment. A helpless noise came from my throat as I felt my whole little body melt into his big one.
“I believe Mademoiselle and I will finish our dessert in private,” Pierre announced to the Duboises after what seemed an endless, wordless, marvelous moment.
“Of course, Monsieur,” Madame Dubois replied, gathering the dessert plates with practiced efficiency. “Will you require anything else this evening?”
“No, thank you,” Pierre said, his fingers already beginning to explore the edge of my panties. “That will be all.”
I sat rigid with embarrassment as the Duboises left the dining room, closing the door discreetly behind them. As soon as we were alone, Pierre’s touch became more insistent, his fingers slipping inside my panties to explore the wetness he knew he would find there.
“So wet,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Always so wet for me.”
I whimpered as his fingers traced my slick folds, teasing but never quite giving me the pressure where I needed it most. Then he withdrew his hand, pulling the gusset of my panties aside to expose me completely. The air against my heated flesh made me shiver.
“Please,” I whispered, instinctively trying to press against his fingers.
Pierre chuckled darkly, returning the lace to cover me once more. “Not yet, ma petite. I want to play with you first.”
His game continued mercilessly—putting his fingers inside my panties to stroke and tease, then pulling the gusset aside to expose me, then covering me again, over and over until I was squirming with need.
“Audrey,” Pierre whispered, his lips brushing my ear, “I need an answer. Will you be my companion for at least a year?”
The weight of the moment pressed down on me. Everything that had happened—the caning, the humiliation, the pleasure—had been leading to this. I turned slightly to meet his gaze, those beautiful hazel eyes that seemed to see through every defense I’d ever built.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I will.”
In one fluid motion, Pierre stood, taking me with him. His hands gripped my waist firmly as he turned me and bent me over the dining room table, pressing my upper body against the polished mahogany. The fine china and crystal rattled as he positioned me, spreading my legs with his knee.
“Hold the edge of the table,” he commanded, his voice thick with desire.
I gripped the table’s edge, my fingers turning white as I braced myself. Behind me, I felt Pierre’s hands on my hips, steadying me as he pulled the gusset of the panties roughly to the side. The lace bit into my flesh, adding another layer of sweet discomfort to the lingering soreness from my punishment.
Without warning, Pierre thrust into me, burying his hardness inside me in one powerful stroke. I cried out, the sudden fullness making my inner walls clench around him. He groaned his approval, his hands tightening on my hips as he began to move.
Each thrust drove me forward against the table, my sensitive breasts rubbing against the damask tablecloth through the lace of my basque. The pain from my caned bottom flared anew as his muscular lap slapped against the welts, transforming the punishment into a different kind of lesson altogether.
“This is where you belong,” Pierre growled, his rhythm building to something almost punishing in its intensity. “Bent over for me, taking my cock like a good little whore.”
“Yes, Monsieur,” I gasped, the words torn from me as his thrusts became even more forceful. The table creaked beneath us, the fine crystal wineglasses tinkling with each impact.
Pierre’s hand slid from my hip to find my swollen clit, rubbing it with precise, knowing movements that sent jolts of electric pleasure through my body. The combination of his cock filling me so completely and his fingers working their magic was overwhelming.
“You may come now,” he commanded, his voice ragged with his own approaching climax. “Come for your master.”
The permission unleashed something primal within me. The orgasm crashed into my body like a freight train, making me cry out his name as my inner muscles clenched rhythmically around his thrusting cock. Before the first climax had fully subsided, another began building, his relentless pace driving me toward a second peak almost immediately.
“Again,” Pierre demanded, his fingers increasing their tempo against my sensitive bud.
I came a second time, even harder than before, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through me. Pierre’s rhythm faltered, his breathing harsh against my neck as he drove into me one final time, his cock pulsing as he filled me with his seed. I felt his warmth flooding me, marking me from the inside as his possession.
For several long moments, we remained joined, our bodies trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Pierre’s weight pressed me against the table, his breath coming in hot bursts against my hair. I felt utterly claimed, completely owned, and strangely at peace.