Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I won’t tell Monsieur you’re rubbing your backside,” Jean said, stepping out of the shadows. “But you should know you’re not allowed to do that without permission, after a spanking. If Monsieur catches you, he’ll give you the cane.”
I pulled my hands away and put them in front of me defensively. I backed away a step down the hall as Jean advanced, his tall frame looming over me, clad in the dark suit all the bodyguards wore.
I lowered my gaze, trying to appear properly submissive as Jean approached. My heart raced as I realized this could be my chance to raise the Guard mole’s interest in the intelligence he could gather from me, given the opportunity. But I had to be careful. I couldn’t let on that I knew Jean’s true identity.
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, keeping my eyes downcast. “I’ll remember not to touch myself after punishment.”
Jean nodded, his expression unreadable. “Good girl. Now, tell me, did you hear anything interesting while you were serving Monsieur Beaumont and his guest?”
I felt a flutter of panic in my chest. This was it—the moment of truth. I had to play this exactly right.
“I… I’m not sure, sir,” I stammered, trying to sound confused and overwhelmed. “They talked about a lot of things I didn’t understand. I was so focused on pleasing them, I couldn’t really follow the conversation.”
I risked a glance up at Jean’s face, seeing a flicker of disappointment cross his features. He didn’t believe me. Good. That meant he would keep pressing for information.
“That’s a good girl, Mary,” Jean said, his voice taking on a gentler tone. “A good little whore doesn’t pay attention to her master’s private conversations.”
I bit my lip, as if struggling to figure out how I should speak and act in his presence. “Thank you, sir,” I murmured. “I try to be a good girl even though it’s hard.” I lowered my eyes and clasped my hands in front of me. “It’s… they took me away from… everything. And, you know… Monsieur makes us… do… those things.”
Jean’s eyes narrowed slightly as I raised my gaze to his face again, as if in search of mercy. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out whether I represented an asset for his own mission. He knew I was holding back, but he also knew he couldn’t push too hard without revealing his own agenda.
More than that, I thought I could see in his expression some kind of… appreciation, maybe? As if he knew, from some outside source, that I had a great deal more intelligence and insight than I pretended.
He’s got information on my background, I suddenly realized, a chill traveling down my spine. The Pretorian Guard had gotten word to him somehow that I represented more than a simple fuck toy. As Sven had predicted, the Guard had access to my life story, as depicted in Selecta’s database.
Jean knew I had information he desperately needed. I just had to make sure I could turn that into a ticket to Pretorian Guard headquarters for me and Camille.
Suddenly Jean reached out and took hold of my shoulders before I could react. Roughly, he turned me around and pushed me up against the wall, my face pressed against the wallpaper. I let out a cry of pain and surprise as he squeezed my spanked bottom hard. His fingers probed between my legs, sliding easily into my still-slick pussy.
“I can feel how wet you are,” Jean growled in my ear. “Even after the pounding I’m sure you got from Monsieur and the Russian. Your body betrays you, little whore. Now tell me what you heard in there.”
I whimpered, torn between the pain in my abused bottom and the shameful pleasure his fingers were eliciting. “Please, sir,” I begged, my voice muffled against the wall. “I didn’t hear anything important, I swear. Please let me go.”
But even as I pleaded, I could feel my body responding to his touch. My hips rocked involuntarily, seeking more friction. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t seem to stop. The intensity of what had happened in Beaumont’s study, combined with Jean’s dominant presence, was overwhelming my senses.
“You’re lying,” Jean hissed, pressing his body against mine. I could feel the hard length of him through his trousers. “I can tell when a little slut like you is holding back information.”
His fingers thrust deeper, curling to hit that spot inside me that made my knees weak. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, shame and arousal warring within me.
“Sir, please,” I whimpered. “I didn’t understand what they were talking about. It was all business stuff I don’t know anything about.”
Jean’s other hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. The pain in my scalp mingled with the pleasure building between my legs, creating a confusing whirlwind of sensation.