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)
“It’s important to me that you learn not just about the painful side of discipline,” he said, his voice husky with what I knew with a lurch of my stomach must be lust, “but also the other side—not just about punishment, but also about reward.”
His fingers brushed lightly against my outer lips, making me tremble. No man had ever touched me there before. The sensation was electric, sending sparks shooting up my spine.
“You’re so wet,” Pierre murmured, sounding pleased. “Your body understands what’s happening even if your mind still resists.”
He began to work my virgin pussy with what I sensed, with a hot blush, must be great skill, his fingers sliding through my folds with confident precision. One finger circled the entrance of my vagina, teasing but not penetrating, while his thumb found my clit and pressed against it gently.
The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming. I bit my lip, trying desperately to hold back the moan building in my throat.
When his finger finally slipped inside me, just to the first knuckle, the sensation was so intense that I couldn’t contain the sound any longer. A moan escaped me, low and needy, a sound I barely recognized as my own.
Pierre’s response was immediate. His hand withdrew from between my legs, and before I could process the loss, three hard lashes from the martinet landed in rapid succession across my already tender bottom.
“Eight, nine, ten,” he counted, his voice now tight with what sounded like barely controlled desire.
I cried out with each stroke, the pain somehow sharper, more focused after the momentary pleasure his fingers had provided. Tears streamed down my face, but beneath the pain, that insistent pulse of arousal continued to build.
“Please,” I sobbed. “Oh, please…”
CHAPTER 14
Pierre
“You will call me Monsieur,” I told her coldly, “from this moment on, above all while your panties are down.”
I brought the martinet down again across her reddened flesh, watching with satisfaction as the leather tails left fresh marks on her delicate skin. Her bottom had begun to look like a beautiful canvas, painted in shades of pink and red that spoke of my authority and her submission.
“Yes, Monsieur,” she whimpered, the formal address falling from her lips like a surrender.
I smiled, pleased by this small sign of progress. “Good girl,” I murmured, putting the martinet down on her back so I could caress the sweet, firm globes of her bottom. The contrast between the punishment of the whip and the gentleness of my touch represented an essential part of her training—the lesson of pain and pleasure intertwined would lie at the heart of her learning to please me.
Her body responded beautifully to the alternating approach. When I stroked her tender flesh, she arched into my hand like a cat seeking affection. When I withdrew to pick up the whip and deliver another stroke, she tensed in anticipation, a soft cry escaping her lips as the leather connected with her skin.
I slid my hand between her thighs again, finding her even wetter than before. Her arousal coated my fingers as I explored her virgin sex, careful not to penetrate too deeply. That pleasure would come later—her first true penetration would be with my cock, not my fingers. Audrey struggled, just a little, as if she needed to feel my left hand restraining her and keeping her where I wanted, in order to enjoy her master’s forced caress.
“Tell me what you need, Audrey,” I commanded, circling her clitoris firmly with my two middle fingers.
She trembled beneath my touch, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. “I… I don’t know, Monsieur,” she confessed, her voice small and confused.
I delivered another sharp stroke with the martinet, making her cry out. “I think you do know,” I insisted. “Your body certainly knows. Say it.”
Her entire body shook with sobs now, but I could sense the nature of her distress. It wasn’t the pain that truly tormented her—it was the pleasure, the undeniable arousal that accompanied her punishment. The conflict between her rational mind and her body’s needs was the very essence of what I sought to resolve through this discipline.
I decided to test her need for what so many women secretly crave, though so many of them fight against admitting it—especially inexperienced ones like Audrey. I placed my thumb against her cringing anus and began to wank her urgently with my other fingers, rubbing her clit with determined pressure. Her hips bucked against my hand, her body responding instinctively to the dual stimulation.
“This is to awaken your need for ass-fucking,” I informed her in a low voice, feeling her tighten reflexively around my probing thumb. “Women who practice the New Modesty learn to offer this pleasure to their men.”
She whimpered, a sound caught between distress and desire. I could feel her resistance—not physical, but mental—as she struggled with the taboo nature of what I had suggested.