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)
The thought of the elegant older woman examining my belongings, deducing my state of discipline and submission, made me tremble with humiliation. Yet beneath that shame, I felt an unmistakable pulse of arousal, my nipples hardening as Pierre’s hands continued their possessive exploration of my body.
“And they… approve?” I asked, hardly believing I was having this conversation while standing naked in Pierre’s ancestral chateau with a plug in my bottom.
Pierre chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest against my back. “They believe in the natural order of things,” he said simply. “They’ve seen how chaotic the world became when traditional values were abandoned. The Duboises appreciate that I maintain certain standards.”
His fingers trailed up from my hips to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples. I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped me, my body arching into his touch, belying my mortification at our conversation.
I could hardly stand still, so strongly did this shameful news, along with Pierre’s hands, arouse me. The knowledge that the Duboises were fully aware of my status, that they could tell I was being disciplined and trained, kept sending little shocks of forbidden excitement through my body. My skin flushed hot beneath Pierre’s exploring fingers, and I found myself pressing back against him, a whimper escaping my lips.
“Such a needy little slut,” Pierre murmured approvingly, his hands tightening on my breasts. “You like knowing they can tell what you are, don’t you? That Aimee knows exactly what’s filling your tight little bottom right now?”
“No,” I protested weakly, but my body betrayed me completely, my hips moving of their own accord against his growing hardness.
In one swift motion, Pierre bent me over, pushing my upper body down onto the massive four-poster bed. I landed on my elbows, the impact causing the plug to shift inside me, drawing a gasp from my lips. He stepped back a little, and I sensed his hands working quickly at his belt and zipper.
“I think,” he said, his voice thick with desire, “that your body requires a reminder of who you belong to. And I think your mind needs to accept how aroused you are by the idea of others knowing.”
To my mingled dismay and helpless pleasure, Pierre clearly found my submissive need irresistible. He bent me farther over the bed, positioning me exactly as he wanted, and then I felt the hot, blunt pressure of his cock against the entrance to my aching sheath. Without warning, he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside me in one powerful stroke. I cried out at the sudden invasion, my body stretching to accommodate his thickness.
“So wet,” he observed, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Your pussy practically dripping at the thought of my servants knowing what a well-trained little whore you are.”
He began to move with deliberate force, each thrust driving me forward on the luxurious bedspread. His hand found the base of the plug, and he began to move it in counterpoint to his thrusts—pushing it deeper as he withdrew, pulling it slightly as he thrust forward. The combination of sensations quickly overwhelmed me, pleasure building urgently in my pussy.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, my fingers clutching desperately at the bedding. “Monsieur, please!”
The fullness was indescribable—Pierre’s rigid cock filling my vagina while the plug stretched my anus, both moving in a rhythm designed to drive me insane with need. Each thrust seemed to reach deeper than the last, touching places inside me that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through my veins.
“You’re close already,” Pierre observed, his pace never faltering. “Your cunt is clenching around me so beautifully.”
I was indeed teetering on the edge, the combined stimulation pushing me rapidly toward climax. The shameful knowledge that the Duboises knew about my submission combined with the relentless stimulation of both my openings had me gasping, desperate for release.
“Please, Monsieur,” I begged, my voice breaking with need. “Please, may I come? I can’t… I can’t hold back much longer!”
Pierre’s rhythm slowed unexpectedly, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, more controlled. His hand stilled on the plug, keeping it firmly seated in my bottom but no longer moving it.
“Your interest in the Duboises’ knowledge intrigues me,” he said, his voice thoughtful despite the strain of his own arousal. “I wonder how far that interest extends.”
I whimpered, my body suspended in a state of desperate need as he continued his maddeningly slow pace. “What… what do you mean?”
Pierre leaned over me, his chest pressing against my back, his lips close to my ear. “I mean, ma petite, that perhaps you would benefit from having them witness your discipline. Your training. Your use.”
My heart seemed to stop, then race forward at double speed. The image from the car flooded my mind instantly, now with specific faces, specific people, to associate with the voyeur couple—myself bent over, naked and exposed, while the distinguished servants watched Pierre whip me, then take me. The thought was so shameful, so utterly degrading, that I couldn’t believe the fresh surge of wetness it produced between my thighs.