Chapter 16
Audrey
I hobbled to the bed, every step making me wince with the lingering soreness in my backside and the panties limiting the range of my knees’ motion.
The thought of removing them brought such fear of another whipping—if I did so without permission—and such arousal at the idea of it that I pushed the impulse away.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and watched Pierre move about the room with easy confidence, as if he’d been there many times before.
I stared up at him, my heart thundering in my chest like a wild animal desperate to escape.
What would he do to me now? I had never been so nervous…
terrified, really, but also, to my dismay, so aroused.
The hot shame of knowing that about myself burned through me, but I couldn’t deny the wetness between my thighs or the way my nipples hardened against the sheer fabric of the babydoll.
Pierre took a step toward me. I started, my hands rising as if to fend him off.
With utter self-assurance, despite my defensive gesture, he took hold of me with big, strong hands and laid me down on the bed.
I whimpered as he pulled my left foot completely out of the panties so that they remained tangled only around my right knee.
The asymmetry of it—half-freed, half-trapped—felt even more revealing.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his voice low and thick with desire.
When I hesitated, paralyzed by embarrassment, he didn’t wait for my compliance.
Instead, he took hold of my knees and pushed them back, spreading them wide, until they were almost at my breasts.
The position left me completely open, my virgin pussy displayed for his inspection in the most humiliating way possible.
“Hold them there,” Pierre instructed, placing my hands on the backs of my thighs. “Offer your cunt to me the way you should.”
I whimpered, tears of mortification springing to my eyes as I obeyed, holding myself splayed open before him. The cool air of the room brushed against my exposed sex, making me acutely aware of how wet I was, how ready my traitorous body had become.
Pierre stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes darkening as he gazed down at me.
He removed his tie with deliberate slowness, then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair.
The sight of his partial nudity made my mouth go dry.
This elegant, powerful man was undressing for me—no, definitely not for me…
rather, for himself… to prepare himself to use me.
“I’ve been looking forward to tasting a virgin cunt all day,” he told me, his crude language making me flinch even as it sent another surge of unwanted heat between my legs. “But remember, Audrey—you are not allowed to orgasm. Not without my permission.”
Before I could respond, he knelt on the bed between my spread thighs and lowered his head.
The first touch of his tongue against my sensitive flesh made me cry out, my back arching involuntarily off the mattress.
He licked a slow, deliberate path from the virgin entrance to my vagina up to my clit, tasting me as if I were some exotic delicacy.
Instantly, I sobbed with the terrible effort of trying to keep myself from coming.
His tongue felt impossibly skilled, knowing exactly where to press, where to flick, where to circle.
My thighs trembled in my grip as I struggled to maintain the exposed position he’d demanded while fighting against the pleasure building inside me.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please… Monsieur… please… may I…”
“No,” Pierre said, seeming to speak directly to my pussy, so that I could feel the vibration of the sound, the slight pressure of the air from the words, against my distressingly sensitive inner lips. “The next time you come, it will be with my cock in this delicious little cunt.”
My whole body bucked at the sound, the meaning, the pure sensation.
I let out a deep moan, closing my eyes and furrowing my brow hard, trying to find some way to deny the pleasure.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling so that the shameful pictures inside my head, of what my bedroom must look like to the surveillance cameras, had to compete with the blank white space above me.
Pierre’s big hands reached up and found mine, where I was holding my knees back.
He pressed down, forcing my legs even further apart, restraining me, shaping me to his will.
Though his grip was firm, almost painful, I thought I could also feel a strange tenderness in the contact—as if his touch conveyed the value he placed in me, in my submission.
To my astonishment and horror, I heard myself whimper a question that seemed to come from someone else: “Do I taste good, Monsieur?”
I raised my head slightly to look at him and felt my hips jerk involuntarily as I took in the lewd sight of a man’s head between my spread thighs. Pierre raised his face, and I could see my wetness glistening on his lips, chin, and nose. He smiled wolfishly, his eyes dark with desire.
“You taste marvelous, you little whore,” he said, the crude compliment sending another wave of shameful heat through my core.
He gave me one final, deliberate kiss on my clit, the pressure just enough to make me gasp, but not enough to push me over the edge. Then he stood up from the bed, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Keep your legs spread,” he commanded, his voice thick with arousal. “I want to see that pretty little cunt while I undress.”
I watched, unable to look away as he removed the rest of his clothes with methodical precision.
His body was magnificent—muscular without being bulky, his chest and abdomen defined by years of careful maintenance.
The dark trail of hair that led from his navel to his groin drew my eyes inevitably to his erection, which jutted proudly from his body, impossibly large and intimidating.
When he was fully naked, he reached up the bed and took hold of my waist. I started, and whimpered, but my new sponsor seemed utterly indifferent to my feelings on the matter.
He gripped hard, and pulled me all the way down to the foot of the bed in one swift motion.
I kept my legs open, sure that Pierre would punish me if I let go and let my thighs close by even a millimeter.
He moved his right hand to the tender back of my thigh, where he had whipped me so fiercely for not wearing the nightgown whose translucent silk now scarcely covered my breasts.
He took his enormous cock in his left hand, and then I nearly fainted with shame and need as he began to work the head of his manhood up and down the furrow of my pussy, coating himself in my abundant wetness.
“That’s it,” Pierre murmured. “Get me nice and ready to fuck.”
I felt him nudge the head of his cock against my virgin opening, the pressure both terrifying and thrilling.
He lodged himself just inside, stretching me slightly, the sensation making me gasp.
I stared up at him, watching his face as he prepared to take my virginity.
His expression was a mixture of desire and concentration, his hazel eyes darkened almost to brown with lust.
“Do you think you’re starting to understand about the New Modesty, Audrey?” Pierre asked, his voice husky as he held himself poised at my entrance.
The question caught me off guard. I blinked up at him, trying to focus my scattered thoughts while the head of his cock pressed insistently against my virgin barrier.
“I… I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“Think about it,” he urged, moving his hips in tiny circles that made the head of his cock tease the entrance to my sheath, without pushing any deeper. “What have you learned tonight?”
To my distress, I realized I could imagine submitting to a husband like Pierre.
The thought formed with startling clarity—a life where I belonged to him, where my body was his to use, to punish, to pleasure.
I imagined him coming home to find I’d left lights on unnecessarily, wasting precious energy.
In my mind’s eye, I saw him frowning with stern disappointment, taking the martinet from its place on the wall.
“Bend over,” he would say in that commanding voice of his.
And I would obey, trembling as I lifted my skirt and lowered my panties, presenting my bare bottom for correction. The martinet would whistle through the air, the leather tails leaving fiery stripes across my tender flesh as I counted each stroke, thanking him for the lesson.
Then, when my punishment was complete and my bottom glowed hot with pain, he would push me forward over the arm of the couch.
I would hear the sound of his zipper, feel his hands spreading my burning cheeks.
“This is how you learn,” he would tell me as he pressed his cock against my tight rear entrance. “Through discipline and surrender.”
And then he would fuck my bottom, claiming that most intimate place as his own, using my pain and submission to reinforce the lesson I’d earned.
The vivid fantasy made me moan, my hips lifting involuntarily toward Pierre’s teasing cock. I was horrified at myself—not just for imagining such a scene, but for the way it made my body respond, my virgin pussy clenching with need around the head of his manhood.
“I can see it in your eyes,” Pierre murmured, satisfaction evident in his tone. “You’re beginning to understand in your mind what your body has known for a long while.”
I turned my face away, unable to bear his penetrating gaze. “It’s not right,” I whispered, even as my hips betrayed me with another small, needy movement. “Women shouldn’t be treated like… like property.”
Pierre’s serious tone brought my attention back to his handsome features.
“Except,” he said, “when they need it as badly as you do, Audrey.”
His words cut through me like a knife, as if they’d exposed a truth I still desperately wanted to deny. My body quivered beneath him, not with fear but with unwelcome recognition. I suddenly felt that perhaps this man saw me—truly saw me—in a way no one ever had before.
“Are you ready to belong to me, Audrey?” Pierre asked, his voice low and serious. “To be my little whore, to serve me, to learn from me?”
I stared up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. This was the moment—the precipice between my old life and whatever lay beyond. Everything in my rational mind screamed to refuse, to fight, to maintain the illusion of independence I’d clung to for so long.
But my body knew better. For the first time in what seemed like hours I remembered that the moment Pierre’s manhood entered my pussy I would earn enough money to live on for a year.
The idea that Selecta’s First Intimacy Premium had anything to do with why I had ended up here, about to have my pussy deflowered, seemed terribly strange.
My new sponsor had made it clear much more important things, much more essential needs than money, were at stake.
“Oui,” I whispered, trembling. “Oui, Monsieur.”
Pierre’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. He took firm hold of my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh with possessive intent. Without warning, he thrust forward, driving his rigid penis deep into my vagina in one powerful stroke.
I screamed as my virginity gave way beneath his invasion. The pain was sharp, sudden—a burning stretch that radiated outward from my core. Tears sprang to my eyes, my back arching off the bed as my body struggled to accommodate his size.
“There,” he murmured, his voice harsh with his enjoyment, and triumphant. “Tu es à moi.”
He remained perfectly still, buried deep inside me, allowing me to feel every inch of him claiming me.
The fullness was overwhelming—physically, emotionally, spiritually.
I felt impaled, not just by his cock but by the reality of what had just happened.
He had taken my virginity. Pierre Lemieux, a man I hardly knew, had taken possession of a part of me that could never be reclaimed.
“Feel me inside you,” he commanded softly. “Feel how I own you.”
I whimpered, aware of every pulse of his cock within my tender channel. The initial pain had already begun to subside, replaced by a strange, insistent pressure that hovered between discomfort and something else—something that made my inner muscles clench around him involuntarily.
“Good girl,” Pierre praised, noting my body’s response. “Your cunt knows who it belongs to now.”
Then he began to move. Slowly at first, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with deliberate control.
Each stroke seemed to reach deeper than the last, touching places inside me I hadn’t known existed.
The friction of his cock inside my slick sheath created sensations that made my toes curl and my breath catch.
To my shock and dismay, I found myself instantly on the verge of orgasm. The combination of his thick cock stretching me, the slight pain that lingered, the utter submission of my position—it all combined to push me toward a precipice I hadn’t anticipated reaching so quickly.
“Monsieur,” I gasped, my hands clutching desperately at his forearms. “Please… I need… I need to…”