Chapter 21
Audrey
A sob wrenched itself from deep in my chest. I couldn’t tell if it came from despair, or helpless anticipation, or both.
My heart pounded in my chest as my ears strained to detect his footfalls on the carpet.
I felt him, more than heard him, though, so slowly and carefully did he move—as if savoring every step.
Then I felt his hands on me, both of them on my bottom, his touch very gentle, almost maddeningly so.
I let out a little cry as Pierre began to caress my still-sore cheeks, moving his hands in gentle circles, then lowering them, but never touching the valley between my rounded globes, or my pussy.
Pierre spoke softly, his voice pitched at a very gently mocking tone, “Are you completely sure you don’t want to be fucked in the ass, Audrey? ”
“I… I don’t,” I whispered, my voice muffled against the bedspread. But even as I said it, I felt a telltale clench deep inside me, a response I couldn’t control.
“Are you certain?” Pierre asked, his fingers tracing the outline of the welts he’d left on my bottom the previous day. “Your body seems to be telling me something different.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified by the way my flesh betrayed me. The way my thighs squirmed, the wetness gathering between them, the involuntary arching of my back that pushed my bottom higher into his hands—all of it contradicted my words.
“No,” I tried again, but my voice sounded unconvincing even to my own ears.
Pierre’s hand moved to the base of the plug, and he gave it a slight twist that made me gasp. “Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “you don’t want to want it, ma petite.”
Those words pierced through me with their terrible accuracy.
It was true—I didn’t want to want this. I didn’t want to crave the degradation, the ownership, the complete surrender of my most private place to this man.
Yet my body responded with unmistakable arousal to each touch, each word, each promise of what was to come.
I felt the mattress dip as Pierre positioned himself behind me. The rustle of fabric told me he was undressing, and I quailed at the thought of what would soon replace the plug stretching my bottom.
I was expecting that the next thing I felt would be Pierre taking hold of the base of the thing, to take it out of me.
Instead I sensed his feet against the outside of my knees, as he crouched behind me.
I whimpered as he pressed the head of his cock against the entrance to my soaking-wet vagina.
The hot, blunt pressure against my tender opening made me shudder with anticipation.
My body recognized him now, knew exactly what pleasures and torments his thick manhood could deliver.
I couldn’t help it: I moaned, “Please.” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it, betraying my need, giving the lie to all my earlier resistance. I pressed back against him instinctively, my body begging for what my pride still resisted.
“Bien sur, you little whore,” Pierre growled, the terrible word making my tummy flip. I cried out as he gripped my hip firmly and thrust himself inside my sheath. “I’m happy to prepare my cock in this tight little cunt. Only remember you must not come without permission.”
His words made me whimper with humiliation and desire.
Each thrust pushed the plug deeper into my bottom, creating a fullness I’d never imagined my body could withstand.
The double sensation—his cock filling my pussy while the plug stretched my anus—left me gasping, my fingers clutching desperately at the bedspread.
I could feel how Pierre was training my body, making me crave his cock in my bottom no matter how uncomfortable and shameful it would be.
“See how wet you are for me?” Pierre murmured, his hands holding my hips tightly as he continued his steady rhythm, keeping my pussy just where he wanted for his deep thrusts. “You know what you need… your unconscious mind, your nervous system… your lovely little whore’s body.”
I buried my face deeper into the bedspread, trying to hide from the truth of his words.
My pussy clenched around him, shamefully eager, while my stretched anus throbbed with anticipation of what was to come.
I bit my lip hard, focusing on the pain to distract myself from the building pleasure.
I couldn’t come—wouldn’t come—not when it would prove him right about my shameful desires.
After what felt like an eternity of exquisite torture, Pierre withdrew from my pussy. I felt empty and bereft for a moment, until his fingers found the base of the plug. He twisted it gently, making me moan, before slowly beginning to pull it out.
“Breathe,” he instructed as the widest part stretched my opening. “Push out slightly—yes, like that.”
With a final tug, the plug slipped free, leaving me feeling strangely hollow. I had become so accustomed to its presence throughout the day that its absence felt almost like a loss. My anus fluttered, adjusting to the sudden emptiness, already missing the fullness.
I heard the snap of the lubricant cap opening, then felt Pierre’s slick finger circling my sensitized entrance. He pressed inside easily, my body already trained by the plug’s daylong presence.
“So ready for my cock,” he murmured approvingly. “Your tight little hole opens for me so beautifully now.”
A second finger joined the first, stretching me further. Despite the preparation, it hurt—but the pain seemed to have a special quality, something that connected with other parts of my body, of my nervous system, to make me perversely want more of it.
I felt his fingers retreat, then the cool sensation of more lubricant being applied directly to my sensitive opening.
Pierre worked it in methodically, making sure I was thoroughly prepared for what was to come.
Again, as on the previous night, his touch surprised me with its gentleness given the crude purpose, his fingers working the slick gel deep inside me as if tending carefully to my comfort.
“Are you absolutely certain,” he asked, his voice a silky caress against my heated skin, “that you don’t want my cock in this tight little ass, Audrey?”
I did my best to keep my composure as I replied, though my voice wavered with the effort. “I know I have to let you,” I whispered, my face burning against the bedspread. “I consent to it. But… but… no, I don’t want it.”
The admission felt like surrender and defiance all at once—acknowledging his power over me while still maintaining some small shred of resistance. My body might respond to his touch, might even crave the forbidden fullness he promised, but I could at least pretend that my mind remained my own.
Pierre made a sound that might have been amusement or approval—I couldn’t tell which. I heard the snap of the lubricant cap again, and imagined him coating his rigid manhood with the slippery gel. The mattress shifted as he repositioned himself behind me.
My breath caught as I felt the blunt head of his cock press against my thoroughly prepared anus.
Even with all the attempts to ready myself—the plug I’d worn all day, Pierre’s careful fingers stretching me—the pressure still felt overwhelming.
His cock was so much larger than the plug had been, so much more insistent in its demand for entry.
“Relax,” Pierre murmured, one hand stroking my lower back soothingly. “Remember to breathe.”
His other hand reached underneath me, finding my aching clit with unerring precision. His fingers began to circle it gently, sending jolts of pleasure through my core even as he maintained the steady pressure against the tiny ring of my bottom hole.
I sobbed at the conflict raging inside me—the fear and shame of this most intimate invasion warring with the undeniable pleasure his skilled fingers were creating between my legs. My body seemed to be dissolving into pure sensation, caught between reluctance and desperate need.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, my resistance crumbling as his fingers worked their magic on my sensitive bud. “Do it… please, Monsieur.”
The words had barely left my lips when Pierre increased the pressure against my resistant opening.
There was a moment of burning stretch as the head of his cock breached the tight ring of muscle, making me cry out—in pain or pleasure, I couldn’t tell anymore.
The sensations had blurred together into something beyond categorization.
“That’s it,” Pierre praised, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. “Take it, ma petite salope. Take all of your master in this little bottom.”
He pushed forward slowly, inexorably, filling me inch by excruciating inch.
The burning sensation intensified as he progressed deeper, stretching me beyond what I thought possible.
His fingers never stopped their gentle circles on my clit, the pleasure creating a counterpoint to the overwhelming fullness in my bottom.
“So tight,” Pierre groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. “Your virgin ass grips the cock like a vise, Audrey.”
I buried my face in the bedspread, whimpering as he continued his relentless invasion.
The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, even the fullness of the plug—not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something that transcended both, thanks to the obscene, taboo connection between my sponsor’s body and mine.
My mind struggled to process the contradictory signals traveling through my nervous system: the discomfort of being stretched so completely, the forbidden thrill of surrendering my most private place, the growing heat between my legs as Pierre’s fingers worked their magic.
“Tell me how it feels,” Pierre commanded, pausing when he was fully seated within me, his hips pressed flush against my buttocks. “Tell me how your master’s cock feels in your tight little ass.”
I gasped for breath, overwhelmed by the fullness. “Big,” I managed, my voice barely audible. “So… so big, Monsieur. I can’t… I can’t think.”
“Good,” Pierre murmured, his free hand stroking my back soothingly. “You don’t need to think. Just feel.”
He remained motionless for long moments, allowing my body to adjust to his invasion.
His fingers continued their gentle assault on my clit, building a slow, inexorable pleasure that began to override the discomfort of his penetration.
Gradually, I felt my muscles relax around him, accepting his presence inside me.
When Pierre finally began to move, it was with exquisite gentleness—tiny, shallow thrusts that barely withdrew before pressing back in. Each careful movement sent ripples of sensation through my entire body, making me tremble beneath him.
“Think about how well you’re taking me,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Your mind tries to deny, but the rest of you knows better.”
The burning had subsided to a dull ache, overlaid with something else—something that made my breath catch and my pussy clench with need. As Pierre’s thrusts gradually lengthened and deepened, that something grew stronger, more insistent.
“Oh,” I gasped as he hit some previously unknown spot deep inside me. “Oh, God!”
“There it is,” Pierre said, triumphant. “The pleasure you didn’t want to want.”
His fingers increased their pace on my clit as his cock continued its relentless rhythm in my bottom.
The dual stimulation created a feedback loop of sensation that threatened to overwhelm me completely.
I felt myself climbing toward a peak unlike any I’d experienced before—deeper, more primal, more all-encompassing.
“Please,” I sobbed, telling myself I didn’t know what I meant, but truly certain of exactly what I needed: to come… to come with Pierre’s huge, thrusting cock in my no-longer-virgin bottom. “Please, Monsieur.”
“Tell me you need it,” he growled, slowing his pace both with his hand in front and his manhood behind, so that my hands scrabbled at the sheet under me, knuckles white, as my body writhed under his, in desperate search of more sensation.
“You don’t have to tell me you want it. Just tell me you need your master in your anus, training you to obey him. ”
I stared into the rumpled bedspread beneath me, my mind racing to understand Pierre’s distinction.
Need without wanting? How could that be possible?
The concept felt like a contradiction, a paradox I couldn’t resolve.
Yet something in his words resonated deep within me, touching a truth I’d been running from since the moment I’d stepped into Selecta’s offices.
My body trembled as Pierre held himself still inside me, his cock stretching my anus, claiming my most private place while his fingers rested motionless against my desperate clit.
The fullness was overwhelming, the vulnerability absolute.
I felt tears gathering in my eyes, not from pain but from the emotional storm raging inside me.
“I don’t…” I began, then faltered. “I can’t…”
“You can,” Pierre murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the crude invasion of my body. “Your mind may reject what your soul requires, Audrey. You may not want to be dominated, to be used, to be owned—but you need it nonetheless.”