Chapter 29
Pierre
As I’d experienced so often with Audrey before, my sheer attraction to her made it very difficult to take my time.
The desire simply to fuck her, to complete her lesson immediately with the act of sexual dominance we both so obviously needed, felt almost overwhelming.
My cock had been rock hard from the moment I’d seen my sweet, naughty girl take in the imposing sight of the whipping block awaiting her, and Audrey’s helpless arousal had become more than evident in the glistening wetness I could see had readied the coral lips of her tight little pussy.
I knew, though, that I had to take my time, both for her and for me.
If I wanted to build our love on the firm footing I believed, with all my heart, it deserved, I needed to ensure I let this lesson breathe.
Audrey had to have the chance to experience all the delicious shame such a crucial event could provide, as well as all the exquisite pleasure.
“Etienne,” I said, in a companionable voice, “come have a look at this adorable little cunt.”
A soft, obviously involuntary noise of humiliation and arousal came from Audrey.
Etienne stepped forward, his professional demeanor never wavering as he approached the whipping block where the girl lay so completely exposed.
I watched as he studied her with the critical eye of a connoisseur, noting how my sweet girl’s body shivered under his gaze.
“Magnifique,” Etienne said, his voice appreciative but measured. “Very tight, Monsieur. Almost as if Mademoiselle has only recently begun to be used properly.”
I smiled at his astute observation, placing my hand on Audrey’s lower back to steady her as she quivered with shame. “Indeed. I deflowered this cunt only a few days ago.”
Audrey sobbed at this revelation, her face pressed against the leather of the whipping block. The sound carried notes of both mortification and unmistakable need—the perfect mixture for a submissive coming to terms with her nature.
“The cane welts are quite pretty,” Etienne commented, studying the raised red lines crossing Audrey’s bottom. “Very precise placement. You’ve lost none of your skill, Monsieur.”
“Thank you, Etienne,” I replied, genuinely pleased by his approval. “I find a careful hand produces the most effective results.”
Etienne tilted his head slightly, his gaze moving lower. “If I may ask, Monsieur, have you begun using Mademoiselle’s anus as well?”
I heard Audrey’s breath catch at the question, felt her body tense beneath my hand. The directness of Etienne’s inquiry clearly shocked her American sensibilities, even after all she had experienced.
“I have,” I confirmed, my hand moving to caress the welts on her bottom. “She took my cock there for the first time yesterday.”
“I thought as much,” Etienne said with a knowing nod. “I can see she’s being trained there, the same way I trained Aimee.”
This revelation about the Duboises’ private life seemed to affect Audrey profoundly.
I felt her shudder beneath my palm, heard the small, desperate sound that escaped her throat.
The knowledge that Madame Dubois—so proper, so dignified—had been trained in the same manner as herself clearly added another layer to my sweet girl’s submission.
“Stand up, Audrey,” I commanded gently, helping her rise from the whipping block.
She obeyed on trembling legs, her naked body flushed with a beautiful combination of shame and arousal.
Tears had left glistening tracks down her cheeks, and her small breasts rose and fell rapidly with her quickened breathing.
The cane welts stood out vividly against the pale skin of her bottom, a testament to the lesson she had learned.
“Come here,” I said, taking a seat in one of the leather armchairs near the fire. I patted my lap. “Sit.”
Audrey
I approached hesitantly, my eyes downcast. Every step toward Pierre reawakened the fiery agony of the cane welts.
I could hardly process the news that Madame Dubois had been trained for anal sex the way I had.
The dignified housekeeper, with her perfect posture and professional demeanor, had been bent over and taken in her most private place by her husband.
The revelation made me see her in an entirely new light, and I couldn’t help but wonder how often she still submitted to such intimate use.
“Monsieur,” Madame Dubois said, her voice calm and practical, “would you like me to bring a towel to protect your clothing? Mademoiselle appears quite… responsive.”
My face burned with fresh humiliation. She had noticed how wet I was, how my body had betrayed me throughout my punishment.
“That would be very helpful, Aimee,” Pierre replied, his lips curving into that knowing smile that always made my insides quiver. “Audrey does get very wet, especially after punishment. It’s one of her most charming qualities.”
I wanted to disappear into the floor as Madame Dubois nodded and left the library, presumably to fetch the towel. Monsieur Dubois remained standing nearby, his expression revealing nothing as he watched me standing naked before his employer.
Madame Dubois returned quickly with a soft white towel folded over her arm. She approached us with that same efficient grace that seemed to characterize everything she did.
“Here you are, Monsieur,” she said, presenting the towel.
Pierre’s hands encircled my waist. “Thank you, Aimee,” he said, guiding me close to his chair. “If you would?”
With practiced ease, Madame Dubois spread the towel over Pierre’s lap. I watched her hands smooth the fabric over his expensive trousers, wondering if she had performed this same service for other girls he had punished and used.
Pierre lowered me onto his lap, positioning me so that my back rested against his chest and my legs dangled over the arm of the chair.
The towel provided a soft barrier between my still-wet sex and his clothing, but did nothing to cushion my welted bottom against the pressure of sitting.
I whimpered as the contact rekindled the burning pain.
“Shh,” Pierre soothed, his arms encircling me. One hand came to rest on my bare thigh, the other cupped my breast possessively. “You took your punishment very well.”
I was acutely aware of the Duboises watching us—watching me being held and caressed like a cherished pet or toy. Their presence made me feel small and very feminine, in a way I would never have suspected I would welcome, let alone need.
Pierre’s hand slid slowly from my thigh, gliding up the sensitive skin until his fingers reached the juncture between my legs.
I gasped as he began to explore my wetness, his touch both gentle and possessive as he parted the tender cleft of my pussy and played gently with the sensitive inner lips.
The Duboises continued to watch, their expressions revealing nothing as their employer fondled me intimately before them.
“So needy,” Pierre murmured approvingly, his fingers circling my swollen clit with maddening precision. “Always so wet for me.”
I closed my eyes, trying to create some illusion of privacy in this most exposed moment. The pleasure of his skilled touch was already building, making it difficult to remember my shame.
“Open your eyes, Audrey,” Pierre commanded softly. “Look at me while I play with your sweet little cunt.”
I forced my eyes open, turning my face to meet his intense gaze. The intimacy of eye contact while his fingers worked between my legs felt somehow even more revealing than my complete nudity. His hazel eyes held mine, refusing to let me hide even in this small way.
“That’s better,” he praised, his fingers dipping lower to tease my entrance. “I want to see your eyes while I teach you your lesson.”
The combination of his penetrating gaze, his skilled fingers, and the knowledge that the Duboises were witnessing my most intimate moments created a raging storm of stimulation in my body.
I felt my pleasure building rapidly, my hips beginning to move of their own accord against Pierre’s hand.
The pain from the cane welts had transformed into something else—a throbbing heat that somehow enhanced every sensation.
“Please,” I gasped, my need overwhelming my embarrassment. “Please, Monsieur, may I come? I’m so close…”
Pierre’s lips curved into the smile I’d come to both dread and crave. His fingers continued their relentless stimulation as he turned to address his housekeeper.
“What do you think, Aimee? Should I allow her release so soon after her punishment?”
Madame Dubois’ expression softened slightly, a hint of understanding in her warm brown eyes. “I believe I would very much like to see Mademoiselle climax,” I heard her say, her voice carrying a hint of kindness that surprised me. “After such a thorough lesson, she has earned that small mercy.”
As Pierre’s fingers increased their tempo against my sensitive bud, I felt the pleasure cresting.
I tried desperately to keep my orgasm small, dignified somehow, but the effort only made it more intense.
A violent surge of ecstasy crashed through me, and I cried out, sobbing as Pierre continued to masturbate me through my climax.
My body convulsed in his lap, my back arching as the pleasure radiated outward from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes.
“Beautiful,” Pierre murmured, his lips against my ear as I shuddered in the aftermath. “Such a lovely little slut.”
Through the haze of my release, I heard Monsieur Dubois clear his throat. “If I may suggest, Monsieur,” he said, his voice formal despite the intimate scene he had just witnessed, “perhaps Mademoiselle should show her gratitude properly for the pleasure you’ve given her.”
Pierre’s hand stilled between my legs. “An excellent suggestion, Etienne. Thank you.”
My heart raced as Pierre helped me rise from his lap. My legs felt weak, still trembling from my powerful climax. He settled back in the chair, his posture relaxed yet commanding as he spread his legs slightly.
“Kneel,” he instructed, pointing to the space between his feet.
I sank to my knees on the carpet, my mind racing with the understanding of what was to come. The position placed me directly in front of him, with the Duboises still watching from their positions nearby. My shame, which had momentarily receded during the heights of pleasure, returned in full force.
“Show the Duboises how well you’re learning to give pleasure with your mouth,” Pierre said, his voice gentle but firm. “Unfasten my trousers and take me between your pretty lips.”
With trembling fingers, I reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly before moving to the button and zipper of his fine wool trousers.
I could feel the hard ridge of his erection beneath the fabric, the evidence of his arousal impossible to miss.
As I carefully lowered the zipper, his cock sprang free, stiff and imposing.
I glanced up at Pierre’s face, seeking guidance or reassurance. His expression was hungry, but patient, his eyes dark with desire as he watched me prepare to service him. Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and took him into my mouth.
The taste of him was familiar now—clean skin with a hint of salt—but the circumstances made it feel like the first time all over again. I was acutely aware of the Duboises watching as I slid my lips down his shaft, taking him as deeply as I could manage.
“Use your tongue,” Pierre instructed softly, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head. “Yes, like that. Show how your skills are coming along.”
I struggled to maintain my composure as I worked Pierre’s rigid shaft with my mouth and tongue.
The weight of the Duboises’ gaze made every movement, every sound feel magnified.
I moved my head up and down, trying to make my mouth soft and yielding, desperate to demonstrate that I was learning to be a good girl, an obedient plaything worthy of my master’s approval.
“She’s very eager,” I heard Monsieur Dubois comment, his voice carrying that same neutral tone even with such an obscene tableau before him.
“Indeed,” Pierre replied, his fingers tangling in my hair. “But still learning proper technique.”
Without warning, his grip tightened, holding my head firmly in place.
I whimpered around his cock as I realized what was about to happen.
Pierre’s hips thrust upward, driving his shaft deeper into my mouth than I was prepared for.
I gagged slightly, tears springing to my eyes as he began to use my mouth in earnest.
“Sometimes,” Pierre explained conversationally to the Duboises as he continued to thrust between my lips, “a girl needs to be reminded that her mouth exists for her master’s pleasure, not her own purposes.”
I struggled to relax my throat, to accept his invasion as he fucked my face with steady, deliberate strokes.
My hands clutched at his thighs for balance, my fingernails digging into the expensive fabric of his trousers.
The position—naked, kneeling, being used so crudely before witnesses—should, like so much else Pierre had done to me and made me do, have been unbearable.
Instead, I felt a renewed surge of wetness between my thighs, my body responding to my complete subjugation.
“If I may say so, Monsieur,” Madame Dubois ventured, her voice closer now as she stepped forward to observe more carefully, “Mademoiselle takes your cock beautifully in her mouth.” She paused, and I could feel her eyes on my naked body as Pierre continued to thrust. “Before I must return to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner, I wonder if you might indulge my curiosity… I would very much like to see you fuck Mademoiselle’s cunt and bottom as well. ”