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)
“What the hell?” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Heaven, rather, my dear. That was beautiful,” Theodore replied, lowering his camera. “Those final shots will guarantee you a luxury sponsor.”
I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I felt utterly exposed despite my attempts to cover myself, my body still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure even as my mind recoiled in shame.
“I think we have what we need,” Theodore said to Mona, his tone casual, as if what had just happened was entirely ordinary. “She can get dressed.”
Mona nodded, standing from the bed. “Good job, darling,” she said to me, her voice carrying that same condescending approval I was growing to hate. “Your profile will be quite popular, I’m sure.”
I couldn’t look at either of them as I slid off the bed, my legs wobbly from both the towering heels and the intense orgasm. I got the lingerie off and scrambled into my plain panties and bra as fast as I could, then put on my blouse and skirt, kicked into my shoes, and headed for the door.
As I exited, I realized my state of dress must look exactly like that of the girl who had gone before me in the studio. Worse, another young woman waited outside, in the same chair I had occupied. My cheeks blazing, I made my way out into the hall, unable to look her or the receptionist in the eye.
CHAPTER 8
Pierre
Audrey Campbell’s profile proved just as diverting as I had hoped it might. The notification came through on my SA app just as I was finishing dinner at Le Grand Véfour. I’d been dining alone, reviewing reports on the narrowly averted power grid catastrophe while enjoying a nearly perfect filet de boeuf. The soft chime of the app drew my attention away from my dessert—a delicate crème brûlée that would now have to wait.
I opened the app discreetly, angling my phone away from the nearby tables even in the privacy afforded by my corner location. The notification was simple, but compelling: Profile Complete: Audrey Campbell (First Intimacy Program).
I tapped the notification, and her profile loaded immediately. The first image nearly made me set my espresso cup down with more force than intended. She was seated on the edge of a bed, dressed in white lingerie that emphasized her youthful innocence while revealing enough to stir my immediate interest. White stockings encased slender legs, held up by a lace garter belt that framed her slim hips perfectly. The matching thong did little to conceal her freshly waxed con, and the small breasts pushed up by the delicate bra appeared perfectly proportioned to her petite frame.
But her expression truly captured me—a mixture of shy reluctance and undeniable arousal that spoke of deep submissive tendencies barely recognized by the girl herself. Her blue eyes looked directly into the camera with a vulnerability that stirred something primal in me.
I swiped through the images, each more revealing than the last. In one particularly striking photo, she was bent forward over the bed, her bottom—still bearing what appeared to be the faint pinkness of a recent spanking—thrust outward invitingly. In another, she wore a sheer white babydoll that concealed nothing, her hand sliding beneath the waistband of tiny white panties.
The final set of photos showed her masturbating, her expression transformed by pleasure even as embarrassment flushed her cheeks and chest. These images were particularly valuable for a connoisseur like me—they revealed a young woman whose body’s desires were at war with her conscious mind, a delicious conflict: one whose charm an experienced dominant like me had great difficulty resisting.
I took a sip of my espresso, savoring both the bitter flavor and the anticipation building within me. The First Intimacy Premium would cost me two million euros—a significant sum, but hardly prohibitive for a man of my means. The opportunity to claim this girl’s virginity, to be the first man to penetrate each of her holes and train her to serve my desires, was worth far more than money.
As long as I felt I could help her, of course—as long as our relationship had a chance of providing the mutual benefit on which I always insisted.
I scrolled down to read her profile information. Twenty years old, American, formerly an intern at an energy conservation program—this last detail caught my attention. My business interests in sustainable energy made this a particularly intriguing coincidence. Perhaps we would have more to discuss than I’d initially anticipated.
Bonjour, Mademoiselle, I typed. May I introduce myself?
Audrey
The alert chime from the Selecta Arrangements app made me blush all on its own. I looked around the little kitchen of my beautiful new apartment as if someone might see me using the app, and judge me for it.
Despite having only been here a few hours, I’d already developed an affection for this place, my new home—even though it seemed in certain ways that it wasn’t really mine at all. The apartment was nothing like the cramped, musty studio I’d been renting in the dreary suburb. This place was all clean lines and modern luxury, nestled in the heart of the Marais district where I’d never imagined I could afford to live.