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)
Two hours later, I waited nervously in the Lavender Suite. After a long bath where I’d tried to calm myself, I sat on the edge of the bed in the plush robe Madame Dubois had left for me, my hair still damp, my stomach a knot of anticipation. I’d been unable to decide what to wear for the evening—for my punishment—and found myself paralyzed by indecision.
A soft knock at the door made me jump.
“Entrez,” I called, my voice catching slightly.
To my surprise, it was Madame Dubois who entered, carrying a garment draped carefully over her arm. Her silver-streaked hair was impeccably styled as always, her posture perfect as she regarded me with those knowing eyes.
“Mademoiselle,” she greeted me with a slight nod. “I thought you might appreciate some assistance preparing for this evening.”
My face burned hot. Of course she knew exactly what was planned for me. She’d watched me come atop Étoile that afternoon, had seen my naked shame and pleasure in the paddock. And now she was here to help me dress for my caning.
“I… thank you,” I managed, unable to meet her gaze directly.
Madame Dubois approached, laying the garment on the bed beside me. It was a beautiful blue dress, simple yet elegant, with thin straps and a flowing skirt.
“Monsieur thought this would suit you,” she said, her voice carefully neutral though I detected a hint of… was it sympathy?
I ran my fingers over the soft fabric, wondering how many other girls had worn dresses chosen by Pierre before being punished in front of the Duboises.
“You’re not the first, you know,” Madame Dubois said quietly, as if reading my thoughts. “But you are different from the others.”
I looked up at her, startled by her directness. “Different? How?”
She studied me for a moment, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Monsieur has never looked at any of them the way he looks at you. I’ve served the Lemieux family for thirty years, Mademoiselle. I know when a man is merely playing and when he is… shall we say… invested.”
Her words sent a strange flutter through my chest that had nothing to do with the anxiety about my impending punishment. Pierre loved me. He’d said so, and I believed him. But hearing Madame Dubois confirm that I was somehow special to him made it more real.
“I’m frightened,” I admitted, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.
Madame Dubois nodded, her expression understanding rather than judgmental. “Of course you are. It’s natural to fear pain, to fear exposure.” She folded her hands neatly in front of her apron. “But may I speak frankly, Mademoiselle?”
I nodded, curious even in my mortification.
“I’ve seen how discipline can transform a young woman,” she continued, her voice gentle, but matter-of-fact. “I know how frightening it can be when a girl is just learning to submit, but you are very lucky that Monsieur found you. He can be hard on his young ladies, but he is truly thoughtful and kind.”
I felt my cheeks flush hotter at her words. There was something in her tone that suggested she knew more about submission than merely observing it in others. I wondered briefly about her relationship with Monsieur Dubois, but pushed the thought away as too intrusive.
“Has he… has he caned many women?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Madame Dubois’ lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. “Monsieur is quite skilled with all instruments of correction. You needn’t fear excessive harm—only the pain necessary for your lesson.” She gestured to the dress. “Shall we prepare you? It’s nearly time.”
CHAPTER 28
Audrey
I nodded, rising shakily to my feet and letting the robe fall away. I stood naked before her, fighting the urge to cover myself. After what she had witnessed in the paddock, modesty seemed pointless now. Madame Dubois reached behind her and produced a box I hadn’t noticed before. “Monsieur asked me to give you this,” she said, setting it on the bed. “For your preparation.”
I recognized the elegant black box with the Selecta logo embossed in silver. I lifted the lid with unsteady hands. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, lay another beautiful lingerie set—black lace so fine it was nearly transparent. I lifted the basque with trembling fingers, feeling the delicate boning that would shape my waist and push up my small breasts.
“It’s lovely,” I whispered, genuinely awed by the craftsmanship. Beneath the basque lay matching suspenders, sheer black nylons, and the tiniest pair of lace panties imaginable.
“Monsieur has excellent taste,” Madame Dubois said with approval. She moved to the closet, surveying the few pairs of shoes I’d brought with me. After a moment’s consideration, she selected a pair of glossy black stilettos I’d packed on impulse but never expected to wear. “These will complete the ensemble perfectly.”
She laid the shoes beside the lingerie, then looked at me expectantly. “Do you know how to put on the suspenders properly? The panties go on outside them, of course.”