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)
“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.