Page 46 of Innocence Tamed
CHAPTER 22
Audrey
Pierre’s words pierced through the last of my defenses. In that moment of absolute vulnerability, pinned beneath him with his cock buried in my virgin ass, I couldn’t maintain the lie I’d been telling myself. The truth crashed over me like a wave, drowning my pretenses.
I did need this. I needed the structure, the discipline, the clear boundaries that Pierre’s dominance provided. I needed to surrender control, to place myself in the hands of someone stronger, someone who saw through my facade to the submissive creature beneath. The knowledge settled into my bones with terrible finality—I had always needed this, had been searching for it without knowing, had been incomplete without it.
“You’re beginning to understand,” Pierre observed, his hand stroking my back with surprising tenderness. “I can see it in the way your body yields to me now.”
He was right. Even as my mind processed this shattering revelation, my body had softened around him, accepting his invasion more completely. The burning discomfort had transformed into something else—a fullness that felt right, necessary, as if a missing piece had finally slotted into place.
“Your resistance wasn’t to the act itself,” Pierre continued, his voice hypnotic as he began to move inside me again with slow, deliberate strokes. “It was to the truth about yourself that the act reveals.”
A sob tore from my throat as his words stripped away my last illusions. I pressed my face harder into the bedspread, trying to hide from the humiliating truth—but there was nowhere to hide, not with Pierre’s cock claiming my most intimate place, not with his voice speaking directly to my soul.
“I… I need it,” I whispered, the admission barely audible.
Pierre’s hand tightened on my hip. “Louder,” he commanded. “Say it clearly.”
I drew a shuddering breath, gathering what remained of my courage. “I need it,” I repeated, my voice stronger now even amid the tears streaming down my face.
“You may come, Audrey,” Pierre whispered, his voice so thick with arousal that for a moment, in my whirling mind, I thought he had changed, like in a fairytale—into an ogre, or a bear.
That terrifying, thrilling little fantasy, together with my sponsor’s permission to find my release, unleashed something primal within me. My entire body convulsed as the climax tore through me with devastating force. It wasn’t like any orgasm I’d experienced before—this felt deeper, more all-encompassing, radiating outward from where Pierre’s cock filled my anus to thevery tips of my fingers and toes. I screamed into the bedspread, my back arching almost painfully as seemingly unstoppable pleasure crashed through me.
“That’s it,” Pierre growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful as my body clenched around him. “Take your pleasure with my cock in your ass.”
I couldn’t form words, couldn’t think, could only feel as my consciousness narrowed to the point where our bodies joined. My pussy contracted rhythmically around nothing, desperate for fullness even as my bottom was stretched to its limit. The emptiness there only heightened the sensation of Pierre’s possession of my other entrance, making the orgasm spiral higher, stronger, until I thought I might pass out from the intensity.
Behind me, Pierre’s rhythm faltered. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise as he drove himself deep one final time. I felt his cock pulse inside me, felt the hot rush of his seed filling my virgin passage. He groaned my name—not ‘little whore’ or ‘ma petite’ but ‘Audrey’—the sound reverent and possessive all at once.
We remained frozen like that for long moments, both of us panting, our bodies joined in the most intimate way possible. I felt utterly claimed, thoroughly used, and yet somehow more complete than I had ever been. At least in that moment the contradictions no longer troubled me as they once had. I understood, if only for a few seconds, that my submission to Pierre wasn’t a betrayal of my independence, but an expression of a deeper truth about myself.
Slowly, carefully, Pierre withdrew from my body. The sensation made me whimper—partly from discomfort as my stretchedmuscles protested, partly from loss as the fullness I had come to crave disappeared. I felt his seed leaking from me, a hot trickle that should have mortified me but instead felt like a brand of ownership, a physical reminder that I now belonged to him in every possible way.
“Don’t move,” Pierre instructed gently. I heard him leave the bed, his footsteps padding away across the carpet. The sound of water running in the bathroom reached my ears, and soon he returned with a warm, damp cloth.
With unexpected tenderness, he cleaned between my legs and between my buttocks, wiping away the evidence of our coupling. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he tended to my well-used body. I remained motionless, too exhausted and overwhelmed to do more than accept his care.
When he finished, Pierre helped me to stand on shaky legs. My entire body felt different—used, marked, changed. The girl who let her sponsor walk her on trembling legs into the bathroom, toward the shower stall that I now understood was that roomy for precisely this reason… she had become someone different from the Audrey Campbell of a day ago. She had come with a man’s penis in her bottom: shameless, shameful… definitelynew.
Pierre helped me into the shower, his hands steadying my quivering frame. The warm water cascaded over us both, soothing my aching muscles and washing away the rest of the physical evidence of what we’d just done. He reached for the soap, working it into a lather between his hands before applying it to my skin with gentle, careful strokes.
I stood with my eyes closed, letting the water stream down my face, mixing with tears I hadn’t realized I was still shedding.Pierre’s touch was reverent as he cleaned me, his fingers tracing the curves of my body with something that felt like worship. The tenderness in his ministrations contrasted so sharply with the dominance he’d displayed earlier that I felt disoriented, caught between worlds.
As his hands moved over me, something shifted in my chest—a recognition, a certainty that bloomed with frightening clarity. I loved him. The realization struck me with the force of a physical blow, leaving me breathless. It was absurd, impossible. I barely knew this man who had bought my virginity, who had whipped me, who had just taken my final innocence with calculated precision. Yet the feeling persisted, undeniable and terrifying in its intensity.
I loved the contradictions in him—the ruthlessness and the tenderness, the crudeness and the sophistication. I loved how he saw through my defenses to the person beneath, how he understood needs I couldn’t articulate even to myself. The knowledge humbled and horrified me in equal measure.
Without conscious thought, I sank to my knees on the shower floor, the water streaming over my upturned face. Pierre looked down at me, surprise flickering across his handsome features. I reached for the washcloth hanging on the nearby hook, working soap into it with trembling fingers.
My hands moved of their own accord, gently cleaning his manhood—the same instrument that had claimed every part of me, that had stretched and filled and transformed me. I handled it with reverence, noting how it stirred under my attentions despite his recent release. My fingers traced the thick veins, the smooth head, the heavy weight of his testicles, cleaning away the evidence of our coupling with careful devotion.
Pierre’s breathing changed as I worked, becoming deeper, more measured. I looked up through the water cascading between us and saw his cock beginning to harden again, responding to my touch with a will of its own. The sight awakened something primal within me—a desire to please, to serve, to worship this man who had awakened me to my true nature.
“May I take your beautiful cock in my mouth,Monsieur?” I asked, my voice barely audible above the rush of water, yet steady with certainty.
Pierre’s eyes darkened as he looked down at me, his expression a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He reached out to stroke my wet hair back from my face, his touch gentle but possessive.
