Page 67 of Innocence Tamed
I freed Pierre’s cock from his trousers, already hard and imposing. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my fingers around the base and guided it to my lips. As I took him into my mouth, I heard him continue his conversation with the Duboises as if nothing unusual were happening.
“The raspberry coulis is particularly good this year, Aimee,” Pierre commented, his voice betraying only the slightest strain as I worked my tongue around the head of his huge, hard penis.
“Thank you,Monsieur. The berries came from the kitchen garden just this morning,” she replied.
I moved my head up and down, trying to take Pierre deeper with each stroke. My hands caressed what I couldn’t fit in my mouth, one cupping his balls through the fine fabric of his trousers. The taste of him was becoming familiar—that hint of salt, the naughty masculine muskiness that made my tummy flip—yet the circumstances made the act feel more degrading than ever before.
“Etienne, I’d like your opinion on the Bordeaux investment we discussed,” Pierre said, his hand casually dropping below the tablecloth to stroke my hair, guiding my rhythm.
I couldn’t make outMonsieurDubois’ reply, too focused on my task. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as I worshipped Pierre’s manhood, my jaw beginning to ache from the strain of keeping my mouth open for so long. I could hear the occasional clink ofsilverware above me, the soft murmur of conversation carrying on as if I weren’t on my knees servicing my master beneath the table.
Despite the discomfort, a strange sense of peace settled over me. This was where I belonged—on my knees, serving Pierre’s pleasure, existing for his use. The realization would have horrified me mere days before, but instead it brought a profound sense of rightness that resonated through my entire being.
I lost track of time completely, focused only on the rhythm of pleasing him, the subtle cues of his breathing and the tension in his thighs that told me how close he was getting to his release. When I felt his muscles tighten and his cock swell even harder against my tongue, I prepared myself to swallow his seed.
Instead, Pierre’s hand suddenly gripped my hair, pulling me off his cock. “Come here,” he commanded, his voice husky with arousal.
Before I could fully process what was happening, he pushed his chair back and guided me up from under the table. With surprising strength, he lifted me onto his lap, positioning me so his still-rigid penis pressed against my bottom through the delicate lace of my panties.
“Taste this,ma petite,” he said, and I realized that he had a spoon in his right hand, with something divine in it: a morsel of chocolate torte with raspberry sauce. I opened my mouth eagerly, my cheeks hot at the contrast between the two ways my master had fed me.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, as my tastebuds registered the intense, sweet flavors.
“N’est-ce pas?” Pierre asked, smiling. “Another?”
“Oui, Monsieur,” I told him. “But only one more… it’s so rich.”
“As you command,” he murmured, as he raised another spoonful to my lips. “Never say I don’t listen to your desires.”
I giggled, and tasted, and swallowed. For a moment silence fell in the grand dining room. Pierre put the spoon down, and wrapped me tightly in his arms for a long moment. A helpless noise came from my throat as I felt my whole little body melt into his big one.
“I believeMademoiselleand I will finish our dessert in private,” Pierre announced to the Duboises after what seemed an endless, wordless, marvelous moment.
“Of course,Monsieur,”MadameDubois replied, gathering the dessert plates with practiced efficiency. “Will you require anything else this evening?”
“No, thank you,” Pierre said, his fingers already beginning to explore the edge of my panties. “That will be all.”
I sat rigid with embarrassment as the Duboises left the dining room, closing the door discreetly behind them. As soon as we were alone, Pierre’s touch became more insistent, his fingers slipping inside my panties to explore the wetness he knew he would find there.
“So wet,” he murmured against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Always so wet for me.”
I whimpered as his fingers traced my slick folds, teasing but never quite giving me the pressure where I needed it most. Then he withdrew his hand, pulling the gusset of my panties aside to expose me completely. The air against my heated flesh made me shiver.
“Please,” I whispered, instinctively trying to press against his fingers.
Pierre chuckled darkly, returning the lace to cover me once more. “Not yet,ma petite. I want to play with you first.”
His game continued mercilessly—putting his fingers inside my panties to stroke and tease, then pulling the gusset aside to expose me, then covering me again, over and over until I was squirming with need.
“Audrey,” Pierre whispered, his lips brushing my ear, “I need an answer. Will you be my companion for at least a year?”
The weight of the moment pressed down on me. Everything that had happened—the caning, the humiliation, the pleasure—had been leading to this. I turned slightly to meet his gaze, those beautiful hazel eyes that seemed to see through every defense I’d ever built.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I will.”
In one fluid motion, Pierre stood, taking me with him. His hands gripped my waist firmly as he turned me and bent me over the dining room table, pressing my upper body against the polished mahogany. The fine china and crystal rattled as he positioned me, spreading my legs with his knee.
“Hold the edge of the table,” he commanded, his voice thick with desire.
