Page 25 of Innocence Tamed
“I’d really rather not talk about it,” I said finally, looking up despite the rush of blood it brought to my cheeks and trying to inject some firmer element into my voice.
Something flashed in Pierre’s eyes: irritation, perhaps even anger. A thrill of fear shot through my body, but along with it, to my horror, came a heat down below my belly and along with it, much worse, a clench between my thighs that made me squirm, visibly, in my seat.
Oh, no,I thought, as I saw the movement register on Pierre’s face.Oh, please, no.
CHAPTER 11
Pierre
I had thought, up to that moment, that this date had gone rather poorly.
Audrey Campbell was certainly beautiful—more so in person than in her photographs, even, with a luminous quality to her skin and an expressiveness in her blue eyes that the camera hadn’t fully captured. Her intelligence, too, was evident in our conversation about energy conservation. She clearly possessed both the technical knowledge and the passion that her profile had hinted at.
But there was something hesitant, almost resistant in her manner that troubled me. She answered my questions politely enough, but with a guardedness that suggested she was merely going through the motions of setting up an arrangement. Though she had initiated the Selecta process herself, she seemed uncomfortable with its implications, flinching slightly whenever our conversation veered toward anything related to the actual nature of our potential relationship.
I had begun to wonder if she was truly suited for the kind of arrangement I sought. I had no interest in a partner who merely put on a pretense of submission, regardless of how physically appealing or intellectually stimulating she might prove. In my experience, such arrangements only worked when a girl truly yearned to submit—even if she had a difficult time admitting it at first.
But then came the telling, revealing moment when she refused to discuss her feelings about the New Modesty program. Her body had betrayed what her words tried to conceal. The flush that crept up her neck to stain her cheeks. The quickening of her breath. And most significantly, that unconscious squirm in her seat, her thighs pressing together as if to contain the arousal that my mild display of dominance had triggered.
Nowthatwas interesting. Very interesting indeed.
“I see,” I said quietly, letting the moment stretch between us. I took another sip of my espresso, watching her over the rim of the cup. Her discomfort was palpable, but so was something else—an awareness of her own response, and a struggle against it.
The Selecta Arrangements app had been quite specific in its assessment of Audrey Campbell:Subject displays classic submissive response patterns, her conscious resistance notwithstanding. Perineal sensor readings indicate strong arousal in response to authority figures and firm correction.
I had been skeptical of this assessment—I didn’t have much experience with the technology—and I’d found myself doubting its efficacy in the past. But now, seeing her reaction with my own eyes, I began to think the app would prove correct in this instance.
“You know, Audrey,” I continued after a calculated pause, “one of the primary benefits of a Selecta Arrangement is the freedom it provides.”
She looked up, confusion evident in her expressive face. “Freedom?” she repeated, as if the word were foreign in this context.
“Yes, freedom,” I confirmed. “The freedom to explore aspects of yourself that you might otherwise deny. The freedom to surrender control in a safe, structured environment. The freedom to experience pleasure without guilt.”
Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in surprise. “I don’t… I’m not sure what you mean.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her with a penetrating gaze that I knew few could withstand for long. Her eyes darted away, then back, unable to maintain contact yet seemingly unable fully to break it either. The contradiction fascinated me.
“I think you understand perfectly well,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear. “I think your body has started to react in a way you find rather troubling, Audrey—one you’d like to conceal.”
Her blush deepened to a crimson that extended down her neck, disappearing beneath the modest neckline of her blue sundress. I found myself wondering how far that blush extended. Would her breasts be similarly flushed with embarrassment and arousal? Would her nipples have hardened in response to my observation?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
“Don’t you?” I countered, allowing a hint of impatience to color my tone. “Let me be more direct, then. When I expressed mild disapproval just now, you responded with unmistakable physical arousal. Your pupils dilated. Your breathing quickened. And you pressed your thighs together in a manner that suggests you’re quite wet at this moment.”
Audrey
I thought I had already blushed as hot as the blood vessels in my face could possibly get. I was wrong. A thrill of arousal surged through my body, so intense I felt dizzy with it. How could he know? How could he possibly see so clearly into me, into these shameful reactions I couldn’t control?
“Please,” I whispered, staring down at the table. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“I’m observing you,” Pierre corrected, his voice remaining calm and level. “There’s an important distinction.” He paused, then added more softly, “Look at me, Audrey.”
The command in his voice was unmistakable. Despite my mortification, I found myself raising my eyes to meet his. His gaze held mine, calm yet somehow intense, as if he were looking into me rather than at me.
“Your embarrassment stems from the disconnect between what you believe you should want and what your body clearly desires,” he said. “That conflict is unnecessary and, frankly, counterproductive.”
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t… I’m not…”
