Page 35 of Innocence Tamed
Before I could process his words, he tightened his grip on my hair and thrust upward, his hips rising off the couch, pushing his cock much deeper into my mouth than it had been before. I gagged slightly, unprepared for the sudden invasion, but he held me firmly in place.
“Try to relax your throat,” he instructed, his voice taut with restraint. “Breathe evenly, through your nose.”
He began to move then, thrusting in and out of my mouth in a steady rhythm. I struggled to accommodate him, tears springing to my eyes as his cock hit the back of my throat. The room began to spin around me, and I felt lightheaded, caught between panic and a strange, floating surrender.
“Look at me while I use your mouth,” Pierre commanded. “I want to see your eyes as you learn what it means to please a man.”
I forced my gaze upward to see a hunger in my new sponsor’s eyes that made my heart skip a beat. I felt like I was watchingmyself from a distance as his hands gripped my hair tighter, controlling my movements completely. My jaw ached, my eyes watered, and still he thrust into my mouth, using me without concern for my comfort. The primitive rhythm of his hips became my entire world—forward and back, in and out, claiming my virgin mouth with the same authority with which he’d apparently claimed everything else in my life.
Then suddenly, he pulled me off his cock. I gasped for air, saliva connecting my lips to his rigid member in a thin, glistening strand that made me burn with shame.
“Get up,” Pierre commanded, his voice husky with arousal. “Go into the bedroom.”
My face felt hot as an oven as I struggled to my feet. My legs were numb from kneeling, and I swayed slightly, disoriented. I heard a whimper rise in my throat as I sensed Pierre standing and following close behind me. I walked awkwardly toward the bedroom, the panties still tangled around my knees hampering my steps.
I could feel his eyes on my body, burning into my back, surely taking in every detail of my humiliation. The sheer nightgown clung to my skin, making me feel even more naked than I would have without it. I imagined how satisfied he must feel at the appearance of my well-whipped bottom, the red marks from the martinet visible through the transparent material.
The bedroom seemed impossibly far away, each step an eternity under Pierre’s scrutiny. I couldn’t bear to look back at him, couldn’t face the desire and triumph I knew I would see in those gorgeous hazel eyes. Instead, I kept my gaze fixed on the doorway ahead, willing my trembling legs to carry me forward.
When I finally reached the bedroom, I hesitated in the doorway, uncertain what was expected of me. The room felt different somehow—no longer my private sanctuary but a stage for whatever Pierre had planned next. The large bed dominated the space, its dark blue comforter neatly arranged, the pillows plumped invitingly. Beside it, the nightstand held a small lamp casting a soft golden glow across the room.
“Go to the bed,” Pierre ordered from behind me, his voice startling me, its softness notwithstanding. “Sit on it, at the foot.”
CHAPTER 16
Audrey
I hobbled to the bed, every step making me wince with the lingering soreness in my backside and the panties limiting the range of my knees’ motion. The thought of removing them brought such fear of another whipping—if I did so without permission—and such arousal at the idea of it that I pushed the impulse away. I sat on the edge of the mattress and watched Pierre move about the room with easy confidence, as if he’d been there many times before.
I stared up at him, my heart thundering in my chest like a wild animal desperate to escape. What would he do to me now? I had never been so nervous… terrified, really, but also, to my dismay, so aroused. The hot shame of knowing that about myself burned through me, but I couldn’t deny the wetness between my thighs or the way my nipples hardened against the sheer fabric of the babydoll.
Pierre took a step toward me. I started, my hands rising as if to fend him off. With utter self-assurance, despite my defensivegesture, he took hold of me with big, strong hands and laid me down on the bed. I whimpered as he pulled my left foot completely out of the panties so that they remained tangled only around my right knee. The asymmetry of it—half-freed, half-trapped—felt even more revealing.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his voice low and thick with desire.
When I hesitated, paralyzed by embarrassment, he didn’t wait for my compliance. Instead, he took hold of my knees and pushed them back, spreading them wide, until they were almost at my breasts. The position left me completely open, my virgin pussy displayed for his inspection in the most humiliating way possible.
“Hold them there,” Pierre instructed, placing my hands on the backs of my thighs. “Offer your cunt to me the way you should.”
I whimpered, tears of mortification springing to my eyes as I obeyed, holding myself splayed open before him. The cool air of the room brushed against my exposed sex, making me acutely aware of how wet I was, how ready my traitorous body had become.
Pierre stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes darkening as he gazed down at me. He removed his tie with deliberate slowness, then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a broad chest dusted with dark hair. The sight of his partial nudity made my mouth go dry. This elegant, powerful man was undressing for me—no, definitely notforme… rather, forhimself… to prepare himself touseme.
“I’ve been looking forward to tasting a virgin cunt all day,” he told me, his crude language making me flinch even as it sent another surge of unwanted heat between my legs. “Butremember, Audrey—you are not allowed to orgasm. Not without my permission.”
Before I could respond, he knelt on the bed between my spread thighs and lowered his head. The first touch of his tongue against my sensitive flesh made me cry out, my back arching involuntarily off the mattress. He licked a slow, deliberate path from the virgin entrance to my vagina up to my clit, tasting me as if I were some exotic delicacy.
Instantly, I sobbed with the terrible effort of trying to keep myself from coming. His tongue felt impossibly skilled, knowing exactly where to press, where to flick, where to circle. My thighs trembled in my grip as I struggled to maintain the exposed position he’d demanded while fighting against the pleasure building inside me.
“Please,” I gasped. “Please…Monsieur… please… may I…”
“No,” Pierre said, seeming to speak directly to my pussy, so that I could feel the vibration of the sound, the slight pressure of the air from the words, against my distressingly sensitive inner lips. “The next time you come, it will be with my cock in this delicious little cunt.”
My whole body bucked at the sound, the meaning, the pure sensation. I let out a deep moan, closing my eyes and furrowing my brow hard, trying to find some way to deny the pleasure. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling so that the shameful pictures inside my head, of what my bedroom must look like to the surveillance cameras, had to compete with the blank white space above me.
Pierre’s big hands reached up and found mine, where I was holding my knees back. He pressed down, forcing my legs evenfurther apart, restraining me, shaping me to his will. Though his grip was firm, almost painful, I thought I could also feel a strange tenderness in the contact—as if his touch conveyed the value he placed in me, in my submission.
To my astonishment and horror, I heard myself whimper a question that seemed to come from someone else: “Do I taste good,Monsieur?”
