Page 48 of Innocence Tamed
Audrey’s apartment door opened to me the next afternoon to reveal my sweet girl, charmingly clad in her fetching blue sundress and smiling at—I felt certain—the prospect of our weekend in the country. Something about her struck me as different even from the previous day: a subtle shift in her demeanor that I couldn’t quite place but found immensely satisfying. Gone was the defensive wariness that had characterized our earlier encounters. In its place I thought I could discern a quiet confidence that seemed, paradoxically, to grow from her acceptance of my authority.
“Bonjour, Monsieur,” she greeted me, her voice soft but steady. The slight flush on her cheeks and the way her eyes dropped momentarily before meeting mine again told me that memories of our previous encounters still made her blush.
“Audrey,” I acknowledged, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind me. I took a moment to admire her—the way the blue fabric of her dress accentuated her eyes, how itclung to her small frame before flaring gently at her hips. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her hands fidgeting slightly with the fabric of her skirt. “I… I wasn’t sure what to pack for the weekend.”
I smiled at her uncertainty. “I’ve taken care of everything you’ll need,” I assured her, watching her eyes widen slightly at the implication. “Though I must say that dress is perfect for our drive to the country.”
I stepped closer to her, close enough to catch the clean floral scent of her shampoo. I reached out to brush a strand of blonde hair from her face, letting my fingers linger against her cheek. She leaned into my touch almost imperceptibly, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.
“Is your bag ready?” I asked, my voice dropping to a more intimate register.
“Yes,Monsieur,” she answered, gesturing to a small overnight bag by the door.
I nodded my approval. “Before we leave,” I said, lowering my chin a little, “I’m going to prepare you a little further.”
Audrey blinked at me, her cheeks showing a fetching stain of pink, as she obviously grasped that she would find the preparation I intended difficult and, of course, embarrassing.
“Get the largest of the three anal plugs the nurse gave you and the lubricant,” I instructed, my voice firm but not harsh. “Then take off all your clothes, kneel on the bed, bend over, and reach back to spread your buttocks for me.”
I watched her face carefully, noting the flicker of emotions that passed across her expressive features. Surprise, embarrassment, arousal, and then—most interestingly—a flash of defiance. Her blue eyes, which had been downcast, lifted to meet mine directly.
“No,” she said, the single syllable hanging in the air between us.
I felt my eyebrows rise slightly, in genuine surprise at her refusal. After yesterday’s thorough claiming of her body, I had wondered if I could expect complete compliance. Instead, I found myself facing rebellion. Rather than irritating me, however, I discovered that her defiance awakened a predatory hunger within me. The chase, it seemed, would continue.
“No?” I repeated, allowing a dangerous edge to enter my voice. I stepped closer to her, closing the small distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating from her body. “Perhaps you misunderstood. That wasn’t a request, Audrey.”
She swallowed visibly, but stood her ground. “I understand perfectly,Monsieur. But I don’t want to wear the plug during the drive.” Her voice wavered slightly, but her chin remained raised in stubborn defiance. “It’s too… uncomfortable for that long.”
I studied her for a long moment, noting how her breathing had quickened, how her pupils had dilated despite her verbal refusal. My sweet Audrey was playing a game—testing boundaries, perhaps, or simply craving the forceful correction she had begun to understand she needed.
“I see,” I said softly. “You’ve decided to be naughty.”
Audrey
Something about the quietness of Pierre’s voice, as he saidnaughty—or the way he spoke it not as a question but as a statement of fact—stirred sudden panic in my chest, rising into my head so that my eyes went wide and I started to feel dizzy. Why had I defied him?
Of course it had a lot to do with the crudity of his command—the terrible thought of that enormous purple anal plug, of having to wear it in the car, having to arrive at Pierre’s chateau with it inside me… but it also had to do with the insane impulse that had struck me the moment my gorgeous sponsor had entered my apartment as if he owned it, and me. I had, just as Pierre had realized, decided to be naughty.
The folly of the idea, and the awful, apparent inevitability of its consequences, had struck me very late—but it struck hard. My heart rate and my breathing sped up instantly. I took a step back, away from Pierre, raising one hand in front of me and putting the other behind, over my backside, in an instinctive attempt to ward off the punishment I knew I had just earned and suddenly no longer wanted, not at all.
I swallowed hard as I considered it: theno longerhad come from my own thoughts. I couldn’t deny it. Ihadwanted it, a few moments before, however imperfectly I’d been aware of that desire. I hadwantedto be punished. What was wrong with me?
No longer, though. Absolutely not. I took another step back, watching my sponsor.
Without any warning, he stepped toward me, moving what seemed to me much too quickly. Pierre grabbed me in a swift, fluid motion that felt like being caught by a predator. His strong hand clamped around my wrist while his other arm circled my waist, lifting me slightly so that my toes barely touched thefloor. I gasped, struggling instinctively against his iron grip, but found myself helpless in his grasp as he hauled me across the apartment toward the wall panel he’d revealed only days before.
“Pierre, please,” I begged, my voice high and thin with fear. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it!”
He said nothing as he pressed the hidden catch. The panel slid open to reveal the cabinet containing the disciplinary implement I’d found so fascinating and terrifying when I’d first seen it. My eyes fixed immediately on the martinet hanging on its hook—the leather tails that had set my bottom on fire just yesterday. The memory of that pain flooded back, making me struggle harder.
“I’ll obey! I promise I’ll obey!” I cried as Pierre reached for the martinet with deliberate slowness, his movements unhurried and precise amidst my frantic squirming. “I’ll get the plug right now! Please!”
He turned to face me, the martinet dangling from his right hand. The leather tails swayed slightly with the movement, hypnotizing me with their silent threat. His expression remained calm, almost serene, but his eyes burned with an intensity that made my stomach clench.
“I know you will obey,ma petite,” Pierre said, his voice soft but implacable. “But your defiance requires punishment first. The discipline must come before the compliance, not after it.”
