Page 52 of Innocence Tamed
Audrey
The Duboises nodded in perfect synchronization before disappearing silently toward what I assumed was the kitchen. Pierre led me across the marble-floored entrance hall toward a sweeping staircase that curved gracefully to the upper floor.
As we climbed the stairs, my discomfort increased with each step. The plug seemed to press deeper, and the fabric of my dress brushed against my bare bottom, a constant reminder of my nakedness beneath. I tried to focus on the opulence surrounding me—the hand-painted ceiling, the antique furniture, the original artwork adorning the walls—but my thoughts kept returning to the knowing look inMadameDubois’ eyes.
I gathered my courage as we reached the top of the stairs, Pierre’s hand still resting possessively at the small of my back.
“Your home is beautiful,” I said softly, trying to sound normal despite the plug filling me.
“Thank you,” Pierre replied, his voice warming with pride. “It’s been in my family for generations. The original structure dates to the fourteenth century, though it’s been extensively renovated over the years.”
He guided me down a wide hallway lined with portraits—stern-faced men and demure women in clothing from various eras, all bearing some resemblance to Pierre. His ancestors, I realized, watching over their descendant and the strange American girl he had brought to their ancestral home.
“The Lavender Suite is just ahead,” Pierre informed me, stopping before a set of double doors carved with delicate floral patterns. He pushed them open to reveal a room that took my breath away.
Sunlight streamed through tall windows draped with sheer white curtains, illuminating a vast space. A massive four-poster bed dominated the center, covered in plush white linens with lavender accents. Obviously priceless antique furniture—a writing desk, a chaise longue, a dressing table with an ornate mirror—stood about the room as if I could use it the way I might use something from IKEA.
“This is beautiful,” I breathed, momentarily forgetting my discomfort as I took in the splendor of my surroundings.
“I’m pleased you like it,” Pierre said, stepping behind me. His hands settled on my shoulders, a possessive weight that anchored me to the present moment. “The bathroom is through there,” he added, nodding toward another door. “You’ll find everything you need.”
His hands moved down to my waist, and his fingers began to tug at the fabric of my sundress, slowly drawing it upward, to myknees… to the middle of my thighs. I froze, my eyes darting to the open door to the hallway.
“The door,” I whispered, mortified at the thought of the Duboises passing by and seeing me.
“They know not to disturb us,” Pierre replied, his voice low with promise. I let out a helpless whimper as the hem of the dress reached my waist. “Hands over your head so I can get this off you.”
I obeyed, feeling the cool air of the room against my naked skin as Pierre pulled the sundress over my head, then dropped it on a nearby chair. Standing completely nude in this opulent chamber, while—as usual—Pierre remained fully clothed, made me feel like a naughtyobjet d’art: the kind of thing a randy aristocrat might display for his closest acquaintance in his private study.
His hands traced the curve of my waist, then slid down to cup my bottom. I gasped as his fingers found the welts left by the martinet, still tender and raised against my skin.
“These marks suit you,” he murmured, his thumbs tracing the evidence of my punishment. “They remind you who you belong to.”
“Yes,Monsieur,” I whispered, unable to deny the truth of his words. The sting of the welts, combined with the fullness of the plug, kept me in a constant state of awareness—of my body, of his ownership, of my submission.
Pierre’s hand found the base of the plug, giving it a gentle twist that made me gasp. “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice thick with arousal. “Having your master’s plug inside you in his ancestral home?”
For some reason, my mind flashed to the servants, the Dubois couple. They represented an essential part of this splendid milieu, of course. What did they know?
“Monsieur?” I asked timidly, looking back over my shoulder at Pierre’s gorgeous, hungry eyes. “Do… they…MonsieurandMadameDubois…?”
“Do they know what,ma petite?” Pierre asked, frowning.
My voice dropped to a whisper. “Do they know what you… do to me? What we do together?”
Pierre’s lips curved into that knowing smile that always made my insides quiver. He stepped closer, his fully clothed body pressing against my naked one from behind, his hands firmly gripping my hips.
“The Duboises have been with my family since I was a child,” he murmured into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “They understand my nature, and they know exactly what happens to young women who need discipline, when they come into my power.” His hand moved to the base of the plug again, twisting it slightly. “They know a young woman who keeps company with me, who I would bring here, is the kind of girl who should wear this sort of thing, and they know why. And I rather think Aimee suspects you’re currently wearing something like it.”
I gasped, heat flooding my face as I imagined the distinguished couple downstairs discussing my punishment, my training, my submission. “But how could she know?”
“MadameDubois unpacked your luggage while I showed you around,” Pierre explained, his voice rich with amusement. “She found no underwear, of course. And I think she noticed how carefully you walk, and how you wince a little when you move.She’s seen a few young women in my care over the years, Audrey. She recognizes the signs.”
The thought of the elegant older woman examining my belongings, deducing my state of discipline and submission, made me tremble with humiliation. Yet beneath that shame, I felt an unmistakable pulse of arousal, my nipples hardening as Pierre’s hands continued their possessive exploration of my body.
“And they… approve?” I asked, hardly believing I was having this conversation while standing naked in Pierre’s ancestral chateau with a plug in my bottom.
Pierre chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest against my back. “They believe in the natural order of things,” he said simply. “They’ve seen how chaotic the world became when traditional values were abandoned. The Duboises appreciate that I maintain certain standards.”
