Page 66 of Innocence Tamed
I looked up, surprised by this turn in the conversation. “Yes?”
“The project you mentioned—about renewable energy implementation in rural communities, through behavioral incentives. I believe I might be interested in funding it directly.”
My heart skipped a beat. The project had been my passion since arriving in Paris, but budget constraints had kept it theoretical rather than practical. “Really? That would be… amazing.” I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice.
“I’d need to see a proper proposal, of course,” Pierre continued, his tone businesslike in spite of the incongruity of discussing professional matters with me in lingerie. “But I’ve reviewed your preliminary work on the Energy Partners website, and it shows promise.”
A strange feeling washed over me—gratitude mingled with confusion. This was what I’d wanted professionally, yet it came packaged with a personal dynamic I never could have imagined. Pierre was simultaneously offering me career advancement and training me as his sexual submissive. The dichotomy should have felt jarring, but somehow it didn’t. The idea that he’d actually gone to the decidedly unglamorous website to look me up filled my chest with a warm glow I couldn’t deny.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’d be happy to prepare a formal proposal.”
Pierre nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Good. We’ll discuss the details tomorrow.” He turned toMadameDubois. “Aimee, the meal is excellent as always.”
“Merci,Monsieur,” she replied with a small bow of acknowledgment.
As we ate the succulent beef, Pierre began to speak of his family history.
“My ancestors fought in the First Crusade,” he told me, his voice rich with pride as he pointed to a coat-of-arms high on the wall of the dining room. “The Lemieux name has survived revolutions, world wars, economic collapses. We’ve always adapted while maintaining our core principles.”
I listened, fascinated by this glimpse into the heritage that had shaped him.
“I suppose it seems odd,” he said after a thoughtful pause, “that someone with my background would be so interested in something as modern and American as the New Modesty program.”
“I’ve wondered about that,” I admitted softly.
Pierre put down his fork, turning to face me fully. His expression grew more intense, more focused.
“I think what appeals to me is that the New Modesty preserves the traditional relationship between the genders,” he explained, his hand finding mine and enveloping it. “Throughout history, society functioned best when there was a natural order—when a strong protector, like a knight or a prosperous businessman, could guide a young woman toward her best self, as well as give her opportunities to prosper at his side.”
My breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. This wasn’t just about dominance and submission in the bedroom; for Pierre, it was a worldview, a philosophy that extended to every aspect of life.
“The modern world has confused a great many things,” he continued, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “Men unsure of their role, women exhausted trying to be everything at once. The New Modesty acknowledges the natural complementary nature of masculine and feminine energies.”
I nodded, unable to argue with the evidence of my own experience. Since submitting to Pierre, I’d definitely felt a strange kind of freedom—the paradoxical liberty that came from accepting boundaries, from surrendering control in certain areas of my life.
“Audrey,” Pierre said, his voice dropping to a more intimate register. He took both my hands in his, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my heart race. “Would you consider committing to a year as my cherished, submissive possession? And after that… well, this chateau needs a mistress.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. A year. Not just a fleeting arrangement, not just a temporary dalliance, but a full year of belonging to this man. And then… My mind raced with the implications, with the depth of what he was asking.
“I…” I faltered, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his request.
“Let me be clear about what this would mean,” Pierre said, clearly sensing my uncertainty. His expression was serious, his voice measured and deliberate. “As we discussed a little while ago, I think I have a position for you in my own small organization. But my demands on you will not be light. You must commit to becoming my obedient fuck toy even more deeply than you have already,” Pierre said, his voice dropping to a register that made my core clench with anticipation. “Your body will belong to me completely. Your pleasure, your pain, yourshame—all will be mine to control, for an entire year—so that I can ensure you will be happy living that way, with me.”
I swallowed hard, feeling a rush of heat flood my cheeks and spread downward through my body. The lingerie suddenly felt constrictive, my skin hypersensitive beneath the delicate lace. The Duboises maintained their professional demeanor, but I could feel their awareness of the shift in atmosphere.
“I…” Again my voice fell into silence as my mind worked to process everything he was asking of me.
Pierre’s eyes darkened and my heart rate sped up as I sensed his renewed hunger for me on the one hand and his determination to make clear the stakes of his offer on the other.
“Show me your commitment now, Audrey,” he said. “Get on your knees under the table and take out my cock. Suck it while I have my coffee and dessert.”
My eyes widened, darting to the Duboises, who were bringing in the dessert course—some kind of elegant chocolate confection.
Pierre called my attention back to himself, though, his tone unyielding. “Your dessert will be my manhood,” he said, his eyes locked on mine as if he meant to assess my reaction with the utmost precision. “If you do well, perhaps I will share a bite of Aimee’s chocolate torte with you, afterward.”
For a moment, I froze, overwhelmed by the crudeness of his command and the presence of the servants. Then, trembling slightly, I pushed my chair back. The Duboises politely averted their eyes as I slipped under the heavy damask tablecloth, the soft carpet cushioning my knees as I positioned myself between Pierre’s spread legs.
My hands shook as I reached for his zipper, carefully drawing it down. Above me, I heard the clink of coffee cups and the murmur of conversation as Pierre thankedMadameDubois for the dessert. The surreal normality of the exchange made my situation even more obscene.
