Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Next came my skirt. I unzipped it slowly, delaying the inevitable moment when I would stand completely naked, waiting for a man to take the final virginity I possessed. The fabric pooled around my ankles and the feeling of complete exposure took hold, already, I thought, much too familiar. I knew, now, exactly what Pierre was capable of doing to my body; how very vulnerable he could render me.
I stepped out of the skirt and stood trembling in the middle of the bedroom, naked except for the plug still firmly seated in my anus. The knowledge that I had walked through Paris with it inside me, that I had sat in a public cinema with almost nothing between my bare skin and the seat, made my face burn with renewed shame.
The water in the kitchen stopped running.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I moved to the bed, positioning myself as Pierre had commanded. I crawled onto the mattress, the plug shifting inside me with each movement, reminding me of its presence and purpose. I turned to face away from the door, lowering my chest to the bedspread while keeping my knees under me, my bottom raised and offered.
In this position, with my face pressed against the cool cotton and my backside shamefully presented, I felt more objectified than I ever had in my life. I could picture how terribly visible the plug must be between my spread cheeks, the base a visual reminder of what Pierre intended to replace it with, of how he had trained my most private place for his degrading use. My virgin anus stretched around the silicone, preparing me for the invasion I both dreaded and, secretly, horrifyingly, wanted.
“Lovely,” I heard Pierre say from behind me. “Lovely… and all mine.”
CHAPTER 21
Audrey
A sob wrenched itself from deep in my chest. I couldn’t tell if it came from despair, or helpless anticipation, or both. My heart pounded in my chest as my ears strained to detect his footfalls on the carpet. I felt him, more than heard him, though, so slowly and carefully did he move—as if savoring every step.
Then I felt his hands on me, both of them on my bottom, his touch very gentle, almost maddeningly so.
I let out a little cry as Pierre began to caress my still-sore cheeks, moving his hands in gentle circles, then lowering them, but never touching the valley between my rounded globes, or my pussy. Pierre spoke softly, his voice pitched at a very gently mocking tone, “Are you completely sure you don’t want to be fucked in the ass, Audrey?”
“I… I don’t,” I whispered, my voice muffled against the bedspread. But even as I said it, I felt a telltale clench deep inside me, a response I couldn’t control.
“Are you certain?” Pierre asked, his fingers tracing the outline of the welts he’d left on my bottom the previous day. “Your body seems to be telling me something different.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, mortified by the way my flesh betrayed me. The way my thighs squirmed, the wetness gathering between them, the involuntary arching of my back that pushed my bottom higher into his hands—all of it contradicted my words.
“No,” I tried again, but my voice sounded unconvincing even to my own ears.
Pierre’s hand moved to the base of the plug, and he gave it a slight twist that made me gasp. “Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “you don’t want to want it, ma petite.”
Those words pierced through me with their terrible accuracy. It was true—I didn’t want to want this. I didn’t want to crave the degradation, the ownership, the complete surrender of my most private place to this man. Yet my body responded with unmistakable arousal to each touch, each word, each promise of what was to come.
I felt the mattress dip as Pierre positioned himself behind me. The rustle of fabric told me he was undressing, and I quailed at the thought of what would soon replace the plug stretching my bottom.
I was expecting that the next thing I felt would be Pierre taking hold of the base of the thing, to take it out of me. Instead I sensed his feet against the outside of my knees, as he crouched behind me. I whimpered as he pressed the head of his cock against the entrance to my soaking-wet vagina. The hot, blunt pressure against my tender opening made me shudder with anticipation. My body recognized him now, knew exactly what pleasures and torments his thick manhood could deliver.
I couldn’t help it: I moaned, “Please.” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it, betraying my need, giving the lie to all my earlier resistance. I pressed back against him instinctively, my body begging for what my pride still resisted.
“Bien sur, you little whore,” Pierre growled, the terrible word making my tummy flip. I cried out as he gripped my hip firmly and thrust himself inside my sheath. “I’m happy to prepare my cock in this tight little cunt. Only remember you must not come without permission.”