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)
I knew Aimee wouldn’t mind at all if I continued the scene in this degrading fashion—perhaps discussing Audrey’s anal training with Aimee and asking her advice as to the best way to ensure Audrey grew to take pleasure in having her bottom full of cock. I even considered taking the opportunity to fuck Audrey’s face and requesting Aimee to provide advice to the inexperienced girl on how to take a man as deep as he cared to thrust. Tenderness, however, won out for the moment. I pulled the sheet back up over Audrey’s little breasts and rose to take the tray from the housekeeper.
“Thank you, Aimee,” I said. “We’ll walk the property this morning. Luncheon on the terrace, I think, at one. Then I believe I’ll give Mademoiselle Campbell a riding lesson this afternoon.”
“Very good, Monsieur,” Aimee replied with a smile. “Luncheon will be ready at one.”
Audrey
As I ate my breakfast under Pierre’s watchful eye—the most wonderful, buttery croissant I’d ever had, and the ripest, sweetest strawberries… as I dressed, without underwear, of course, but also, thank goodness, without the terrible plug… as we ambled over the lovely lawns and through the little woods that belonged to Pierre’s chateau… I found myself in a much more accepting, contemplative mood than I would ever have expected, after what my sponsor—who claimed to love me as I did him—had done. The memory, recent as it was, that in the moments after I had awakened at Madame Dubois’ knock and sudden entrance with the tray he had entered, kissed me, and then showed my naked breasts and shaved pussy to the housekeeper seemed oddly distant, but also strangely fitting.
It had simply followed, hadn’t it, from what I had agreed to the previous night? And the surge of warmth between my thighs, the wetness I had actually felt gush, almost, out of me, as Pierre displayed my nakedness to his servant… that had also followed. Hadn’t it?
By the time we sat down to lunch on the terrace, with Pierre pulling out my chair for me and the Duboises waiting attentively nearby to serve the first course, the idea that the servants knew I was naked under my sundress hardly seemed to merit much concern. Rather to my surprise, Pierre brought me back to the Lavender Suite afterwards and told me to nap if I liked; he said he certainly would, as he always did when in the country. Even more to my surprise, when he had kissed me and departed for his own room, I did nap: a dreamless, restorative hour from which I awoke feeling like I had always lived here in a beautiful chateau, the prized possession of a wealthy Frenchman.
When Pierre appeared in my doorway, he looked even more comfortable in his country clothes—jeans and a work shirt—than he had walking the grounds that morning. Or, I realized, I had grown more comfortable here.
“Do I need, you know, like, a riding outfit? Jodhpurs, or something?” I asked.
Pierre smiled. “No, Audrey. You’re fine as you are.”
That mystified me, but I didn’t know how to ask further about it as we went downstairs and then outside, across the front courtyard, to the stables. Pierre had only pointed them out, that morning, but now we went inside.
The stables were as impressive as everything else at Chateau Lemieux—clean, spacious, and clearly well maintained. The rich scents of hay, leather, and horse filled my nostrils as we walked down the central aisle between the stalls. Two magnificent horses watched us curiously over their half-doors.
“This is Étoile,” Pierre said, stopping in front of a sleek bay mare with intelligent eyes. “She’s gentle and well trained. Perfect for a beginner.”
I approached cautiously, extending my hand as Pierre had taught me during our walk that morning, when we had passed horses in the paddock. Étoile sniffed my fingers, then nudged my palm with her velvety muzzle.
“She likes you,” Pierre observed, smiling as he reached for a halter hanging nearby. “Let me show you how to prepare her for riding.”
I watched attentively as Pierre demonstrated how to halter the mare and lead her from her stall. He tied her to a post in the center aisle, then retrieved a brush from a nearby tack room.
“Always groom before saddling,” he explained, handing me the brush. “Start at the neck and work your way back. Firm, smooth strokes.”
Under Pierre’s guidance, I tentatively began brushing Étoile’s gleaming coat. The mare stood patiently as I worked, occasionally turning her head to watch me with those liquid brown eyes. There was something deeply soothing about the repetitive motion, the connection with this powerful, gentle creature.
“Now for the saddle,” Pierre said after I’d finished grooming. He disappeared into the tack room, returning with an English saddle and various straps I couldn’t identify.
“First, the saddle pad,” he instructed, showing me how to position it properly on Étoile’s back. “Then the saddle itself. Gently—we don’t want to startle her.”