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)
Every step sent new pangs of soreness through my entire lower body. The welts from the cane burned across my bottom, while the stretched, sensitive tissues between my legs and especially my behind throbbed with each movement. I walked with small, careful steps, painfully aware that both Pierre and Monsieur Dubois were watching my retreat.
“Dinner in half an hour, then?” Pierre called after us.
“That should be sufficient, Monsieur,” Madame Dubois replied. “Etienne, bring Monsieur a fresh aperitif, please.”
As we reached the grand staircase, I clutched the dress more tightly around me, terrified of encountering other staff members in my disheveled state. Madame Dubois seemed to sense my fear.
“The rest of the staff has the evening off,” she assured me quietly. “It’s only the four of us in the chateau tonight.”
I nodded gratefully, unable to form words as we climbed the stairs. My mind whirled with conflicting emotions—shame at what I had been made to do and to undergo, confusion at how eagerly my body had responded, and beneath it all, a strangely peaceful state of mind that felt both alien and right.
Madame Dubois led me back to the Lavender Suite, closing the door behind us with a soft click. The room looked exactly as we had left it, yet everything felt different. I felt different.
“Into the bathroom, Mademoiselle,” she directed, her voice gentle but firm. “We need to clean you properly.”
The whole area between my waist and my knees felt like Pierre had used it thoroughly, and in the process had somehow completed its transformation into his personal possession. Every movement reminded me of what had happened in the library—the caning, the humiliation, the pleasure. I sat gingerly on the edge of the massive bathtub as Madame Dubois ran warm water, adding a capful of something that smelled like lavender.
“This will help with the soreness,” she explained, wringing out a soft washcloth. “Though some tenderness is intentional, I think. A reminder.”
I nodded, unable to find words as she knelt beside me. The dignified housekeeper, still in her immaculate uniform, began to clean me with practiced efficiency, starting with my inner thighs where Pierre’s seed had left sticky trails.
As she cleaned my pussy and bottom gently with the warm, soapy washcloth, Madame Dubois told me, very softly, “I have never heard Monsieur Pierre talk about marriage in any way, in relation to a young woman he’s kept company with.”
My breath caught. I looked down at her, searching her face for any sign of mockery or deception. I found only sincerity in her warm brown eyes.
“What do you mean?” I whispered, wincing slightly as the cloth touched a particularly tender spot.
“Just what I said,” she replied, her voice still low, as if sharing a precious confidence. “As I told you earlier, Monsieur has entertained many young ladies over the years, both here and in Paris. Never once has he mentioned the New Modesty, or wives, or marriage. Until you.”
A strange fluttering sensation began in my chest, something that had nothing to do with the soreness of my well-used body.
“Perhaps he was just… talking,” I suggested hesitantly. “Using it as part of the scene.”
Madame Dubois shook her head slightly as she continued her ministrations. “Monsieur Pierre does not speak idly about such matters, especially not in front of Etienne and myself. We have known him since he was a boy. He understands the weight his words carry in this household.”
She rinsed the cloth and applied fresh soap, working with gentle efficiency between my buttocks where Pierre had claimed me so thoroughly. I blushed, but allowed her to continue, sensing that this conversation was important.
“What else has been different?” I asked, burning to know even in these humiliating circumstances.
Madame Dubois was silent for a moment, considering. “He watches you when you aren’t looking,” she finally said. “Not with lust—though there is plenty of that—but with something softer. And he asked specifically about accommodating your preferences before you arrived. He wanted my advice on which suite to put you in, and which flowers to have on the table. He has never done that before.”
“He said he loves me,” I admitted, the words barely audible over the soft splashing of water.
“And do you love him?” she asked, her eyes meeting mine directly.
CHAPTER 31
Audrey
I looked down at the warm water swirling around my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. The question hung in the air between us, demanding an answer I wasn’t sure I was ready to give. And yet…
“Yes,” I whispered, the admission feeling like both surrender and victory. “God help me, I do love him.”
Madame Dubois nodded, her expression softening into something almost maternal. “Then perhaps, Mademoiselle, what happened downstairs was more than just a scene for your master’s pleasure.” She wrung out the cloth one final time before rising to her feet with that same graceful efficiency. “It may have been a glimpse of the future he envisions for you both.”