Page 34 of Innocence Tamed
Gathering my courage, I leaned forward and pressed my lips gently against the smooth, rounded head of his erection. The contact sent an almost electric jolt through my body, a strange mix of revulsion and excitement. His skin felt hot and silky against my lips, and I tasted the slightly salty drop of moisture that had gathered at the tip.
“Good girl,” Pierre murmured, his approval sending a shameful thrill through me. “Now lick it. Use your tongue to explore the shape of it.”
Tentatively, I extended my tongue and traced it around the ridge where the head met the shaft. Pierre inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening slightly in my hair. Encouraged by his reaction, I grew bolder, licking up the underside of his manhood in a long, slow stroke.
“That’s it,” he praised, his voice huskier now. “Continue. Learn the texture, the taste. This is how a skillful bridegroom teaches his innocent bride, according to the New Modesty.”
My cheeks flushing at the thought of Selecta’s lewd variety of social engineering, I obeyed, running my tongue along the length of him, feeling the ridges of veins, the smooth skin stretched taut over hardness beneath. The taste was unfamiliar, but not really unpleasant—slightly salty, slightly musky. With each stroke of my tongue, I felt myself sinking deeper into a strange, dreamlike state where nothing existed but this moment, this act of submission.
“Now I want you to pay proper attention to my balls,” Pierre instructed, reaching down to unfasten his trousers more fully. He pushed them down slightly, exposing the heavy sac beneath his rigid shaft. “Nuzzle them first, then lick them. Very gently.”
My face burned with humiliation. This felt even more intimate, somehow, than licking his cock. But I found myself leaning forward obediently, pressing my face against the warmth of his scrotum. The hair there was coarser than I expected, tickling my cheeks as I nuzzled against him like a puppy.
“Yes,” Pierre sighed, his free hand stroking my hair approvingly. “Show your reverence for your sponsor’s masculinity.”
I didn’t know it was possible to feel more degraded than I already did, but his words pushed me deeper into a state of utter abasement, igniting a shameful heat between my thighs. I extended my tongue, lapping gently at the wrinkled skin of his testicles, feeling them shift slightly beneath my ministrations. Pierre groaned softly, a sound of pure masculine pleasure that made my virgin sheath clench with need.
“Now take my cock in your hand,” he instructed, reaching down for my wrist, then guiding my right hand to his shaft. “Not too tight… Yes, like that. Stroke me while you continue to worship my balls with your mouth.”
His crude language made me whimper with humiliation, but I obeyed, wrapping my fingers around the rigid length of him. His manhood felt impossibly hard yet paradoxically soft—like steel wrapped in velvet. I began to move my hand up and down his shaft as he’d directed, while continuing to lick and nuzzle at his testicles.
“Use your other hand to play with yourself,” Pierre commanded suddenly, his voice thick with arousal. “I want to see you masturbate while you serve me.”
I froze, my hand stilling on his cock. “I… I can’t,” I whispered, mortified by the suggestion.
“You can and you will,” Pierre replied, his fingers tightening slightly in my hair. “Your submission includes obeying commands that embarrass you. Now, reach between your legs with your left hand and show me how wet your little virgin cunt is.”
My face burning with shame, I slowly moved my left hand between my trembling thighs. The babydoll nightgown rode up as I shifted position, exposing me completely. My fingers found the slick folds of my sex, and I gasped at how wet I was—how my body betrayed me with its eager response to this degradation.
“That’s it,” Pierre murmured approvingly. “Stroke your clit while you continue to pleasure my cock. Show me how much this arouses you.”
I whimpered as I began to touch myself, my fingers slipping through the abundant wetness between my legs. The dual sensation of stroking Pierre’s hardness while pleasuring myself created a feedback loop of need that made my breath come in short, desperate gasps.
“Look at me,” Pierre commanded suddenly. “I want to see your eyes while you pleasure us both.”
I had kept my gaze downcast, too embarrassed to meet his eyes during this intimate act. But at his command, I raised my face, meeting his intense hazel gaze. The connection felt shockingly intimate—more so, somehow, than the physical acts we were engaged in.
“Beautiful,” Pierre breathed, his eyes locked on mine. “Do you know what I see, Audrey?”
I shook my head slightly, unable to form words as my fingers continued their movements between my legs, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.
“I see a virgin learning to suck cock,” Pierre murmured, his voice dropping to a hypnotic whisper. “Picture yourself, Audrey, you little whore. A girl with her panties down… the kind of girl who didn’t think she would ever be on her knees… yet here you are, kneeling in front of a powerful, wealthy man, with your mouth submissively giving pleasure to his rigid penis.”
His words penetrated my consciousness like arrows, each one finding its mark in my deepest insecurities. I whimpered around his thickness, unable to deny the truth of what he described. My fingers still worked between my legs, my body betraying me with its eager response to his degrading observations.
“I’m very hard for you,” he continued, his voice thickening with lust. “Your innocence, your reluctance, your shame—they all make my cock throb. The way your little virgin mouth struggles to accommodate me, the way your eyes water with the effort… it’s exactly what a man like me needs.”
I moaned involuntarily, the vibration traveling through his shaft and making him grunt in response. The approval in that sound sent a humiliating gush of wetness between my thighs, my fingers growing slicker as they circled my swollen clit.
“You’re getting close to orgasm, aren’t you?” Pierre observed, his eyes narrowing as he studied my flushed face. “I can see it in your expression, in the way your body trembles.”
I nodded helplessly, unable to deny the building pressure within me. The combination of the forbidden act I was performingand my own fingers’ ministrations had brought me dangerously close to the edge.
“Stop touching yourself,” he commanded sharply. “You may not come without permission. Not now, not ever.”
I whimpered in distress, but immediately withdrew my hand from between my legs, leaving myself aching and unsatisfied. I lowered my eyes, an irrational guilt rising in my belly. The denial sent a perverse new thrill through me, intensifying my arousal even as it frustrated it.
“Good girl,” Pierre praised, his hand tightening in my hair. “Now open wider. I’m going to fuck your face properly.”
