Page 47 of Innocence Tamed
“Oui, ma petite,” he replied simply, his voice husky with renewed desire.
With reverent care, I took him into my mouth, savoring the taste and feel of his enormous, quickly stiffening penis against my tongue. Even with what he’d done to me—no, I realized with a blush, because of it—I wanted to worship him, to show him with my body what I couldn’t yet express in words. I ran my tongue along the underside of his shaft, feeling him grow harder and harder between my lips.
The warm water cascaded down my back as I took him deeper, marveling at how quickly he had recovered. His hands tangled in my wet hair, not forcing me, but guiding gently, showing me what pleased him most. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking firmly as I moved my head back and forth, my hands caressing what wouldn’t fit in my mouth.
“That’s perfect,” Pierre murmured, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re a natural at pleasing your master.”
His words sent a shiver of pleasure through me. I did my best, trying to use everything I’d learned from our previous encounters to bring him pleasure. I wanted to taste him, to feel him lose control because of me, to complete the circle of possession.
Pierre’s breathing grew heavier, his thighs tensing beneath my palms. Just when I thought he might climax, he placed his hands on my shoulders.
“I won’t come now,” he said, his voice strained, but controlled. “But you may play with my cock as long as you like.”
I looked up at him through water-spiked lashes, surprised by his restraint and generosity. The permission to explore him at my own pace felt like a precious gift. I continued my ministrations, no longer racing toward a conclusion, but savoring the journey. I explored every ridge and vein with my tongue, learning what made his breath catch, what made his fingers tighten in my hair.
Time seemed to slow in the steamy cocoon of the shower. I lost myself in the act of pleasuring him, finding an unexpected peace in my submission. This wasn’t about my release or even his—it was about connection, about acknowledging the bond he had forged between us through the crucible of the past twenty-four hours.
After a few minutes of this reverent exploration, Pierre gently eased me away from his still-hard cock. His hands slid under my arms, lifting me to my feet with effortless strength. Once I stood before him, he pulled me against his chest, holding me tenderly as the water continued to rain down upon us.
The embrace felt different from any we’d shared before—not sexual, though our naked bodies pressed together intimately,but protective, almost cherishing. I rested my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. His arms encircled me completely, making me feel small and safe and valued.
“Audrey,” Pierre said softly, his lips against my wet hair. “Would you like to come to my chateau this weekend?”
I pulled back slightly, looking up at him in surprise. The invitation seemed to come from nowhere. Hardly believing it could be real, I nodded, my voice barely audible over the pounding water. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’d like that very much.”
Something flashed in Pierre’s eyes—a primal hunger that hadn’t been fully sated. Without warning, he turned me around to face the shower wall, his movements swift and decisive. His hands gripped my hips, positioning me how he wanted me, bent slightly at the waist with my palms pressed against the slick tile.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his voice rough with renewed desire.
I obeyed instinctively, widening my stance as the warm water cascaded down my back. My body, though sore and well-used, responded immediately to his touch, a fresh surge of wetness gathering between my thighs that had nothing to do with the shower.
Pierre’s hand slid between my legs from behind, his fingers finding my swollen sex with unerring precision. “Wet already,” he murmured, sounding both pleased and slightly mocking. “Your cunt knows who it belongs to now.”
I whimpered as he traced my folds, gathering my moisture before positioning the head of his cock at my entrance. After theintense anal penetration, my pussy felt almost virginal again—as if it had forgotten the stretch of accommodating him.
Without further warning, Pierre thrust into me with brutal force, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke. I cried out, my voice echoing off the shower walls as pain and pleasure collided in a dizzying rush. My inner muscles stretched to accommodate his invasion, the soreness from our earlier coupling flaring to life.
“You feel that?” Pierre growled, his fingers digging into my hips as he established a punishing rhythm. “This is how a little whore gets fucked when she pleases her master.”
His crude words should have offended me, but instead they sent a forbidden thrill racing through my veins. Each powerful thrust drove me forward against the tile, my breasts bouncing with the force of his possession. The angle allowed him to penetrate impossibly deep, hitting places inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Oh, God,” I sobbed, my voice breaking as he pounded into me relentlessly. “Sir…Monsieur…please…”
“Take it,” Pierre insisted, one hand sliding up my wet back to tangle in my hair. He pulled gently but firmly, arching my spine and changing the angle of his penetration. “Take what I give you.”
The new position made his thrusts even more intense, each one sending jolts of almost painful pleasure through my core. I braced myself against the tile, trying to push back against him, to match his rhythm, but his pace was too frantic, too powerful for me to control.
I could feel that Pierre had lost some of his usual perfect restraint. His breathing came in harsh pants, his rhythm growing erratic.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Such a tight little cunt. Your master is going to come… so… soon.”
Then he let out a wordless shout, and I felt his rigid shaft pulse inside me. I knew somehow, as he raised me up and held me, much more gently, from behind, that he had fucked me harder than he meant to. To my shock, I felt my lips curve into a smile as I thought about it: my submission had awakened something in Pierre that he couldn’t hold back.
Am I not, in fact, powerless, then?I wondered.
CHAPTER 23
Pierre
