Page 54 of Innocence Tamed
Pierre
The next morning, I resolved to let Audrey have the day’s early hours to become used to life at Chateau Lemieux, before I truly began the little drama I had planned. I intended to teach my lovely girl several important things, but I knew she would learn them much more securely if she had the chance to settle a bit first.
She had fallen asleep in my arms and had barely stirred when I had disentangled myself to return to my own bedroom. Now I followed Aimee, carrying Audrey’s breakfast tray, into the Lavender Suite, to find my sweet little fuck toy scrambling to cover her nudity up in front of the housekeeper.
“Merci beaucoup, Madame,” I heard her say in her charming, really-not-bad American accent. Then she noticed me approaching in my dressing gown and blinked, as if trying to remember when I had left her to sleep alone in her lovely boudoir.
“Je vous en prie, Mademoiselle,” Aimee replied. Her control over her voice, as always, impressed me. Aimee never failed to suggest, through her politeness, the sort of degradation I knew Audrey craved so much. My housekeeper always seemed to append a silentyou little whoreto everything she said, when speaking to a young lady I had brought home.
“Bonjour, Aimee,” I greeted her cheerily. I went to the side of the bed and looked down into Audrey’s gorgeous, questioning eyes as she held the hastily gathered sheet up to cover her sweet breasts. “Et bonjour, ma petite,” I said more softly, then bent to kiss her, noticing as I did that her face and neck had gone scarlet.
My decision to ease Audrey into my plan for her training notwithstanding, I couldn’t resist: as I continued to kiss her deeply I took hold of the sheet and began to pull it away. Audrey whimpered in protest up into my mouth as I drew the silken fabric down, past Audrey’s midriff and even further—to uncover those beautiful breasts and the adorable furrow of her pussy between her trim thighs.
I broke the kiss at last and turned to Aimee, my arm around Audrey’s shoulders as I displayed to the housekeeper’s assessing gaze the girl I had confessed to myself—and to her—I loved. Audrey, blushing like the sun, turned her face into my chest, burying her nose in the material of my dressing gown.
“Tres jolie, n’est-ce pas?” I inquired of Aimee, still waiting patiently with the tray, on which I saw a croissant and a bowl of plump, deep red strawberries along with a pot of coffee.
“Very pretty,” Aimee replied in English, her voice prim. “I can see you enjoyMademoisellegreatly,Monsieur.”
That drew an adorable sob of mortification, mixed with helpless arousal, from Audrey, directly into my chest. I felt my cock harden along my thigh at the sound, so evocative of her submissive need.
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 giveMademoiselleCampbell 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 muchmore 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 atMadameDubois’ 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,Ihad 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 isÉtoile,” 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.Étoilesniffed 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 brushingÉtoile’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 therepetitive 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.
