This is a disclaimer… pretty standard… this book is not about you or anybody you know, any brands listed are their own and are not being advertised. Please don’t give this book to any other persons… it’s not a cold, don’t share the file please… the FBI looks down on that sort of thing… I wrote this work on my own, this is my intellectual property and it is self-edited. And yes, I am the “cover artist” as well. Please do not use any portion of this novel from the cover to the last page without prior permission from the author unless the quote is in reference to a review of the story. So with that being said, all errors are my own and I can’t blame anyone but myself for any and all mistakes. There are BDSM elements in this story, so please don’t be offended if you choose to read any further than this page. If you are under the age of consent wherever you are, please read something else for now and not this book until you are legally able to do so. I am not responsible if you try anything I depict in any of my stories this one included. With that said, enjoy and happy reading!
Jennifer Willows
This is for Belinda, just because you made me laugh as I wrote this.
The Morning After…
Sharisse woke to a perfect day, the sun shone, all was right with her corner of the world and she gingerly stretched her worn out muscles with a wince. Her husband had fucked her six ways to Sunday last night and she wasn’t sure how well she would be able to walk this morning. Her body was overused and she reveled in the feel of her own flesh. She still tingled from their prior activities the night before in all of the right places. If Pierre was capable of what he showed her last night, what else was he able to do with her under the cover of conjugal rights? Or better yet, conjugal wrongs.
The smell of something good called her name, the scent of fresh bread, warm jam and numerous spices called her to rise from her bed. Even though she wasn’t ready to get up, she did, and her thighs made a protest along with her abused buttocks. When she was able to make her lower half work properly, Shari dug deep and put one foot in front of the other until she was in the kitchen. Pierre was gloriously handsome wearing an apron and naught else as he flipped pancakes. He looked up just as she padded into the room.
“I had planned to bring this to bed for you.” He said sternly, even as a smile twinkled in his eyes.
“Sorry, can I get a do over? I’ll climb right back into bed and you can come in. It’ll be like this never happened.”
“No rain checks for breakfast in bed, Shari. But since you ruined my plans for this morning, I think that you have earned your first punishment of the day.”
“B-bbut I didn’t do anything!” What the hell just happened to her mild mannered spouse? The man she married would have never spoken to her that way a scant twelve hours ago.
“Be careful what you wish for my wife. It is too late to ask for mercy now, especially considering the fact that I have given you what you begged for. It is up to you to deal with what you unleashed.”
Pierre had little else to say and she swallowed audibly when he walked from the tiny range to stand before her. She could see that he was completely happy with the new workings of their relationship. She on the other hand? Not so much. It was as if her carefully made plans careened out of control and she could do little but hope that he would have mercy on her.
While her mind raced a mile a minute, Pierre pulled her against his body and let his lips meet hers. The kiss seemed to be an introduction to a man she had never met before. The oral greeting was hungry and fierce, far from a merger, instead an acquisition. As if he was laying claim to her and all that she was. As if he was going to suck her soul from her parted lips. He was so forceful, so potent, that she was unable to see how she could stop from giving anything he asked for either.
When Shari was sure that she wasn’t going to be able hold her breath another second, Pierre pulled away from her and watched her labored breaths. But she didn’t even get the chance to figure out what was coming next before it happened.
Pierre spun Sharisse on wobbly legs until she faced the dining table. Before she knew what was coming he had bent her over the well-polished wood. She was still naked and her skin clung uncomfortably against the unforgiving wax coated surface. Her breasts and belly squeaked awkwardly for a minute before she was able to stop the scoot of her body from the quick momentum.
Oh, my.
Pancakes and Penance
Pierre had never felt so fantastic in his whole life. When he woke up the sun had barely begun to rise and the day seemed filled with endless possibilities. His wanton wife lay next to him, and he watched as the fingers of light crept over the burnished skin of her shoulder. He rose from bed and felt in control for the first time since he met Shari.
Her carnal excursions had left her a mindless exhausted heap, her respite was a lazy sprawl of limbs and wild hair. The way she made him smile even as she slumbered gave him a spur of the moment idea to make her something delicious to break her fast after her maiden night in submission. But he had plans for her today, and either she was going to love what he had intended, or she would run away after they were done. He made a call to reserve his favorite room at the bondage club, but the white room was unavailable. So Pierre reluctantly chose the gold room instead for later that evening. He had some shopping to do with Shari before they could play the way he intended. But first, he would make her something to eat. If nothing else, she would need her strength for what he had planned next.
He was almost done when he heard Shari’s shuffled steps across the floor. Pierre didn’t appreciate the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to eat the pancakes in bed. Not at all. As a dominant, he had to have control over every aspect of her submission. He was a modern man and didn’t mind that she worked outside of their home. But as far as everything else went, he would decide who, what, when, where, why and how.
He knew she wasn’t completely to blame. She had not been given a command to stay in bed, and as a matter of fact, he hadn’t given her any directions at all. That would have to change, starting now. He marched over to where she stood. Her expression was a bit sheepish, as if she was ashamed of herself and him in the light of day.
The look on her face was enough to make him decide to give her another taste of who he was, let her see a hint of the man he kept hidden from her all of these months. Shame or embarrassment had no place between them at this point and he refused to let Sharisse hide her sexual desires. Not after the way she melted under his domination last night. That more so than anything else had him goaded him to give her the first honestly earned punishment under his hands.
He kissed her with only a fraction of the hunger he felt, but even with the deliberate dilution of his desire she sagged against him. Pierre pulled her away from him and spun her towards the handily available dining table before he pressed her to lay face down half-way atop the slickly polished surface. She trembled and he heard the choppy breaths emerge raggedly from her chest, saw her spine arch with each inhalation.
Pierre rubbed her soft skin first, gentled her for what would come next. She relaxed with each caress and when she was mired in the sensation of her own flesh, he struck. He used only the right hand with an erratic cadence as he stippled and peppered her ass with every stinging smack. It had been so long since he had laid hands to a woman this way that his hand burned and he imagined her buttocks felt bee-stung.
Since he was out of practice, he only chastised her with thirty slaps against her golden hind parts. She quivered and he loved being able to watch her body’s reaction to corporal punishment. It made his cock hard and angry to spear her, but he had been satiated the prior night well
enough to find the fortitude to hold out until later.
Tonight, he was going to give her ever drop of sperm his body could manufacture until he was limp. Since he wasn’t in the bedroom, Pierre grabbed a jar of coconut oil and used the light unguent to salve her reddened cheeks.
“Do you know why I spanked you Sharisse?”
“No.” Her tone was surly, but her eyes were delighted mixed with a hint of confusion.
“When we made vanilla love every night, you were always able to look me in the eyes afterwards. This should be no different.”
“I know Pierre, it’s just that—” She stopped speaking as if she had no idea what she could say to explain the unexplainable.
“What? That I took your pleasure in my hands and you no longer have control?”
“I guess, I just… I don’t know Pierre! Is that what you’re looking for? You want to hear me say that I have no idea what I wanted from you when I dressed in the bondage outfit last night? There you go, I just said it. Does that satisfy you?”
“Non, Sharisse. There are going to be changes around here, starting today. I am a well-established Dominant, and you will learn how to please me. If you had known before last night who I am, would you have still done it?” She appeared to be lost in thought, but lasted for only a spilt second before she replied.
“Oui, Pierre I would have. I want all of you, not bits and pieces that you choose to parcel out in fear of my response.”
“Good. I want all of you too Shari. And from now on, I aim to have it. Come here.” He watched her slide off of the table’s surface and heard the squeak of her skin as she did so. “Kneel for me.”
She complied, although she was far from quick about it. He corrected her posture with a few gentle touches and taps from his fingers until she was situated to his preference. When he was done, she knelt with her buttocks resting on heels. He had her sit upright with her back straight and eyes forward, her hands clasped at rest in her lap. Normally his submissives were commanded to look at the floor when in a resting posture, but Shari was not a stereotypical sub. She was his wife and he wanted her to be proud of her place by his side. The same way he was honored to be first her spouse and now her dominant.
Up Dominant Creek Without A Paddle
Shari was stupefied. Her mild mannered husband was a whip toting, bonafide dominant. She would have never seen this man coming.
“Are you hungry?” He asked her, but her ass hurt quite a bit. She was sore from last night to begin with. Then the spanking from this morning only compounded her prior aches.
“I could eat.”
“Alright, my kitten. Just a minute.” He strolled over to the counter as if he had not a care in the world, and with an air of pure masculinity, the perfect balance of a jungle cat coupled with confidence. He made her so nervous and she wondered yet again, where was the man she married? Was all of what she knew of him a farce? Was this who he truly was day in and out? And the most damning question she had was, could she handle what she unleashed? But she shrugged the fear aside, mostly due to the fact that she had asked and he had given, and therefore she had little room for complaint.
When he strolled back to the table, he sat down and left her kneeling at his feet. She saw the single massively laden plate, and smelled good cooking mingled with her husband’s natural scent. She could feel the stiff wood from her skin covered patella all the way to the tops of her feet. The position wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, instead she felt more awkward than anything.
As Pierre gave her tidbits of the meal, a bite of syrup and cinnamon cakes hit her palette. He could cook and the sensuality of being fed as if she was a pampered pet excited her enough to have her pussy seep arousal onto her calves before the droplets of dew made contact with the floor.
When she was full and unable to eat another bite, she watched Pierre feed himself. Shari wanted to do that. She wanted to give him each bite the way he parceled out hers just minutes before.
“Yes?” He looked at her so directly, she knew he could see through her.
“Pierre, may I?” She reached her hand out for the fork he held in his right hand.
“You may.”
She took the fork and rose up on her knees to offer him a taste of everything she just had. A bit of cakes, a tidbit of hash potatoes, then a smidgeon of sausage. He accepted each and the gentle expression on his face was enough to make her feel gratitude that she finally got it right last night.
When he finished, Pierre stood and took one hand in each of his as he helped her up. As he looked at the small puddle in the floor he didn’t remark on it, merely smiled smugly and lifted one eyebrow. Her legs had grown numb after the protracted kneeling posture, but she felt the ache was worth it. Her husband finally appeared to not have a care in the world. He must have noticed her weakness and lifted her into his arms. From there he made way to the bathroom and ran a tub filled with suds before she was seated waist-deep in the froth.
He bathed her with the care given to children and peppered her face occasionally with kisses. She hadn’t even enjoyed her honeymoon this much. When she was squeaky clean, he helped her into a one of his soft bathrobes and back into their bedroom. From there he oiled her smooth skin until she gleamed.
“Chaton, today we are going on an adventure.” His English was thickly accented and she didn’t have to look down to know his cock was harder than a railroad spike.
“Where to Pierre?”
“First, shopping. Then we will go to a club here outside of town later in the evening.”
“Okay… But I thought you hated nightclubs, Pierre?”
“This is something totally different. It is for those who like what we do.” Shari went from relaxed to frozen with fear. What would be expected of her amid a club of freaks? “Calm down. You are untrained. The only expectation I have is for you to pay attention.”
“Pierre, will you be with anyone else? Or expect me to? I don’t think I can handle that.”
“Shari.” He took his hand and placed his fingers under her chin, lifted her face so he could look her in the eye. “You are my wife. If I meant to share you with others, we would not be married right now. Before you, I have shared my submissives with other men, but those women meant nothing to me. They were not in my heart or blood, nor were they a part of me. But I respect you and I would cut off an arm before I offended you by fucking another woman. Neither will I disrespect you by allowing a man the right to touch with lustful intentions.”
“It’s just that I can see you have these needs, and I don’t know if I can be the woman that you are looking to fulfill them.”
“Why not? You did a great job last night.” He smiled gently and she helplessly responded in kind. “There are few rules at the Cirque. First, you must stay with me at all times and I will escort you to the bathroom as well. Second, do not look another person in the eye. That honor is only reserved for me. Third, the posture I showed you at the dinner table is the one that you must assume whenever I am seated and you must stay no more than two yards away from me at all times. Fourth, you cannot speak to anyone else at the club without permission from me first. The last rule for now is that you must follow every direction I give you as it is given. I will not permit any hesitation. Nor will I allow disobedience. Every infraction is expected to be corrected and I do not disappoint in that regard.”
Wow, I am up shit creek without a paddle.
Hot Couture
Pierre was elated. He had never imagined that he could open his bride’s eyes to the world of BDSM. Damned if he believed that she would be the type of woman to enjoy this lifestyle. But he knew she loved every iota of what he had done to her so far, and he couldn’t wait until he got the chance to do even more. She had even left a thick puddle of cunt juice beneath her on the floor after breakfast. There wasn’t much more that he could ask for and he thanked God that he had a wife who was so compatible with him in so many ways.
He took his mastery to the next level and proceeded to ch
oose her garments to wear for their shopping trip. Pierre picked out a full length dress with a halter neckline. The style of the dress meant she couldn’t wear a bra and he picked a pair of lacy panties in the same cerulean hue. Then he picked up a pair of thong sandals that he loved to see her in. There was no heel and the straps were clusters of turquoise that wrapped around her ankles in a gladiator style. Her hair was wild from their prior evening of sex and the early bath.
He on the other hand dressed simply, a blue tee shirt, cargo shorts and as his wife called them, Jesus sandals. It only took him a matter of minutes to don his clothing and when he was done he watched her adorn herself with her chosen garments. Pierre asked her to put her hair into a ponytail and she did, a thick afro puff bound near her nape. She had so much hair the mass nearly obscured half of her exposed back.
When she was done he handed her a pair of bangles for her wrists and a set of hoops for her ears. Pierre kissed her, let his mouth eat hers hungrily until her breath hitched and her hips gyrated towards his. As he reluctantly tugged away from her, she followed and leaned forward as though she needed more. He usually took the Metro everywhere, but today he would drive as there would be too many bags to carry back.
Please Me: Parisian Punishment (Late Night Delight) Page 1
