Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65189 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Shame and desire warred within me as I struggled to reconcile my scholarly aspirations with my newfound role as Lucas’ plaything. Was this really who I was now? A kept woman, existing for the pleasure of a man I barely knew? Though I should have found the lecture much more interesting than the memories of the previous night—or I told myself that, anyway—everything about Lucas Moreau seemed a million times more captivating than the life of a medieval peasant.
And yet… I couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through me at the thought of seeing Lucas again. Of feeling his strong hands on my body, hearing his commanding voice in my ear.
I startled as the students around me began to pack up their things. The lecture had ended without me absorbing a single word. Panic rose in my chest—how could I hope to succeed in my studies if I couldn’t even pay attention?
As I gathered my things, I felt an urgent pressure in my bladder. The nearest restroom was just down the hall, a small haven of privacy amidst the bustling university corridors.
I pushed open the heavy wooden door, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness between my legs. The bathroom was mercifully empty, the row of stalls stretching out before me. I chose the one furthest from the door, latching it securely behind me.
As I settled onto the cool wooden seat, I couldn’t help but become acutely aware of the tender flesh between my thighs. The slightly, naughtily sensual feeling of my pee rushing out of me into the bowl made me chew my lower lip.
I wiped myself as gently as I could, my teeth working a little more firmly and my forehead creasing as the soreness of my pussy flared at my touch. I dropped the paper into the bowl. My brain told my body to get up.
Instead, almost of their own accord, my fingers drifted back down, softly probing, tenderly exploring the still-swollen lips.
My… my…
“Cunt.” I whispered it aloud, shocking myself.
No. Not mine.
I bit my lip hard. A tiny whimper escaped as I remembered.
Not mine. His.
“Monsieur,” I breathed. “Please, Monsieur. Please… oh… oh, no.”
I gasped softly as I encountered the evidence of Lucas’ passion—my pussy felt puffy and sensitive, the entrance still slightly stretched from accommodating his impressive girth. As I explored further, I felt a warm wetness and for a moment I wondered if it might be my keeper’s seed rather than my own rampant, mortifying need. I blushed fiercely as I analyzed the thought and found that it thrilled me… that I longed to find Lucas’ semen inside me… longed for a reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed me.
My breath quickened as I recalled the sheer intensity of our encounter, the moment when he had shot his essence into me. The way Lucas had bent me over, spread me open, whipped my most intimate places. The burning sting of the martinet, followed by the exquisite pleasure of his skilled tongue and fingers.
Before I realized what I was doing, my fingers had found my clit. I circled it gently, biting my lip to stifle a moan. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this—Lucas had made it clear that he meant to keep the pleasure of my body as his private property. That thought, though… the very idea that my cunt belonged to him, and he would punish me if I stole its delights for myself…
My fingers moved faster, moving down to push inside, then up to rub the swollen bud that made my hips jerk at every new pressure. I let out a tiny whimper as I imagined Lucas catching me in the act. In my mind’s eye, I saw the bathroom stall door flying open, Lucas’ imposing figure filling the doorway. His ice-blue eyes flashed with anger and desire as he took in the sight of me, hand between my legs, face flushed with arousal.
“You naughty little slut,” fantasy Lucas growled, reaching in to grab my arm. “Touching what belongs to me.”
I whimpered as in my imagination he yanked me out of the stall, my legs wobbling beneath me. With effortless strength, he would bend me over the bathroom counter, pressing my cheek against the cold porcelain. I would catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror—eyes wide, lips parted, hair disheveled.
“I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget,” Lucas would snarl, flipping up my skirt to expose my bare bottom.
His large hand would come down hard on my tender flesh, the sharp crack echoing in the tiled room. I would cry out, my hips jerking forward against the counter’s edge. My keeper would spank me again and again, until my bottom felt hot and swollen.
“Please,” I would sob, though of course, I wouldn’t be sure if I was begging him to stop or to continue.