Please Me: Parisian Punishment (Late Night Delight)

by Willows, Jennifer

  But when she felt Pierre snort between her legs and twist his lips over her clit again she was lost. She could hear a throat clear behind her and embarrassed she looked up. It was the waiter. Damn it, how long had it been anyway? It seemed to her that it would take longer to make chips and sandwiches, especially in a place like this.

  “I hope all is well with your meal.” He said, even as the waiter laid the dishes before her and looked askance at Pierre’s empty seat.

  “Thank you.” She turned away and hoped her dismissal would be taken for what it was. There was no way she cared to have to explain herself. In fact, she thought, the boy should be grateful that she gave thanks at all considering how dumbfounded she felt.

  But the boy still stood there for just a moment and Pierre continued to work his magic. Shari was unsure what she was supposed to do. She couldn’t hold still as Pierre went to town on her pussy. He feasted as if she was his last meal and he only had five minutes to finish it. The waiter sought something from her, but she had no idea what. And a moment later she didn’t care either. There was one heartbeat and a single breath between her and a massive orgasm. She blindly groped for her plate and picked up the first item she touched and placed it in her mouth. Too bad it was the lettuce garnish. The waiter chuckled and now she knew what he wanted. The young man wanted to be privy to her impending peak and but she was too wrapped into her own pleasure to care if he saw when she got it.

  Pierre gave an indulgent pass of his lips over her clit and nibbled the nubbin in a pulsing pattern before he suckled steadily. The suction kicked her senses up a notch and instead of a mere peak she was thrust head first into orbit. Her hands fisted the table cloth in her lap with the intent of pushing Pierre away, but he was determined to cling to her clit until she was obliterated.

  She looked up and the waiter looked pained as if the sight of her ferocious orgasm ached. Shari understood where the youth came from as she hurt in all of the best ways when she had it.

  The male smiled and tugged at the half apron he wore uncomfortably. “When your companion comes back to the table, please advise him that we were out of the house white and I supplied a different vintage. If it’s not to your liking then I can get something else.”

  “Of course, but I am sure that this will be fine.” Shari’s voice was hoarse, as if she had went on bender of screams, even though she was good and made not even a peep.

  Pierre smoothed her panties back into place and petted her wet sex before he allowed the table cloth to fall back into place. When he reappeared above the table he dabbed his mouth with the cloth napkin and smiled.

  “Good job, my kitten. You didn’t make any loud noises and get us caught.”

  “No, I didn’t. No thanks to you.”

  “You aren’t showing anywhere near enough gratitude. Most masters make their subs wait and earn their orgasms, but I give them to you for free. If you cannot appreciate that then I can easily let you see what that shoe feels like on the other foot.”

  “Pierre, what do you mean?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.” He wouldn’t say anything more and Shari was left to wonder for the rest of their meal.

  The sandwiches were delightful, rye bread with a slightly bitter green that Shari couldn’t identify and sundried tomatoes. After they finished, the waiter came back wearing a fresh apron and an even fresher smile.

  “The wine was good, no?”

  “Oui.” Pierre said. “May we have the check please?”

  “Certainly.” The waiter handed Pierre a leather-bound folder which Pierre didn’t bother to open. Instead her husband slid a card into the bi-fold along with a fat stack of Euros. “Thank you, sir.”

  “No, thank you.” Pierre made the whole transaction seem so effortless and chic that she found she was more than a bit turned on with his newfound take-charge demeanor. His personality was even more attractive than his appearance. God knows I’m a lucky woman.

  Hole in the Head

  When Pierre received his card back from the waiter, he found he was impatient. He needed to get his wife home so that he could fuck her properly. He had many thoughts race through his brain. First, he planned on how he could have her, right then and there. But he determined quickly that wouldn’t work. Then he thought about whether he could take her in the alley beside the restaurant. That plan had merit, but wasn’t feasible during the day, especially as the sun shone brightly and they would be too exposed no matter how he arranged it. After that he was trying to decide if he could fuck her in the car. But that plan was a no-go also, the compact was too small and by the time he parked somewhere and got inside of her they could be in the privacy of their own home.

  After they left the eatery, Pierre was in a hurry. He drove way too fast and hoped that he didn’t get stopped. Not that he cared about the ticket. He just wanted to have sex with his wife and needed delays like he needed an extra hole in his head. But it was a Saturday and there were people left and right outside to enjoy the sunshine. Many were tourists and he could see the trademark stamp on their foreheads. The normal look for a tourist was a confused expression as they took in all of the details that made the city of love unique to the world and a camera that always dangled conspicuously from a wrist or at the neck.

  When they arrived home, Pierre had less patience than ever and he practically dragged his wife inside of the house. He left the bags where they were, safely in the boot of their Audi and closed the door behind his entrance.

  “Strip Shari.”

  She did, this time without hesitance or playing coy, which he was grateful for. He was close to being a cave man and he certainly didn’t have the patience to administer a spanking yet. He had to come first, and then he might be on his A-game.

  Pierre had his wife’s back to the wall within moments of her shucking the wet cotton and lace panties. She was unable to do anything more than gape her lips open awkwardly when he gave her the first thrust of hard cock.

  Actually, Pierre felt ashamed of himself when all was said and done. As an established dominant, he prided himself on self-control. How in the world could he embarrass himself by spending within ten minutes inside of his willing wet wanton wife? But then he thought about the months he spent hungry for just this type of sex with her. Once he was sated and she was shaky he let her rest. She was going to need the respite for what he had planned.

  He had three hours until he needed to wake her and he planned on making good use of the time. The first thing he had to do was freshen up, as he planned on helping her dress tonight. She wasn’t going to like his choices in clothing, but that’s why he got to make all of the hard decisions here and she was supposed to follow them. Next, Pierre had to get the assortment of bags out of the car. The bags were inside after three trips. He took the mass of purchases and laid out the garments for later. Then he put the items not needed away.

  After he was done with the assortment of things on his to do list he was able to make a quick dinner and noted to run a bath for his sex-filthy wife when she woke up.

  When he saw the time was drawing near, Pierre made a plate with the shrimp alfredo he’d prepared along with a glass of dry white wine. It took a moment to wake her, but she did after a succession of kisses and teasing touches.

  “Hey baby, it is time. Let’s eat and then we can take a bath together before we have to go.”

  “We’re still going to the club?”

  “Of course.”

  He fed his wife with one of the forks he had and she used the other to feed him as well. Soon after he was full and content, but he couldn’t go to sleep even though he wanted to badly. The time he had left was used to watch his spouse prune up in the bath, before he applied lotion all over her soft skin from her forehead to her toes.

  When she laid eyes on the outfit he had laid out for her he expected a complaint or two, but she didn’t say a word. That shocked him, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. The nylon and net dress along with a pair of st
rappy black sandals with a high heel awaited her along with a tiny pair of panties that concealed nothing whatsoever. When he helped her arrange the dress, he watched her attempt to put the sandals on that he had chosen, but she was all thumbs. Pierre helped her, gently placed on foot in the base of each shoe then he wrapped the mass of straps over her foot and around her ankle. Once he was done, he tied the ends off in a large bow. He enjoyed the effect, the addition of the bowtie made her appear to be a present for all of his patience and hard work. If nothing else he definitely planned on unwrapping her tonight, after the club.

  Pierre’s wardrobe was more concealing, but much quicker to don. He was going to wear a pair of dark blue jeans, tee shirt and a jacket. By the time they would get inside, the heat from the crush of bodies and a sexual tension would make the atmosphere damn near stifling until he got her upstairs so he opted for comfort over presence. The only person he needed to be impressed with him was right at his side anyway, and he felt no need to garb pretentiously for anyone else.

  Freak-A-Leek

  Shari was lazy beyond belief. As is her husband had fucked her to several impeccable orgasms already, and if she read him correctly, she was going to get more later. She wasn’t sure if she could even come again, but if Pierre kept it up she knew one thing about it and two things for sure. He was going to create a monster, build a Frankenstein out of the left over parts of her with his imagination and will only.

  He woke her after a lengthy nap and fed her. The he bathed her. Really, she had no idea how in the world she was able to keep up with his insatiable appetite for more. More sex, more freaky-deaky stuff, more control and the list went on and on. When she finished dressing to his specifications, she watched him shrug on his clothes as if this was a regular evening out. Not as if they were headed to a den of lust to watch people lurid enough to love being on display.

  She wasn’t sure how he was able to maintain the compartments inside the way that he had for so long. Shari was sure that by Monday when she returned to work that she was going to be a different woman. And that the change would be perceptible enough that she would have to flounder to hide it. Her boss, Gia, noticed everything and she was sure that the woman would know what happened over the weekend at first sight. Hell, Gia knew Shari met Pierre when she showed up to work the next day.

  “Paris has been good to you. Non?”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “When we first met, you seemed as if you had passion, but it was… how do you say? Ahhh, untapped. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  Shari felt the wave of embarrassment before the heat washed over her body. “I haven’t slept with anyone.”

  “No, that is not what I mean. It is the look of lust and infatuation, as if you met a man that makes you realize how much of a woman you truly are.”

  The conversation made so many things clearer and here she was just a few months later, married to said man. Pierre was the person that showed her what alive truly felt like. With him the world became filled with wonder and mystique. She shrugged on a trench coat with Pierre’s aid and he escorted her outside to a taxi. She paid no attention to where they went. Indeed the only thing she could focus on was her wicked, filthy mate. He drew all of her attention in a way that she never saw him before. Pierre was so much man, just undiluted masculinity and eroticism mingled with the aura of safety she felt in his presence.

  When they walked up the driveway of their destination, they were far outside of the city. She looked at the large house they headed toward curious as to what kind of person would have their home used in such a fashion. Shari didn’t ask, nor did Pierre spontaneously supply the answers she craved. At the door, a large man escorted them into the foyer.

  “Master Jacobs, long time no see.” The man was American, from the deep south, just like her and she wondered how he ended up here.

  “Shari?” Pierre looked at her as if he had attempted to gain her attention more than once.

  “Yes?” She knew even as she answered him that she was in trouble, and she had no idea why.

  “That’s one. Give Charles your jacket please.” His voice was stern with just a hint of the irate. When Pierre was upset, his French accent would thicken and when he was furious she would get a taste of Italy too.

  She did as commanded and shrugged her trench off with Pierre’s aid. Charles hung the pair of jackets up and handed Pierre a slip.

  “There is a good crowd tonight, but the third level is closed. The Basement just got to jumpin’ and the second level is fully renovated for suspension play tonight.”

  “Thanks Charles.”

  “No problem Master J.”

  Pierre led her across the tiles, and every step she took was careful due to the height of her heels. But when Pierre opened the door her footsteps no longer mattered. All around her a mass of people milled about and half were fully nude. Out of the remaining people she saw some had on clothes if the garments could be considered clothing. Her husband had been very generous with her attire and she was grateful he had made the concession of allowing her the dress, scanty as it may be. Compared to most of the people around her she was a vestal virgin.

  There were eyes everywhere that followed them as he escorted her to the bar on the other side of the room. She saw some women kneel before others, but look slyly towards her husband. The eyes on him made her angry and she wanted to say something, though she had little idea what she could utter and not get on his bad side.

  But she noticed that Pierre didn’t look at any of the other women, even with every charm that could be offered displayed. That alone was enough to dial down her anger. There were women who were pierced or tattooed and even a brand or two. There were women with short hair, long hair, and in between. There was even the occasional plump girl strolling about. It was as if a man could put together a department store version of his dream woman while with in the walls and be guaranteed sex with her once done too.

  “Stop, Shari.”

  She looked at him and she knew her expression had to be just as confused as she was.

  “I mean it. I am here with you, not anyone else. That makes two.” Two what? But she nodded and tried her best not to look around. Or not too much at least. There was no way she couldn’t goggle at some of what she saw.

  “If the lounge has you looking like that, then the basement would have you in a dead faint.” Basement? And that left her to wonder, what would she see in there?

  Sub Standard

  Pierre knew the moment he mentioned the word basement that he had tapped his wife’s curiosity. But he didn’t plan to indulge her tonight. On another day? Yes, he certainly planned on letting her take a look at what the dungeon offered the jaded. But if she got a look at anything below stairs tonight, she would definitely run back to the US tonight. And she would probably leave her clothes behind. But he would take her upstairs and let her watch the demonstration about to take place.

  He led her to the stairs and he brought her into the first room on the left. He reserved this particular room because the windows were two way glass, they could see what happened, but the occupants couldn’t see out. At first he wanted the white room which was the third door on the left, and would give him a view from the other side of the training that would take place. But the view on this side was even better. The participants actually faced his side of the room and Shari would be afforded a better view.

  Pierre turned on the speakers using the remote beside the door. He could hear the bondage artist give directions as he tied off rope in different patterns for various body parts.

  “So what do you think Shari?”

  “I don’t know what to say Pierre. Is that what you want to do to me?”

  “Sometimes, not every day.” She appeared shaken, and he knew she was trying to accept the idea of being clothed in a rope cast from head to foot just like the model only a handful of feet away.

  “Why this Pierre?”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it
.”

  Pierre stood behind Shari and caressed her. Everywhere the bondage master laid hands and rope on his willing canvas, so did Pierre treat the same area of her skin with a light touch then a firm clasp.

  “You cannot get the complete idea now, but it is supposed to mock swaddling.”

  “Swa-what? Like babies?”

  “Exactly. The idea of swaddling is to mimic the protective feel of being in the womb. I promise you would love it.”

  “How do you do it? Is it always with ropes or…?”

  “Not with ropes always, but when suspension games are desired during a swaddling session, this is the best way to do it. The constriction of one limb at a time until the body is completely encased usually sends a submissive in to subspace.”

  “What’s sub…space?”

  “Now that is your last question, Shari. As is, it is time to give you the two punishments you earned. Now, subspace is something that I cannot describe to you. You can only feel it to understand where you have been.” He took one trembling hand in his and rubbed the fat tissue at the base of her thumb.