Footsteps echo softly in the west wing hallway. Parquet groans under my heels. Late. Servants asleep in their quarters nearby. One wrong creak, and William hears. Heart hammers. I smooth my short uniform. Knock twice on the oak door. Light filters under it, golden sliver. ‘Enter,’ his voice commands, low and firm.
I push the heavy door. Hinges whisper. Step inside the lavish salon. He rises, eyes gleaming. ‘Justine! Come in, my dear.’ Takes my hand, pulls me deeper. Room rich: white leather sofa, bookshelves, sculptures of feet and ass. Phones on columns. My thighs peek from this slutty uniform. He circles me, gaze hungry. Praises William’s choice. I blush, nipples hardening under thin fabric.
The Contact
Phone rings. Sharp trill cuts silence. He nods. I answer. William wants me. ‘Tell him no,’ Comte says, hand warm on mine. Hangs up. ‘Whisky, from the chest.’ I pour, amber liquid glugs. Toast. Burns my throat. Grimace. Another call. I sit on stool, legs tight. He talks business. I think of William’s ‘interview’—his cum dripping down my stockings.
‘ Massage my shoulders.’ I kneel close. His shirt opens, chest smooth. Hands knead firm muscle. He watches my cleavage. Minutes tick. Parquet might creak if I shift. Others sleep close.
‘Read to me.’ Bend for book, legs straight. Skirt rides up, thong flashes. He groans approval. Poem first: moonlit woman, whip marks. Erotic. Then ‘The Stiletto.’ Bend again. Read gangbang tale aloud. Six men. Mouths filled, asses fucked. My pussy wets thong. Voice falters. He urges: ‘Continue.’ Cumshots, lost shoe. Pussy throbs. He smells my arousal.
Wall slides open. Secret room glows red-purple. Bed, rocking chair, X-frame. ‘Keep it spotless.’ Shows the cross. Backs me to it. Wrists click locked. Ankles too. Tilts horizontal. Legs spread. Exposed. He caresses feet, up nylons, thighs. Nudges cock against my soaked thong. Grinds. Gland teases slit through fabric. Wetness soaks through. I bite lip. No moans—walls thin, staff near.
The Indiscretion
Back to salon. Door seals silent. ‘Panties.’ I hesitate. ‘Slowly.’ Slide down legs, sticky fabric clings to pussy lips. Hand it over, damp, musky. He sniffs deep, strokes bulge.
‘Straddle me.’ On his lap, skirt up, bare pussy on trousers. Frees thick cock. Veiny, leaking. Wraps my thong around it. Guides my hands. Stroke slow. His fingers roam: tits out, nipples pinched. Down to slit, finger circles clit, probes ass. I gasp soft. Thrusts up. Faster. Finger in ass stretches. Power shifts—he owns me.
He grunts low. Cum erupts. Hot ropes on hands, thong, cockhead. Splatter. Proud. ‘Knees. Clean.’ Tongue laps salty cum. Suck shaft clean. Bitter tang. Lips shine.
Keeps thong. ‘Dismissed.’ I adjust skirt, pussy slick, exposed. Slip out. Door clicks shut.
Hallway dark. Parquet creaks under bare feet—no panties. Heart pounds. Light under staff door. Hold breath. Footsteps? No. Slip to my room. Cross Élise in stairs, eyes sleepy. ‘Night.’ Smile tight. Door shuts. Hand between legs. Cum and wetness mix. Secret safe. Thrill lingers.