I waited over an hour in that dingy bar, perched on a worn stool amid the stench of cheap wine and sweat. Cécile was late, as always. Catherine’s call two days ago promised a surprise. Curiosity kept me there.
A grizzled cabbie appeared. ‘Cécile sent me. To Saint-Jean la Védreille.’ The drive was swift, autoroute blurring past. He dropped me at wrought-iron gates guarding a meulière mansion from the Belle Époque. Verdant lawns stretched to a three-story gem with a grand perron. I rang. Gates parted silently.
The Privilege
Inès opened the heavy oak door. Young, lithe, her uniform screamed luxury kink: micro-skirt barely veiling thighs, sheer blouse hinting at bare breasts, leather collar and cuffs gleaming like polished obsidian. ‘Welcome, Madame. I’m at your service.’ Her voice dripped reverence. She led me into a vast salon: velvet bergères, crystal decanters, Persian rugs muffling steps. Air thick with jasmine and old money.
Cécile absent, Inès poured chilled Veuve Clicquot, bubbles sharp on my tongue. Leather cuffs whispered against her skin as she knelt. ‘Mistress said obey your every whim.’ Her eyes challenged. I probed: punishments, submission. She confessed eagerly. Catherine called, urging trust. ‘Climb pleasure’s peaks.’ Inès stripped. Bronze skin glowed under chandelier light. On all fours, ass high, pussy glistening. Elite tease in opulent hush.
Her words ignited me. ‘Punish me, Anna.’ I hesitated, then touched. Silky back arched. Firm globes yielded under my palms, warm and taut. She moaned. ‘Lower.’ My fingers found her slick folds, drenched heat swallowing them. I pumped hard, thumb circling her swollen clit. She bucked, screamed, came in shuddering waves. Juices coated my hand. Raw power surged through me.
The Excess
But she flipped the script. ‘Your turn, slut.’ Naked now, she circled me like prey. Hands stripped my silk blouse, skirt pooling at ankles. Fingers grazed nipples, hard peaks begging. ‘No cumming yet.’ She probed my ass, slipped into sopping cunt. I spread wide. Thrusts brutal, relentless. Orgasm crashed—legs buckled, vision blacked. Pure, shattering release on marble floor.
We showered in a steam-filled marble bathroom, hot jets easing aches. Dressed, save my soaked panties stuffed in my purse. Smiles lingered. Catherine and Cécile arrived, eyes knowing. Dinner at 9:30. Crystal clinked, foie gras melted on tongue, Bordeaux velvet-rich. Guests: Serge, his sub Sarah crawling leashed; Géraldine, husband. Laughter flowed, no whips drawn. Midnight farewells. Inès’s wink sealed the secret.
Catherine drove me home. Slipped a note: Inès’s number. Door closed, I dialed. Heart raced. The elite game continued.
