Bride of the Revolution Read Free

newly risen cock, the trembling of his excited body.
    â€˜Ah!’ Madame grabbed his thickened flesh with one hand and Philipe saw her smile as she felt it twitch and throb hungrily. ‘I know the worst punishment of all!’ Her fingers slipped down to gently grasp his balls, cup them, heft them, roll them back and forth. ‘I shall eat you!’
    â€˜Oh, no mistress!’ Philipe shuddered, not in fear, but in sheer delight. He loved it when madame took his manhood into her mouth, swallowed it, took its magnificent length deep into her throat.
    The talk at the court had it that other mistresses, although they agreed to perform this act, could not do so without gagging. His own la de Genlis did so as if she was taking the smoothest of gruel into her gullet. It took Philipe to heaven and back. Her tongue and lips could perform the most wonderful tricks about his cockstem.
    With palms flat along the length of his wavering shaft, madame pretended to mould the flesh as if it was clay. She paid attention to detail, slithering the tightness of the foreskin over the bulb and holding it fast beneath the swollen globe. She groomed the silky curls, the golden wisps of hair, which were scattered over the full sac. She sat back on her heels, her thighs splayed, allowing him to see the glory of her own genitals; glossy with creamy beads of dew, swollen and flushed with need. She smiled, licked her lips, snarled deep in her throat at which Philipe must pretend that he was paralysed with fear. Only then did she bend, crouching like a beast of prey over her quarry, her open mouth slavering over the particular part of her choice. Philipe could not help but thrust up, eager to feel his naked tip brush against her palate, but she placed her strong hands on his thighs, holding him down. This, too, was part of the game. ‘Behave!’ It was a command which must be obeyed. He must lie perfectly still while she dived under the pillows where she had earlier hidden silken ropes.
    â€˜Mistress…’ he begged. He panted, his tongue lolling from his mouth like a trained dog, his hands limp like a puppy’s paws.
    â€˜Be quiet!’ She gave him a light slap across the belly, which far from giving him pain brought him pleasure, shown by the sudden jerk of his turgid cock. ‘I shall make you be quiet with this!’ Another instrument assuring good behaviour was brought from a small cupboard at the side of the bed.
    â€˜The scold’s bridle…’ Philipe said the words slowly, savouring each syllable. His eyes widened with pleasure. He held his hands high, his arms spread wide. His legs straddled eagerly across the bed, his toes pointed.
    â€˜I shall bind you first, mon cheri !’
    Philipe shivered as the magnificent woman slid from the bed and busied herself with the silken cords. He allowed his eyes to feast on her heavy breasts, so perfect in their roundness. In particular he found the lower swell, the pale smooth voluptuousness sweeping up to the wine-dark nipples enticing. He shifted his gaze to the swell of her belly sweeping down to the lush darkness of her nest, dewed with her love honey and his own copious flow. Delicious!
    The feel of the soft silk against his wrists and ankles was a sensuous delight. It caressed his skin, petted the inner sides of his wrists and ankles, but that was only the beginning! The bed was huge, wide and long, while Philipe was slight and quite short. This meant, of course, that his bonds must stretch him to the fullest. His arms and legs must be fully spread. There had been times that he felt that he was on the torturer’s rack with his belly sucked in and his ribs placed under almost unbearable tension. His skin puckered in a shiver of apprehension. But madame was an expert with the cords. She knew just how tight to pull them to prevent dislocation of his shoulders and hips, and, naturally, this stretching had the most wonderful effect on his cockstem. It