Authors: Emily Tilton
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said and kissed her tenderly, though awkwardly because of the position. “I’ll see you in the car, okay?”
“Okay, master,” she said, smiling.
Abigail found she was brushing away tears.
After they had seen Zoe off, in a little ceremony that really reminded Abigail of nothing as much as the departure of the bride and groom from their wedding, Abigail lay in bed in her room, thinking again about whether she should tell Anne-Marie that she had figured it out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anne-Marie stood with Abigail in the little library off the great hall where Anne-Marie had decided girls would have their final preparation for their
nuits à derrière
. Abigail was dressed in the black lace panties Hans Goterborg had chosen. As of the last time Anne-Marie had talked to him, he was unsure as to what he would do to the delicate mesh that so scantily and enticingly covered Abigail’s charms, so as to gain access to the virgin bottom-hole he would ravish. He had told Anne-Marie, though, that he knew beyond doubt that those panties, curving high up in the rear over Abigail’s firm young cheeks, were the garment he wanted to see her bottom dressed in when he approached to open her there.
Abigail trembled a little. She looked absolutely perfect, in the dim light from the green-shaded lamp on the reading table, Anne-Marie thought: the anal bride Anne-Marie had always longed to be. Her porcelain skin, her pert breasts, uncovered, her slim hips and shapely bottom adorned with the black lace, her raven hair down her back in a ponytail that Hans could take hold of if he chose: all seemed to harmonize. She held her hands clasped at her midriff, as Anne-Marie had instructed, and looked at the carpet under her tiny bare feet.
“Ready, my dear?” Anne-Marie asked. Abigail seemed to hesitate, as what girl would not? Anne-Marie gave her a moment to compose herself.
Then, however, “I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it out,” Abigail said to Anne-Marie softly. “I consented, but you suppressed the memories, right?”
Time stood still for a moment. Speechless, Anne-Marie nodded.
“Mr. LeMarchand was involved?”
Anne-Marie nodded again. She said, “
Is
involved. He’s watching—he’s watched the whole thing. To keep you safe.”
“Constant video monitoring?”
Anne-Marie was reduced once again to nodding.
“Did I… did he and I… did he have me? I mean, that’s one of the memories that got suppressed, isn’t it? And I was definitely a virgin, so maybe we almost did? Or…”
“Yes,” Anne-Marie whispered. “You almost did.”
“But I freaked, I imagine.” Abigail laughed ruefully. “So he put me here. I love him. I mean, how could I not?” Her voice was beginning to sound a little manic.
Anne-Marie thought for a long, long moment. Then she said, “He didn’t just
put
you here, Abigail. The Institute… he… and I, and Jean, whom you don’t remember meeting: we
created
it for you.”
Now wonder seemed to break over Abigail’s face. “And Zoe… and Victoria… and the others—they’re all here because of me?”
“Yes.”
“And you all will make millions—no, billions—of dollars.” It was not a question.
“Yes.”
“Because of me.” Abigail had a sort of dreamy smile on her face that clearly did not require an answer. Then she said, “You’re going to deal me in.”
Anne-Marie felt her jaw open and hang there.
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Abigail said, “but then I thought, if I don’t say anything, maybe I won’t get to be part of it. I think you want me to be part of it. Is Mark here?”
“Yes,” Anne-Marie said. “But we have an owner to satisfy right now.”
Abigail looked into Anne-Marie’s eyes. “Miss Anne-Marie,” she said gravely, “may I please talk to Mr. LeMarchand for just a few moments before I go ahead with this, and then leave with my new master for I have no idea how long, since I can’t remember the contract I’m sure I signed?”
* * *
Anne-Marie invented a new part of the
nuit à derrière
, where the owner chooses another girl to prepare him. Hans chose Victoria. Before she set that going, though, she picked up the phone and told the control room to get Mark down to the library.
Abigail stood before Mark, wearing only lace panties and a wry smile. “Hello, sir,” she said softly.
“Hi, Abigail,” Mark replied, “I’m very happy you wanted to see me, but I’m not sure I understand. The memories haven’t come back, Anne-Marie said?”
“No, but…” She looked at Anne-Marie. “Bringing them back is part of the plan, right?”
“After a year,” Mark replied, and Abigail turned back to him.
“Please don’t give me any more information than I ask for, okay?”
“Okay,” Mark said.
“Because I don’t want to spoil this. I want to trust in you, and in my own judgment in signing whatever I signed.”
Mark smiled then. “I love you, Abigail,” he said, and opened his arms. Abigail came into them, and Mark hugged her close. Anne-Marie felt tears well up in her eyes.
Abigail said into his shoulder, “Yes or no answers to these, sir, please. Okay?”
“Okay,” Mark said softly to her hair.
“Will I be released?”
“Yes.”
“Will I have to leave my owner?”
“No.”
“But I’ll be able to leave my owner?”
“Yes.”
“May I come work here?”
Mark looked at Anne-Marie. She nodded firmly.
“Yes.”
“Will you wait for me?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Mark held her even closer for a moment, and then he let her go. Abigail stepped back a pace and looked up at him.
“I wish it were you,” she said.
Mark looked at Anne-Marie. “He wouldn’t know,” he said. Anne-Marie felt her brow crease as she pondered, and then she gave a very brief nod. Mark turned to Abigail and said, “Take off those panties, Abigail. I don’t want to ruin them for your owner.”
“Oh, God…” Abigail said. “I didn’t really…”
“Too late,” Mark said. “Am I going to have to gag you?”
In Abigail’s eyes, Anne-Marie could see the reawakening of shame and reluctance, but also the blazing hunger that she could enjoy feeling now that she had learned to own her life as a concubine. She need never admit that she wanted to be fucked in her bottom first by the man she thought of as her true master, then by the owner who would take her away to a life of luxury for a year, but she could have her wicked desires fulfilled nonetheless.
“Take the panties off right now, girl, and get over the arm of that chair, or I am going to spank your bottom so red that your owner will know you’ve been naughty, and he’ll whip you too. You don’t want to start your service to him that way, do you?”
“Oh, please…”
Anne-Marie knew she really meant, “Please do spank me,” but Abigail seemed to grasp there wasn’t much time, so she pulled the panties down to her feet, and turned and went the three steps to the big easy chair Mark had pointed out. She bent over it, shaking with arousal, as Mark lowered his pants and boxers. He came up behind her, and Anne-Marie watched him bring his hard cock against Abigail’s little bottom.
“Were you getting ready for me all this time, Abigail? Is your bottom ready to take my cock now? First I’m going to feel that little pussy I’ve been watching all these weeks.” He took her hips in his hands, and she whimpered. Then, with a groan of pleasure, he entered his girl at last.
“Oh, God… Mr. LeMarchand… sir… you feel so good.”
“Be quick,” Anne-Marie said. “If you’re going to have her bottom, you need to do it now.”
“Please, sir…”
“Lube?” Mark asked, still moving gently in and out of Abigail. Anne-Marie fetched the little bottle of lube she’d had ready for the pleasure of Hans and poured some onto Mark’s outstretched fingers. Abigail gasped as he prepared her.
“I’m not going to come, Abigail,” he said. “I’m going to claim you there, and then I’m going to hand you over to him. Do you understand?” Anne-Marie watched, panting herself at the terrible scene, as Mark pulled out of Abigail’s pussy and put the glistening head of his cock at the tiny pink bottom-hole that now glistened itself with the lube he had applied.
“Yes, sir.”
“When you are done serving him, you will return to me.” He began to push, and Abigail cried out softly at the feeling. She had so much practice with plugs now that Anne-Marie knew she could open immediately if she wanted, but she clearly would rather feel that Mark was forcing her—just as Anne-Marie would have wanted to feel that way, if she were the girl over the chair arm. “You will return to me, and I will give you the gift of my semen in your backside.” He pushed harder, and she gave a little whimper and yielded, and Anne-Marie watched Mark’s cock claim her, surging into her bottom, filling her there where she needed filling most.
Abigail bit her lips, trying to remain silent, and little whining sounds came from her throat and were almost lost in the chair cushion. Mark breathed heavily as he began to move in and out of her tiny anus, looking down all the while at the lovely sight of his manhood enclosed deliciously between her perfectly rounded bottom-cheeks. His hips came up against those cheeks, he gave a little grunt of satisfaction, and said, “Remember, Abigail, that whatever happens, this bottom belongs to me.”
“Yes, sir,” Abigail whispered.
Anne-Marie saw Mark master himself: the effort to withdraw, instead of riding to a triumphant orgasm inside the backside he had wanted to fuck for so long, cost him dearly, but that self-mastery had led to all this—to the Institute itself, and to the possibility of a great future that included Abigail.
He pulled out. “Put on your panties,” he said. Shaking like a leaf, Abigail rose from the arm of the chair, got her panties, and pulled them on quickly. She turned to him. His eyes were stern with the need to keep from ruining everything, but when he saw the pleading look on Abigail’s face, his face softened, and he took her into his arms again. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” Abigail whispered back.
“Now go with Anne-Marie. You’re going to have an incredible year.”
“Yes,” she said. “I am.”
Anne-Marie took Abigail’s hand and led her to the door that opened onto the brightly lit great hall. She opened the door and stepped through, leading Abigail toward the bench, for all the world like an innocent victim whose final maidenhead had not just been stolen by the man who had delivered her into the Institute’s hands.
Epilogue
As Abigail advanced toward the bench, still feeling the itchy burning in her bottom from Mr. LeMarchand’s cock and blushing at the thought that he had just had her there, deflowered her there, she found that she was making plans.
She belonged to him: she thought she would always belong to him. But she would also belong to her Viking lord, as she suddenly smiled to think of him, and she would open to his cock, and go with him wherever he took her.
And she would belong here. Data—so much data, and all of it needing gathering, and analysis, if other girls like Abigail were going to live their fantasies. When Mark was here, she would serve him, and she grew wet at the thought of pleasing him the way she now knew how, thanks to him and to Miss Anne-Marie. Her mouth watered at the thought of sucking his cock. Her bottom tingled at the thought of him spanking her.
But a new world had begun to open that could, she thought, claim her attention just as strongly as her new understanding of her submissive nature could. What lay uppermost in her mind, truthfully, wasn’t the thought of having sir’s—her true sir’s—cock in her mouth: it was the thought of meeting the geniuses who had access to the Institute’s data. Abigail couldn’t think of them otherwise than as geniuses, because of how they had changed her life, but she also knew with absolute certainty that her own skills and talents would perfectly complement theirs. So much code to write: algorithms to detect arousal, to predict the potency of fantasies, to tell the training masters exactly how long to deny an orgasm to produce the most submissive response.
Abigail had never needed anything as much as she needed to be part of that—of this place, through which she now walked with her head hung low, to have her bottom fucked by her magnificent Viking owner.
She would belong to him, and to Mark LeMarchand. But above all Abigail would belong to the Institute.
The End
Stormy Night Publications would like to thank you for your interest in our books.
If you liked this book (or even if you didn’t), we would really appreciate you leaving a review on the site where you purchased it. Reviews provide useful feedback for us and our authors, and this feedback (both positive comments and constructive criticism) allows us to work even harder to make sure we provide the content our customers want to read. Reviewing stories you enjoyed also helps them sell better, which in turn leads to more high-quality work from your favorite authors in the future.
Adding keywords and tags (on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc.) really helps as well!
If you would like to check out more books from Stormy Night Publications, if you want to learn more about our company, or if you would like to join our mailing list, please visit our website at:
http://www.stormynightpublications.com
More Stormy Night Books by Emily Tilton
The Count’s Discipline
When Robert de Lourcy’s wife spurns his desire to spank her, the young count contents himself with disciplining other women of the court, until a rash decision to chastise the women of a captured castle arouses the ire of the local bishop and Robert is forced to seek absolution. In an act of penance, he visits a cathedral and stumbles upon a young girl named Sophia who has been set upon by robbers. Remembering his promise make amends for his sins, Robert takes pity on the destitute child, placing her in a convent so that she may be properly educated.