Chapter Four
When the first ticks of percussion from Gims' "Sois pas timide" pulsed out from Juliette's telephone at 6am the next morning, she muttered, "Shit..." She had loved dancing each morning to that song last year, but after many months of using it as the song she awakened to each morning, she was becoming annoyed with it. She removed her arm carefully from around Yvonne's neck, trying not to wake her. Yvonne muttered, "No, momma, s'too early..." rolled over facing away from Juliette, tucked her small hands up under her chin, and immediately fell back asleep.
Juliette silenced the phone just as Gims was rapping about being seen stepping out of a fast car costing six figures. Yes, she thought, the time has indeed come for you and your car to exit, Gims. She'd select a new song to wake up to for the next morning. Isn't it an injustice, she thought, that poor girls like myself must ruin their favorite songs as alarm tones, but wealthy and powerful men such as M. Leclair have the luxury of being awakened in the delightful way I will be awakening him in a little less than fifteen minutes?
She went to her closet and took the short purple silk robe that M. Leclair had demanded for his morning wake-up call and tied it around her naked body. She looked at her still-sleepy face in the mirror, pinched her cheeks a bit, and ran her fingers through her hair. There wasn't time for more, but she didn't think more would be required.
She let herself out into the hallway of the servant quarters and walked to the steep staircase at the back. This, she presumed, was exactly where Nicole was spotted by Mme. Fournier, on the same errand as Juliette's present errand. Nicole had been tiptoeing down the hall in a too-tight peignoir, the day she was disciplined in front of the entire staff. Juliette knew, as Yvonne did not, that the reason for poor Nicole's punishment was not "being seen in the hallway in a state of undress" - lord knew, as did Juliette from her previous day's experience, that M. Leclair had no objection to his servants appearing underdressed! - but rather, Nicole was punished for "failing to show up to wake me with her mouth at the precise time, as she was instructed." Nicole had been startled by seeing Mme. Fournier in the hall, and had fled to her room, neglecting to report for her morning chore, simple as that. Perhaps M. Leclair had overslept, missed an important meeting, maybe lost thousands of Euros as a result, and he'd made poor sweet Nicole pay the price.
She walked casually, daring any other servant to step out into the hallway and see her. And so what if they did? She would not spook as Nicole had. She had no reputation to lose.
Juliette opened the door to the servant staircase slowly, it always creaked, and let herself into the staircase. Grasping the banister, she began to climb the narrow, steep steps.
The peignoir had been too tight to hold Nicole's curves, Fournier had said. A sweet and innocent girl from just off the farm, who still slept clutching tight to a threadbare stuffed bunny from her bygone childhood, a girl such as that would not have possessed such an article of lingerie. It was safe to assume, then, that M. Leclair had given it to Nicole and ordered her to wear it for her morning chore. To whom had it belonged before? Some other maid, before either Nicole or Juliette. Perhaps there was a series of maids, ordered to become M. Leclair's alarm clock. Juliette imagined, climbing the stairs, a dozen different maids doing the same march she was presently doing, reporting to M. Leclair's bedchamber in a peignoir borrowed from a long lost servant girl who'd been discarded and dismissed by M. Leclair years ago, when he found a new girl to torture.
As she reached the door to the top floor, she thought to herself: I am not Nicole, and I am not any of those other girls. He will soon discover he cannot break me as he did them. The thought made her stand straight, her shoulders back and her head high, as she opened the door into the top floor of the house.
She peeked her head around the frame. The house was dark and quiet, not a soul stirring but herself.
She thought for a moment of turning around and going back down the stairs, and foregoing the appointment entirely, only to see what he would do. Would he order all the servants to the ballroom, order her to remove her uniform, and paddle her across his knees as he had Nicole? Would it be something worse? More degrading? She imagined herself in Nicole's place and pictured it vividly, weeping and crying as he brought the paddle down on her trembling backside. Perhaps we will experiment with that another day, she thought. My ass is still sore from yesterday.
Walking to his bedchamber, the flutters of anticipation began. She would soon be seeing her vicious lord and tormentor again, she would soon have that beautiful erect cock of his in her mouth again. Perhaps he would degrade her again in some way, hurl insults at her as she fellated him. She imagined looking up at him with his hard cock in her mouth, his own lips curled down in an expression of scorn, calling her filthy, dirty, a thing from the gutter. Her labia began to tick and throb.
She opened the door to his bedchamber carefully and stepped into his room.
The windows of the master bedroom faced to the east and the south, and the sun was coming up over the hills. The first rays of sunlight shone through the peaked gothic windows lining two of the four walls.
He was a busy sleeper. He had kicked off most of his sheets in the night. There was no blanket, even though she could feel on her skin that he kept his room chilly. He was on his back, his arms thrown wide. He wore a simple pair of green pajama pants with a drawstring, and nothing else. His muscular chest rose and fell as he breathed deeply. His legs were spread, and one foot was still tangled in the sheet. There were dark curly hairs descending in a line from his navel and into the waistband of his pajamas. She could easily see the bulge from his sleep-stiffened member pressing the green fabric between his open legs. She put a hand on her own chest and took two deep breaths. She felt herself begin to sweat all over her body.
She glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 6:13. "Almost time to get to work..." she murmured.
She crept to the side of the bed and tightened the sash of her short purple silk robe. She put one knee up on the bed, then both hands, flat on the mattress, and then lifted the other knee, and knelt next to his sleeping body. Her reliable mouth filled with saliva as she reached for him. She carefully selected the angle of her body and squatted back, her calves beneath her thighs. She grasped the end of the drawstring of his pants between one thumb and one index finger and pulled it with excruciating slowness, so as not to wake him, releasing the bow knot. She glanced at the clock again. How is it STILL 6:13? she thought. She hooked her index finger in the waistband of the pants, right next to the dark curly hairs leading from his navel to his hidden cock and gently pulled to loosen them. 6:14.
She hooked eight fingers under the waistband of the pajama pants, the knuckles of her fingers grazing against the warm firm skin of his muscled abdomen, and pulled them down gingerly. His beautiful cock flopped out as she rucked the pants down to mid-thigh. She looked at it and sighed. There was a purple squiggling vein running down the underside of it that looked like a map of a river in a hilly land. She longed to have her tongue on it, right away, to feel it pulse.
She was holding the fingers of both hands between her thighs, warming them. She'd been a decent sprinter on her school's track team at her lycée. Squatting on her haunches, staring at the clock, her mouth close to his delicious cock, was a similar feeling to standing in the starting blocks, waiting for the portly middle aged man to fire his pistol so she could charge forward and do the thing her entire body was tensing up for, desperate to do.
The clock flipped over to 6:15. Juliette leaned forward, took one hand from between her thighs and wrapped it around the base of his cock, where his coarse dark hairs were trimmed, and then brought her anxious waiting mouth to the head of it. She placed her other hand flat on the warm firm muscled of his abdomen, teasing the stiff curly hairs there with her fingertips. Her tongue dropped from between her lips, and she slathered it around the perfectly sculpted pink head in three complete circles, luxuriating in the texture of the spongy hot flesh. Warm saliva fell from her mouth onto the glistening head. She blew a bubble in it and watched it pop. She dropped her face, allowing him further into her mouth. When she'd first freed him from the pants, it had been mostly firm. She felt it beginning to stiffen against her lips and tongue, in a matter of seconds it was hot and fully hard, pulsing in her mouth. The warmth from the rising sun through the windows bathed her cheek.
M. Leclair murmured and stirred.
Juliette took his cock out of her mouth and, holding it carefully with her warm hand at the base, traced the purple vein on the underside of it with her tongue, feeling his heartbeat, the blood flowing through it. She dropped her mouth back over the head and sucked with her lips as her tongue massaged it inside her mouth. Her pussy was seeping. She longed to stroke it, but would not, until allowed.
M. Leclair's eyes snapped open.
"Mmmmm," Juliette moaned against his shaft. She took it from her mouth and breathed against the moist flesh, then pressed her tongue flat against it at the base and moved her head to drag her tongue up its length. "Good morning, my master," she whispered. "I trust you slept well?" She dropped her warm mouth back over the head and sucked again, increasing the pressure, as she awaited his answer.
His hands fell open at his sides, palms up. "Ah," he said, rocking his hips slightly. "Juliette."
"Mmmm hmmm?" she allowed her answer to vibrate in her mouth as her head bobbed, holding his gaze.
"Remove the robe," he said. Nodding with his hard cock in her mouth, she took one hand from his abdomen and the other from the base of his member and pulled the ends of the ribbons that held her robe closed. She slid it first from one shoulder, and then the other, pulled it off, and dropped it from one hand, her pinky carefully extended, at the side of the bed. She did not remove her eyes from his, nor did she cease in her work as she did so.
She paused sucking only long enough to say, "Yes, my master," and then resumed.
"Wetter," he said.
She nodded again and returned her hand to the base of his cock, grasping it against his coarse hairs. "Mmm hmm," she hummed. Her mouth was filled with warm spit. She held her open mouth over his cock and let the saliva fall on the head, watching his eyes as she felt the drool slide onto her fingers. Her slimy fingers pumped twice, spreading the spit on the shaft. She enclosed him in her lips and began to bob again, drooling all over him. "Mmm, like this, sir?"
He groaned in response. Hearing the animal sound from his throat made her sex throb. She slurped the spit from his hard member, fluttering her tongue against it.
She licked again, whispering, "Ah, but you are having all the fun..." she whispered. Back inside her mouth for two long sucks. "May I... stimulate myself, sir?"
