In 1747 France, the Duke of Givenchy, Philippe Paramour was a man of power and position. Philippe's noble title gave him liberation of his most secret yearnings of debauchery. The Duke's favorite past-time was taking female peasants under his wing as lovers and traveling companions across the French countryside. Anna's sentence at times, would have been intolerable to a lesser woman of her immature age. But, what she gained under the strict tutelage of Philippe was the skills of maturity and demure sophistication. This is "The Sentence Of Anna".
A firm hand awaits... Excerpt - Repositioning green, silk sashes above Anna's still upward held wrists, he tittered, "Make me your king tonight, my whore". "I will, Philippe", twisting her legs around his back, Anna took this nobleman of naughty needs to the brink of exploding all over that silky body. Her blue eyes gazed beyond the man that was pummeling pussy and saw a profile in shadow at the curtain's opening. She knew only one other person was in that villa. Anna would give Valery a performance that would get him off also. "Free my hands, dear Philippe" ,Anna made a request of the man who was controlling her flesh. "And, what will you give me, if I do?", tunneling further into Anna, his body shook with glee. "The satisfaction of a king", Anna's tongue licked against Philippe's sweaty cheek. Being freed by him, this young woman of determined desire for a man outside of that chamber of lust pushed him onto the bed. Her ass was facing the curtains, which gave Valery a better look at a sweet plum. Anna's flesh bent over her lover and began sucking his cock. Giving his balls a once over, Philippe was content with what she was doing. Mouth inhaling stiff sword and tender left hand cupping balls for full pleasure, Anna's other hand began to put on a show of seduction for the man behind the burgundy. Fingering herself deeply, Anna's ass moved like a warm wave. Valery's cock throbbed with every jerk of hand to meat. As for Philippe, he was quite a capable man of targets. His target for post midnight was Anna's mouth. And, she obliged with capturing the majority of sweet love juice into that gentle vessel. Only a tiny trickle raced down her chin and onto a sweaty breast. Spent beyond that thick fabric, Valery laid alongside the wall of that hallway. His stream flowed onto a wall. As it dripped down the dark wood and formed a waterfall of excitement, Valery sighed at the thought of Anna. She was a remarkable woman. And, now more than just Duke of Givenchy, Philippe Paramour knew it. Philippe thought he was the master of Anna. Yet, this sentence he doled out to her was a tournament of Anna's contentment. Anna kissed Philippe goodnight and he exited her chamber with a smile on his face and cock. She curled up beneath the bedding and gazed at the burgundy curtain where Valery had previously been standing. A sudden smile came over Anna's face, as thoughts of Valery began to fill her head. Running slim fingers through black hair, she began twisting it around her left index finger. Tighter and tighter each strand was pulled, while beginning to groan slightly. Pain was not a stranger to Anna. In fact, discomfort had become a compressing companion in twilight and beyond. (*La punition la plus douce est silence*)