Leslie In Paris
- 2 years ago
- 38
- 0
Naked In Paris free porn video
“Veronika, I love you.”
I sat bolt upright, looking at my beloved Mistress. It truly felt as if an electric shock had passed through my body, and my eyes teared up. Finally, I looked down, bit my lip, then moved down the bed towards her feet and held my forehead to her right foot in a strong gesture of submission.
She pulled me up to her and stroked my head. “Sit up, my lovely slave. Sit up and let me hug you, beloved, for you are that, too: slave and loved one, both.”
I slowly moved up next to her, eyes down. She waited. Finally, I lifted my eyes to hers and saw she was smiling at me. Tentatively, I moved towards her, and she opened her arms, and hugged me.
I burst into tears, and wrapped my arms around her, pushing my head into her shoulder. She leaned back on the pillows and stroked my hair, kissing the top of my head, murmuring soft words.
Finally, I needed a tissue to blow my nose, and broke from her, wiping my nose with my hand. She looked at me, then laughed, reached over and took a tissue from the bedside, and handed it to me.
I blew my nose, then needed another tissue to finish the job and wipe my hand. “Mistress, do…do you truly love me?”
She looked at me, a smile on her face, and nodded. “I realized when you were in DeCoven that my feelings for you were more than just for a slave, no matter how devoted. I care what happens to you, and I don’t think I could be happy if you were hurt or left me. I find that your happiness matters to me.
“So, I thought about it, and came to the realization that, yes, I really did love you. Then I had to decide whether to tell you or not. After thinking about it long and hard – and speaking to Hans – I decided that I had to tell you. It’s the only way our relationship can truly grow.”
She pushed me away from her slightly so she could look at me. “Who knows? Maybe we can become more than Mistress and slave, more than lovers. Would you like that?”
I looked up at her, my heart full, and said, “Whatever Mistress wishes to gift me, I will love and cherish.” I kissed her neck, then started to kiss my way down to her nipple.
“Stop a moment, Mouse. I’m not done yet.”
I stopped, surprised. This had to be serious if she stopped me from worshiping her! “Mistress?”
“I’ve decided that you need a vacation, so as a thank-you present to you for being so wonderful, we are going on a two-week holiday to Paris and the south of France.”
I sat up abruptly. “Paris? The south of France?”
She nodded, smiling.
I thought for a moment, then pouted and said, “I won’t go…”
Her face clouded up.
“…unless I can fuck you. A lot.”
Her expression changed to exasperation, then merriment. “You little brat!” And she slapped my shoulder. “Okay, yes, you can fuck me…a lot! But you will go where I tell you, when I tell you, and however I tell you to go…won’t you…slave?”
She was kidding with me…but there was also steel in her voice. I dropped my eyes, picked up her hand, and kissed it. “Mistress, I belong to you. I will do anything, go anywhere, whenever, and however you tell me. I am your willing, and obedient slave, for as long as I live.”
I looked up at her and smiled. “Even if I am a brat.”
She looked at me for a moment, then pushed me over on my back, and walked her naked thighs up my abdomen, swinging wide around my shoulders, until she straddled my head with her legs, then settled her cunt down on my mouth. “Lick me, slave, and play with yourself. But you are not allowed to cum, ja? You will find, my little Mouse, that I can be bratty, too!”
And that’s how our amazing vacation began.
~~~~~
The next day, late morning, we were driving down the autobahn towards Paris with the top down on Mistress’ BMW, and I still hadn’t been allowed to cum. From time to time she had smirked at me and told me to start playing with myself, or to stop, but I was never allowed to finally cum. It was driving me crazy, as she knew it would.
“So, little Mouse, should the big, bad pussy stop playing with you now, hein? Should I allow you to cum now?”
I looked at her suspiciously, but said in the most humble voice I could manage, “Yes, please, Mistress. Please let me cum!”
She smiled and nodded, eyes on the road. “All right, you may cum…right after you’ve thrown all your clothes in the back seat where you can’t reach them. Oh, and keep your seatbelt on. I don’t want to get a ticket for my passenger not being properly…tied up.”
I knew, from experience, that she wasn’t kidding, and as I was truly desperate to cum, I started – with my shoes. I figured that if I were going to do a strip-tease, then I would do everything I could to make her wet, too. Bratty is as bratty does!
I slowly took off pieces of clothing, one-by-one, dangling them so she could see them in her peripheral vision or when she glanced my way, then tossing them behind her seat.
By the time I got down to my frilly pink bra and panties, I could tell I was getting her hot and bothered. She might be my Mistress, and I would absolutely obey any and every order she gave me, but I knew where all her hot buttons were, and I was determined to push every one of them – and smile while doing it.
I leaned forward in my seat, with the belt extending as far as possible, and turned towards her. I slipped one bra strap off my near shoulder, next to her, then looked down at it and put my hand to my mouth, as if I were surprised it had happened, then repeated it with the other strap. I undid the front clip of the bra, and it started to slip open. I caught it by putting my two hands over my tits, then closed my eyes, massaging my breasts with my palms, and moaning.
When I looked at her through my slitted eyes, I could see her smiling even more broadly, yet resolutely focusing on the road ahead, while taking glances over towards my tits every once in a while. I knew she knew what I was doing, but she was enjoying it anyway. And so was I.
She deliberately swerved the car, causing me to tip slightly, and I raised my hands in mock surprise, allowing the bra to fall. I picked it up, looked at it, then casually tossed it behind her.
That left my frilly pink panties. I slouched down in my seat, and put my feet up on the dashboard, then slowly worked my panties, inch by inch, down my legs to my ankles, a naughty smile on my face, watching her.
I kept my legs tight together so my shaved pussy wasn’t fully on display. I finally pushed my panties down so they were over my toes, then quickly flipped my feet up, tossing my panties in the air.
Because we were in a convertible, the air rushing by the car took them and they disappeared far behind us down the autobahn!
“Oops!” I said in a little girl voice, bending my knees to my chest, and putting my hand to my mouth in mock horror.
Miriam threw back her head and laughed…then hit the accelerator until we were positioned right next to a lorry in the inside lane. “Okay, my bratty little Mouse…if you want to cum, do it now!”
Looking at her and smiling broadly, I switched my attention to the lorry driver next to us. I spread my legs wide to give him a good look, licked my fingers and traced them around my pussy lips, then split them and started to finger myself. I closed my eyes, and worked my clit, then put two fingers of my other hand into my pussy, massaging my G-spot at the same time.
I got close very quickly because I was already simmering, but wanted to see how the lorry driver was liking it. I opened my eyes and looked right at him with a smile. His eyes looked as if they would bug out of his head any second. He kept looking at the road, then back at me, then quickly at the road, then back at me.
His reaction was all it took to push me over the edge. My body tingled, and felt flushed and hot, and I made sure that everyone in the surrounding countryside heard my cries as I arched my back and screamed.
Miriam laughed even harder, then accelerated again, and took off down the road, leaving the poor lorry driver far behind.
It was that kind of a trip.
~~~~~
When we stopped for petrol, I retrieved my clothes from behind her seat at Mistress’ bidding, and dumped them on the floor in front of me, but didn’t put them on. It was her prerogative as to when I got dressed again, and I was fine being naked. (Stripper and exhibitionist, remember?)
After we got underway, though, Mistress told me to put my clothes on as she didn’t want me to get sunburned. “Although it might be fun to spank your sunburnt ass…” she commented with a smirk. I shivered, and quickly got dressed.
After about five hours or so of Miriam’s very fast, but extremely competent driving, broken with a stop for a late lunch, we pulled up in front of the Hôtel du Louvre in the 1st Arrondisement of Paris, about a block away from the Louvre museum. We both got out and stretched, let the bellman take our luggage and the valet take the car.
We walked into the lobby, giggling, and went up to the VIP registration desk, where Miriam gave the desk clerk her name and handed him her American Express Black credit card and our passports. He glanced skeptically at us, then his eyes widened when he saw the credit card. He arched his eyebrows, searched his files, then said, “Eh bien! Bienvenue, mesdemoiselles,” ducked his head, and very quickly had us checked-in.
The bellboy took us up to the top floor, and opened the double doors to la suite nuptiale, the honeymoon suite. Miriam stood there smiling as she watched me wander through the palatial rooms, with the balcony overlooking the streets of Paris, babbling about how lovely it was.
Finally, I turned, walked over to her, knelt down, bowed my head, and said, “Mistress, I…I am very grateful you would do this for me. Thank you.” I took her hand and kissed it.
She stroked my head, drew me up, hugged me, and softly said, “My precious little Mouse, you are very welcome,” then kissed me.
I was tempted to take it beyond that, and worship her kitty, but she broke and said, “Come, let’s have a quick shower, and then get a nap. We don’t want to waste our first night in Paris, do we?”
~~~~~
Mistress allowed me to dress as slutty as I wanted for the first night. I wanted to show off that I was her slave and fucktoy as we were going to a famous – or infamous – lesbian D/s club.
We stopped the show when we walked in.
Miriam is a statuesque blonde of regal bearing, and was wearing a black, sleeveless top over a translucent, loosely flowing black dress with a side-slit up to her waist. On her feet, she wore ten-centimeter, golden stilts, making her even taller. On her head, she wore a golden, woven Elven crown, like something out of Lord of the Rings, with a matching, braided gold Celtic necklace. She had slightly darkened her eyebrows, then applied gold eye shadow, and bright red lipstick. She looked like one of Wagner’s Valkyries – which, of course, she could easily have been. And, since I had bathed and dressed her, I knew she was wearing nothing underneath. That proved…convenient…later on in the evening.
I wore a tight, black, backless halter top draped loosely over my tits. It showed off my nipples and could be flipped up for easy access. Below I wore a black micro-mini skirt that barely came down over my ass. No panties, of course.
On my feet were black stilts. My hair was teased up and out, like a puff-ball, and I had on heavy, black make-up all around my eyes, like a mask.
But most importantly, I wore my thick, black leather slave collar, plus black leather restraining cuffs on my wrists and ankles. Mistress had my black leather leash looped round her wrist and held casually in her hand.
Once we had walked – carefully – down the stairs from the street, she said to me, “Hands and knees,” and I dropped to the ground beside her as we entered.
The music kept assaulting our ears, but conversations stopped all over the room, and heads swiveled towards us.
La Maîtress hurried over to us, stopped just short, the shock of recognition on her face, then gave a quick bow, and shouted to us, “Welcome, Grand-Mistress, and your extraordinary slave to our…humble…club. Please, follow me!”
Mistress jerked my leash to get me to stand, and we followed La Maîtress to our table, Miriam exuding hauteur and expecting the crowd to part – which it did.
La Maîtress led us through the club, following a route guaranteed to show us off to everyone, and placing us at a table where we could see and be seen. That turned out to be…amusing…later on.
Almost immediately, a bottle of champagne arrived in a cooling bucket, along with two champagne coupes, brought by a barely-clad, collared submissive. “Compliments of La Maîtress, Madam.” Quickly, she broke the seal, removed the foil, and eased the cork out with a showy POP! She poured for us both, bowed low, then backed away from the table before turning and hurrying away.
Mistress looked amused, then raised her glass to me, we clinked, and then sipped.
Almost immediately, she leaned across, removed my leash, and shouted over the music, “Let’s dance!”
I quickly stood up, knelt to offer her my hand, which she took while she stood, then I stood and we made our way to the floor.
People made way for us, and soon we were moving to the overpowering throbbing of the music amid the strobing, swimming-colored lights. As usual, I lost myself in the music, closed my eyes, and started moving more and more erotically, as I would if I were stripping. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Mistress was smiling at me, amused. I blushed, then danced a little more sedately.
We danced for some time, and while Mistress always had space around her, I found that over time, bodies – accidentally – rubbed against me, and more than one hand squeezed my tits or felt my ass under my micro. A couple of hands tried to probe more intimately, but I shook them off. My pussy belonged to my Mistress, and only those others as she selected, but the attention certainly raised my temperature!
Finally, we broke and returned to our table, which was a small cocktail table set back from the dance floor, but in a prominent location. It had a semi-circular red banquette around it with a high back, offering a small modicum of privacy.
After we had caught our breath, Mistress looked at me and nodded. I understood and immediately slid down under the table, crawled over to her now-wide knees, and lifted her dress. Amid the flashing lights and the darkness, I could barely make out her pussy, but I could certainly smell her.
I smiled. Perhaps it was the wine, or the music, the other dancing, scantily-clad women, or the atmosphere of the club itself, but I felt sure it was my dancing and my body that had aroused her. Regardless, I was going to make sure it was my tongue that brought her to climax.
I brought my knees together between her feet, moved my head up between her knees, placed my hands on her thighs, and gently kissed her pussy lips. She spread herself further, and placed her hand on my head, first stroking my hair, then pulling me in further towards her sex.
I licked upwards, spreading her lips with my tongue, then stopped to savour the taste. I loved to have my Mistress in my mouth; she always tasted like heaven to me. I shivered with pleasure!
She urged me on, and I went to work, stroking her thighs with my thumbs, nuzzling her clit with my nose, and drawing lines around and between her lips with my tongue. I moved one hand to just above her clit hood, and used it as a wall against which I could press and massage her clit with my tongue, pinching it slightly with my fingers when my tongue licked downwards again.
I wanted to draw this out, as I knew that when she came fast, it was short and sharp, but what I wanted now was for her to cum long and hard. And loud. That meant I had to go slowly, and gradually build her arousal, lifting her higher, then letting her simmer, then taking her higher still.
At first, I thought she would try to hurry me, and once she even grasped my hair. But then she released it, and leaned back, took a deep breath, and slid herself down slightly in her seat to give me easier access.
I was conscious that my feet were visible from the dance floor, and that if someone were to duck down and look, they would see quite clearly my head moving under her dress. But here, no one cared, or if they did, would have approved. That was one of the reasons we had chosen to come here: so my Mistress could cum here.
So, I slowly and carefully licked, kissed, and worshipped her, loving the feeling of having her in my mouth, and bringing her slowly closer and closer to orgasm.
And when it was clear she was finally there, I pushed my mouth hard onto her, and licked furiously around and inside her, focusing on her clit.
I doubt that anyone could actually hear her victorious cries as she came, the music was so loud. But I knew how successful I had been because she squirted onto my face and into my mouth, her body went rigid, and her knees clasped my head hard as she pulled me to her. I continued to lick and love her, bringing her to one climax after another, until she pushed me slightly back, and I knew she was done.
I carefully crawled out from under the table and stood up. I had deliberately not wiped my face, so her juices were dripping from my chin and cheeks when I turned around…to see most of the women, still dancing, but facing us, cheering and applauding.
I blushed, but bowed slightly, then slid back onto the banquette. Mistress nodded to the crowd, then handed me a serviette.
Our first night in Paris was certainly…memorable, and for more than just Mistress and me!
~~~~~
When we finally returned to our hotel room, we found the lights dimmed, the curtains closed, our bed drawn back, and soft music playing. There was another bottle of champagne, this time from the hotel, plus a fruit basket from the management, welcoming us.
We were both thoroughly exhausted, so stripped off our clothes, and washed at the dual sinks. When we were done. Mistress lifted me in her arms, and tenderly carried me to bed, my arms around her neck and love in my eyes. She left the lights on while we made love, her on top, in soixante-neuf.
I was transported in both lust and love, and afterwards snuggled to my Mistress. She put her arm around me, kissed the top of my head, turned out the light, and we slept.
~~~~~
We spent a lazy morning in bed, with Mistress calling down for room service brunch. By the time we got it, we had both refreshed ourselves, and I was famished.
Once we had brunched, showered, and dressed, it was early afternoon. Mistress told me we were going to spend the rest of the afternoon in the Louvre, so we dressed conservatively. Except I still didn’t wear any panties. This was my vacation, after all. I could wear what I wanted. Or not.
We walked to the Louvre, and I was dismayed. “Oh!…there must be hundreds of people in line, Mistress! Are we going to wait?”
She just smiled and shook her head at my naïveté, then pulled out her smartphone, and texted. Very quickly, a tall redhead jogged towards us, waving.
“Ah! Bonjour! I am called Verité, your guide,” she said in English. “Follow me!”
We passed the line, and went in a separate, private entrance, then Verité took us through the most important parts of the Louvre, starting with the Big Three: the Winged Somathrace, La Giaconda, and the Venus de Milo. We had to battle the crowds around all three, but Verité knew how to worm through and get close, then took her time while we looked, ignoring those around us.
Then we wandered through some of the other halls, Verité pointing out well-known paintings, and make scathing remarks about some of them.
After a couple of hours, my head was swimming. Mistress must have realized that I was out of my depth, as she asked if we could stop for coffee or a drink.
“Bien sûr!” said Verité, and took us to the member’s private lounge, where I had a soft drink and Mistress had a beer. Verité had mineral water.
After a bit, I felt restored, and we wandered slowly through some of the galleries, chatting as much as looking at the art.
Finally, Verité led us back to the entrance, made “La Bise”, the French-style of air-kissing on both cheeks, then strode happily off.
As I watched her go, Mistress said, “So, what do you think of the world’s greatest museum?”
I looked at her, then said, “Well…”
She smirked at me, expectantly.
“…there’s an awfully lot of really crummy art in there!”
She threw back her head and laughed.
~~~~~
Once we got back to the hotel suite, I got to use the lovely, two-person Jacuzzi tub, filled with bubbles. Shortly after I got in, Miriam slipped into the tub, and looked at me, a gentle smile on her face. She beckoned me with one hand, and I, of course, obeyed.
I settled into the crook of her arm, resting my head on her shoulder, and sighed. She looked down at me, and kissed the top of my head. “Tu est contente, ma petite?”, “You are happy, my little one?” I looked up at her and nodded – then reached down and started stroking her kitty.
She permitted it, spreading her legs, and brushing her fingers along the top of my head. I used what I had learned in DeCoven to bring her to a long, slow orgasm, then, just before she erupted, I ducked down into the water, held myself against her, hands on her hips, and licked her to the peak of her climax.
I stay down there as long as I could, then came up for air, then fastened my mouth to her breast, sucking softly, and slowly smoothing my hand along her kitty, soothing now instead of exciting. Then, as her breathing started to slow, I slipped a finger inside her, and started to massage her G-spot, then added a second finger, gently probing and massaging.
She dropped her head back on the slope of the tub, and shut her eyes, so I knew I was reading her rightly. I started using my thumb to gently massage her clit, and very shortly, I brought her to another, even greater orgasm that had her deep, throaty moans filling the room.
This time, she caught my hand and stopped me, then waited while her orgasm faded and her breathing slowed. Finally, she opened her eyes, smiling. “You learned well, my slutty little slave girl. DeCoven wasn’t wasted on you, was it?
“Now it’s your turn, liebchen. Turn and grab the edge of the tub, and lift your ass, my little slut.”
I turned, grabbed the edge of the tub, pushed my tits against it, kneeling on the seat, ass up, and turned to look at her. She smiled knowingly at me, then started running her fingers up and down my thighs with one hand, while the other found the tit closest to her, and started stroking it, lightly pinching the nipple each time, then moving back to the base of my breast.
When I started moaning, her finger stopped moving up and down my thigh, and found my slit, and started stroking up and down my pussy lips, then one finger slipped inside me, quickly followed by another, caressing my G-spot. Next, she softly grabbed my tit, and instead of stroking it, she started squeezing it gently, as if I were a cow and she was milking me. She got a rhythm going, coordinating the movement of her two hands so she was squeezing my tit when she was stroking my G-spot. When she moved her thumb onto my clit, I started moving, almost thrashing, under her ministrations.
“Stay still!” she ordered, and I held myself as still as I could, although I could not stop myself from quivering.
When I was almost there, she leaned forward, and put her mouth to my sex, then started probing my cunt with her tongue, even as she massaged my clit with her thumb. She squeezed and pulled my tit hard – and I went over the edge into a massive orgasm. I couldn’t stop from moving, but started thrashing in the water, my voice crying out in a sobbing scream.
She kept me going, wave after wave of cumming, until I begged her to stop, and lay my forehead across the edge of the tub, panting.
She gave my pussy one, last kiss, then sat back and said, “Who do you belong to, my little Mouse?”
“You,” I panted, “I belong to you, body and soul, Mistress.”
We went to a late supper that night.
~~~~~
Our three nights in Paris passed like a dream, filled with loving nights, and kinky days, interspersed with typical tourist things.
I won’t go into all of them, but there were two I remember with special fondness. The first was Musée de l’Orangerie in the Tuileries Gardens, which housed a collection of Claude Monet’s paintings, which I found quite wonderful.
The other was a late supper on our last night at Le Jules Verne, the restaurant on the second stage of the Eiffel Tower. At first, I couldn’t believe that Mistress would bring me to a tacky restaurant in the tourist cliché of Paris, but she insisted and instructed me to dress elegantly and well.
When we got to the Eiffel Tour, I was again dismayed by the snaking lines of tourists…and was, again, proven wrong. We took a special elevator, which opened onto the most marvellous dining room, with a breath-taking view of Paris, spread out before us and lit up for the night. The only thing we could not see was the Eiffel Tower itself, because we were inside it!
And, of course, Mistress being Mistress, we had perhaps the best table in the restaurant, next to a window, looking out at the Seine, Les Invalides, and, in the distance, the Louvre itself.
The food was wonderful. Plus, the service was…well, I have never been served as well, but with warmth, good humor, and understanding. It put the lie to the clichés of Parisian rudeness.
Afterwards, we walked back to the hotel along the banks of the Seine in the moonlight, hand-in-hand, enjoying the city and each other, very much in love.
Paris is magic, and I was enchanted.
Alma
- 26.04.2022
- 36
- 0
- Category:
- True
Three Months in Paris
- 3 years ago
- 33
- 0
The Day I came home from school to fuck Paris
- 2 years ago
- 29
- 0
