Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
As the waves of my climax subsided, a new sensation took hold—a desperate, crazy yearning for the real training that awaited me. The unknown future loomed large, fraught with danger and desire.
Malleus’ fingers finally stilled, his grip tightening once more as he pulled me closer. “Bene, columba,” he murmured in my ear.
CHAPTER 6
Forty-eight hours later
Sophia
After fifteen minutes of twilit country roads, beautiful and somehow quintessentially European, Marcus spoke for the first time since he had led me from my cage at the secret auction.
“There’s Monsieur Delacroix’s chateau,” he told me. His tone seemed so ominous that he might as well have said, There’s the place where your new owner will brutally deflower you, at a time of his choosing.
The palatial mansion loomed ahead, so large that it almost seemed a mirage of opulence against the darkening sky. Marcus held the leather leash easily in his hand. Its mere presence there, linking my body to his, seemed enough of a reminder of my bondage and my mission.
Most of the limo ride from the secret auction had been suffocating in its silence, the tension between us palpable. I could hear each breath he took, feel every shift of his powerful frame beside me. My own breaths came shallow and quick, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm in my chest.
As we stepped out onto the gravel drive, I bit my lip at the way the little stones dug into my bare feet. The flagstones of the entry began only a meter or so later, though, and I tried to take some comfort in their cool, smooth surface when I reached it, trailing behind Marcus as he led me with the help of the degrading leash.
Up three steps from the portico, the grand foyer welcomed us with an overwhelming display of gilt finishes, mirrors reflecting our forms, and paintings that seemed to watch us with knowing eyes. Each step I took on the marble floor sent a jolt of awareness through my bare feet, heightening the sense of exposure that coursed through my nervous system.
I yearned to lose my self-consciousness as I had in the mithraeum, but I couldn’t forget I was naked but for the collar around my neck. Here in the luxurious castle of my new owner, the collar’s symbolism, of my submission and of the control Marcus wielded on behalf of Delacroix over my nude body, refused to let me push it away.
“Keep your head bowed,” Marcus commanded, turning back to me for a moment, “and your eyes down.” His voice was a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.
The collar felt heavy, a constant reminder of my place. I tried to focus on Malleus’ training, the lessons drilled into me about composure and obedience, yet the urge to reveal my identity as an Ostia columba gnawed at me. Marcus didn’t know; he couldn’t know. But the insane attraction I felt towards him was immediate and undeniable.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, forcing my chin downward. I met his piercing blue eyes for the briefest of moments before dropping them again. He led me through the foyer, the grandeur of the surroundings doing little to quell the turmoil within me.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” A leering voice broke the silence, drawing my attention to two of Delacroix’s henchmen emerging from the shadows. Their eyes roamed over my body with blatant hunger, their expressions twisted with crude delight.
“She’s pretty,” one of them said, his voice almost grudging.
“She is,” the other confirmed. “Little tits, just as Monsieur prefers.”
“Monsieur is going to have a good time in that bare little cunt, putain,” the first said, addressing himself to me and making me very grateful I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Is she a virgin, Marcus?”
“Certified,” Marcus responded, his voice seeming to betray some distaste for his colleagues’ brutality.
“Let’s have a look,” the first man said. “That alright with you, Marcus?”
I wondered if I could detect a hint of resentment in the words—as if a tension existed between Marcus and these men.
“Of course,” Marcus said. “Sophia, you’re going to turn and bend over with your feet spread. Put your hands on your shins and show them where Monsieur is going to fuck you.”
With my face burning as hot as the sun and my heart pounding, I complied. I felt the air moving over my most intimate places as I exposed them to the minions’ leering eyes. The light tug from the leash, as Marcus held it above me as if he were exhibiting me at a dog show, made me bite my lip.
“Look at that tight little asshole,” one of the men sneered. I pictured him licking his lips as if savoring the thought. “Monsieur will like that. And you too, Marcus. You’ll get your fill, won’t you?”
Heat flushed my cheeks, burning with embarrassment and humiliation. I fought to maintain my composure, my hands clenching my naked ankles. The urge to cover myself, to shield my most intimate parts from their ravenous gazes, was nearly overpowering. But I kept my posture, trying to project an air of calm obedience, just as I’d been trained.