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)
“You’re ready now,” he said in his gentle voice, as if his words could ease the fear gnawing at my insides. “Delacroix will enjoy you greatly. All you need to do is accept your place and try to obey him.”
My cheeks burned with humiliation, but I forced myself to maintain eye contact with him. Marcus leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.
“There’s something else,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of disquieting calmness. “I’ve seen the security footage from last night.”
A wave of dread washed over me. He knew. They all knew. My moment of weakness, my desperate need for release—it had been captured and scrutinized. My mind grappled with the implications, shame flooding every corner of my being.
“Your little indiscretion will make you more attractive to Delacroix,” Marcus added, his words cutting through my haze of mortification. “It might even save your life.”
“Thank you,” I managed to choke out, though the gratitude felt hollow and bitter on my tongue.
“But,” he said, his voice hardening, “there are consequences. You broke the rule. I’ll have to cane you with extra severity.”
His declaration hung in the air like a dark promise, and my heart seized with a mixture of fear and resignation. The anticipation of pain, the humiliation of my exposure—it all felt like too much to bear, let alone to try to resist.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, my fate sealed as surely as the cuffs around my wrists.
As surely, I thought with a scalding blush, as my naughty cunt.
CHAPTER 14
Sophia
I stared at my reflection in the ornate gold-framed mirror across from Delacroix’s massive four-poster bed, unable to look away from the sight of my nearly-naked body. My wrists, bound behind my back to the intricately carved mahogany headboard, the soft leather cuffs a stark contrast to the delicate white lace of my bra and thong. The thong’s sheer mesh panel did nothing to conceal my bare, sealed pussy—a constant reminder of my status as Delacroix’s property.
My cheeks burned with shame, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the mirror. Was that really me? This trembling, humiliated creature with fear and desperate arousal warring in her wide eyes? I barely recognized myself.
Innocent. Like Briseis, taken by Agamemnon.
I focused as hard as I could on my mission. I had come here—they had sent me, taken me against my will—to save civilization, to save the lives of those Delacroix and the Groupe Synergistique thought they could play with.
What I saw in the mirror represented my cover, an act. the feigned innocence Malleus had taught me. I didn’t want it: I would only endure it. Marcus’ words about learning to enjoy my submission to Delacroix… they didn’t mean anything.
Marcus. The sudden, insane thought that I loved Marcus rose into my mind. That I loved him because of the terrible things he had done—things not really terrible, because I… I needed them.
I closed my eyes for a moment and then reopened them, to look at the girl in the mirror. Me. Not me.
An act. My cover.
But also… me.
I saw no sign in the mirror of the confident young woman who’d entered the offices of the Ostia Agency, thinking of a life of adventure as a luxury model. The girl in the mirror was a concubine. A fuck toy with her pussy sealed as punishment and as preparation. A piece of property to be used however my master saw fit.
It’s. An. Act. Malleus taught me well. Yes, I have submissive desires. Yes, I begged Malleus to fuck me. Yes, when Marcus deflowered my ass I… well, I needed it. But it’s still only my cover. I don’t need… this. I could never enjoy what’s going to happen here… what I can’t stop from happening here in this evil magnate’s gorgeous bedroom.
And yet… as much as I strove to deny it, to cling to some shred of my former self, I couldn’t ignore the wetness gathering behind my tightly sealed labia. My traitorous body thrummed with anticipation, nipples hardening to stiff peaks beneath the flimsy lace. I squeezed my thighs together, seeking some bit of friction, some small relief from the aching need building inside me.
I jumped as the door swung open with a soft creak. I jerked my head around to see Delacroix enter, resplendent in a burgundy silk dressing gown that clung to his stocky but muscular frame.
My breath caught in my throat as Marcus followed close behind, his dark suit a stark contrast to Delacroix’s casual attire, and I saw what he had in his hand: one of the canes from the training room—the ones I had always tried to look away from, whenever I noticed them. Long and thin and flexible… and absolutely terrifying.
Delacroix’s cold eyes raked over my body, a cruel smile playing at his lips. “On your knees, whore,” he commanded, his voice like silk over steel, the brutal words delivered in so refined a tone that a shiver of unwelcome arousal traveled over my skin, and worse, I felt myself clench behind the humiliating seal Marcus had made between my thighs.