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)
Sophia’s lips trembled, her words seeming stuck somewhere between confession and denial. I stepped closer, needing to hear her answer, needing to understand this betrayal—or perhaps, uncover another layer of her complex nature. The desire to save her from what would happen if Delacroix learned she had somehow gotten out of her bedroom and entered his warred with my absolute need to maintain my cover.
“Marcus, I—” she began, her voice barely a whisper.
“Well, what have we here?” Delacroix’s cold, menacing tone cut through the tension, freezing us both where we stood.
Sophia
I watched in terror, my eyes going from Marcus, a meter or so away from me, to Delacroix, just inside the doorway, and back again. I had pulled my left hand—my download hand, Dr. Demetriou had taught me to call it—back as soon as the lights had gone on, and now I held both hands balled in fists in front of my naked hips.
Had Marcus seen me reaching towards the computer? I felt sure he had, though whether he had understood represented a different question. As I replayed the last few moments in my mind, though, I felt certain at least that Monsieur Delacroix hadn’t arrived until after I had changed my posture.
“Put your hands on your head, slut,” Marcus commanded in a voice so cold, it sent ice down my spine.
With my forehead working in fear and shame, I complied. I tried to see any hint of mercy or fellow-feeling in his eyes, and failed.
“And don’t look me in the eye, you misbehaving cunt. Eyes down.”
Oh, God. The reaction between my thighs to his brutal words, as if something in me could tell that he meant it all somehow affectionately, made my cheeks burn. I found his feet with my eyes, and I saw them advance towards me.
I sensed the movement as Marcus’ hand moved with calculated precision into his inside pocket and retrieved the leash. Then I felt his hand at my neck, and the soft, metallic click of the clip resonated in the silence of Delacroix’s opulent bedroom. I felt the weight of it immediately, the stout leather a tangible symbol of my captivity.
“On your knees,” Marcus commanded. “This instant.”
I obeyed without hesitation, lowering myself onto the plush carpet. Immediately Marcus tugged hard on the leash. I cried out in surprise and discomfort. My upper body fell, and I had to support myself on my hands as I followed him, desperately, on all fours. He led me, like a disobedient dog, whimpering at each pull on my collar, to where Monsieur Delacroix’s shiny shoes stood on the carpet, his dark-trousered legs ascending far above where I might look.
My mind raced, the events of the past few moments replaying yet again with haunting clarity. Had Marcus seen me reaching? His eyes had seemed to bore into me just as I pulled my hand back.
Yes. I was sure he had seen, but equally sure that I had managed to withdraw my hand before Delacroix entered the room. The uncertainty gnawed at me, though, each second elongating into an eternity of dread.
“Kneel up,” Marcus told me in the same icy voice.
I obeyed, chewing on the inside of my cheek, terrified of what would come next.
“Hands behind you. Offer your little whore’s body to your master.”
With my eyes still down, I complied, clasping my hands behind my bottom and remembering to my dismay how Marcus had fucked me there two nights ago, deflowered me and claimed me—as far as I was concerned, anyway. I felt the way my little breasts heaved towards Monsieur Delacroix, and I imagined his eyes roving over me, deciding my fate.
“Look at me, cunt,” Monsieur Delacroix commanded. If had thought Marcus’ voice sounded cold, Delacroix’s seemed like the deepest winter.
My face blazing, I complied. My owner’s eyes seemed even more deeply frozen than his voice.
“Marcus,” Delacroix said, his voice a frosted blend of curiosity and menace. He didn’t take his gray eyes from mine as he addressed his head of security. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass as he spoke. “What do you make of my innocent little whore’s presence here?”
“She was near the restricted area,” Marcus replied evenly, though I detected a hint of something else—something softer beneath his usual control. What did he mean to do, incriminating me that way? Of course Delacroix would have seen where I was, so Marcus hadn’t given him any new information.
“Is that so?” Delacroix’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “She obviously needs to be made an example of. Take her to the basement and kill her.”
My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Delacroix’s reputation for brutality was not merely legend—it was a living, breathing monster that fed off the fear of those around him. The thought of his sadistic pleasure sent waves of icy terror through me, yet, shamefully, my body responded with a traitorous heat between my legs.