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)
And then it hit me. The camera. I had forgotten to spoof the camera.
“Shit,” I gasped, the realization chilling me to the bone. Whoever was watching the surveillance footage would know. They would see everything.
Panic gripped me as I stared at the unblinking eye of the camera, my body still tingling from the illicit pleasure. What had I done?
CHAPTER 13
Sophia
Marcus didn’t come to wake me up, the way he’d done every day so far of my… what? stay? service? captivity? mission?… in the chateau. My mind for some reason decided to focus on that question as I waited in my locked bedroom, the hours dragging by like molasses. At least it seemed to keep me from worrying about whether anyone had watched the surveillance footage and seen my offense against my owner’s sole right to my body’s pleasures.
I didn’t have a clock, but it must have been ten in the morning when I woke up. By eleven (or whenever) I had decided on mission as the noun I wanted, freeing my mind unfortunately to become a whirlpool of anxiety and apprehension, each thought more distressing than the last.
Where was Marcus? Had he in fact seen what I’d done last night? Had he or someone else noticed that I had surrendered to my own touch, unable to resist the desperate need for release?
I looked at the unblinking eye of the surveillance camera in the molding. Delacroix’s ever-watchful vision. Marcus’ nameless guards—did they know? My cheeks burned at the thought, humiliation threading through me like an electric current. Every sound outside my door made my heart leap, only for disappointment to crash back down when it wasn’t Marcus.
Eventually, when my bladder had nearly made a yell for help, a guard arrived—a man whose name of course I didn’t know, his expression impassive and cold. He escorted me to the bathroom, his presence a stark reminder of nothing but my captivity—the thought of this as a mission, after what had happened in Delacroix’s bedroom, and the punishment Marcus had promised me, suddenly seemed impossible to recall to my mind.
“Marcus told me to watch you,” he said flatly as I sat on the toilet, my horrid training harness still awkwardly in place so that I had to perch half-off the seat. His eyes never wavered, and my face grew hotter, the mortification nearly unbearable as I relieved myself under his gaze, my eyes finally fixed on his shiny black shoes.
Afterward, the same guard brought in the lunch cart. The food looked as unappetizing as my circumstances. But I forced myself to eat, knowing I needed the strength. Each bite felt like a struggle, my thoughts incessantly returning to the previous night and the fear of discovery.
The sun began to set at last, its red face just visible through my little window if I put my face close to it. The door finally opened to reveal Marcus. He entered my tiny bedroom, his presence filling the space, commanding and intense. His usual dark suit seemed to imbue every inch of his tall, muscular frame with dominance, so that he exuded authority with every step.
“Get up,” he said, the chill in his voice sending ice down my spine even as my face blushed hot. I rose from my bed, desperately studying his face for any hint of compassion—let alone the sign I so longed for that he had figured it out, that he had concluded I was a fellow agent, and from this point on, we would work together to fulfill both of our missions.
“Sir…” I said.
He lowered his chin and regarded me with an even harder expression.
“I… I…” I sought for something, anything to say that might make things easier, or at least less frightening for me. I found nothing.
“You need to make your mind up that you’re going to be severely punished, Sophia,” Marcus said, his voice flat. “Your pussy is going to be closed, and you’re going to be whipped, and then Monsieur is going to fuck your mouth and your ass so hard, your throat will burn and you won’t walk comfortably tomorrow. You will get through it, and you will learn to enjoy it.”
My eyes had gone very wide, and tears trickled down my cheeks. I blinked at him with my jaw hanging open, once again hoping against hope that he would show me a sign of sympathy.
But, “Come,” he said simply and clipped the leash onto my collar, leading me back to the bathroom.
He made me bend over and put my hands on my knees, and he removed my training harness as I whimpered to feel my anus closing at last. The relief was immediate, but it was also short-lived.
Marcus held the harness out to me as I straightened up. I averted my eyes, but he said, “Take it. You’re going to clean it in the sink.”