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)
I feared suddenly that if Delacroix offered to let my miles deflower me, rather than Delacroix himself, I would tell the evil magnate everything.
Something happened in my ear. A noise… a tone. It took me a long moment to remember what it meant. Before I understood the thing in my ear, I had let out another scream, as Marcus’ punishing hand found my pussy again. My body struggled reflexively against the ropes that bound me to my owner’s chair. I almost forgot about the tone in the haze of pain that swirled around me, and then somehow, I connected it to the thing I had done with my wrist some endless-feeling time before.
The download finished. I completed the mission.
It didn’t seem to mean anything to me. Everything else, above all the fiery agony between my thighs… the sensation’s connection to the man I loved… the way he was punishing me because he had no choice… that all meant so much more.
Plus, you know, the thing about how Delacroix is going to rape you and then kill you.
“Enough,” Delacroix’s voice cut through the mind-destroying torment. “Enough for now, at least, Marcus, I think.”
Marcus’ hand stilled instantly, leaving my abused flesh throbbing. I whimpered, my body trembling with residual pain and fear.
“I must confess,” Delacroix continued, his cultured tones dripping with cruel amusement, “I find myself most intrigued by this naughty little fuck toy. While I’m certainly eager to hear what secrets she’ll spill when introduced to real pain, I find myself rather, shall we say… bewitched.”
He paused, and I could feel his icy gaze raking over my bound form. “Yes, I’ve been bewitched by my exquisite fucking piece, despite her obviously malignant intentions. Something in me would like to see her feel the whorish sort of pleasure I’ve given her here in my boudoir so many times. Indeed I’m curious to see what her sheer need for cock might accomplish.”
My heart raced. Pleasure? After the torture I’d just endured, the very idea seemed absurd. And yet, to my horror, a traitorous flutter of arousal stirred deep within me.
“Marcus,” Delacroix commanded, “let’s begin by seeing how quickly you can get my naughty fucking piece wet after her cunt spanking. I have a notion that even knowing she’s going to die tonight won’t keep that little quim dry.”
I heard Marcus inhale sharply, and as always, I wondered—did the breath indicate mere feigned appreciation of his brutal boss’ whim, or did my miles have to control himself so as not to show that he cared for my safety—or for who truly owned me, body and soul?
“Yes, Monsieur,” he replied, his voice sounding carefully neutral.
His touch, when it came, was shockingly gentle. Strong fingers ghosted over my inflamed labia, barely making contact. I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily.
“Shh,” Marcus soothed.
Marcus’ gentle touch sent tremors through my body, such a stark contrast to the punishing spanks he had delivered moments ago that I felt my consciousness begin to drift away. His fingers traced delicate patterns along my swollen folds. I felt myself respond, though part of me wanted to resist, as if Delacroix’s brutal words had represented a challenge to keep my naughty pussy dry. My helpless body, conditioned by Malleus’ hand, by Marcus’ own hand and rigid cock… even by the monstrous man who thought himself my owner… awoke almost instantly under his skilled ministrations.
“Please,” I whimpered, unsure if I was begging him to stop or continue. The conflicting sensations of lingering pain and budding arousal left me dizzy and confused.
“As I expected. Look how quickly she responds,” Delacroix observed, the ice in his voice lost to sadistic glee. “Such a wanton little whore.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, shame and desire, fear and pain, warring within me. Marcus’ fingers dipped lower, circling my entrance with maddening slowness. A small moan escaped my lips before I could stifle it.
“Open your eyes,” Delacroix commanded. “I want to see the moment you break, Sophia. Maybe I won’t kill you, if you open your eyes. Maybe I’ll even let you come.”
I let out a sob and I obeyed, because there seemed no point in not complying, despite the utter emptiness of his horrible teasing promises and threats. I met Delacroix’s cold gaze. His eyes glittered with cruel anticipation as he watched me struggle against the pleasure building within me.
Without warning, Marcus slipped two fingers inside me, curling them expertly to stroke that spot that made me see stars. As he had promised his employer, the closure of my pussy had rendered the passage much narrower: I cried out in mingled discomfort and need, the arousal seemingly made exponentially greater by the feeling that my true master had just forced his way into my aching sheath.
“Oh God,” I gasped, my hips bucking reflexively.
“Tell me, my dear,” Delacroix purred, leaning in close. “Who sent you?”