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)
My mind reeled as Marcus’ skilled fingers worked their awful magic inside me. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t form a coherent thought beyond the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Delacroix’s question barely registered.
“Please,” I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. “Please, I… I can’t…”
“Can’t what, my dear?” Delacroix’s voice dripped with false concern. “Can’t resist the pleasure? Or can’t keep your secrets?”
Marcus’ thumb found my clit, circling it with exquisite pressure. I cried out, my back arching as far as my bonds would allow.
“Please,” I gasped again. “I n-need… I…”
A sudden, irrational thought seized me. If I had something in my mouth—a cock, specifically—I wouldn’t be able to talk. I wouldn’t be able to betray my mission, betray Marcus, betray everything.
“Please,” I begged, fixing my gaze on Delacroix. “Please let me suck your cock, Monsieur. I need it in my mouth. Please.”
Delacroix’s eyebrows shot up, a cruel smile playing at his lips. “My, my. What an eager little cocksucker you are. But I’m afraid that won’t do, my pet. I want answers, not your talented mouth. Though I’m sure we’ll put it to good use later.”
His words sent a shiver of fear through me, even as Marcus’ fingers continued their relentless assault on my senses. I whimpered, torn between the mounting pleasure and the terror of what might come next.
“Now, whore,” Delacroix continued, his voice deceptively gentle. “Who sent you? Tell me, and perhaps I’ll allow you the release you so desperately crave. Maybe you’ll come so beautifully that I’ll keep you for my guests’ enjoyment.”
I shook my head frantically, biting my lip to keep from crying out as Marcus curled his fingers inside me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I gasped. “I was kidnapped off the street and brought to the auction. I swear, I don’t know anything!”
Delacroix’s eyes hardened. “Very well. If pleasure won’t loosen your tongue, perhaps we should return to pain.” He nodded to Marcus. “Resume the spanking. And this time, don’t stop until she breaks.”
Marcus’ fingers withdrew, leaving me aching and empty. I had only a moment to mourn their loss before his hand came down hard on my tender flesh. I screamed, the pain infinitely worse now that my nerves were already on fire with arousal.
“No, please!” I sobbed as the blows rained down. “I don’t know anything! Please stop!”
But the spanking continued, each strike sending shockwaves of agony through my body. And yet, to my horror and shame, I could feel my arousal still building with each stinging slap. I felt Marcus’ hand come away wet. I couldn’t… I just…
If I tell Marcus, somehow… if he understands, maybe he’ll save me…
Then my mind went sideways. It seemed to me that Marcus was punishing me because I hadn’t been faithful to him… because I had come so hard and so often for Delacroix, and my miles didn’t deserve to have a columba like that. If I could tell Marcus that I had undergone it all for him… for the Guard, and for Malleus, but for Marcus most of all…
I screamed it in English, some part of my mind apparently having decided that Delacroix—whose English, I knew, was perfect—might not understand this desperate, secret message to Marcus.
“Malleus sent me!”
I sensed the slight delay—less than a second, I felt certain, but definitely an interruption in the cadence—before Marcus next brought his hand up against my tormented pussy lips. I knew he had understood it all, in a moment. Panic twisted my insides, and I recognized in that split-second the incredible danger I had just put us both in, the reason Malleus had told me I must never tell Marcus about my true identity. Because Delacroix did notice: of course he noticed.
“Marcus,” he said, “does that name mean anything to you?”
The hand on my waist, giving my miles the traction he needed to spank my pussy properly, tightened. He spanked me again, and I screamed so loud I hurt my own ears, not just pain but regret and shame coming out in the sound.
“I think so,” he said smoothly. “I think that’s a codename for Tartikoff.”
It sounded like a lie to me, I told myself desperately, because of course it was a lie. Delacroix didn’t know it was a lie, and so—I tried to persuade myself—it would sound plausible, wouldn’t it?
“You know,” my so-called owner said, “it sounds rather like the kind of name the cunts from the Pretorian Guard give each other.”
Oh… no. No, no, no…
“The what, Monsieur?” Marcus asked, so smoothly that I believed for a moment I had been entirely wrong—that he actually wasn’t a miles after all, and Malleus had told me false information for some reason. It made literally no sense at all, but the overwhelming mixture of thoughts, emotions, and sensations had started to make rationality impossible.