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)
Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door with the magnets in my hand. I cracked it open and peered into the dimly lit hallway. I caught a glimpse of one of Marcus’ guards down at the bottom of the stairway, but I knew myself to be completely invisible as I slipped along the corridor towards Delacroix’s bedroom.
My heart pounded in my chest as I touched the heavy oak door. Pressing my ear against it, I listened for any sound within. Nothing.
Slowly, carefully, I turned the ornate handle and eased the door open.
“Well, well. Sophia, my little whore, I was starting to think we wouldn’t see you tonight.”
I froze, ice flooding my veins. Delacroix’s cold voice had come from the shadows near his desk. As my eyes adjusted, I saw him lounging in an armchair, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. Beside him stood Marcus, his face an inscrutable mask.
“I… I’m sorry, Monsieur,” I stammered, falling to my knees. “I… I thought… I mean, I was worried when no one came to bring me to you…”
It sounded idiotic, but I couldn’t imagine that anything would have seemed the slightest bit persuasive, given that I’d just made it very clear that I could break out of my bedroom whenever I wanted. The notion that one of the guards had carelessly left the door unlocked had—barely—worked the last time; I felt certain no such excuse would strike Delacroix’s ear as truthful tonight.
“You may as well shut up, whore,” Marcus said coldly. “Until we begin to apply the necessary pressure, I’m sure nothing you say will provide us with a single accurate fact.”
We. Us. The words seemed to slice through my soul. I knew Marcus had to use them. I knew he probably thought I came from some other international crime organization, and I had come to the chateau undercover to kill Delacroix or steal from him. But the stark indication that Marcus and I didn’t go together, that we didn’t represent one side of the fight Malleus had made so vivid for me… I had to stifle a sob that wanted to burst from my chest.
My heart raced as Delacroix rose from his chair, his eyes glittering with a cruel light. “I’m going to enjoy this, whore,” he purred, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ve known for days that you were more than just a pretty fuck toy. But I wanted to savor the anticipation of breaking you completely.”
He turned to Marcus. “Restrain her in the chair. Her face to the back and her arms around it. I want her spread wide and helpless, with her ass and her cunt fully available.”
I shied back as Marcus approached, and then I struggled when he grabbed me, but his strong hands gripped my arms firmly. As he pulled me towards the ornate armchair, I caught a fleeting glimpse of anguish in his eyes. It vanished so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“Please,” I whimpered nonsensically as Marcus hoisted me easily off the ground and turned me around to set me on the seat cushion. “I can explain…”
Delacroix backhanded me hard across the face, making my head snap to the side. “I told you to shut up, whore. You’ll speak when I allow it, and not before.”
Marcus didn’t reply. He didn’t even tell me how to position myself on the chair: he just placed my limbs where he wanted them and restrained them with expertly tied rope that Delacroix handed him from the lacquered cabinet. Marcus bound my wrists around the back of the gorgeous antique chair; he tied my thighs to its heavy, carved, oaken arms, with my bare feet just off the back of the seat. Even with everything I had experienced from Malleus, from Delacroix, from him… I had never felt so vulnerable and exposed.
My owner turned to Marcus. “Get the solvent. It’s time we finally opened up this little cunt properly.”
My eyes widened in panic. It seemed silly, to the rational part of my mind, but I realized I had thought of the labial seal as my last line of defense, preserving my virginity even as Delacroix used my mouth and ass for his pleasure. I had harbored the stupid fantasy, I saw, that Marcus would somehow be the one to deflower me the old-fashioned way. Now that final barrier would be stripped away, and my owner would be the one to claim my womb.
I watched helplessly as Marcus pulled a small vial from his inside breast pocket. My tummy clipped as he approached, his face an impassive mask, and I turned my head as far as I could to follow him around to my back—the front of the chair.
I felt a sudden puff of air against my bottom. I realized what was happening at the same moment I felt Delacroix’s open hand make contact, and I heard the spank ring off the walls of his gilded bedroom. I cried out, my body jerking at the pain.