Page 19 of Sold at Auction

I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back the desperate moans that threatened to slip past my lips. Every strike sent a searing wave of pain through my lower back and down my thighs. I held on to the chair’s legs with a white-knuckled grip.

He kept spanking, and the pain became so much that I started to scream, and to struggle more fiercely, out of sheer reflex. I let go of the chair and threw my right hand back in a desperate attempt to cover my backside.

Marcus stopped the punishment for a moment so he could grab my hand and pin it behind my back.

“There we go,” he said, his satisfaction audible. “That’s the first step. Now we keep going until you’re really ready to obey me and show me how naughty you really are.”

CHAPTER 8

Marcus

I kept spanking Sophia. The sharp, stinging slaps of my hand against her bare bottom echoed through the training room, each strike more forceful than the last. Her cries of pain had lost any hint of pleasure, morphing into pure, raw anguish that reverberated in the mirrored salon. Her body trembled over my knee, each convulsion a testament to the torment she endured.

My Guard training had prepared me for this moment. I trusted in the ideas and methods drilled into me—above all an unwavering belief in the power of dominance to awaken submission. Delacroix needed Sophia thoroughly broken in; her role as his sexual servant demanded no less. My confidence in taking her this far didn’t represent mere arrogance; it sprang from true necessity. Each punishing swat would carve out space within her, making room for the submissive sexuality she would need if she were to find some degree of fulfillment in her servitude.

“Sir,” she whimpered, her voice barely more than a breathless plea.

“Quiet,” I commanded, tightening my grip on her wrist, under the looped leather of her leash’s end. My strikes continued, relentless, until I saw the fiery red glow spread across her bottom. The heat radiated from her skin, palpable against my palm. Her resistance waned with each blow, and finally, she went limp over my knee, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The spanking stopped, but I watched with satisfaction as her arousal surged immediately and unmistakably, her rising need evident in the way her hips subtly pressed against my thigh.

“Breathe deeply now, Sophia,” I instructed, mixing both command and a hint of encouragement in my tone. Her compliance came swiftly, though her breaths remained labored, each inhale trembling with residual pain and burgeoning desire.

Her body seemed like a paradox of soreness and readiness. I could practically feel her arousal in my own nervous system, a magnetic pull that threatened to disrupt my focus. The sight of her nakedness over my knee, accentuated by the collar around her neck, was almost too much. My cock strained against my trousers, an iron bar of need that I ruthlessly suppressed. Falling for her, allowing myself to succumb to this attraction, would only complicate my mission.

“Good girl,” I whispered, my voice softening involuntarily. The words slipped out before I could stop them, a betrayal of the steely resolve I needed to maintain.

“Please,” she murmured, her tone laden with confusion and longing. She didn’t understand the depths of her own desire, not yet.

I delivered the final swats, each one deliberate, exacting. Her cries turned into sobs, her body completely pliant under my control. When I finally stopped, her bottom glowed a deep crimson, the heat a clear indicator of the thorough punishment she’d received.

Knowing fully how dangerous it would be to my resolve, I began to caress Sophia’s thoroughly spanked bottom, my hand moving in slow, deliberate circles over the heated, crimson skin. Her body shivered at my touch, a delicate tremor that spoke of the tumultuous emotions warring within her.

Arousing her this way, in her position over my knee—degrading, but also cared for—represented the most effective way to awaken her fully. If the girl were to find pleasure in her owner’s bed, I had to coax her submissive sexuality to the surface, where it could flourish under Monsieur’s command. Every stroke of my fingers not only soothed the sting of her punishment but also banked the smoldering embers of her arousal.

“You’re doing well, Sophia,” I murmured, my voice low and controlled. “Feel the heat, embrace it.”

The danger in this moment was palpable. Every fiber of my being cried out against the helpless attraction I felt for her. My cock throbbed persistently against my thigh, a steely hardness that threatened to betray my carefully maintained façade. I tightened my grip on her leash, forcing myself to remember that falling for her would complicate everything—jeopardize my mission and potentially cost countless lives.

I forced my thoughts back to the task at hand. As much as I wanted to lose myself in the sensation of Sophia’s soft curves beneath my touch, I had to remain vigilant, maintain control.

Remember your training, I told myself, hearing in my head how I had echoed the words of pater Robert Bennett from our final briefing before I went into the field. The memory of that day came rushing back, unbidden—a stark reminder of the stakes involved.

“Marcus,” Bennett said, his eyes hard and unyielding, “you need to be prepared for deep cover. Two years, at least. Dead drops every six months. Minimal contact with HQ. Your position with Delacroix is paramount. When the time comes, you must be ready to step in and foil the Groupe Synergistique’s plans, whatever they are.”

I nodded. My pater continued, lowering his chin and his voice at once as he imparted startling new information I hadn’t previously received.

“Latest intelligence says they’re going to try to take over the entire Western European power grid.”

My eyebrows shot up, but, “Understood, Pater,” I replied like a loyal miles, my mind already whirring with the complexities of the mission ahead.

“Prioritize your position,” Bennett reiterated. “Everything else is secondary. I hardly need to add, do not let personal feelings cloud your judgment. Remember your training.”

As I caressed Sophia’s tender flesh, my pater’s words sounded even more ominous in my mind than they had at the time, a stark reminder of the razor’s edge upon which I balanced. The heat radiating from the girl’s gorgeous little bottom felt like a siren’s call, luring me towards dangerous waters. I had to stay focused, maintain my resolve.

Yet, I had to make sure I trained this fucking piece properly, as much as it might cost me. Both my mission and Sophia’s life, potentially, depended on it. Delacroix had had previous concubines killed, I knew, for resisting his commands. More frequently, he had had them whipped so hard and long that they ended up traumatized.

“Spread your legs wider,” I instructed, relaxing my right leg’s hold over the backs of Sophia’s knees, my tone leaving no room for hesitation. “Show me you can obey.”

Sophia complied with a desperate little sob, her movements tentative yet undeniably aroused—and arousing, as I saw her lovely little pussy peep out from between her thighs, the lips clearly engorged with her need. The slickness between her thighs was unmistakable, a testament to the potent mix of pain, embarrassment, and desire swirling within her. As she positioned herself, I felt the pull of her allure stronger than ever, threatening to consume my every thought.

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