Page 33 of Sold at Auction

I saw no sign in the mirror of the confident young woman who’d entered the offices of the Ostia Agency, thinking of a life of adventure as a luxury model. The girl in the mirror was a concubine. A fuck toy with her pussy sealed as punishment and as preparation. A piece of property to be used however my master saw fit.

It’s. An. Act. Malleus taught me well. Yes, I have submissive desires. Yes, I begged Malleus to fuck me. Yes, when Marcus deflowered my ass I… well, I needed it. But it’s still only my cover. I don’t need… this. I could never enjoy what’s going to happen here… what I can’t stop from happening here in this evil magnate’s gorgeous bedroom.

And yet… as much as I strove to deny it, to cling to some shred of my former self, I couldn’t ignore the wetness gathering behind my tightly sealed labia. My traitorous body thrummed with anticipation, nipples hardening to stiff peaks beneath the flimsy lace. I squeezed my thighs together, seeking some bit of friction, some small relief from the aching need building inside me.

I jumped as the door swung open with a soft creak. I jerked my head around to see Delacroix enter, resplendent in a burgundy silk dressing gown that clung to his stocky but muscular frame.

My breath caught in my throat as Marcus followed close behind, his dark suit a stark contrast to Delacroix’s casual attire, and I saw what he had in his hand: one of the canes from the training room—the ones I had always tried to look away from, whenever I noticed them. Long and thin and flexible… and absolutely terrifying.

Delacroix’s cold eyes raked over my body, a cruel smile playing at his lips. “On your knees, whore,” he commanded, his voice like silk over steel, the brutal words delivered in so refined a tone that a shiver of unwelcome arousal traveled over my skin, and worse, I felt myself clench behind the humiliating seal Marcus had made between my thighs.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, my mind screaming in protest even as my body yearned to obey and the sense of my mission sternly told me to do everything I could to win my evil owner’s trust. With trembling limbs, I slid to my knees on the plush carpet, my bound wrists forcing me to arch my back obscenely.

“Good girl,” Delacroix purred, stepping closer. He untied his robe, letting it fall open to reveal his impressive erection. “Now, show your master how grateful you are for his attention, and how eager you are to beg his forgiveness for your naughty little exploration. I know I should have Marcus whip you first, but you look so sweet and innocent, I can’t resist trying that pretty mouth.”

Swallowing hard, I leaned forward, parting my lips to take him into my mouth. The taste of his cock, like Marcus’ but also not, saltier maybe, made me feel lightheaded as I tried to work my tongue under the shaft, bobbing my head in hope of giving my master a pleasant friction.

“That’s it,” he groaned, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling my mouth away from his hardness. “Now lick my balls, slut. Get a good taste before I start to fuck your face properly.”

I obeyed, lowering my head to lap at Delacroix’s heavy sack, my cheeks burning with humiliation. The musky scent and flavor of him filled my nostrils as I dragged my tongue over the wrinkled skin, tasting salt and sweat. I fought to suppress a gag as he pushed his cock back into my mouth, thrusting roughly.

“Sir,” Marcus’ deep voice cut through the room, causing me to freeze. “I’m afraid I must report that this little whore decided to be quite naughty last night, after I had locked her in.”

What? He… waited to tell Delacroix?! Delacroix didn’t know?!

Panic twisted my guts as I tried to keep pleasing my master’s rigid, thrusting penis, but instantly—logically or not—I discovered a reason why Marcus must have done it to help me: he knew Delacroix would hear about it anyway, and he wanted to use the fact of my helpless naughtiness to increase the magnate’s attachment to me.

Saving my life. He’s trying to save my life.

Delacroix’s fingers tightened painfully in my hair as he kept my mouth in place for his surging cock. “Is that so?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. “Do tell, Marcus.”

“Jacques observed her on the surveillance feed, sir, and called my attention to it,” Marcus continued, his words sending icy tendrils of dread through my body. “She touched her little cunt in bed, like a bitch in heat. She even played with the plug in her ass to make herself feel sexy.”

I understood Marcus’ strategy, or I thought I did, but I still felt the desperate instinct to protest, to deny it, the way any modest young woman would. My cover, I told myself: an innocent virgin would certainly deny it, especially if she knew how severely her owner would punish her.

At any rate, I couldn’t speak around the thick cock stretching my lips. And… it was true. Marcus had made me so desperately needy after the two days of edging that I’d succumbed to temptation. My cheeks burned as I remembered how I had moved the plug in my anus, how it had reminded me of Marcus’ using me there.

How I had come, pushing my bottom out, taking the plug even deeper, as deep as I had taken my miles.

Thinking of him. My miles—the man keeping me alive. My true master and my true owner.

I had thought of Malleus as my miles, but what I had felt about Malleus didn’t seem to me to bear comparison to how I felt about Marcus.

Delacroix’s cock twitched in my mouth, swelling even larger as he evidently processed Marcus’ words and found them arousing. I braced myself for his anger, but to my surprise, he chuckled darkly.

“Such a naughty little whore,” he purred, his hips never ceasing their relentless rhythm as he fucked my face. “But, Marcus, her mouth feels so sweet, I can’t bear to stop using it just yet. I think you’re going to have to punish her while she serves me.”

I sensed him, far above me, turning his head slightly, addressing Marcus more directly—without removing his cock from between my stretched lips or slowing his punishing thrusts. “Cane her while I fuck her face. I’m sure the pain will teach her to use that clever tongue of hers even more enthusiastically.”

My eyes widened in terror, a muffled whimper escaping around Delacroix’s thick shaft. I couldn’t see Marcus, but I sensed him moving behind me, the soft whisper of his expensive suit barely audible over the wet, obscene sounds of my master using my mouth.

Marcus made no audible reply. I felt suddenly desperate to see his face. I knew, in my distantly still functional brain, that my miles was too good at his job to betray himself with a tender look.

But I wanted that softer expression—the one I had seen while he watched me in the shower—so very badly that I might have screamed for it, if Delacroix’s manhood weren’t so forcefully occupying my mouth. My heart raced, torn between fear of the impending pain and a perverse gratitude that Marcus would be the one administering it.

Delacroix’s fingers tightened in my hair, holding me in place as he increased his pace. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat with each thrust, making me gag and struggle for breath. Tears welled in my eyes as I fought to relax my throat, to take him deeper as I knew he wanted.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the air, followed by an explosion of pain across my bottom cheeks. I screamed around Delacroix’s cock, my body jerking forward instinctively. The cane had left a line of fire in its wake, and I knew my ordeal had only just begun.

---