Page 14 of Sold at Auction

“Marcus will be responsible for your discipline,” Malleus said, his voice low and commanding. “He will train you as Delacroix’s new concubine. His fuck toy. Delacroix will take your virginities.”

His thumb began to circle my clit with agonizing slowness, each touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through my body. I fought to keep my breathing steady, but it came out in ragged gasps.

“You must remain focused and obedient,” he continued, his other hand moving to stroke himself. “Marcus will not be lenient. Delacroix enjoys watching his concubines punished.”

I nodded, my mind a whirlwind of fear and anticipation. The thought of Marcus—this unseen, unknown figure—training me, disciplining me, filled me with a strange mix of dread and longing. What kind of man was he? How would he handle my disobedience?

“Remember, columba, you belong to the Guard now,” Malleus murmured, his fingers delving deeper into my virgin pussy, teasing me mercilessly. “Your loyalty is not just expected; it is required.”

“Yes, miles,” I managed to whisper, my words barely audible in my head over the thudding of my heart.

“Think about the Iliad,” he said, to my surprise.

I felt a shudder go through my body at the unexpected command. I blinked up at Malleus.

“I would be sure you’d read it even if our surveillance didn’t confirm the fact.”

“What, miles?” I asked, my voice thick with the soothing delight his skillful fingers roused between my thighs. “I mean… what about the… I mean…”

I tried not to make it a question, because I knew every question besides How may I serve? was useless in the eyes of the Pretorian Guard, when it came from a columba. I failed, because Malleus’ hand knew its work too well.

“You must be Briseis, Achilles’ prize. You must move the story while appearing to be no more than a bed girl. Think of what Briseis must have seen—what she might have told Agamemnon about Achilles, or vice versa, after Achilles got her back.”

I shuddered, my hips jerking as Malleus emphasized his heady words with earthy movements of his strong fingers. Briseis… I must… I thought I understood, and the idea filled me with pride, and fear. Malleus was telling me how much I could do, while appearing only to submit. How much I could learn without any need to ask useless questions.

“Yes, miles,” I whispered finally.

“Good,” he said, his voice a growl of satisfaction. His fingers moved faster, more insistently, driving me towards the precipice of ecstasy. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire, my arousal building to an unbearable peak.

“Now imagine miles Marcus,” Malleus commanded. “Picture him caning you for touching yourself without permission. Imagine his dominance over you.”

The image seared itself into my mind—Marcus, his stern eyes watching me, his strong hands punishing me. The thought alone was enough to push me over the edge. My body convulsed, a scream ripping from my throat as the orgasm tore through me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

As the waves of my climax subsided, a new sensation took hold—a desperate, crazy yearning for the real training that awaited me. The unknown future loomed large, fraught with danger and desire.

Malleus’ fingers finally stilled, his grip tightening once more as he pulled me closer. “Bene, columba,” he murmured in my ear.

CHAPTER 6

Forty-eight hours later

Sophia

After fifteen minutes of twilit country roads, beautiful and somehow quintessentially European, Marcus spoke for the first time since he had led me from my cage at the secret auction.

“There’s Monsieur Delacroix’s chateau,” he told me. His tone seemed so ominous that he might as well have said, There’s the place where your new owner will brutally deflower you, at a time of his choosing.

The palatial mansion loomed ahead, so large that it almost seemed a mirage of opulence against the darkening sky. Marcus held the leather leash easily in his hand. Its mere presence there, linking my body to his, seemed enough of a reminder of my bondage and my mission.

Most of the limo ride from the secret auction had been suffocating in its silence, the tension between us palpable. I could hear each breath he took, feel every shift of his powerful frame beside me. My own breaths came shallow and quick, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm in my chest.

As we stepped out onto the gravel drive, I bit my lip at the way the little stones dug into my bare feet. The flagstones of the entry began only a meter or so later, though, and I tried to take some comfort in their cool, smooth surface when I reached it, trailing behind Marcus as he led me with the help of the degrading leash.

Up three steps from the portico, the grand foyer welcomed us with an overwhelming display of gilt finishes, mirrors reflecting our forms, and paintings that seemed to watch us with knowing eyes. Each step I took on the marble floor sent a jolt of awareness through my bare feet, heightening the sense of exposure that coursed through my nervous system.

I yearned to lose my self-consciousness as I had in the mithraeum, but I couldn’t forget I was naked but for the collar around my neck. Here in the luxurious castle of my new owner, the collar’s symbolism, of my submission and of the control Marcus wielded on behalf of Delacroix over my nude body, refused to let me push it away.

“Keep your head bowed,” Marcus commanded, turning back to me for a moment, “and your eyes down.” His voice was a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.

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