Page 15 of Sold at Auction

The collar felt heavy, a constant reminder of my place. I tried to focus on Malleus’ training, the lessons drilled into me about composure and obedience, yet the urge to reveal my identity as an Ostia columba gnawed at me. Marcus didn’t know; he couldn’t know. But the insane attraction I felt towards him was immediate and undeniable.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, forcing my chin downward. I met his piercing blue eyes for the briefest of moments before dropping them again. He led me through the foyer, the grandeur of the surroundings doing little to quell the turmoil within me.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A leering voice broke the silence, drawing my attention to two of Delacroix’s henchmen emerging from the shadows. Their eyes roamed over my body with blatant hunger, their expressions twisted with crude delight.

“She’s pretty,” one of them said, his voice almost grudging.

“She is,” the other confirmed. “Little tits, just as Monsieur prefers.”

“Monsieur is going to have a good time in that bare little cunt, putain,” the first said, addressing himself to me and making me very grateful I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Is she a virgin, Marcus?”

“Certified,” Marcus responded, his voice seeming to betray some distaste for his colleagues’ brutality.

“Let’s have a look,” the first man said. “That alright with you, Marcus?”

I wondered if I could detect a hint of resentment in the words—as if a tension existed between Marcus and these men.

“Of course,” Marcus said. “Sophia, you’re going to turn and bend over with your feet spread. Put your hands on your shins and show them where Monsieur is going to fuck you.”

With my face burning as hot as the sun and my heart pounding, I complied. I felt the air moving over my most intimate places as I exposed them to the minions’ leering eyes. The light tug from the leash, as Marcus held it above me as if he were exhibiting me at a dog show, made me bite my lip.

“Look at that tight little asshole,” one of the men sneered. I pictured him licking his lips as if savoring the thought. “Monsieur will like that. And you too, Marcus. You’ll get your fill, won’t you?”

Heat flushed my cheeks, burning with embarrassment and humiliation. I fought to maintain my composure, my hands clenching my naked ankles. The urge to cover myself, to shield my most intimate parts from their ravenous gazes, was nearly overpowering. But I kept my posture, trying to project an air of calm obedience, just as I’d been trained.

“She’s quite the prize,” the second henchman added, stepping closer so that I could see his black shoes on the floor behind me. “Bet she can’t wait to be fucked by both of you. Over and over.”

“She’ll serve her purpose,” Marcus replied coolly, his grip on the leash tightening a bit. There was a note of warning in his voice, a subtle command that silenced the henchmen’s laughter. “And she’s mine to train. Delacroix will have her when I’m done.”

I could almost feel the henchmen exchanging a look. I pictured their amusement dimming slightly under Marcus’ steely gaze. They backed off, but not without one last lingering look at my exposed body as Marcus used the leash to raise me up. My skin crawled under their scrutiny, and I bit down on my lip to keep from whimpering at the mingled shame and fear they had inspired.

“Come,” Marcus ordered, tugging the leash gently.

I followed him, each step a battle against the humiliation that threatened to overwhelm me. As we approached the grand staircase, the echoes of the henchmen’s crude remarks lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of my new reality.

“Careful on the stairs, Sophia,” Marcus warned, his voice a low, velvet murmur that sent shivers down my spine. The leash tugged at my collar, and I stumbled slightly, finding my footing on the first marble step of the grand staircase. The splendor of Delacroix’s chateau enveloped me—gilt finishes gleaming under the dim light, mirrors reflecting our journey upward.

“Your life will be simpler when you accept your role,” he continued, his tone conveying a kind of dark promise. “You have no choice but to serve Delacroix and anyone else he sees fit. If you resist in the slightest, you will be severely punished.”

The words cut through me. My training with Malleus had prepared me for submission, but the harshness of Marcus’ reminder stung deeply. The collar felt tighter around my neck, suddenly.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. At least Malleus’ training helped with that part: the automatic answers that could create a facade of compliance. My skin prickled under the weight of his gaze every time I sensed him turning around to check on me.

“Keep your head bowed, Sophia,” Marcus said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “There’s no point in hiding what you are now. You are Monsieur Delacroix’s fucking piece, and you mustn’t try to pretend otherwise.”

In the brutality of his words I thought I could discern the wish to make my life easier. Each phrase seemed calculated to help me embrace my submission, in a way that—unless it was all just wishful thinking—reflected actual care for me.

“Yes, sir,” I repeated, though the humiliation burned through me. We reached the landing, and he led me down a corridor adorned with extravagant tapestries and antique furniture.

“Here is where you’ll sleep,” Marcus announced, pushing open a heavy oak door. The room was small but luxurious, with real cloth wallpaper and a comfortable bed that contrasted starkly with the confines of my situation. “This hallway is the concubines’ quarters. Monsieur’s bedroom is around the corner. When it’s time, I’ll bring you there for your first fucking.”

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, the words hollow as they left my lips. He didn’t allow me time to dwell on it, pulling me towards another door.

“Now, to the bathroom,” he instructed, his grip firm yet guiding. The bathroom was pristine, every surface gleaming. My reflection in the mirror showed a young woman stripped bare of her former life, now only a vessel of submission.

“Relieve yourself,” he ordered, pointing to the porcelain toilet. His eyes bored into mine, demanding obedience and more. “Pee in front of me.”

“Please,” I began, my voice trembling. My bladder, which had troubled me only slightly on the way from Legeria City, suddenly felt much, much too full. But I couldn’t pee that way, with him watching. Even Malleus hadn’t made me do that.

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