Sold at Auction – Bound for Service Read Online Emily Tilton

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic Tags Authors: Emily Tilton Advertisement

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I had tried my cybernetics on the locks of the harness, but the Guard had clearly designed them for door locks, and I had had no luck. My anus would remain full, open, in training, for as long as Marcus thought necessary. Trying to make my way silently through the chateau, I found it terribly difficult to think of anything but what felt like the central facts of my new life: I was naked, except for a harness meant to subjugate me utterly.

Malleus had taught me well, though. I thanked him, mentally, as a reflexive smile tugged at the side of my mouth. All the physical training had often struck me as beside the point, back in the mithraeum—why did an agent whose only purpose was to be fucked until she could steal the data need to be able to do thirty burpees?

I hadn’t, of course, ventured to ask him, because he would merely have called the question useless. Malleus had said, over and over, though, that the muscular coordination involved would serve me well.

You were right, miles, I thought as I reached the upstairs landing.

I stopped there for a long time, invisible in a corner I had noted earlier that day as Marcus had taken me to Delacroix’s study. Below me, two guards made rounds on the ground floor, passing from East Wing to West Wing and back every ten minutes or so. I could see them as they moved through the foyer. Their faces were unfamiliar, which meant that I’d now seen six different henchmen. My pulse quickened a little at the realization that Marcus must have at least six guards on his security team. As far as I could tell, my fate involved being shared with all of them.

More importantly, the voice of Malleus said in my mind, those are at least six armed men you may have to deal with.

Gathering my courage, I began my descent down the grand staircase. Each marble step required careful navigation, the butt plug an ever-present torment threatening to break my concentration. I kept my steps light and deliberate, my senses hyper-aware of every sound and shadow. The opulent surroundings, the walls with their gilt molding and erotic art, seemed to mock my clandestine mission, as if the heroes and gods regarded me as no more than another nymph in need of a sound whipping and a hard fucking.

At last, I reached Delacroix’s study, the door yielding to my tentative push. Instantly I moved my wrist in the pattern that activated my cybernetics, and I heard the tone indicating success. If Dr. Demetriou could be believed, the camera spoofing would reach back to cover even my entrance into the study.

The room exuded power and decadence just as it had that morning, the polished surfaces reflecting the moonlight seeping through the heavy drapes. I moved with methodical precision, my fingers tracing over the antique desk, the bookshelves, the hidden compartments I knew had to exist. The room had struck me that morning as entirely without technology other than the glint of the camera lens in the crown molding, but I had felt certain that as my hands moved across the desk’s polished surface, I would hear another tone—the one that meant I’d found a computer processor with a storage device attached.

I had hardly dared hope that I might get yet another tone, as well: the special beep that would mean I’d found the correct storage device. That, Malleus had told me, would take a few seconds, as the processor installed at the base of my skull matched certain tell-tale pieces of data. And, he had said, it might not come at all, if Delacroix had changed certain things about his data strategy: when I found a storage device of any kind, I was to initiate the download whether or not I’d verified that it held the data the Guard needed.

But I heard nothing at all.

Come on… where are you? I demanded silently of the thing, the crucial air-gapped computer. My frustration mounted as my search yielded nothing but dust and disappointment. Every second spent here increased the risk of discovery, yet I felt desperate not to leave with nothing gained but the idea that maybe the obvious place to put my objective didn’t hold it after all.

Despite the discomfort gnawing at my resolve, I pressed on, examining every inch of the study with meticulous care. My eyes darted across the room, scanning for any sign of the thing. The urgency of my mission thrummed through my veins, pushing me to dig deeper, search harder.

Think, Sophia, I urged myself, recalling the lessons drilled into me by Malleus. Stay calm, stay focused. Observe.

But no matter how thoroughly I combed through the study, trying to see everything, the computer remained hidden, a phantom just out of reach. Desperation clawed at my insides, mingling with the physical discomfort to send me into a reason-destroying cycle of agony and renewed determination.

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