Sold at Auction – Bound for Service Read Online Emily Tilton

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

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But I definitely had to do something, or I would never be able to tell Marcus who I really was. I needed to tell him, because that meant that after I escaped, and his mission had ended, we would see each other again and… I didn’t know—have a shot at happiness, maybe? Walking down the hall in front of him, sensing him almost touching me, I knew I would lose myself completely, or go crazy, if I didn’t do something.

That night—the fifth one, if I had counted correctly, though I had no way of knowing, here in the chateau where I had no access to any means of recording the passage of time, and there seemed no sign anywhere of a calendar—I saw Delacroix use the air-gapped computer for the first time. When Marcus led me in, clad in the black corset and stockings my owner had evidently chosen for his fucking piece that evening, Delacroix stood next to the computer, looking at the monitor. He seemed to be copying information from the screen onto his handheld, tapping the surface and glancing back and forth between the two devices.

“Ah, good evening, whore,” he said, genially, looking in our direction for a moment before returning his attention to his handheld.

I felt my cheeks redden, as they always did at the magnate’s casual degradation, and I demanded of my body—as I had done so many times before—why it couldn’t seem to get used to it. The simple answer that always came back from the dark recesses of my mind, Because you are a whore, Sophia Larkwood, only ever made my blush fiercer.

“Marcus, go ahead and tie her to the bed, would you? I’m just finishing up my mail to you with the list of attendees. Face up, if you would. I’ll fuck her face that way before I turn her over.”

I blinked, and I felt my jaw go slack as I tried to absorb all the many impulses Delacroix’s words had awakened in my brain and my body.

List of attendees.

Face up… I’ll fuck her face that way. My owner hadn’t done that before.

List of attendees.

Would he reach back, as he straddled me and drove his cock into my mouth? Would he run his fingers up and down the closed seam of my pussy the way he liked to do, as if to remind me that my virgin vagina belonged to him, and he would decide when I took his hardness there?

List of attendees.

“Yes, Monsieur,” Marcus said. “Get on the bed, Sophia. On your back with your hands over your head.”

I tried to keep an eye on Delacroix as I obeyed. I hoped as I always did that the note of resignation I heard in my miles’ voice wasn’t only a figment of my imagination—that Marcus found it as wrenching as I did that he had no choice but to position me not for his own pleasure, but for the brutal use of another, crueler man.

Delacroix had finished copying the information on the computer screen. He stood watching as Marcus secured my wrists to the headboard. He had opened his silk dressing gown to reveal the thick manhood I had already spent so much time serving, and he stroked himself with his left hand, his eyes narrowing as he approached the bed, and his bound, supine bed girl.

On the other side of the bed, Marcus stepped away to let my owner mount atop the mattress, shedding his gown to the floor as he did. The sight of Delacroix’s naked body always made my heart race: powerful, slightly stocky, covered in white-blond fur, his penis huge and jutting.

I suddenly wished Marcus had already left the room, because I felt myself begin to dampen behind the private lips my miles had closed. The idea of my owner’s selfish pleasure, of the way even when he brought me to climax he did it as a symbol of his power over me, never failed to make my pussy flow shamefully with my frustrated need.

I whimpered as Delacroix made his way, on all fours, across the meter of coverlet between us.

“Hush, you naughty little slut,” he growled. His hand reached out and slapped my face, hard. I cried out in surprise and pain, and to my horror I clenched down below my belly, my hips jerking and my bottom squirming over the covers. I wondered for a moment if I had heard Marcus make some sort of involuntary little noise, a sound of protest.

My owner swung his knee over my chest and grabbed my head. I looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes as he moved forward and brought his cock to my lips. His pale eyes gazed down into mine with terrible intensity, as if fascinated by my response to his utter physical domination.

“Open wider, whore,” he commanded dispassionately.

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