The sound of the lock woke me. The door to the little bedroom swung open with a suddenness that sent my heart racing. Marcus emerged from the shadows, his presence as commanding as ever, the leash dangling ominously from his long fingers.
The sight of it rekindled a whirlwind of emotions within me from the previous day—fear, resolve… and an undeniable spark of arousal. The surge of conflicting thoughts about him and my mission threatened to get the better of the self-calming training Malleus had bestowed.
“Get up,” Marcus ordered, his voice deep and authoritative in the silence of the room. “Stand in front of me for inspection.”
I fought the urge to cover myself as I pushed back the thin sheets and rose from my bed, my naked body exposed to his penetrating gaze. The collar around my neck felt heavier today, an even more present reminder of my status. I took hesitant steps forward until I stood directly before him, trembling under the weight of his scrutiny.
“Delacroix likes to have his fucking pieces inspected regularly,” Marcus explained, his tone devoid of emotion. “Turn around.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I cursed my body’s traitorous response. I complied, pivoting slowly on the balls of my feet until my back faced him. The cool air of the room brushed against my bare skin, heightening my awareness of every inch of my exposed flesh. I felt Marcus’ eyes roving over me, their intensity palpable even without seeing them.
“Go back to your bed and bend over it,” he commanded.
My throat tightened, a mixture of shame and anticipation coursing through my nervous system. My muscles tensed, almost quivering, but I did as he instructed, bending over the edge of the bed with my arms along my sides. The position made me acutely aware of my vulnerability, my most intimate areas on nearly full display.
The memory of Malleus’ degrading treatments flashed through my mind, and I thought angrily that I should have gotten used to such things. To my distress, though, Marcus’ presence somehow added a new layer of shame to my mind’s and my body’s responses—and an unwelcome new level of complexity to my feelings.
“Spread your feet,” he ordered, each word a hammer blow to the inner calm I knew I must strive somehow to keep, despite the matter-of-fact tone Marcus used.
I widened my stance, feeling the strain in my thighs. The humiliation burned hotter inside me, yet it seemed laced with a sexual thrill I couldn’t ignore. The humiliation gnawed at me, yet it also stoked an insidious fire deep within. I knew he was staring at my exposed pussy, and the thought made my heart pound harder.
“Reach back and spread your bottom cheeks,” he instructed in the same dispassionate voice.
My hands trembled as they moved to comply, fingers splaying across my skin. The vulnerability of the position made my breathing ragged. With Malleus, again, I told myself, I had endured similar degradations, but Marcus’ gaze felt different—more intense, more scrutinizing. It seemed as if he were seeing not just my body, but into the very core of my conflicted desires.
“Good little slut,” he murmured, stepping closer. I could sense his presence, even without turning my head. My tummy flipped, the anticipation of what was to come tightening every muscle in my body.
Then I felt his hands between my legs, parting my pussy lips with an almost clinical precision. “Sellers will sometimes try to get away with labeling a girl a virgin when she just looks like one and blushes like one.”
I whimpered as he opened me. The air moved where it should never move. I did everything I could to control my breathing, but then, very glad that Marcus couldn’t see my face, I remembered one of Malleus’ most emphatic warnings: You must appear innocent.
Should I control my breathing? Should I pretend not to control my breathing?
I am innocent… how can I pretend to be innocent?
As if to confirm my problem, Marcus spoke again. I felt his warm breath down there, and it made me whimper again.
“You’re the real thing, though, slut.”
The whimper… It sounded innocent, didn’t it?
Because it was innocent. I felt my breath speeding up as my mind teetered on the edge of a sort of endless loop.
Suddenly Malleus’ soothing voice echoed in my mind, cutting through the fog. Calm yourself.
“Monsieur will be pleased,” Marcus said, letting my inner lips close and shifting his right hand to hold my whole pussy, his thumb between my bottom-cheeks. “You’ve got a sweet little cunt, and you get wet when a man handles you the right way.”
The cruel compliment filled me with a strange mixture of pride and dread. The sensation of his fingers against my intimate flesh sent shivers up my spine.
Marcus continued, his voice still even, almost casual, despite the coarseness of the words. “I can feel your cunt hair coming back, though. You’ll have to be waxed again before your first night with Monsieur Delacroix.”
A gasp escaped my lips as his thumb pressed against my anus, penetrating with deliberate force. The intrusion was sharp, making me cry out, my body instinctively clenching around him.
“Good. Very tight here. I’ll widen you a little, though, so Monsieur doesn’t have too much trouble getting his cock into you,” Marcus stated, his tone dismayingly satisfied.
The pain mingled with an unexpected wave of arousal, leaving me breathless. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him who I truly was, but the mission—the necessity of maintaining both of our covers—kept me silent. Instead, I focused on the sensations flooding my body, trying to reconcile the shame and need that warred within me with the calm I had found a moment before.
His probing hand left me. I wondered for a moment what degradation would come next, but only a second or two later, I felt a tug on my collar and heard the snap of the leash’s clip as Marcus reattached it.
“Stand up,” he ordered, accompanying the words with a peremptory tug at my neck.
I obeyed, shakily rising to my feet, my body still trembling from the invasive inspection.
“Follow me,” Marcus instructed, turning towards the door and enforcing his command with another tug on my leash.
Naked and exposed, I followed him down the cold, echoing halls of the chateau. The bathroom came first, under Marcus’ watchful eyes once again. After that, he led me to a door further down the corridor than I had yet traveled.
“This is the training room,” Marcus said, turning to me. He opened the door to reveal a space that struck me as distressingly familiar, because it so closely resembled the Hall of Sexual Training in the mithraeum. I saw benches fitted with restraints, racks of disciplinary implements, mirrored walls, and even a throne-like armchair that dominated the room. My mind went back instantly to Malleus brutally teaching me how to provide oral pleasure to a man’s rigid penis, and the shattering climax he’d brought me to, in his lap.
“Sit,” he commanded, pointing to the chair.
I looked at him, feeling my brow grow troubled. It literally hadn’t occurred to me that I could sit in the chair so clearly reserved for a dominant man. Marcus lowered his chin, his eyebrows rising slightly as if to indicate how thoroughly he intended to evaluate my conduct.
Innocent, I told myself. An innocent young woman who didn’t fully understand her submissive nature—she wouldn’t hesitate, would she? Briseis the fuck toy who can remain silent and yet observe everything.
I approached the chair, with Marcus trailing slightly behind me. I turned and sat, sinking into the leather seat a little, the cool material pressing against my bare skin. I looked up at him, my nervousness palpable as he reached over my shoulder to tie the leash behind me, to a post on the back of the chair.
“Delacroix likes to deflower a girl who has been naughty,” Marcus announced as he stepped back a meter or so, his eyes boring into mine. “You must learn to masturbate on command.”
I swallowed hard. Innocent.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking in a way that sounded convincing to me. “I can’t…”
“Spread your legs over the arms of the chair and play with your cunt while I watch,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With a shaky resolve, I hooked my right knee over the right arm of the chair, my heart pounding so loudly, I feared he might hear it. But as my fingers moved towards my aching pussy, I froze, the conflicting thoughts and emotions overwhelming me. The need to maintain my cover, the fear of Delacroix, and my growing attraction to Marcus created a storm inside me that I couldn’t navigate.
“Do it, Sophia, or face the consequences,” Marcus warned, his voice hardening.
“Marcus, please,” I pleaded, tears pricking at my eyes. Only when his name had escaped my lips did I realize that I had addressed him that way—the way I would a colleague, a fellow spy.
The distress in my eyes as I looked at him was completely genuine. His anger rose instantly and very visibly, his eyes narrowing as he regarded me from above.
“Sir,” he thundered. “Don’t you dare call me by my first name.”
The words had a force that seemed to me, for an instant, disproportionate. Did Marcus feel the need to overcompensate? Had he felt himself liking my sudden, stupid intimacy?
“Sir,” I said, my voice shaking. “I… I can’t.”
“Enough,” he snapped, untethering the leash from the post. “Stand up.”
He pulled on the leash roughly to make me obey. I cried out in alarm, but Marcus clearly knew his business: the jolt created fear, and submission, without really hurting me.
He’s a miles, just like Malleus, I remembered, biting my lip at the conflict the thought brought to my mind and my body.
He sat in the chair, pulling me to his right, turning me to face the side. I knew precisely what would happen, and part of me welcomed it: I felt the calm Malleus had taught me to find might come more easily afterward.
Marcus moved so swiftly and skillfully that I didn’t even have the chance to betray my familiarity with bare-bottomed discipline. His grip on the leash tightened again, and he guided me into position over his left knee with practiced ease.
With methodical precision, Marcus shifted the leash to his left hand, using his right to secure my legs under his thigh, locking me firmly in place.
“Good girl,” he murmured almost tenderly, but I knew better than to mistake his tone for leniency. “Reach down and take hold of the legs of the chair. Keep your hands there.”
I bit my lip as I obeyed, swallowing hard at the feel of the stout, unyielding wood.
The first spank landed with a sudden, sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain through my body. I gasped, the sensation a too-familiar, still bewildering mix of agony and arousal. Another strike followed, deliberate and firm, eliciting a cry from my lips.
He spanked me hard and fast, alternating between my left and right cheeks, moving his hand up and down to ensure that my entire backside glowed hot and all the need vanished from my pussy.
My cries and sobs echoed through the big room as the punishment seemed to go on and on. The leather of the chair creaked beneath him as I couldn’t help struggling despite his absolute control over my body, and my little movements made him shift his weight slightly.
I watched my tears form a little pool beneath my face. The scent of leather filled my nostrils, mixed with a hint I knew, with a surge of heat in my face, as my own need—a potent mixture that only added to my confusion and distress.
I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back the desperate moans that threatened to slip past my lips. Every strike sent a searing wave of pain through my lower back and down my thighs. I held on to the chair’s legs with a white-knuckled grip.
He kept spanking, and the pain became so much that I started to scream, and to struggle more fiercely, out of sheer reflex. I let go of the chair and threw my right hand back in a desperate attempt to cover my backside.
Marcus stopped the punishment for a moment so he could grab my hand and pin it behind my back.
“There we go,” he said, his satisfaction audible. “That’s the first step. Now we keep going until you’re really ready to obey me and show me how naughty you really are.”
[divider]
Marcus
I kept spanking Sophia. The sharp, stinging slaps of my hand against her bare bottom echoed through the training room, each strike more forceful than the last. Her cries of pain had lost any hint of pleasure, morphing into pure, raw anguish that reverberated in the mirrored salon. Her body trembled over my knee, each convulsion a testament to the torment she endured.
My Guard training had prepared me for this moment. I trusted in the ideas and methods drilled into me—above all an unwavering belief in the power of dominance to awaken submission. Delacroix needed Sophia thoroughly broken in; her role as his sexual servant demanded no less. My confidence in taking her this far didn’t represent mere arrogance; it sprang from true necessity. Each punishing swat would carve out space within her, making room for the submissive sexuality she would need if she were to find some degree of fulfillment in her servitude.
“Sir,” she whimpered, her voice barely more than a breathless plea.
“Quiet,” I commanded, tightening my grip on her wrist, under the looped leather of her leash’s end. My strikes continued, relentless, until I saw the fiery red glow spread across her bottom. The heat radiated from her skin, palpable against my palm. Her resistance waned with each blow, and finally, she went limp over my knee, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The spanking stopped, but I watched with satisfaction as her arousal surged immediately and unmistakably, her rising need evident in the way her hips subtly pressed against my thigh.
“Breathe deeply now, Sophia,” I instructed, mixing both command and a hint of encouragement in my tone. Her compliance came swiftly, though her breaths remained labored, each inhale trembling with residual pain and burgeoning desire.
Her body seemed like a paradox of soreness and readiness. I could practically feel her arousal in my own nervous system, a magnetic pull that threatened to disrupt my focus. The sight of her nakedness over my knee, accentuated by the collar around her neck, was almost too much. My cock strained against my trousers, an iron bar of need that I ruthlessly suppressed. Falling for her, allowing myself to succumb to this attraction, would only complicate my mission.
“Good girl,” I whispered, my voice softening involuntarily. The words slipped out before I could stop them, a betrayal of the steely resolve I needed to maintain.
“Please,” she murmured, her tone laden with confusion and longing. She didn’t understand the depths of her own desire, not yet.
I delivered the final swats, each one deliberate, exacting. Her cries turned into sobs, her body completely pliant under my control. When I finally stopped, her bottom glowed a deep crimson, the heat a clear indicator of the thorough punishment she’d received.
Knowing fully how dangerous it would be to my resolve, I began to caress Sophia’s thoroughly spanked bottom, my hand moving in slow, deliberate circles over the heated, crimson skin. Her body shivered at my touch, a delicate tremor that spoke of the tumultuous emotions warring within her.
Arousing her this way, in her position over my knee—degrading, but also cared for—represented the most effective way to awaken her fully. If the girl were to find pleasure in her owner’s bed, I had to coax her submissive sexuality to the surface, where it could flourish under Monsieur’s command. Every stroke of my fingers not only soothed the sting of her punishment but also banked the smoldering embers of her arousal.
“You’re doing well, Sophia,” I murmured, my voice low and controlled. “Feel the heat, embrace it.”
The danger in this moment was palpable. Every fiber of my being cried out against the helpless attraction I felt for her. My cock throbbed persistently against my thigh, a steely hardness that threatened to betray my carefully maintained façade. I tightened my grip on her leash, forcing myself to remember that falling for her would complicate everything—jeopardize my mission and potentially cost countless lives.
I forced my thoughts back to the task at hand. As much as I wanted to lose myself in the sensation of Sophia’s soft curves beneath my touch, I had to remain vigilant, maintain control.
Remember your training, I told myself, hearing in my head how I had echoed the words of pater Robert Bennett from our final briefing before I went into the field. The memory of that day came rushing back, unbidden—a stark reminder of the stakes involved.
“Marcus,” Bennett said, his eyes hard and unyielding, “you need to be prepared for deep cover. Two years, at least. Dead drops every six months. Minimal contact with HQ. Your position with Delacroix is paramount. When the time comes, you must be ready to step in and foil the Groupe Synergistique’s plans, whatever they are.”
I nodded. My pater continued, lowering his chin and his voice at once as he imparted startling new information I hadn’t previously received.
“Latest intelligence says they’re going to try to take over the entire Western European power grid.”
My eyebrows shot up, but, “Understood, Pater,” I replied like a loyal miles, my mind already whirring with the complexities of the mission ahead.
“Prioritize your position,” Bennett reiterated. “Everything else is secondary. I hardly need to add, do not let personal feelings cloud your judgment. Remember your training.”
As I caressed Sophia’s tender flesh, my pater’s words sounded even more ominous in my mind than they had at the time, a stark reminder of the razor’s edge upon which I balanced. The heat radiating from the girl’s gorgeous little bottom felt like a siren’s call, luring me towards dangerous waters. I had to stay focused, maintain my resolve.
Yet, I had to make sure I trained this fucking piece properly, as much as it might cost me. Both my mission and Sophia’s life, potentially, depended on it. Delacroix had had previous concubines killed, I knew, for resisting his commands. More frequently, he had had them whipped so hard and long that they ended up traumatized.
“Spread your legs wider,” I instructed, relaxing my right leg’s hold over the backs of Sophia’s knees, my tone leaving no room for hesitation. “Show me you can obey.”
Sophia complied with a desperate little sob, her movements tentative yet undeniably aroused—and arousing, as I saw her lovely little pussy peep out from between her thighs, the lips clearly engorged with her need. The slickness between her thighs was unmistakable, a testament to the potent mix of pain, embarrassment, and desire swirling within her. As she positioned herself, I felt the pull of her allure stronger than ever, threatening to consume my every thought.
Stay focused, I reminded myself again. Your mission is too important.
“You look ready to masturbate, slut,” I said, keeping my voice neutral and even cold. “Are you ready?”
Sophia let out an adorable little whine, and then she whispered, “Yes, sir.”
I let go of her delicate wrist and put my left hand, with the leash’s handle still in it, beneath her chest. I took a frank, firm hold of her delicious little right breast. My right hand seized her pussy and bottom with a commanding, possessive grip. Sophia cried out, her body tensing hard against me as I raised her from my knee.
Her gorgeous nakedness was again laid bare before me as she stood, each curve of her meticulously sculpted body a testament to the purchasing power of a magnate at the secret auction. The collar around her neck, stark against her pale skin, served as a breathtaking reminder of her purpose as Delacroix’ innocent new fucking piece.
I stood myself and used the leash to guide Sophia slowly back to the chair, making sure every little step was deliberate and measured. The sight of her so vulnerable, so exquisitely formed, made my cock jump against my thigh, straining against the fabric of my trousers. Her auburn hair fell in disheveled waves around her face, her green eyes wide and filled with a mix of emotions that I could read as clearly as if they were my own.
“Sit,” I commanded, my voice a low growl that left no room for disobedience.
She complied, her legs trembling as she lowered herself into the chair. I could see how sensitive I had rendered her body with the hard spanking: each movement elicited a wince of pain that I watched quickly morph into a shiver of arousal.
I observed her closely, noting how her thighs quivered, betraying her inner turmoil. The slickness between her legs glistened, and I could tell just from the way she moved that the obviousness of her need generated a potent mix of embarrassment and desire in her mind and her body. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, mortification mingling with the undeniable evidence of her arousal.
“Put your legs over the arms of the chair,” I instructed, my tone brooking no argument. “Bring yourself to orgasm.”
Sophia hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting to mine, searching for any sign of leniency. Finding none, she slowly obeyed, her movements both tentative and tantalizing. As she positioned herself, her breath came in ragged gasps, the anticipation and humiliation heightening her arousal.
“Now,” I said, my voice a whip crack in the stillness of the room.
Her fingers moved to her slick folds. The mere sight of her touching her sweet virgin pussy, her naughtiness so exposed, so available, sending a jolt of desire through me. I could see the struggle in her eyes, the battle between her innocence and her natural submissiveness. Each stroke of her fingers, each gasp of pleasure, brought her closer to the edge, and I stood there, watching, knowing that this was just the beginning of her awakening.
“Don’t stop,” I murmured, my voice thick with restraint as I fought to maintain my composure. “Show me how much you want it. Show me how naughty a little slut you are.”
[divider]
Sophia
My splayed legs felt like jelly. I couldn’t stop looking at them there, over the arms of the chair. Every time I saw my spread knees and remembered how I had, at Marcus’ command, put them there, opening my pussy and my punished bottom so wide, I felt a wild surge of shame, and a helpless pulse of need there where my fingers worked frantically to bring release. When I looked up into Marcus’ much-too-handsome face and saw that he had fixed his attention on my pussy, I sobbed and looked down at my naughtiness. My virgin sheath clenched so hard at what I saw that my hips lifted lewdly from the leather seat, thrusting upward as if to beg for a man’s hardness inside me.
Every breath I took seemed to stoke the fire within me, an inferno ignited by the man who stood so calmly before me, holding my leash as though it were the simplest thing in the world to control another human being. Marcus’ presence felt overwhelming. His tall, muscular frame loomed over me, encased in a dark suit that only accentuated the power he wielded over me. His blue eyes, piercing and cold, watched me with an intensity that made my heart race even faster.
“That’s it, Sophia,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress that settled over my skin like a velvet shroud. “Keep going, you naughty little slut. Show me how you like it.”
My fingers moved faster, driven by the dominance in his gaze. The slick heat of my pussy clung to every touch, my wetness betraying the depth of my arousal much too accurately. I circled my clit with trembling fingers, each brush sending jolts of pleasure through my body. The scent of my need filled the air, mingling with the rich, masculine smell of Marcus himself.
“Look at you,” he continued, his tone both mocking and admiring. “So eager to please, so desperate to obey.”
A whimper escaped my lips as I slid a finger shallowly into my virgin pussy, feeling the tightness that had never known a man’s touch. The memory of Marcus’ thumb invading my anus during his inspection flashed through my mind, and I helplessly put my free hand under and around, teasing the sensitive skin around my punished bottom.
“That’s it, Sophia,” Marcus said. “Think about your little hole. Think about what Monsieur will do there.”
His words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through me, and I moaned loudly as my fingers delved deeper, seeking the release that danced just out of reach. The thought of my master taking me, of finally surrendering completely to a man I had never seen, was almost too much to bear. My body trembled with the force of my need, my movements growing frenzied as I chased the climax that hovered tantalizingly close.
“Faster, Sophia,” Marcus commanded, winding more of the leash onto his hand so that it tugged at my collar a little. “I want to see you come.”
My fingers obeyed without hesitation, moving at a feverish pace that left me breathless. I could feel the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within me, ready to snap at any moment. My punished bottom throbbed with every touch, amplifying the sensations that coursed through me. I touched my tiny flower, pushed where Marcus’ thumb had pushed.
“No,” I whispered, to myself, shaking my head. “No, please… please, don’t…”
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at my own body, because I was being so terribly naughty. I cried out as I pushed the tip of my middle finger into the forbidden opening.
With a final, desperate press against my clit, the ecstasy within me exploded, and I screamed as my orgasm tore through me. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me shaking and spent in the chair, the fingers of my right hand still moving lasciviously in my pussy as the even naughtier finger on my other hand probed more gently in my anus.
I barely had time to catch my breath before Marcus gave a sharp tug on the leash, pulling me to my feet. My legs wobbled beneath me, still weak from the intensity of my release. He turned me around and bent me over the chair, positioning me with practiced ease, his big right hand pressing firmly on my back as his left maintained the tension in the leash. The leather, warm from my lewd display, pressed against my elbows, but it wasn’t as warm as the fire that still coursed through my veins.
“Push your ass out,” he ordered, enforcing the command with his hands to make me arch my back. I could do nothing but comply, my body trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
I cried out as he ran something firm and cool between my pussy lips, the sensation both startling and arousing. He moved it shallowly in and out of my still-virgin vagina, pressing it to the place where it made me gasp.
“You’re so wet that I don’t need lube,” Marcus told me with mocking satisfaction.
Then I cried out as he moved the thing and parted my bottom cheeks with it, pushing against the place where my finger had so naughtily traveled, where he had so dominantly put his thumb when inspecting me in my bedroom. My cry turned into a long moan of humiliation and helpless pleasure that seemed to fill the room as Marcus inserted the thing into my anus. It stretched me, filled me too full with a terrible mix of discomfort and pleasure.
“Stay there,” Marcus said. I felt him tying the leash to the back of the chair again, as if I might try to escape. A new wave of shame filled my face with heat.
I heard him move across the room, but I couldn’t see where he had gone. The plug in my bottom felt so thick. I felt myself starting to try to push it out. Then Marcus had come back, a sort of jingling sound accompanying his footsteps on the parquet floor. I whimpered as he pressed on the base of the awful thing, re-securing it.
Then I felt him start to put something around my waist. Startled, I began to rise, but Marcus put his left hand on my back and delivered a sharp spank with his right so that I cried out.
“Down,” he said, sharply and simply.
I obeyed. Briseis. Innocent. Obedient.
He buckled the belt around my waist—so much like the one I had worn at the mithraeum that I felt disoriented. I heard the unmistakable click of a little lock, securing the buckle. The urge to tell him, to reveal myself so that he would help me figure out how to complete my mission and his, rose in me. I pushed it down as I felt Marcus putting more straps on me, unfamiliar ones: three of them, that attached the horrid plug to the belt. Each of them had a little lock as well.
I swallowed hard, my eyes widening, as I understood.
“This harness will keep your plug in, Sophia,” Marcus told me. “You’ll wear it at all times, except when I take it out so you can use the bathroom. The locks are electronic. Only Monsieur or I can take the harness off. You’ll wear it until I decide your anus is ready for your master. As you can tell, Monsieur will be able to use your mouth and your cunt as he pleases, even if he wants to leave your plug in while he fucks you.”
To my dismay, the sensation of the plug inside me had re-intensified my arousal. As he stood me up again, I felt how the harness claimed me. The discomfort itself seemed to make me terribly needy despite the orgasm Marcus had just allowed me. I had to clench my fists at my side, suddenly, to help me resist the urge to touch myself, if only to soothe my arousal a little.
I heard Marcus’ phone ring in his pocket. He answered it, his voice calm and controlled.
“Monsieur?… Yes, right away. I just put her in a training harness to widen her asshole… Oh, definitely. She looks quite lovely. I’ll bring her to your study.”