Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
That relief gave way almost immediately, though; I had to tell Sven about the virus, didn’t I? Should I just blurt it out? What really was going on here, among the men—among our various masters?
Then Marmareus’ next words stole away those thoughts, too.
“Nuptae, bind these Columbae to the fucking benches,” he said, spreading his hands in a solemn gesture, his words slow and weighty.
Cassandra and Viola guided us to the benches with firm hands on our shoulders. Viola tugged at Camille’s leash, positioning her at the first bench, while Cassandra did the same with me at the second. I felt the cool touch of the leather padding against my knees as I was directed to climb onto the apparatus, the strange contours of it forcing my body into an obscenely exposed position.
“Wider,” Cassandra murmured, her hands pressing against my inner thighs, spreading my legs further apart. The position made me feel utterly vulnerable, my pussy and anus completely accessible, displayed like offerings to the men who watched from behind.
She worked with brisk efficiency, securing my leather restraints to the metal rings embedded in the bench. First my ankle cuffs, ensuring my legs remained spread. Then my thigh cuffs, pulling them slightly backward to enhance the display of my most intimate parts. Next came my wrist cuffs, fastened to rings at the sides of the bench, forcing my upper body to remain low, my face turned toward the obsidian table. Finally, my collar and belt were secured, completing my bondage.
I turned my head as much as the restraints would allow, watching as Viola performed the same procedure with Camille. My friend’s face had flushed with humiliation, her eyes widening with apprehension, but she submitted to the binding without resistance. Like me, she understood that our best chance lay in cooperation, in playing our roles perfectly until we could determine what was truly happening here.
Once they had secured us both to the benches, the Nuptae stepped back and to the sides of the hall, assuming their positions of perfect submission—knees spread, backs straight, hands resting on thighs, eyes downcast. They looked like living statues, embodiments of the feminine ideal of civilization as envisioned by the Pretorian Guard. I wondered briefly how long the Guard had trained them, to achieve such perfect posture, such unquestioning obedience.
Marmareus gestured toward the high-backed chairs behind the obsidian table. “Please, be seated,” he said to Sven and Erik, his tone courteous despite the bizarre circumstances. “We have much to discuss, and what better way to do so than while enjoying the fruits of our mutual interests?”
I watched, my heart hammering against my ribs, as Sven and Erik moved to the table. They took seats on either side of Marmareus, their movements fluid and controlled, betraying no hint of discomfort or uncertainty. The blood-colored robes they wore seemed to emphasize rather than conceal their powerful physiques, the fabric draping over broad shoulders, hinting at the muscular forms beneath.
The Nymphobi—Lucius and the other man, whose name I hadn’t heard—remained standing, positioned behind Camille and me. I could feel their presence like a physical weight, their eyes on my bound, naked form, assessing, anticipating. The frightening, shameful, and yet exciting suspicion that one or both of them would soon use me, possess me, penetrate me, sent a terribly confusing mixture of signals coursing through my nerves and my veins.
“The Pretorian Guard has always made its most solemn agreements through the sharing of the tamed bodies of beautiful young initiates,” Marmareus said, his voice carrying easily across the vast chamber. “I am happy to do so today with an organization that seems to share our values.”
The casual confidence in his tone made me shiver. I was acutely aware of my position—bound to the bench, my backside raised, my thighs spread wide, every secret of my body revealed to the men seated at the obsidian table. I could feel the welts from Sven’s punishment across my skin and I tried to take the pain as a token.
He reclaimed me. I belong to my Viking Herra.
“Nuptae,” Marmareus said, his voice easy, as if he were asking for the time, “prepare the Columbae for taming.”
The other girls’ soft footsteps padded around us as Cassandra and Viola rose from their positions and moved behind Camille and me. My breath caught in my throat as I felt Cassandra’s hands on my hips, her touch light, but confident. She smoothed her palms over the curve of my bottom, tracing the welts left by the mastix with delicate fingertips.
“Beautiful,” she murmured, her voice so low that only I could hear. “Your master marks you well.”
Her hands continued their exploration, moving down to the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs, then upward again to the juncture between them. I bit my lip as her fingers found my pussy lips, parting them gently but firmly, exposing my most intimate flesh to the air of the chamber.