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)
The rational part of my mind screamed in protest at this fresh violation, this new humiliation. But my treacherous body responded differently. I felt wetness gathering between my legs, felt my inner walls clench with shameful anticipation. The combination of Sven’s presence, the lingering effects of his punishment, and the ritualistic atmosphere of the Mithraeum had created a confused tangle of arousal and submission that I couldn’t seem to pick apart.
Cassandra made a soft sound of approval as her fingers found evidence of my unwilling arousal. “That’s it, Columba,” she murmured. “You will have something hard in here very soon.”
Before I could process her words, I felt something warm and wet against my exposed pussy. Cassandra’s tongue, I realized with a shock that sent electricity racing up my spine. She was going down on me, her mouth covering my most intimate parts with devastating precision.
I gasped, my hips jerking involuntarily against the bench. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Viola was doing the same to Camille, whose face had flushed a deep crimson, her eyes wide with shock and unwilling pleasure. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn’t have to see, as the same blush spread across my own cheeks.
Cassandra’s tongue moved with expert skill, circling my clit before rising to tease at the entrance to my warm sheath. She seemed to know exactly how to touch me, how to build my arousal without pushing me over the edge.
“As you can see,” I heard Leo Marmareus say, “our Nuptae are very well trained—just as it seems your own girls are, in their way.”
CHAPTER 46
Sven
I felt my cock harden along my thigh as I watched the Nuptae with their faces buried in Mary’s and Camille’s backsides. The sight was both arousing and illuminating. These girls—Cassandra and Viola—moved with the precision of those who had received extensive training in the arts of pleasure, as well as in absolute obedience. Their tongues and fingers worked in concert, building the arousal of our völvas with methodical, and extremely moving, expertise.
Seated at the obsidian table between Erik and me, Matthew Apollis—or Leo Marmareus, as he seemed to be called within these ancient walls—observed the proceedings with the calm detachment of a man accustomed to such displays. His hands rested lightly on the polished surface before him, his posture relaxed yet dignified beneath the ceremonial red robe.
I studied him covertly, reassessing everything the Sons of Odin thought we knew about the Pretorian Guard. For decades, we had believed them to be merely the enforcers of Selecta’s corporate dominance—well-trained dogs serving corrupt masters, with the pretense of civilization-building merely an aggravating cover. But this place, this Mithraeum with its ancient rituals and carefully preserved traditions, suggested something far more complex. The Guard appeared to be an autonomous entity with its own agenda, its own philosophy, its own vision of how civilization should function.
My gaze drifted to Mary, bound and displayed on the fucking bench. Her eyes were closed, her face a study in conflicted pleasure as the Nupta named Cassandra continued her intimate ministrations. The welts I had placed across my lovely girl’s pale back stood out in stark relief against her flesh, a reminder of my reclamation of her—especially in the way they crisscrossed earlier marks, undoubtedly given by Matthew while Erik and I had crossed the Atlantic to an unexpectedly complicated reception. The sight made my chest tighten with an emotion I had rarely permitted myself to feel before meeting her: love. Profound, consuming, transformative love.
I had fallen for Mary O’Toole completely. Not just for her body, though gods knew I craved it with a hunger that never diminished. Not just for her submission, though watching her yield to my dominance brought me a satisfaction deeper than any I had known. No, I had fallen for the totality of her—her fierce intelligence, her quiet courage, her capacity for growth, and most of all, the ancient power that flowed through her veins, connecting her to Yggdrasil and the mysteries of the völur.
As if sensing my thoughts, Mary’s eyes fluttered open. A soft moan escaped her lips as her body strained against the restraints that bound her to the bench. Our gazes locked across the chamber, and in that moment of connection, I saw something in her eyes that made my pulse quicken—knowledge, understanding, revelation. My little völva had seen something, learned something vital.
“While our organizations clearly share certain essential values,” Matthew said, drawing my attention back to the conversation at hand, “I must admit you have me at something of a disadvantage.” He gestured languidly toward the bound women. “You know about the Guard. You’ve seen our Mithraeum, our rituals. But our very considerable best efforts notwithstanding, we haven’t been able to figure out who you work for.”
Mary
I gasped as Cassandra’s tongue found my clit again, circling it with maddening precision. The sensation shot through me like lightning, making my hips buck against the restraints. I tried desperately to focus on the conversation happening at the obsidian table, to understand what game was being played between these powerful men, but Cassandra’s relentless attention to my pussy and, even more embarrassingly, my anus made coherent thought nearly impossible.