Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“Lift your arms,” he instructed.
I obeyed, feeling the cool air against my exposed torso. Malleus put the belt around my waist, cinching it tightly. It felt like a kind of anchor, grounding me even as it trapped me further. Its weight seemed like another reminder of my new reality.
“Finally, your collar,” Malleus said, his voice taking on an almost reverent tone. He lifted the last piece of my Ostia leathers and held it before me, the metal ring glinting ominously. “It is the ultimate symbol of your submission, columba, and of the Guard’s complete control over you.”
He held it in front of my eyes. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding, as I gazed intently at the stout black leather, the rings that would allow Malleus to control me as he liked. When I returned my eyes to his, he continued, his voice low and confiding, but also hard and grave—solemn, really, as if he meant me to understand that in this moment, he intended to change my life forever.
“If you work hard, and you submit as you should, you will someday be allowed to remove your other leathers,” Malleus continued. “But as you rise in the degree of your initiation, your collar will always surround your neck in the presence of your masters. Even the highest matres of the Order take pride in the collars that subjugate them. And their patres may always put them back in their columba’s leathers, to whip and fuck them as they think best.”
As he fastened the collar around my neck, he leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Columba, militiae nostrae nunc es,” he murmured, the Latin words rolling off his tongue with grave finality. Then he translated, “Columba, you now belong to our Guard.”
CHAPTER 5
Sophia
The collar settled into place, its weight a constant pressure against my throat. I swallowed hard, the sensation both constraining and oddly welcome, as if it could serve as a reminder that I had no choice, that being a columba in the Order of Ostia had nothing to do with anything I wanted.
“Now, we begin your training,” Malleus announced, stepping back to survey his work. “Follow me.”
Naked except for the leathers, I followed him out of the cell and into the labyrinthine halls of what Malleus had called the mithraeum, each step echoing ominously in the dimly lit passageways. We passed through a stone arch that had a carving of a man apparently wrestling a bull above it, into an expansive space filled with what looked to me like gym equipment: treadmills, stationary bicycles, free weights, and weight-machines—even a climbing wall.
A few young women, dressed like me only in leather restraints and occasionally sports bras, and a few breathtakingly muscular men in black shorts, were in the middle of what looked like strenuous workouts. I felt like the presence of other girls who had to display their breasts and waxed pussies just as I did should seem reassuring. Instead, it made me blush hard, because I could tell, simply from the facial expressions I could see in the mirrors that lined two walls of the room, that they knew so much more about what it meant to belong to the Order. When I saw one of them looking back in the reflection, her face curious, I bit my lip and looked down at the mat-covered stone floor.
“Welcome to the Hall of Physical Training,” Malleus said. “Today, you will push your limits. You will sweat, you will struggle, but you will emerge stronger.”
He put his hand on my bottom as if to remind me of the power over me he had demonstrated so thoroughly over the last—what?—sixteen hours.
Such a short time, I thought, and yet the outside world seems like a dream.
“We’ll get you warmed up on the treadmill, first, columba,” he declared, urging me towards the nearest one with a push and a little squeeze that made me whimper softly as the soreness from my spanking reasserted itself. “You don’t need a sports bra with your little breasts, so don’t ask for one out of modesty.”
I felt my mouth twist to the side in frustration. He had read my mind, or maybe he had seen the glances I sent in the direction of the other Ostia girls going through their workouts. I got up on the treadmill. Malleus pressed the green Go button, and quickly raised the speed to five. My brow furrowing at the discomfort in my backside, I started to run.
I had never considered myself very athletic, though I had run track and field in high school, just barely making varsity my senior year. I wanted to show Malleus that I had retained my fitness, though: I ran a few times a week and even did some resistance training at the gym.
From the treadmill, Malleus took me to an open section of floor and guided me through a series of body-weight exercises, each more grueling than the last. His hands were on me, adjusting my posture from time to time. I chewed my cheek as I caught myself wishing he would touch me less professionally, and I felt my face heat up as I remembered how he had interrupted my naughtiness when he had entered my cell.