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)
As I drew nearer to my miles, the ritual chamber unfolded around me, revealing its hidden splendor and dark purpose. The walls, lined with stone and adorned with frescoes of ancient Roman rituals, seemed to breathe with the weight of history. Each scene depicted acts of submission and dominance, warriors and their consorts engaged in an eternal dance of power. My eyes flitted over the intricate details—fine strokes capturing the agony and ecstasy of those who had come before me.
Candles ensconced in wrought iron holders cast a flickering light that frolicked across the frescoes, casting long shadows that made the figures appear to move and come alive in a whispered dance of fire and stone. The air breathed the scent of sandalwood and myrrh, mingling with something more primal—the unmistakable musk of arousal.
The stone floor beneath my feet had a soft covering of rich Persian rugs that felt luxurious against my bare skin. I saw two wooden posts set into the floor two meters or so from the bed, which lay in an arched niche, its rock surfaces furnished with a mattress and splendid red and gold covers. Marcus’ presence loomed large at the center of it all, a beacon in this temple of power and submission.
“Come stand before me,” Marcus intoned, his voice a velvet command that sent shivers down my spine. As he sat on the bed, I saw, my eyes widening, that my columba’s leathers lay next to him, waiting.
I positioned myself directly before him, my knees threatening to buckle under his intense scrutiny. As I trembled with anticipation, he began to explain what was about to happen. His deep voice washed over me, both soothing and igniting my nerves.
“Columba,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine, “tonight I will consecrate you as my nupta. Do you understand what that means?”
I shook my head slightly, not trusting my voice.
Marcus nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “A nupta is an Ostia agent who has lost her virginity in service to the Pretorian Guard. Every nupta belongs to a guardsman of the rank of miles or higher.” His hand reached out, fingers ghosting along my collarbone. “Sometimes a nupta is consecrated on her very first night of service, but it’s always more meaningful when a guardsman gets to consecrate a girl who’s been in the field, who understands the stakes.”
His words sent a shiver through me. I thought of all I had endured, all I had learned. Yes, I understood the stakes now in a way I never could have before. Marcus had picked up where Malleus left off: having seen Delacroix’s evil fiefdom, his disregard for anything but his own gain, I knew what the Pretorian Guard and the Order of Ostia represented.
Briseis, who made it all happen, consecrated at last by her own Achilles.
“You’ve proven yourself, Sophia,” Marcus continued. “You’ve shown your worth as a columba. Now it’s time for you to take the next step.” His fingers trailed down to my leather collar. “I’m going to put you back in your columba’s leathers. Then I’m going to ask if you consent to serve me faithfully as my nupta. Do you understand?”
I nodded, my heart pounding. “Yes, miles,” I whispered.
Marcus began to fasten the leather cuffs around my wrists, ankles, and thighs. Each touch of the cool leather against my skin sent a shiver through me. When he buckled the belt around my waist, I felt a surge of pride and belonging, despite the degradation that I had realized would always be an important element of my submission. These leathers marked me as his possession, and as the Pretorian Guard’s—as part of something greater than myself.
Finally, Marcus stood and looked into my eyes. “Sophia,” he said solemnly, “do you consent to serve me faithfully as my nupta? “
“Yes, miles,” I replied without hesitation. “I consent.”
A smile played at the corners of Marcus’ lips. “Bene, columba,” he murmured. He led me to the posts and made me kneel on the carpeted floor. I noticed, my eyes widening, that adjustable leather straps hung from the posts. With these, before I truly understood, Marcus secured my collar to the posts—like a rambunctious filly, I suddenly thought, held in her stall by crossties. He clipped my wrist cuffs to my belt, leaving me helpless.
My miles stepped around in front of me and shrugged off his robe, revealing his enormous, rigid cock. I couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped me at the sight.
“You must be tamed, and civilized,” Marcus told me, his voice low and intense. He offered no further explanation, but I understood: the Pretorian Guard had dedicated itself to saving civilization, beginning with its own warriors and their Ostia consorts. By taming their columbae into nuptae, as Marcus would tame me, the dominant men of the Guard also civilized themselves.