Page 41

CHAPTER 41

M ary

I watched, my breath coming in short, frightened puffs through my nose, as Marmareus tapped the control to raise the posts I had seen him bind Camille to. He placed the cushion between them. His next words sent a fresh chill down my spine.

“Since I’ve already enjoyed your mouth, Mary, I’m going to fuck your cunt and your bottom now, to complete your initiation as a Columba .”

My pussy clenched hard at the crude declaration, even as terrible distress filled my mind. The memory of Sven’s face rose into my imagination. I remembered my Herra ’s permission, half reassuring, half disturbing, to enjoy being shared, being used by strangers. I felt my brow crease as I tried to find comfort in the idea, and only found more confusion.

Marmareus’ dark eyes gleamed with cruel amusement, as if he could see the internal conflict playing out across my flushed features and track it with precision. Moving with the controlled grace of a predator, he guided my trembling form into position between the posts, bending me over, pulling my wrists back behind me to fold me like a piece of origami, attaching the cuffs behind my thighs to make my pussy and my anus equally available to him.

“You’ll serve me now, Mary,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. “And the Pretorian Guard. Whomever you served before no longer matters.”

I gasped as his fingers found the wet heat between my legs, expertly parting the complicated folds of my labia and circling the entrance to my vagina with teasing deliberation. Even in my distress, my hips jerked backward, seeking more contact. His touch was so different from Sven’s—more measured, perhaps, but no less skilled. He knew precisely how to manipulate a woman’s body, how to coax responses I didn’t want to give.

“Your body understands what your mind resists,” Marmareus said, sliding one finger inside me while his thumb found my clit. “You belong here, Mary. You need to serve, to be used, to be filled.”

I bit my lip to stifle a moan as he added a second finger, stretching me, preparing me. His other hand moved to cup my breast, pinching the nipple just hard enough to send a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I hated how good it felt, how readily my body yielded to his expert manipulation.

“When I have you in your bottom, Mary,” he continued, his voice dropping to a hypnotic murmur, “you will be civilized by my manhood, tamed by the unnatural act that represents the paradox of human culture, both instinctual and rational. Only a rational man could tame a bed girl this way.”

I whimpered as his fingers withdrew from my pussy, leaving me aching and empty. I heard the soft click of a container opening, and then felt something cool and slick being applied to my anus. His fingers circled the tight pucker, applying gentle, but insistent pressure.

“This is the oil of consecration,” Marmareus explained, working one finger past the resistant ring of muscle. “It prepares you for the act of civilization.”

The intrusion burned slightly, but as he worked his finger deeper, I felt my body beginning to yield, to accept. He moved with maddening patience, adding a second finger only when I had fully relaxed around the first. All the while, he spoke in that same hypnotic tone, his words weaving a spell that seemed to bypass my conscious mind and sink directly into some primitive part of my brain.

“The Pretorian Guard has existed for millennia, Mary,” he murmured, his fingers continuing their intimate invasion of my most private opening. “Since the days of the Roman Empire, when the cult of Mithras spread through the legions, bringing order and discipline to the chaos of the ancient world.”

I gasped as he scissored his fingers inside me, stretching me further, preparing me for the much larger intrusion to come. The burn had faded, replaced by a strange, insistent pleasure that made me push back against his hand, seeking more. My face flamed with shame at my body’s betrayal.

“Mithras was the god of contracts, of oaths,” Marmareus continued, adding a third finger now, making me whimper and squirm. “He taught that civilization could only be maintained through hierarchy, through discipline, through the willing submission of the many to the worthy few.”

His free hand moved between my legs, fingers finding my clit and circling it with maddening precision. My hips jerked in response, a strangled moan escaping my throat despite my best efforts to remain silent.

“The Pretorian Guard carries that tradition forward,” he said, his voice taking on an almost reverent quality. “We are the hidden shepherds of humanity, maintaining order in a world constantly teetering on the edge of chaos.”

As he spoke, the vision I’d had earlier flashed through my mind again—Sven and Marmareus meeting on that frozen bay, clasping arms like warriors who respected each other. The longship of the Sons of Odin behind one, the steel cathedral of the Pretorian Guard behind the other. Enemies, yet somehow meeting as equals.

“We have a plan, Mary,” Marmareus said, withdrawing his fingers from my anus, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. “A plan to save civilization from the coming darkness, to preserve knowledge and order into future ages.”

I heard the rustle of clothing as he positioned himself behind me, felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against my pussy. My breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“The Guard will take humanity to the stars at last,” he whispered, his voice so close to my ear now that I could feel his breath on my neck. “Beyond the reach of climate collapse, resource wars, the inevitable descent into barbarism that awaits Earth.”

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, the sensation overwhelming—not just the physical fullness, but the weight of his words, the impossible implications. The Sons of Odin sought to preserve civilization through a return to traditional values, through connection to the Earth and its ancient powers. The Pretorian Guard, it seemed, looked to the stars instead.

“You’re still very tight, Columba ,” Marmareus growled. “This is a lovely little cunt for a good hard fuck.”

I felt my back arch, my sheath clench around him. I sobbed as I realized how close my orgasm already was—and how badly I needed it, both for the physical release and for the vision I hoped I might have when I came.

“You may not come, Mary,” said the enemy agent with his manhood deep inside me. “Until I command it of you.”

I gasped at his instruction, my entire body tensing around his invading hardness. His cock stretched me so completely that I could feel every ridge, every vein as he began to thrust, establishing a rhythm that was neither gentle nor brutal—yet. Simply measured, controlled, with each stroke calculated to build my arousal without tipping me over the edge.

“Please,” I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for. “ Leo … please…”

“Quiet,” Marmareus commanded, his hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back. “Focus on what your body is learning from the cock.”

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, trying desperately to obey, to keep silent as he increased the pace of his thrusts. The wet sounds of our coupling filled the cell, obscene and arousing. Each time he drove into me, the leather of my restraints pulled and creaked, reminding me of my captivity, my submission, my shame.

“Your pussy is very hungry, Columba ,” he observed, his voice clinical amid the brutal intimacy of our position. “It grips its master like it never wants to let go. You were made for fucking, Mary.”

I closed my eyes, fighting against the pleasure building inside me. I tried to focus on something else—anything else—but my senses were overwhelmed by the man behind me, inside me. The scent of him, clean sweat and sandalwood. The heat of his body against my punished skin. The shameful fullness as he claimed me.

His rhythm shifted suddenly, becoming harder, faster. Each thrust drove me forward, my face pressing into the cushion as he pounded into me with ruthless efficiency. I couldn’t stifle my cries anymore, each one torn from my throat as he hit places inside me that sent electric jolts of pleasure up my spine.

“Oh, God,” I sobbed, feeling my control slipping. “Please, I can’t… I’m going to…”

“You will not come,” Marmareus growled, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust. “Not until I permit it.”

I felt tears streaming down my face as I fought against my body’s natural response. The tension inside me built to almost unbearable levels, a coiled spring ready to snap. I thought of the most unsexy things I could imagine—mathematics problems, the weather, the stone walls around us—anything to distract from the relentless pleasure assaulting my senses.

But it was useless. Marmareus seemed to read my body like an open book, adjusting his angle whenever I began to gain control, finding new sensitive spots to exploit. His cock seemed to reach impossibly deep inside me, stretching me, claiming me, reshaping me to his will—pulling me away from my resolve to remain Sven’s.

Just when I thought I would surely break, that I would come despite his command and earn another punishment, Marmareus suddenly withdrew from me. I gasped at the abrupt emptiness, my pussy clenching in desperation to be filled again.

“Please,” I heard myself beg, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. “Please don’t stop. I’ll be good. I’ll obey you. Just let me come.”

A small, distant part of me—the volva , the observer—noted with clinical detachment that I was playing my role perfectly. I was convincing him of my submission, my desperation. This was all part of the mission, I told myself. All part of deceiving the enemy.

But the rest of me knew the shameful truth: I wasn’t pretending. I truly did want—need—this man to use me, to fill me, to grant me release. My body had betrayed me completely, had fallen under the spell of his dominance just as thoroughly as it had yielded to Sven’s.

“Oh, I’m not finished with you, Mary,” Marmareus murmured, his voice dark with promise. “Your education has barely begun.”

I felt the blunt head of his cock pressing against my anus, slick with the oil of consecration he had applied earlier. My entire body tensed automatically, the ring of muscle clenching tight against the intrusion.

“Relax,” he commanded, his free hand snaking around to find my clit. “Yield to me, Columba . Accept the civilization I bring you.”

His fingers began to circle the terribly sensitive bud of my clit with expert precision, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward. My body responded immediately, helplessly, the tension in my lower muscles easing almost against my will. As he continued to stimulate my clit, I felt myself opening to him, the tight pucker of my anus gradually yielding to the pressure of his cock.

“Good girl,” he praised, and to my shame, the words sent a fresh surge of arousal through me. “Now, when I enter you fully, when I claim this most intimate part of you, you may come. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I gasped, my hips pushing back against him, silently begging for more. “Yes, Leo , I understand.”

“You may come as I civilize you,” he repeated, the pressure against my anus increasing steadily. “Show me how thoroughly you submit to your new master.”

With exquisite slowness, he began to push past the resistant ring of muscle. The burning stretch was intense, bordering on pain, yet the fingers circling my clit never stopped their maddening rhythm. The dual sensations—the intrusion behind and the pleasure in front—created a bewildering confusion in my nervous system.

“Please,” I whimpered, no longer certain what I was begging for. “Please, Leo …”

With a final push, the head of his cock breached me completely. The sudden fullness, the burning stretch, the forbidden invasion of that most private place—it all coalesced into a single point of sensation that shattered my control entirely.

“Come for me now,” Marmareus commanded, his voice resonating with authority. “Come as I civilize you, you little whore.”

A sob tore from my throat as the orgasm crashed through me like a tidal wave, obliterating thought, obliterating resistance, obliterating everything but pure sensation. My vagina clenched rhythmically, my entire body convulsing with the force of my release. The leather restraints creaked as I strained against them, lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

And then, in that moment of absolute surrender, my consciousness expanded, and I went to the world tree. The rushing sound filled my ears once more, and I was pulled away, up and into the branches of Yggdrasil.

This time, the vision came with crystalline clarity, as if the so-called act of civilization had somehow purified my connection to the cosmic tree. I saw the frozen Arctic bay spread out below me, gleaming silver-blue under the pale winter sun. But now, my perspective shifted, soaring higher, encompassing a vaster landscape.

What I had thought was a cathedral—that soaring structure of steel and glass—was something far more extraordinary. It wasn’t a building at all, but the skeletal framework of an enormous spacecraft, a vessel designed not for ocean travel, but for the void between stars. Workers swarmed over its surface like ants, their tiny forms dwarfed by the immensity of what they were creating.

The Pretorian Guard were building a space station there in the frozen wasteland where few would notice, where the harsh conditions provided both secrecy and the perfect testing ground for technology meant to sustain life in the unforgiving emptiness of space.

I understood now what Marmareus had meant about taking humanity to the stars. This wasn’t metaphor or grandiloquence—it was literal truth. The Guard were preparing for exodus, for escape from a world they believed was doomed to collapse into barbarism.

My vision panned outward, following the coastline until I spotted the longship of the Sons of Odin, frozen in the bay. On its deck stood warriors, their forms blurred by distance but their purpose clear. They were coming for me, for Camille, across the ice. Sven was coming.

But something else revealed itself to me, something that made my heart stutter with the weight of its significance. Between the longship and the space-station-in-progress, I saw lines of connection, filaments of possibility stretching like Yggdrasil’s roots between the two seemingly opposed forces.

They needed each other, I realized with sudden, perfect clarity. And I could make it happen, if I could use my power correctly.

“I’m going to give you my seed in your little bottom, now,” Leo Marmareus grunted, above me. “And then you’re going to tell me who Sven Hallstrom really is.”