Page 46

CHAPTER 46

S ven

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 volvas 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 volur .

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 volva 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.

“You’re right,” I heard Sven reply, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine despite my predicament. “You are at a disadvantage. And perhaps that’s as it should be, for now.”

My eyes found his face across the chamber. He sat with perfect composure, his broad shoulders relaxed beneath the red ceremonial robe, his expression giving away nothing. But when our gazes met, I felt something pass between us—a current of energy, of meaning, that transcended the physical distance separating us.

Cassandra’s fingers joined her tongue then, one slipping inside me while her mouth continued its devastating assault on my clit. I whimpered, unable to suppress the sound as pleasure coursed through my bound body. The dual sensation of penetration and external stimulation was overwhelming, pushing me toward an edge I didn’t want to cross—not here, not now, with so much at stake.

“I assure you,” Marmareus said, his voice carrying easily across the chamber even with his casual tone, “at this point, I’m quite certain you don’t work for Groupe Synergistique . Our intelligence on them is extensive, and neither of you fits any profile we have.”

Groupe Synergistique . The name sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with Cassandra’s distracting ministrations. Beaumont’s organization—the ones who had made the deal with the Russian warlord Georgy. The men who had pretended to be allies with the Sons of Odin, and then it seemed had betrayed them.

“Though I admit,” Marmareus continued, his dark eyes flickering briefly to Camille and me, “the transfer of your girls to Beaumont’s chateau suggests some connection. Beaumont is GS , through and through.”

I felt my heart skip a beat at his words as I remembered Sven and Erik in the van, then in the stable where they had filmed us, to make our arrival at Beaumont’s chateau look like simple sex trafficking. The Pretorian Guard had obviously followed that thread without discovering the Sons of Odin—so our masters did have at least that small advantage.

That thought, hard to follow in my body’s helpless response to Cassandra’s mouth and fingers between my thighs and bottom cheeks, confirmed my instincts. I needed to keep the specifics I had heard about the virus, in the meeting between Beaumont and Georgy, secret from the Guard—but to deliver it to Sven as soon as I could, so that my Herra could use the intelligence properly.

Cassandra’s fingers thrust deeper inside me, making me gasp and arch against the restraints. Her touch felt more expert, more knowing with each passing moment—finding sensitive spots within my vagina that made coherent thought increasingly difficult. I bit my lip, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of control as pleasure built relentlessly in my core.

That fleeting connection I’d felt with Sven—that precious moment of clarity when my volva sense had opened between us—had slipped away like water through cupped hands. I felt bereft, adrift in a sea of conflicting sensations and obligations. The virus weighed heavily on my mind, a burden I couldn’t share, not here, not now, but one that might mean the difference between life and death for countless people.

“The Guard has been monitoring GS activities for some time,” Marmareus continued, his voice maddeningly calm even with the obscene tableau playing out before him. “Beaumont’s operation is particularly concerning—his connections to certain Eastern European interests have raised red flags.”

My breath caught in my throat. He knew. Or at least, he suspected something about the meeting I’d witnessed. How much did the Pretorian Guard already know about Georgy and his plans? About the virus that could devastate an entire city?

Cassandra’s tongue circled my clit with renewed vigor, drawing an involuntary moan from my lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the building pressure at my core, the shameful pleasure that threatened to overwhelm my senses. The leather restraints creaked as I strained against them, my body responding to stimulation it didn’t want to need.

“Their activities suggest they’re planning something significant,” Erik observed, his voice carrying the perfect blend of casual interest and professional concern. “Something that could disrupt the… established order.”

I opened my eyes just in time to see Marmareus nod, his expression grave. “Indeed. Which is why your appearance—after your apparently having delivered these girls to Beaumont as mere fuck toys, and thus completed a profitable transaction—is so intriguing to us.”

My heart skipped a beat as Sven fixed his gaze on me again. Our eyes locked across the chamber, and in that moment, I felt something powerful pass between us—not the volva sense, not the connection to Yggdrasil, but something more primal, more human. He was trying to give me confidence, trying to beam his own certainty into my soul.

In his eyes, I saw something that made my breath catch: absolute faith in me. My master’s complete conviction that I had the power to save the world, if I could only trust myself to take it and use it. The weight of that belief was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Our interest,” Sven said carefully, his eyes never leaving mine, “is in maintaining a particular balance. One that has served humanity for millennia, whether most humans realize it or not.”

I gasped as Cassandra’s slender finger circled my anus, the intimate touch sending shockwaves of sensation through my already overwhelmed body. The unrelenting blush that had begun at my cheeks now spread down my neck and across my chest, setting my skin aflame with mortification. When her tongue followed, tracing the sensitive blossom with devastating precision, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. The taboo nature of the act, combined with the knowledge that five powerful men were watching my humiliation, made the experience almost unbearably intense.

“I must repeat myself,” Marmareus said, his voice carrying easily across the chamber. “Your girls respond beautifully to pleasure. Mary especially.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to focus on anything but Cassandra’s intimate exploration of my most private opening. Her tongue circled, pressed, probed—gentle yet insistent, preparing me for what was to come. When she slipped the very tip of her finger inside, I couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped my throat.

“The Guard’s methods of civilizing young women,” Sven replied in a neutral, almost academic tone that belied the intensity of his gaze, “align with my own in many respects. The female form, properly disciplined and trained, becomes not just a vessel for pleasure, but a conduit for order itself.”

His words, so clinical and detached, somehow intensified my shame and arousal in equal measure. This was my Herra speaking, the man who had awakened the volva within me, who had shown me the branches of Yggdrasil. Yet he discussed my subjugation as if I were merely a theoretical concept, a philosophical principle rather than a woman of flesh and blood and need.

Cassandra pressed deeper, her finger breaching my tight ring of muscle with slow, inexorable pressure. The strange, burning stretch made me gasp, my body tensing automatically against the intrusion. Her other hand reached beneath me, finding my clit with unerring accuracy, circling it with slick fingertips as if to distract me from the violation happening behind.

“Relax,” she whispered, her breath hot against my sensitized flesh. “Yield to it. It will hurt less. I can tell you have been civilized before, but these Nymphobi are big, and rough.”

I tried to obey, forcing my muscles to unclench despite the instinctive resistance. The burning sensation gradually transformed into something else—not quite pleasure, not exactly pain, but a peculiar fullness that demanded my complete attention.

“I am certainly open to considering an agreement,” Sven continued, his voice steady and measured in the face of the obscene tableau before him. “Provided, of course, that the terms prove beneficial to my group and our long-term objectives.”

Cassandra withdrew her finger only to return with two, stretching me further, making me moan even amid my best efforts to remain silent. The leather restraints creaked as I pulled against them, my body caught between the conflicting impulses to escape and to push back for more.

“I must acknowledge,” Marmareus said, his voice carrying an undertone of formality that transformed the debauched scene into something ceremonial, “that I have used your sluts without your explicit permission.”

I felt my heart hammering against my ribs as Marmareus’ words hung in the air between them. Cassandra’s fingers remained inside me, stretching my anus with deliberate pressure, while her other hand continued its maddening circles around my clit. I balanced on a knife’s edge, between pleasure and discomfort, still trying to think as clearly as I could.

“To further our negotiation in the traditional way of the Guard,” Marmareus continued, his dark eyes moving from Sven to Erik and back again, “I would ask your consent to share your bed servants with us, for this initiation.”

The formal request sent a fresh wave of heat through my body. The significance of what he was asking wasn’t lost on me, though my compromised state made it rather ironic. This wasn’t merely about sex, about the use of our bodies for pleasure. This was political—a symbolic joining of forces, a mingling of power and authority, with Camille and me as the living embodiments of the agreement.

I watched through lust-hazed eyes as Sven’s gaze found mine yet again across the chamber. I saw there, renewed, his permission to enjoy what must happen next. My heart lifted, though my blush blazed anew, at the idea of my Herra being there, present, to share me personally and to watch me being fucked by strangers.

Sven turned to Marmareus, his expression solemn. “I consent to share my bed thrall with the Pretorian Guard for this initiation,” he said, each word measured and precise. “Mary belongs to me, but I grant you the privilege of using her body as you see fit.”

Beside him, Erik nodded, his gaze locked with Camille’s. “I consent as well,” he said. “Camille may serve the Guard’s pleasure for this ritual.”

A strange mixture of emotions washed over me—relief that Sven had maintained his cover, shame at being so casually offered to these men, and beneath it all, a perverse excitement that made my pussy clench around Cassandra’s probing fingers. My body betrayed me utterly, responding to the situation with an arousal that seemed to intensify with each passing moment.

Marmareus inclined his head in acknowledgment, satisfaction evident in the slight curve of his lips. “ Nymphobi ,” he said, his eyes looking past us at the huge men who waited behind our benches, “yours is the privilege to begin. Let us see you fuck these Columbae well, and make them Nuptae indeed.”