Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

S ophia

I didn't learn what it really meant to be a nupta until a few days later, in a ritual chamber deep below Manhattan.

By the time Marcus and I reached the New York mithraeum , I could barely recall the whirlwind of different modes of transportation by which we made our escape from Legeria. At some point over the Atlantic, on a private jet, I became fully aware of my surroundings for the first time since Marcus and I had entered the guard room of Delacroix's chateau. I realized Marcus was in the seat next to mine and that someone had dressed me in comfy gray sweats. I promptly fell asleep with my head on my miles ' arm.

I awoke in a little room that I instantly identified as my cell in the mithraeum. The sweats had been taken off me, and I wore only a leather collar.

I had an authentic Was it all a dream? moment as my eyes fell on the copy of the Iliad Malleus had given me, what seemed a lifetime ago. As I sat up, though, the soreness all over told me that the memories that flooded back into my head represented my lived reality.

I had done it. Well, I had downloaded the drive and I had made it out, anyway. My cheeks warmed when I thought of what it had cost Marcus, though. I tried to push away the unworthy thought that by blowing his cover, I had forced him to come back to New York—and since he had returned to the mithraeum, he would of course get to take care of me .

Maybe I didn't try that hard to push the thought away, but I felt bad about it. Or maybe I tried to feel bad about it.

The door opened, and a familiar figure entered.

"Malleus!" I said, jumping up from the little bed and wincing at the discomfort the movement caused. To my surprise and delight, the big miles took me into his arms and hugged me.

"Columba," he said. "I'm very happy to see you."

"Ow!" I said, though I had tried to endure it silently. I looked up into his dark eyes as he smiled down at me. "I won't ask any questions, sir," I told him, letting a little smile play on my lips. "But I'm sure you can imagine there are a lot of things I want to know." I felt my mouth twist to the side for a moment as Malleus gazed patiently down at me. "Especially… you know…"

Malleus' smile broadened. "About miles Marcus."

I nodded, feeling my face redden a little.

"All is well," my trainer told me. "And that's all a columba needs to know about it."

I frowned at him. "Am I still a columba? I thought…"

Malleus' smile became the forbidding expression I remembered so well. I didn't even let him say it: I said it myself.

"Don't ask useless questions, columba . Fine." I took a deep breath, remembering the one question that wasn't useless. For the first time, I realized, I really meant it.

"How may I serve you, miles ?" I asked.

"You will learn the answer soon," Malleus replied, his smile returning. "Today, you rest."

"Soon" meant that night, as I realized when, an hour after I had eaten dinner in my cell, two nuptae, dressed like me in nothing but their collars, arrived to take me to a sumptuous bathroom. I knew better than to speak to them, especially in light of the air of ritual solemnity they maintained, using their hands to position me as they wished rather than any words at all.

They bathed me, and dried me, and put my hair into a French braid. They showed me myself, in a floor length mirror, their pretty faces smiling in what seemed sympathetic happiness for me, on the occasion of whatever this all was. I blushed at the sight, as usual. I took it as a given: I had stopped wondering when I would stop feeling that thrill of shame, of violated innocence, when I saw my naked body, my little nipples, the smooth cleft between my thighs—and, always breathtaking, the collar around my neck.

" Bene ," I whispered, and it made the nuptae smile.

The nuptae led me through dimly lit corridors, our bare feet padding softly on the bare stone. Ahead I saw a small door, carved with intricate symbols that seemed to pulse with an ancient energy. My breath caught as one of the nuptae pushed the door open, revealing Marcus standing in the center of the room.

He wore a regal purple robe, belted loosely at the waist, his muscular chest bare beneath it. The fabric clung to his form, teasing the lines of his physique and hinting at the powerful body I knew so well, hidden beneath. A soft gasp escaped my lips as I realized my miles wore nothing under the robe. I thought of Delacroix, and of how much more welcome a sight Marcus seemed to me, clad that way. My cheeks flushed with warmth, love, and arousal intertwining in a heady mix that left me trembling.

" Columba Sophia ," Marcus greeted me, his rich baritone reverberating through the chamber and settling deep within me. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, an unspoken command pulling me forward.

I moved towards him, each step feeling like a surrender to an irresistible force. My body hummed with anticipation and a little fear as I approached, my eyes never leaving his face. Marcus' gaze softened momentarily as he took in my delicate frame, but there was no mistaking the possessiveness that simmered beneath his calm exterior.

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.

He disappeared from my view for a moment, and panic seized my insides. What he held when he returned did nothing to reassure me: a whip with braided leather tails.

"This is called a mastix ," he explained. "It is the disciplinary implement that symbolizes, above all, a guardsman's authority."

He let the words and the sight of the mastix sink in for a moment, holding it out to me. Then he gripped the whip's leather-covered handle in his right hand and took his jutting manhood in his left.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice seeming to mix solemnity and lust in its depth and force. "I'm going to begin by consecrating you there, columba ."

As I complied, my heart pounding and my pussy clenching in response to his order, Marcus reached the mastix out and let its braids dangle down my back. At the sheer sensuality of the touch, its implications of mercy and tenderness alongside discipline and pain, a keening sound emerged from my throat and out the lips I held as wide open as I could for my miles' enjoyment. I stuck my tongue out, curling it over my bottom teeth, and I looked up into Marcus' gorgeous eyes with an expression that I knew must convey utter desperation and submission: a need for my master's hardness and my master's control.

Tame me… civilize me… claim me…

Use me. Use me to make your cock feel good.

Marcus' eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at me, his rigid cock mere inches from my waiting mouth. With deliberate slowness, he pressed forward, allowing the head to rest on my tongue. I whimpered, desperate to take him in, but held myself still, waiting for his command.

" Bene, columba ," he murmured, his free hand coming to rest on my head. "So obedient. So eager to please."

Without warning, he thrust forward, burying himself fully in my mouth. I gagged reflexively, tears springing to my eyes as I struggled to accommodate his enormous girth. Marcus held himself there for a long moment, his fingers tightening in my hair.

"Breathe through your nose," he instructed, his voice tight with restrained passion. "Relax your throat. That's it, columba . Take all of me. You will learn."

I focused on his words, forcing my body to obey. He had said You will learn in a tone so solemn, I knew it must represent part of the ritual. Gradually, the feeling of suffocation eased, and I felt a surge of pride at being able to please him this way.

"Eyes down," he instructed. "Show your submission."

I obeyed, cheeks burning, and my whole world became my miles ' powerful naked lap. His wiry curls brushed my nose. I felt utterly degraded and thus completely honored, by my master's use.

Marcus began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had me struggling for air with each thrust. At the same time, the braids of the mastix left my back, and I sensed Marcus' arm rising. Then I cried out around his massive cock as I felt the first lash descend, the whipcords stinging against my bottom, curving around the little cheeks to seek out the most sensitive places. The dual sensations—the fullness in my mouth and the punishing lash on my backside—had me trembling with need.

"Look at me," Marcus commanded. I raised my gaze to meet his.

Marcus' eyes burned with an intensity that made me dizzy as they locked onto mine. The humiliation of my position, kneeling before him with his cock in my mouth and my hands bound to my sides, sent a thrill through my body. I felt utterly exposed, completely at his mercy. To either side, the straps that secured me to the posts seemed like a terrible reminder of how desperately I needed taming—as long as my miles was the one to teach me these paradoxically wild, but finally civilizing lessons.

"You advance, columba ," he intoned in the voice that meant he spoke words of ritual, a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Though you must learn still more."

I whimpered around his thick shaft, unable to deny the truth of his words. The mastix cracked against my bottom again, and I jerked forward, taking him even deeper.

"That's it," Marcus growled, his tone no longer solemn. "Take it all. Show me how much you want to please your miles . Eyes down again."

I blinked as I obeyed, experiencing a bit of mental whiplash at my master's mixture of ritual with sheer masculine dominance. I could hardly imagine anything more in keeping with the Pretorian Guard's ethos, though, when I thought about it. Marcus knew how to train me in both senses, ancient and modern, theoretical and very, very practical.

His hips began to move faster, his rigid penis fucking my face with increasing urgency. The mastix fell in a steady rhythm, each lash sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure through my body. I lost myself in the sensations, in the taste and feel of him, in the burning sting of the whip.

"Such a good girl," Marcus murmured. "So eager to serve. So desperate to be civilized."

Tears streamed down my face, a mixture of physical discomfort and overwhelming emotion. I gazed at Marcus' muscular abs, my pussy clenching at the simple notion that I mustn't raise my eyes to see what I pictured: the pride and desire etched on his features—or perhaps the simple savagery there.

Suddenly, he pulled out of my mouth, leaving me gasping for air. Before I could catch my breath, he moved behind me. I felt his hands on my leathers, adjusting the straps and cuffs to change my posture. He pressed my face down to the carpet and raised my backside high in the air.

I whimpered as I felt him position himself behind me, his hard cock pressing against the entrance to my desperate vagina. Despite my arousal, I tensed, remembering the pain of my first time with him in Delacroix's guard room.

"Relax, columba ," Marcus murmured, his hand stroking my back soothingly. "I'll be gentler this time." Then his voice went back to the solemn tone. "I consecrate this sheath to my sword's pleasure."

I let out a sob, as, true to his word, he began to ease his hardness slowly into me, giving me time to adjust to his size. I moaned at the delicious stretch, my body welcoming him eagerly. When he was fully seated within me, he paused, letting me feel the fullness.

"You were made for this," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Made to take my cock. Made to serve your miles ."

"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, miles . Please…"

Marcus began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had me whimpering with each thrust. The mastix fell again, its sting a counterpoint to the pleasure building within me.

"You advance, columba ," Marcus growled. "Soon you will be my nupta . Say it."

"I…" I cried out, my mind not quite allowing me to grasp fully what he wanted. "I… soon… your nupta. "

"When I come here ," he told me, and he put a finger, or maybe his thumb, on my bottom hole, pushing it in until I cried out. "You will be my nupta . It is the final consecration, for it is the act of civilization."

I let out a sob that mingled understanding, arousal, and humiliation. The act of civilization —because it went against nature, in its own mortifying, special way.

I felt Marcus withdraw from my pussy, leaving me aching and empty. Then I sensed the blunt head of his cock pressing against my tight rear entrance. I whimpered, torn between fear and desperate need.

"Open, columba ," Marcus murmured, his hand stroking my back soothingly. "Let your miles in. I will consecrate you fully, now."

I tried to obey, focusing on my breathing as he began to push inside. The stretch burned, and I cried out at the intensity of the sensation.

"That's it," Marcus breathed, the ritual and the lust braiding themselves together. "Take it all. Show how greatly you desire civilization."

Inch by agonizing inch, he sank into me. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to accommodate his size. When he was finally seated fully within me, he paused, allowing me to adjust.

" Bene, columba ," he said, his voice thick with desire. "You take me so well. You will soon truly be my nupta ."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm. The burn of the stretch gave way to a pleasure so intense, it bordered on pain. I moaned, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the taboo nature of the act.

The civilizing act.

"Yes," Marcus growled, formality gone in his evident lust, his need to satisfy himself in me. "Let me hear you, you naughty whore. Show me how much you love being fucked in your tight little ass, Sophia."

His words sent a jolt of arousal through me. I pushed back against him, taking him deeper.

"Please," I gasped. "Please… civilize me, miles . Consecrate me."

Come… please… come there… come soon…

Marcus' rhythm grew faster, more urgent. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he drove into me with increasing force. The pleasure and discomfort built within me, a coiling tension, braided like the cords of the mastix my miles rested on my back, threatening to snap at any moment.

"You're mine," Marcus growled. "My civilized little fuck toy."

"Yes," I sobbed. "Yours, miles. All yours."

The mastix cracked against my back, and I cried out as the sharp sting pushed me unexpectedly over the edge of a climax. My orgasm crashed over me in waves, my body clenching around Marcus' thick shaft buried deep in my ass.

"Sophia," Marcus groaned, his hips stuttering as he reached his own climax. I felt the hot pulse of his release inside me, marking me as his in the most primal way. " Nupta mihi es. "

For a long moment, we stayed frozen in that position, both of us panting heavily. Then Marcus slowly withdrew, leaving me feeling achingly empty. He unclipped my wrists from my belt and gently helped me to my feet.

" Bene, nupta ," he murmured, pulling me into his arms. "You are now truly mine."

I melted against him, overwhelmed by the intensity of what we had just shared. Marcus scooped me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down gently on the soft covers. He stretched out beside me, gathering me close.

" Miles ," I whispered, turning my face to try to look at him over my bare shoulder and wriggling my bottom a little so that I could feel his strength against the slight soreness he had left with the mastix . "I want to know so many things, but…"

Marcus chuckled softly. "No useless questions," he murmured gently, putting his hand between my thighs to give a soft squeeze that seemed to emphasize his ownership.

My hips jerked with reawakened arousal. The feeling of tameness that had overtaken me, after my consecration, gave way to the rekindling of my wildness, my need for further civilization, further training, further belonging to the man I loved.

"How may I serve you, miles ?" I breathed.

The End