Page 80 of Her Viking Master

Next came the ankle cuffs, requiring me to lift each foot in turn as he crouched before me. The position forced me to balance precariously, to rely on him for support, a physical manifestation of the power dynamic between us. His hands were warm and steady on my calves as he worked, the touch clinical yet somehow intimate.

The thigh cuffs were last, and the most humiliating. Marmareus ordered me to spread my legs wider, and I complied, my face burning with shame as I exposed myself more fully to his gaze. He fastened the cuffs high up on my thighs, just below the curve of my bottom, his knuckles occasionally brushing against the wet heat of my sex as he worked.

He stepped back, looking me over, and then, apparently satisfied, he fetched from the cabinet the same kind of cushion I had seen him use with Camille. I couldn’t suppress a little whimper of fear and need.

Marmareus smiled, looking into my eyes so intensely I had to take a step back, away from him.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s right, Mary. I’m going to fuck you now, just as I did your friend.”

CHAPTER41

Mary

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 aColumba.”

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 myHerra’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.”

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