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)
“Bene, columba,” Malleus would say, I hoped, though the rational part of my mind thought me insane for hoping it.
Each word Malleus spoke seemed like a puzzle piece, fitting into the larger picture of my training. He explained the subtleties of surveillance, the art of blending into the shadows, and the necessity of reading people like open books. His teachings were precise, methodical, and I drank them in eagerly, my mind a sponge absorbing every drop of knowledge.
I lost count of the days. By the time Malleus brought me to the Hall of Sexual Training for the first time, I had almost managed to forget about my nakedness and my leathers. My physical training had progressed to the point where Malleus no longer needed to adjust my posture or support me.
To my distress, though, I dreamt over and over of Malleus punishing me, of standing over me, of unzipping his pants, of showing me his true authority, and making me serve him in the most shameful way. In the morning, fearful of punishment and mindful of my leathers, I jumped out of bed and grabbed the Iliad.
After my first shower that day (I took one after both of my workouts), Malleus silently dried me off and put me back in my leathers as he always did, but instead of bringing me back to my cell, he led me to a new room in the mithraeum. Over the arch was carved an image that made me swallow, and blush: the heroic figure I had come to recognize as Mithra was fucking a kneeling woman, her face bowed low to the ground.
Inside, the mirrored walls, identical to those in the Hall of Physical Training, reflected very different furniture. Benches with rings that clearly matched the ones on my leathers. Racks of straps, canes, and paddles. Cabinets—from one of which Malleus took a length of white silicone that I recognized with a hot blush as Dr. Demetriou’s girl trainer.
“Today, you will learn the art of giving pleasure with your mouth,” Malleus told me, his tone leaving no room for refusal. “This is not merely about technique, but also about control and obedience. This is the one sexual skill with which you will leave here, when you depart for your mission tomorrow. Kneel.”
I felt my eyes go wide and my mind stir with all the questions I knew Malleus wouldn’t answer, but I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. Every fiber of my being screamed rebellion, but my body moved of its own accord, kneeling obediently before my miles. Malleus’ presence loomed over me, his hands guiding my head towards the silicone shaft.
“Begin,” he commanded, his voice a velvet whip.
Tentatively, I wrapped my lips around the trainer, my tongue exploring its smooth surface. The thrusts began, gentle at first, then more insistent, coaxing responses from me that I had never known existed. Malleus’ hand rested on the back of my neck, a possessive pressure that both grounded and aroused me.
“More,” he urged, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. “Use your tongue. Savor it.”
Heat woke between my legs, an uncontrollable craving that grew with each passing moment. My movements became bolder, more assured, as I worked the trainer with increasing fervor, trying to please the imaginary master from whose lap it jutted. Malleus’ words guided me, explicit and unrelenting, painting vivid images of what he demanded.
“Faster. Deeper. Make your mouth as pleasurable as your cunt. Let your master use you as he chooses, columba.”
Desperation clawed at my insides as the deep thrusts heightened my arousal, despite the way my gag reflex threatened to kick in, over and over. The soreness in my muscles from my physical training only served to amplify my need, the ache a constant reminder of my submission. I whimpered around the trainer, my hips rocking involuntarily, seeking a release that remained agonizingly out of reach.
“Please,” I gasped, pulling away just long enough to voice my plea. “Please, miles. I need… I need more.”
Malleus removed the trainer from my mouth, his hand moving to cup my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. His expression was unreadable, a mask of dominance that stirred something primal within me.
“Your needs are irrelevant,” he said coldly. “But your obedience is paramount.”
“Please, sir,” I implored, my voice raw with longing. “Please fuck me. I need it so badly.”
His silence stretched, a tangible force that wrapped around my heart and squeezed. Then, slowly, he shook his head.
“No, columba. Your virginity belongs to the Guard. It will be sold in a few days time, and the man who takes it must believe you are innocent.”
A choked sob escaped my lips, my body quivering with unfulfilled desire. Malleus’ hands returned to my hair, guiding my head back to the trainer.
“Continue,” he ordered, and I obeyed, my mouth once again enveloping the silicone shaft.