Bound and Initiated (13 page)

Suddenly, to Sarah’s astonishment, Robert began to speak in a conversational tone as he carried her across the enormous hall. “All the flames in the hall burn natural gas. We’re very, very deep under Manhattan here, and there are nearly endless deposits of it.”

Endless deposits.
Was the League of Mithras about fossil fuels?

“I can tell how intelligent you are, Sarah. Not all columbae are like you.”

Why is he talking to me normally?
Sarah wondered. Panic that he must know her real purpose warred with a gratification she couldn’t help at the compliment to her intelligence.

They had almost reached the middle of the wall to the left of the double doors. The base of the soaring, perfect semicircle of the arch loomed close now, and Sarah could see that from each pillar, disappearing into the shadows above, a broad, intricate ribbon of carving went up, as if in imitation, upon the bedrock from which the hall had been carved of the cemented brick ribs, of a Roman arch.

“Our order—the order in which you will lead your new life of service, Sarah—traces its roots to ancient days, when the torches were wood and our sunken halls were built of brick. Had you ever heard of Mithras before your domina spoke to you of him earlier?”

It took Sarah a moment to realize that he meant her to answer the question. He paused, about a yard away from the smooth gray stone across which red light from the torches at either side flickered. The roaring of the central fire seemed softer here, as if something in the acoustics of the hall directed sound to its center, where Sarah had entered.

Sarah looked up at Robert, and saw that he had fixed his eyes on hers. A moment passed in which she tried to recall the last thing he had said, and realized that he had asked her a question.

“Y-yes?” she said, stammering at the slight indecision about whether she should pretend she had simply forgotten that bit of her Western Civilization class.

“In college?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sarah said, more confident now. “Western Civ.”

“What was Mithraism? Do you remember?”

“Um.” Sarah tried to read Robert’s expression. There must be some intent here beyond teaching the new girl a little about the order to which he had just referred. Even if the teaching were all, surely he led her down this didactic path for some reason other than reassuring her that the man who would, it seemed, very soon bind her fast and initiate her roughly with his cock, was capable of normal conversation. “It was the religion of the Roman legions, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he said with a little satisfied smile, precisely as if Sarah had just shown herself a good pupil to a fond teacher. “I’m going to set you on your feet now. I will open the door, and unfasten your ankles and thighs. You will walk into the pleasure chamber in front of me, like a captive girl going before a legionary into his tent, to serve him, bound fast so that she may not refuse to afford him the pleasures of her most private places.”

Sarah started to tremble. A little mewing noise came from her chest.
It’s an analogy,
her mind said.
He’s not a Roman soldier.
Another voice inside her spat back,
Yes, he is. Isn’t that what he’s trying to tell you?
She tried to raise her hands, already bound into a position of entreaty just under her chin, but the collar only let her make the metal rings and clips jingle a little.

“Shh,” Robert said. “Shh, columba. I know you are frightened. What I do tonight, like what the legionaries did to their captive spear-brides, will hurt, and you may not like it at first. To learn to serve the lusts of a true man is a hard lesson for a young woman. But I promise that you will come to yearn for my touch and for my hardness inside you, and even for the discipline I will give you when you displease me.”

“Oh, God,” Sarah whispered, so lost now in the fire of her arousal and in the flowing wetness of her pussy that she did not know what she wanted any more except that she wanted, desperately, to learn more from Robert.

Gently, he set her on her feet, and turned her round so that she faced what still looked like a blank expanse of gray stone. Robert stepped forward and reached out his right hand. He pushed firmly upon the right edge of the stone, and it turned on an axis in its center to reveal a chamber on its other side, illuminated not by torches but by lamps that gave a warm, yellow glow, very different from the harsh red of the hall.

What Sarah could see inside the chamber, though, did not reassure her as the quality of the light had: in the center the low columns, from the mosaic, with their leather straps to secure a girl between them. The bench to lay a girl upon for fucking or for whipping on the left, and next to it a sort of throne-like chair of dark, ancient-looking wood. On the wall to the right, a rack of things that could only be intended as disciplinary implements: straps, paddles, and canes. To the side, less frighteningly but still jarring in what seemed to Sarah its incongruity, a king-size bed, albeit with a headboard that looked like the Romans might have fashioned it.

Sarah couldn’t suppress a little cry at the revelation. If her knees and ankles had not been bound together, she would probably have tried to run. Robert turned to her, and now his face was stern. “Your time has come, my little dove. You will spend all night here this night, and tomorrow, and the day after, learning to serve me. When you depart from this chamber on the third morning, you will be a nupta—a bride of Mithras, and of his servants. Whipped and fucked, bent to my will; then I shall share you with my loyal brothers.”

Sarah couldn’t seem to control her breathing, and she began to feel she would hyperventilate. She felt for a moment like she would fall to her knees, helpless to remain erect, but suddenly Robert advanced toward her and put his left arm around her waist, holding her upright. He reached down with his right hand and unfastened the clip that held her thigh cuffs together. The mere closeness of his hand to Sarah’s pussy, though he took no liberty there, made a shiver pass through her whole body, somehow hot and cold at once.

His left arm, whispering in the silk of his robe, now traveled downward and seized her around her upper thighs, as he stooped further to unfasten her ankles. She could feel his warm breath now on her clitoris and the sensation caused another shiver along with a soft whimper that Sarah thought must be the most submissive sound she had ever made.

Again Robert did not make free with the aching spot between Sarah’s legs, but the wish that he would turn and do something shameful, with his mouth or his fingers or his unseen cock, made Sarah feel faint. The feel of silk against the still sore flesh of her backside forced from her a gasp of arousal.

But he stood and moved so that he was behind her. She could almost sense him there looming over her. She felt him take the handle of the leash from where it had nestled between her bottom cheeks, his finger brushing lightly against the sensitive skin there and drawing from her yet another little whimper. He gave the leash a little flick that made Sarah’s collar jingle. “Forward now, columba,” he said. “Enter the pleasure chamber and kneel between the columns. I shall use your mouth first.”

Sarah noticed now that the floor of the chamber toward which she advanced as if she were in some kind of trance was covered in Persian rugs, and that between the columns what looked like a bolster cushion had been laid. When she knelt on the comfort of the cushion, the softness evoked a little sigh from the depths of Sarah’s midriff.

She heard Robert chuckle behind her.

“Did you think I would make you kneel on the stone floor, Sarah? I promised to use you roughly, but I am not a barbarian. Don’t you remember from your Western Civilization course how great a force for civilization the Roman legions were? Perhaps a captive girl in a legionary’s tent might be forced to her knees on the hard ground before him—I suppose I won’t dispute that. But that legionary did not have at his disposal a treasure like you.”

Robert had kept hold of her leash as she moved into the chamber and knelt between the columns. Now she felt him lay it down along her back so that again the handle came to rest in the valley between her bottom cheeks. The sensation sent another tremor through her whole body.

She could not hear his footsteps now upon the carpet, but she could sense him moving, and then she saw his red-robed figure step around her and in front of her. Did his robe stir just in front of her face? Was his cock hard under the red silk?

When he reached down to unfasten her wrists from her collar, Sarah realized that her arms and neck had begun to ache with the effort of keeping her hands just under her chin, and she let them fall in front of her thighs gratefully. Her gaze remain fixed on the place where Robert’s cock must wait for her. To her surprised dismay, she realized that her mouth had begun to water.

Sarah had no consciousness of wanting to have her mouth filled with this man’s cock, but something atavistic inside her responded, just as it had allowed the doctor’s girl-trainer to have its way between her lips and over her tongue and even to the back of her throat. The idea of her body as a receptacle for a dominant man’s virility seemed to possess her beyond any notion of will or desire. She expected that he would speak again, whether in the conversational tone or in the harsher, commanding one. But instead he began to arrange her for his coming pleasure.

He reached to her right, and Sarah realized that he had taken in hand one of the leather leashes attached to the column. He clipped it to a ring on the right side of her collar. He did the same on the other side, and now Sarah knew she must look just like the girl in the mosaic. Robert reached down and unclipped her wrist cuffs from one another, then refastened them to her belt so that her hands were now bound to her sides.

Instinctively Sarah tried to move her upper body, and found that she couldn’t move it in any direction more than an inch or so. The leather straps binding her to the columns on either side effectively secured her mouth exactly where it should be for a tall man like Robert to insert his cock into it.

Then suddenly he disappeared for a moment to Sarah’s right, where she remembered the rack of implements stood against the wall. He returned holding a strange-looking device: a sort of leather-bound metal ring attached on either side to short leather straps, one of them featuring a buckle at its end and the other holes for the buckle to fasten. Now at last he spoke again.

“Sarah, this is a special gag to make sure that girls keep their mouths nice and wide open for the cocks that fuck their faces. I can leave it in your mouth for a good long time, if I have to, but it’s quite uncomfortable and not quite as pleasant for me, and I’d rather just put it in for a little while and then take it out if you think you can be a good girl. Do you think you can be a good girl for me, and let my cock have its way?”

Her face hot with shame, Sarah whispered, “Yes, pater.”

“Dr. Adams said that you did very well with his trainer. Is that right?”

“Yes, pater.”

“Do you think you’re going to be a good little cocksucker?”

“Yes, pater.”

“Very well,” Robert said with evident satisfaction. “I’ll just use the ring for five minutes or so, to teach you a little obedience, and then I’ll take it out. Open your mouth now, columba. Show me how much you’re learning.”

Sarah obeyed, and Robert began to fit the ring between her teeth. “Wider than that,” he commanded. “Much wider.”

Sarah struggled to comply. “There,” Robert said with satisfaction, and Sarah’s mouth gaped wider than it ever had before. The aching discomfort began immediately. Sarah wondered if Ostia girls ever did have to wear this gag for longer than a few minutes. It seemed a terribly effective way of making sure they knew the value to their masters of a mouth ready to receive a man’s hardness.

Robert buckled the strap around the back of Sarah’s head. As he did so he held her head tightly up against the front of his robe, and Sarah thought she felt the length of his cock pressed against her cheek and her nose. A scent of wanton masculinity seem to rise to her nostrils, mingling with the scent of her own arousal, of which she now, with a thrill of shame, became very aware.

Robert took a step back. “You look very pretty that way, Sarah,” he said softly.

Sarah blushed as she pictured herself as he saw her. A naked young woman, her pussy bare and showing its secret cleft, bound naked between the two columns. Kneeling and ready for shameful service, her hands secured at her side and her neck secured by the crossties. Her mouth held terribly open by the ring into which he would now thrust his manhood to find the most delicious sensations her body could afford him.

Sarah’s eyes darted involuntarily up to his face, though she instantly worried that she might be punished for looking there. She saw, though, that his own gaze traveled up and down her body once again, appraising, evaluating, enjoying just by his dominant right to look at her unclothed. She turned her eyes again to his feet, seeing for the first time that he wore sandals of what appeared a very old type—perhaps even the sort worn by Roman legionaries.

The robe stirred and parted. Her master’s manhood stood revealed—long, thick, and hard—with a little slit at the end that oozed a clear liquid, and thus told Sarah he found her pleasing. Robert, her pater, took the cock in his right hand and guided it toward Sarah’s mouth.

Pater Robert’s cock entered Sarah’s body for the first time. Sarah James’ first maidenhead had met its doom. The ring tasted like old leather, and Robert’s cock tasted like sex: acrid and musky and very shameful.

He fulfilled his promise of roughness nearly instantly. With a little grunt he pushed his cock all the way into Sarah’s mouth, seizing her hair and gathering it into a makeshift ponytail at the same time. Sarah’s throat made the submissive, wet sound she remembered from the examination room as the cock thrust in through the leather ring. She struggled to remember how to keep herself from gagging and focused on breathing evenly.

“That’s it, Sarah. That’s it, my dove,” Robert murmured above her.