I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan lay upon the cushioned bed within one of the more luxurious private cabins aboard a Roman Imperial warship, the gentle groaning of the hull and the constant sway of the ship reminding him that the sea was never still. Though the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves made true rest elusive, Nathan had grown accustomed to simply closing his eyes and surrendering to a state of light slumber, his thoughts drifting somewhere between sleep and waking.

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination filtering through the small circular window carved into the thick wooden wall—a dull glow of pre-dawn light reflecting off the endless sea. Despite the occasional creak of timber and the distant call of sailors above deck, the room held a rare sense of stillness. A stillness Nathan had learned to appreciate.

Nestled closely beside him, her body entangled with his under the woven sheets, was Scylla.

During the chaos of the battle of Alexandria, at Nathan’s quiet command, she had taken it upon herself to keep a discreet eye on Cleopatra—an unspoken protector cloaked in silence. Her usual tempestuous nature had been subdued these past days, her voice kept low, her presence quiet, and her deadly instincts reined in—because Nathan had asked it of her. Caesar and his legionnaires were never far, and Nathan’s identity as “Septimius” had to remain undisputed. One slip, one suspicious glance, could unravel it all.

For the past three mornings—without fail—Scylla had shared his bed, her presence constant, her loyalty unwavering. And like each of the three preceding nights, their shared passion had burned through the silence of the dark, fierce and unrelenting. The walls of their cabin, though thick and well-crafted, could not contain the sounds of their fevered union. Even those stationed in neighboring rooms had grown accustomed to the echoes of Scylla’s unrestrained cries, her voice rising like a song of wild surrender in the dead of night.

Yet no complaints came—not even whispers of protest.

Nathan’s station had been elevated far above the common ranks, honored and esteemed by none other than Caesar himself. With that recognition came privilege, privacy, and power. His quarters were lavish by military standards, spacious and well-furnished with draped linens, scented oils, and cushions one might expect in the home of a noble, not aboard a vessel of war.

Scylla, ever the predator behind the disguise of a loyal woman, had remained awake long after Nathan’s breath grew steady in sleep. Her reptile eyes lingered on the contours of his face, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his white hair lay tousled across the pillow. She watched him not as a servant or even as a lover—but as something more primal. Possessive. Covetous.

Her lips curled into a slow, hungry smile as she licked them, anticipation flickering in her gaze.

Carefully, she reached beneath the sheets with one slender hand, her fingers snaking toward his waistband. With the other, she tugged at the fabric of his trousers, gradually loosening them. Her touch was both reverent and insistent, the fingers of a woman who knew intimately the strength that rested dormant within the man she adored.

Lowering herself with the grace of a predator preparing for the kill, her hair brushed against his thighs as she positioned herself at his waist. Her breath was hot, her mouth inches from the very same dick that had ravaged her the night before—brutal and relentless, yet something she craved more of with every passing day.

These quiet, stolen mornings were rare. For once, her sisters—Medea and Charybdis—were absent. The shadows of their presence did not hang over her. In this moment, Scylla had Nathan all to herself. No interference. No need for restraint.

Just him. Just her.

And she intended to savor every second of it.

Scylla’s fingers brushed over the curve of Nathan’s pelvis, delicate and teasing, until they wrapped around the softness of his cock—still flaccid, heat pooled but dormant beneath her touch. Her eyes lingered on the shape of it, resting in her hand, her thumb tracing along the shaft as though coaxing it from slumber. She leaned down, her breath brushing warm against the skin, lips parting as she enveloped the limp dick into her mouth, no hesitation, only an aching hunger behind every movement.

Her tongue emerged to swirl around him, curling under the shaft, teasing the crown, slow lazy laps like a cat savoring cream.

“Sllluuurp~~… ssluuuurp~~… mmmmnn❤️…”

The wet sounds filled the quiet space, echoing softly against the walls like a whispered secret. Nathan, still drifting between dreams and waking, stirred at the sensation—his brow knit slightly, confusion blooming in the curve of his mouth as a slick warmth wrapped tightly around his cock.

Scylla didn’t pause. She nuzzled deeper, her mouth a hot cocoon drawing him in, coaxing life into his length with each patient suck. She felt him twitch, then thicken. It was gradual at first—the pulsing throb of blood rushing in, her cheeks spreading slightly wider, adjusting to the slow inflation of the dick inside her mouth. A pleased sound purred from her throat as she felt it swell, her lips sealing tighter, tongue pressing along the underside, guiding him to full hardness.

“Glluuurrgghh… nnghhh❤️… slrrruup❤️…”

Nathan’s dick finally grew fully in her mouth, fattening to the point her jaw ached deliciously around it. She let herself drool, saliva bubbling and stringing along the corners of her lips, her throat working as she sucked greedily. One hand braced against his chest, fingers splayed against the smooth warmth of his skin, the other gripped the base of his shaft, guiding it deeper as she bobbed her head with increasing need.

Nathan’s breath hitched. His eyes cracked open, the morning haze shattered by the sensation of molten wetness coaxing every inch of his cock down Scylla’s throat. He groaned, low and rough, a hand lifting instinctively to bury in her hair. His fingers tangled tight at the roots, and then, with a sharp exhale, he thrust up.

“Mmmghnn—!”

Scylla choked faintly, but didn’t stop. Her throat stretched to take him, her eyes fluttering as her lashes dampened with spit and heat. She adjusted, saliva now gushing freely as he began to buck up into her, her mouth molding to the shape of his cock, sealing tightly with each piston of his hips. Her throat contracted rhythmically around him, gagging gently with every push, her nose brushing the hard muscle of his pelvis.

Nathan had a smirk carved deep into his face as he watched her take it all. “Fuck… good girl.”

Scylla’s eyes rolled back faintly at the praise, her nails digging into his chest as she braced herself, letting him use her mouth, her face flushed dark with arousal and oxygen-starved heat. Drool slicked her chin, strings of spit mixed with precum clinging between her lips and his shaft every time she pulled back only to dive forward again.

“Gkkkh—hrrrk—mnnnphh❤️…”

And then—his body tensed. He growled, hand locking firm on the back of her head as his cock pulsed once, twice, then burst.

Thick jets of cum spilled into her mouth, painting the back of her throat in hot, salty spurts. Scylla moaned as she swallowed, desperate and greedy, gulping hard around the gush of seed, her throat working in waves to take it all. Her eyes fluttered closed, her chest heaving with each breath through her nose as she suckled on his tip, milking every last drop with her lips pursed snugly around him.

When he finally softened slightly, she drew back—slow, reverent. A silver thread of spit and cum snapped between her mouth and the head of his dick as she sat back on her heels, panting, her lips red and glistening, chin sticky with effort and pleasure.

“Thank you, Samael❤️,” she whispered, breath fogging as it spilled from her, reverent and burning, her voice thick with spent lust and devotion.

Nathan smiled and adjusted his pants, pulling them back up with practiced ease, his white hair falling into his eyes as he looked toward the small window where morning light had begun to gather like a veil of gold.

A faint smile played on his lips as he stretched his limbs.

“Have we arrived?” he asked, his voice low but steady, betraying a hint of anticipation.

“Soon,” came Scylla’s reply, her voice husky, still heavy with the remnants of their earlier passion. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her long dark green hair cascading over her shoulders, glowing faintly in the morning light.

Nathan turned his gaze toward her, his expression softening.

“You didn’t have to follow me even here,” he murmured, a trace of conflict beneath the calm exterior. He had only summoned her presence before the battle of Alexandria—nothing more, nothing further. And yet, she had followed, as if bound to his side by more than just duty.

Scylla tilted her head, her pink eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of emotion passing through them.

“I won’t leave you alone, Nathan. Neither Medea nor Charybdis would have, either,” she said firmly.

Nathan’s smile faltered. He hadn’t realized how much her presence comforted him until she spoke those words.

“How are they?” he asked, shifting his weight as he leaned against the cabin wall, crossing his arms.

Scylla’s expression softened, the fierceness giving way to something more vulnerable.

“Worried,” she said simply. “And missing you. They wonder when you’ll return.”

“I will,” Nathan promised quietly, more to himself than to her. “As soon as this is over.”

And by ‘this,’ he meant the inevitable collapse of the Roman Empire—his true objective. Once his task was complete and Caesar’s once-great dominion lay in ruins, he would return to Tenebria. Back to where it all began.

There were threads left hanging, people waiting.

“Did you hear anything from Khillea or Aisha?” he asked next, his tone shifting subtly—more cautious, almost weary.

At the mention of other women, a shadow crossed Scylla’s face. Her jaw tensed for the briefest second, her lips pressed into a tight line. She could tolerate the goddesses, and she had long since resigned herself to the presence of her own sisters—Medea and Charybdis—but the thought of other women in Nathan’s life stirred something darker inside her.

Still, she answered, if only because he had asked.

“Queen Khillea wanted to come to you at Tenebria with your daughter,” she said after a pause, “but she stayed behind once she learned you were no longer there. As for Aisha… she’s still in the Light Empire. The Heroes of Amun Ra have left her side. From what I’ve heard, they’re heading toward the Roman Empire.”

Nathan’s brow furrowed, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “The Roman Empire?” he repeated, incredulous.

Scylla gave a small nod, confirming it.

The Heroes of Amun-Ra. Their name alone carried weight.

He had known they were stationed in the Light Empire, negotiating alliances between the Divine Knights and the remnants of the Ptolemaic rule. He hadn’t crossed paths with them during the tumultuous events of Alexandria, and he’d assumed they would remain in the eastern lands.

And yet… they were coming.

Nathan’s mind churned.

“So midway to the Roman Empire, they must have heard about Ptolemy’s defeat… and Cleopatra’s ascension to the throne,” he murmured aloud, thinking through the implications. “And still, they’re coming here?”

There was a concern beneath his words, a flickering doubt.

He regretted, perhaps for the first time, not asked Cleopatra’s intentions about the Heroes and informations about them. He could only hope these so-called Heroes wouldn’t become another thorn in his side.

Thus far, every Hero-class he had encountered had proved troublesome. His own class, and then the group from Kastoria’s Kingdom—both had brought chaos, challenge, and constant interference.

The thought of Kastoria sparked another memory.

Ayaka and Akane.

His stepsisters.

He hadn’t seen them in some time. Despite everything, they remained important to him, precious in their own ways. He would need to check on them, once this war-torn campaign was over.

But for now, the Roman Empire consumed his focus.

There was still much to be done—pieces to move, alliances to manipulate, and enemies to crush.

One of the greatest empires the world had ever known stood on the edge of collapse.

And Nathan—hidden beneath the mask of Septimius—had the intentions of bring it down.

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