28 comments/  104190 views/  158 favorites

Ӕgir's Captive

By: Tara_Neale



Kirsty Dickins fidgeted with her bag. 'What are you doing?' she asked herself. Traveling over two hours outside of London to meet a stranger, whom she had been emailing for three months, was so unlike the sedate young professional. But after a disastrous break-up with her boyfriend of six years, the twenty-eight year old had decided to make drastic changes to her life.

Well, probably not drastic to most people. She had no plans to change her career, her work as an Occupational Therapist for children with autism was emotionally and financially rewarding. She was not going to move from her relatively well-to-do neighborhood in north London either. The flat that she had shared with two girlfriends since she completed university was perfect. 

She had not even made drastic changes to her physical appearance, at five foot ten in bare feet she would have stood out in a crowd, even without the flaming red hair that fell half way down her back or the freckles that covered almost every single inch of her body. Of course, the break-up had motivated her to join the gym and six months later her curvy figure had never been in better shape. She might not make Vogue, but she could have done well moonlighting as a plus size model. 

No, most people would consider the changes she made rather sedate. But they were radical to someone, who had spent the whole of her life in the same area of city, who had the same few friends since primary school, and who wanted nothing more than to please her doctor parents in her choice of careers and men. While they might have been a tad disappointed that their only child had chosen not to follow in their footsteps by becoming consultants, her role as a therapist fell within the realm of respectable for their upper middle class friends. 

And Raj, the up and coming young pediatrician, more than met their standards. In fact, they had been more hurt by the betrayal than Kirsty when after so many years invested in their relationship he had succumbed to his family's demands and entered an arranged marriage with a second cousin from India. 

Kirsty had been almost relieved at the turn of events. Her feelings for the man had long since cooled to professional respect and friendship, but she simply did not have the will to end their comfortable arrangement. It was not like she and Raj had ever really shared a great passion, certainly not like the attractions that she read about in her multitude of racy erotic romances on the e-reader that had been his final gift to her for Valentine's Day. 

Of course, Kirsty had never really experienced that type of passion or even witnessed it first hand. Her parents, their friends and even her own were all in relationships based upon shared values, interests and companionship. Certainly not the wild and tumultuous sexual attractions portrayed in her books about ménages and BDSM. The very idea of that level of need and surrender was both intensely attractive and petrifying to Kirsty. 

But over the past six months since her split with Raj, her repressed desires had increasingly overtaken her sensible side. She found herself spending hundreds of pounds each month on her erotic romances, devouring them at the pace of two a day sometimes. On the weekends, she could easily read ten or more. 

That might be bad enough, but she had even created a profile on one of the fetish sites listed in the acknowledgements of her favorite author. Of course, she had not been so stupid as to post recognizable pictures of herself. She had merely cropped some to highlight her best features, her long legs in the mini-skirt that her friends had convinced her to wear for her one clubbing excursion with them after the breakup and another of the swell of her D-cup breasts spilling out of her favorite jumper as she leaned over to speak with someone. She had gotten dozens of private messages and friends' requests, but most had been so blatantly offensive that she had not bothered to respond.

Sven was different. Though he made no bones about being a Dom or even his desire to dominate her, he was both respectful and friendly. Their hundreds of emails had ranged from long tomes about the nature of Domination and submission to some rather racy descriptions of the things he would do to her that left her breathless and bothered. 

Even when he was busy, he always found time for one line updates about his latest travels as an artic fisherman. While her parents had taken annual excursions to exotic locales around the globe, their summer holidays were always the same, two weeks at an all inclusive family resort on Spain's Costa del Sol. So places like St. Petersburg, Lubek, Germany and his adopted homeland in Finland intrigued her as much as his deep blue eyes had enthralled her from the moment she saw the picture on his profile. 

No, there was no denying that this man fascinated and excited her in a way that Kirsty had never experienced. Something about his eyes and the polite, tersely worded emails belied something deeper, something as wild as the Artic seas that he fished and the rugged land which he called home. Sven had become her personal fantasy, every Dom she had ever read about rolled into one luscious package of deep blue eyes, shortly cropped dark blond hair, broad shoulders and towering strength. And she needed to get the man out of her system. Every night for the past three months, it had been his face that haunted her dreams. His large, calloused hands that had tormented her body with soft caresses and sharp blows to her bare bottom. His soft, full lips that crushed hers, stole her very breath and moved slowly and softly along every single inch of her body. 

"Stop it, Kirsty," she reminded herself aloud as she packed her e-reader back into her over-sized bag. The very proper automated recording called her station as she readied herself to disembark. 

She tugged at the hem of the mini-skirt in that picture. This was only the second time she had worn it, but this time she had donned a pair of thick, warm winter tights against the biting winds that she knew would blow off the English Channel. She wiggled into her thick winter coat, thankful that it would cover the generous amount of tits that popped out of her new corset. What had she been thinking, ordering such an outlandish, almost slutty thing from the Internet? She could not be sure if it was her excitement and fear at this clandestine meeting or the tightly tied ribbons and bone stays that made her breathing rapid and shallow. 

But it was too late to consider that or any of the dozens of other questions that had plagued her for the past two hours, actually the past two days since agreeing to this crazy met. She inhaled deeply and stood slowly. She forced each foot in front of the other, watching her knee-high leather boots move across the worn floor of the train, willing her knees not to give out now. 

A brief coffee with this mystery man, who had captured her imagination, that was all this was. Then she would be able to put him out of her mind, move on with her life, find another suitable boyfriend to please her parents even if he never made her pulse race the way it was now, the way it always did when she saw another of his emails in her inbox. 

It was just her active imagination, too many erotic books and too long without even the sedate love makings of a man. There was nothing special about this one. Certainly nothing that would warrant this type of reaction. She had merely built him up in her mind, something larger than life. That was why this date, if you could call it that, was so important. She was certain that the reality of rough and weathered fisherman would dispel all her childish fantasies, she assured herself as she filed with the rest of people out of the car of the train. She squared her shoulders and ran through the speech that she had rehearsed for this moment as she fed her ticket through the automated turnstile. 

The moment Kirsty looked up her breath froze in her lungs. Her heart threatened to pound out of her tight chest. Those knees that had been wobbly to begin with would have given way if not for the gigantic hand that reached across the stile to grip her elbow and draw her through the mechanism. 

"Kirsten," his deep, heavily accented voice caressed her face as he bent over to brush a chaste kiss on her cheek. Few men needed to bend to kiss her, but this one would. "These are for you," he said as he handed her a bouquet of colorful flowers. 

"Kirsty," she stammered at a loss for her rehearsed introduction. 

His lips turned up at the corners, but she could not exactly call it a smile. More like that look her cat Thomas gave her when he was trying to manipulate her into giving him another treat. "No, Kirsten is your name in my language and that is what I shall call you."

She brought the flowers to her face and inhaled the exotic but subtle aroma. She could see that they were not your typical flower shop selection. "Thank you," she finely managed to whisper.

He nodded, "You are welcome. They are from my mother's green house. She thought you might like some token of our homeland. Artic wildflowers have always been her passion. She says they kept her sane while dealing with my father, uncles and all my brothers." 

This was the most that Sven had revealed about himself in all their months of correspondence. It should have been reassuring, made the man more human, but it only deepened his mystery. Her heart stuttered for a moment and she considered turning back around, trying to catch the train back to London before it left the station. She was in over her head and she knew it. 

But with those icy blue eyes staring into hers, she could not find the strength to say a single word. Let alone pull her arm from his firm grip, turn and walk back through the station. Run back would be a better plan, she thought as he drew her against him and wrapped his arm about her shoulder. 

"Coffee, yes?" he said. She nodded as he led her out of the station and onto the High Street. Tilbury was like any other small port along the Channel, non-descript. Dead almost, but after the hustle and bustle of London, it held a quaint appeal all its own. They walked in silence for couple of minutes until they came to a chip shop. Sven stepped back, holding open the door for her. "I am sorry. There is not much here."

Kirsty smiled weakly and nodded at his words. She turned and looked back at the station, drawn to something. As if something warned her to run, run now. But she dismissed it. The man might not look exactly like his photograph but he appeared normal enough. She was being paranoid was all.

The next hour went quickly, two cups of coffee, decent conversation and more laughter than she could ever remember on a first date, not that this was an actual date, more like old friends meeting for drinks she supposed. Except you did not spend the whole time sneaking glances at your friends, wondering what they would look like naked, what they would be like in bed. No, even though Sven had been surprisingly easy to talk to she was still intensely nervous. 

"I suppose I should let you get back to work, Sven. Catch the next train back to London," she stammered studying her hands around the plain white coffee mug. "It has been nice meeting you though."

He frowned, the move sent deep creases into his striking face. He was not handsome in the traditional sense. At almost forty, his skin was weathered by his job, small pathways of wrinkles about his mouth and across his forehead. His hair was longer than she had thought, falling just below his shoulder blades. His lips that she could not stop watching as he spoke were surrounded by a goatee and moustache. But it was those eyes still that Kirsty could not forget. 

Not just the intense shade of blue or the twinkle when he laughed, which she got the feeling he did not do nearly enough, but there was something more. Intelligence, certainly. Authority, for sure. But something else too. Pain, perhaps. 

She needed to stop thinking about this man, needed to go home, find some decent chap and settle down as her mother said. Not mysterious men, who reminded her of his Viking ancestors. Rough fishermen, who brought her exotic artic wildflowers, had no place in her ordered life. No matter how much her body ached to feel his touch. To have him do even one of the naughty things they had discussed in those emails. 

"No," the single word was spoken in a low, calm voice, but one that demanded obedience. "I will show you the ship."

Kirsty knew that she should argue. Knew she should maker her escape now. But the truth was that this man still fascinated her. Perhaps seeing him in his natural setting would offer her some closure, some of the answers to this mystery that drew her like the proverbial moth to a flame. 

Looking into the depths of those intense eyes, she thought, a very hot flame and I am going to get burnt. But still she found herself nodding her agreement. He held her coat while she worked her arms into it. His hand brushed briefly against the side of her breast and she exhaled. 

It came out a pathetic, needy little whimper. She dropped her eyes in embarrassment. When she finally found the courage to look up at him, Sven was smiling, but not just any smile, a smile that made her want to dash for that station. 'Come in,' said the spider to the fly, she thought. 

The walk to the harbor took them only moments. The town was tiny, smaller it seemed than the port, she thought as Sven spoke in quiet tones with the security guard before placing his hand once more under her elbow and guiding her towards a ship. It was smaller than most of the others around it. But much larger than anything she had ever been upon. 

She watched from the peer as two other men wound rope and worked upon nets on the deck. They looked strangely familiar. Both men looked up as they approached. Sven spoke to them in another language, Swedish she assumed, but it was guttural and harsh, like the men themselves. 

The two men studied her for a moment, then both nodded and smiled. Sven smiled tightly as he gripped her elbow, helping her aboard the vessel. "My brothers, Mikael and Bjӧrn." 

The younger man, who looked to be about her own age, spoke. "Welcome to the Ӕgir's Captive."

Kirsty frowned at his words until she saw the name painted on the end of the boat. She turned to ask Sven about the odd name, but he was busy speaking with his brothers. She looked out at the sea as far as it stretched. On the other side of its choppy waters lay the wild and mysterious land that born these men. It might seem odd to think of Sweden in those terms but remembering the Viking's from British history, their Norse gods and surrounded by these men, the place seemed anything but civilized. 

Sven took her elbow once more and guided her up a series of steep stairways. At the top of the last one sat a thoroughly modern command center. There were decks of computers, radar and GPS, those were just the equipment that she recognized. There was also a wheel that looked much as the one's she had seen in pirate movies, except that it was made of shiny metal rather than weathered wood. Everything in this room was out of place with the man before her. 

He nodded, "My world." 

She frowned, expecting him to elaborate, but he simply walked over to a bank of computers, working at them for a couple of minutes. Then he turned to her wit that smile that reminded her of the spider, "I will show you my living quarters."

Once more he took her by the elbow and led her down the stairs, he went before her, steadied her step when she might have fallen. This time rather than stop on the deck they turned and went lower, deep into the belly of the ship. It was another couple of flights before he guided her down a small hallway. He pointed out a kitchen that he called the galley and the bathroom. There was another room that he said belonged to his brothers. At the end of the hallway stood another doorway, he opened it and stepped to the side. 

"Come in," he said with that smile. Kirsty's heart raced as she envisioned that spider, except this time she could see herself as a fly, her wings wrapped in the fine silken bounds of this man's web. She shivered and he ran those large hands up and down her arms. 

Even through her thickest winter coat and jumper, she could feel his heat. "I am sorry. I have forgotten how cold the sea can be this time of year."

It was the most intimate he had been with her. Kirsty swallowed hard. This was not a good idea, some sane part of her protested. But looking up into those blue depths, she stepped inside the dark paneled cabin. She heard the click of the door closing behind her and turned in panic. His large frame blocked the doorway. Her heart raced wildly in her chest. But he made no move towards her, merely standing there studying her. 

"We should probably head back to the station now," she stammered.

"Later," he said crossing the distance to come stand in front of her. "Take off your coat," the words might have the trappings of polite conversation, but the tone was pure command. Looking up into those eyes, her brain considered arguing, but it was too late, her fingers were already trembling as they obeyed. When the last button sprung free, his hands at her shoulders brushed it away. The coat fell on the floor at her feet. 

Those lips that had fascinated her as he spoke captured hers. There was no other word for it, captured, conquered, claimed. There was nothing either tentative or polite about this kiss. It was as wild and untamed as the man himself. And unlike anything that Kirsty had ever experienced. It went on and on, at times she felt as if he were sucking the very breath from her body, her will from her soul. When he finally drew back she was hanging helplessly against him. Her body plastered against his much larger, much harder one. 

"Take off your clothes."

Panic rose in her once more. She started to shake her head, but his hands were already beneath her jumper. Calloused fingers caressed the soft skin of her abdomen. She bit her lip to keep from moaning at the intoxicating feel of his caress. "I think I should go now," she whispered.

"I told you to take off the clothes," his words were spoken against her ear as he bent down. When she would have taken a step back, his teeth sank deep into the lobe, pinning her, holding her in place. His hands covered her breasts, working the soft flesh, kneading it as one might dough. His thumbs brushed back and forth across the throbbing tips and she moaned as he bit down harder on her ear. 

One hand abandoned her breast and she whimpered at its loss. It traversed back down across the suddenly sensitive skin of her stomach, but this time it went lower. He found the button of her jean skirt, it melted away along with the zipper. His hand worked its way inside her tights until his fingers were brushing against her mound. 

"Open," he growled into her ear as he continued to bite and pull at her tender lobe. 

She shook her head even as her legs spread open at his command. What was this man doing to her? For the first time, she sensed how deep the danger really was. She had been so careful that no one discover her little fetish that she had not told a single soul where she was going. "Oh god," she whispered as the revelation hit her and his fingers slipped inside her wet depths. But the thought could not manage to break through the intense pleasure he was forcing upon her helpless body. His fingers plunged impossibly deep inside of her, his fingers pinched and pulled at her taut nipple through her lace bra and his teeth scored the rim of her ear as he whispered, "If you will not take them off, I will."

She shook her head at his bold words, tried to bring her hands up to push at his chest, but her enter upper body was captive in the thick confines of her jumper as he jerked it over her head. She realized then that sometime during their kiss he must have unsnapped her bra because it dangled limply from her arm several inches from her chest. She reached up to cover her bare breasts, but he simply tugged her bra down until it was wrapped securely around one wrist. He drew both her arms behind her back and tied them there using the lacy material. The positioned forced her chest out, offered her breasts up to him. But he had moved on.


Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 02



Sven bent and kissed her. His fingers found her pulse and he smiled. "God natt och dröm sött. We talk imorgon." But for now, he had things he must see to. Even if his body protested, demanded that he join his mate in slumber. If they were to sail, he was needed on deck. Besides they had much to discuss, he and his brothers. It was not every day that they took a captive. A captive bride. Their bride as ancient custom commanded.

Sven dressed quickly. It was easy sine he had never fully undressed during their love making. This first time was about the capture. And quick though it had been it left him hungry to taste all of her rich flavors. But that would have to wait. Now that she was securely on board the boat, they still needed to make their escape. Harbor Masters and customs officers to deal with. And high tide was fast approaching. They could not afford to tarry another day. It would give her a chance to escape. 

The whole time he dressed, he had been careful to avoid looking at his bed where she remained bound and so fucking helpless that his cock hardened just at the thought of it. He was not naïve enough to think that this was going to be easy. He knew better. Modernity was invading upon even their meager existence. Mikael had even tried its way, but that had proven disastrous. No, despite the impediments that they had thought so carefully through, worked so hard and spent good money to overcome, the ancient way was the only way. So after over four decades, Ӕgir's captive welcomed a new bride to her masters.

Once he was fully dressed right down to his boots and coat, Sven found the packet containing the forged documents they would need...the marriage license and passport that along with his lie to his old friend the harbor master should hopefully ease their departure. He glanced at the woman sleeping in his bed. In slumber she seemed so much younger than she was. 

Some tiny morsel of guilt perhaps caused him to loosen the bonds. He was not stupid enough to untie her. Not yet. Once they were safely at sea there would be time for that. Until then, he would simply make her as comfortable as possible and make certain that her circulation was intact. She was his responsibility now. Their responsibility. And the sooner, he and his brothers talked about that the better.

He found Bjorn down the hall in the galley. "What are you doing?" he demanded. There were too many things still to be done before they could sail for his baby brother to be snacking. But the only thing bigger than his brother's appetite was his sense of humor. The kid could always break the tension, make him and Mikael laugh when only a moment before they were ready to kill one another. 

His brother looked down at the tray sheepishly and blushed, "I thought maybe she would like something to eat."

Sven nodded, leave it to Bjorn to think of the things that he forgot. "She is asleep for now. And we need to get the hell out of here if this is going to work. So is everything done?"

His brother nodded his lighter blond head and motioned towards the deck, "Mikael is requesting final permission when I left."

Leave it to Mikael to get the job done. His brother really was just as able a seaman and captain as he was. Only an accident of birth had given him the authority that his brother craved. Perhaps that need to be the one in charge was what had motivated Mikael to break with tradition. To grab for something that was totally his own. 

Maybe if he had chosen more wisely...with his head and not his heart? But the truth was that Greta was a poor choice from the beginning. A spoilt city girl used to having her way in everything could never adjust to their quiet and isolated way of life. But that was behind them all now. Well, most of it anyway. After three years of mourning and pining for a wife that was never coming back, their mother had finally convinced Mikael to give the old ways a chance. 

She had had to work just as hard to convince Sven. He was more than happy to let his brothers do the marrying...in the new way even. As far as he was concerned, he was already married...to Ӕgir's Captive and the sea was his mistress. Other than that what he wanted from a woman, he could charm from the occasional submissive that he met online or in the clubs or even pay for it when absolutely necessary.

So why then had she gotten under his skin so much over the past three months? Her innocence and completely open curiosity did things to him that his more experienced partners never had. The idea of training her...just for his taste...their tastes...was intriguing. 

But all of that would be for nothing and he and his brothers could be in some very real and big trouble if they did not get the ship out of here damned soon. A thousand years ago Vikings stealing brides from the Brits via their long boats might have been common place, but Sven knew that twenty-first century laws called it kidnapping and imposed rather long prison sentences for it. And he had no desire to waste years of his life in jail, let alone allow his brothers to. 

"Leave the food. When we are out to sea, you may take it to her," perhaps Bjorn's youth and mirth might be a good way of waking sleeping beauty even. After all, she would be as much his wife and his responsibility as she was his or Mikael's. In time anyway. 

That was the beauty of this tradition. How it had come about. Or so legend said. No one is sure exactly when or how, but it had always been the tradition for brothers to take care of the widows and children of any lost at sea. The story was told of one woman who had been captured from a warring tribe centuries ago. She had gone through five brothers. When she saw the last one come home alone from the sea, she had fallen to the ground weeping. "Why? Now I must marry you as well. Why do you not have done with it and merely have me marry you all from the beginning. Perhaps that would have been kinder to my heart than coming to love each of you only to lose you in turn." 

When it came time for her sons to marry, she had insisted that was what they do. Capture just one bride. They were gone to sea for much of the year anyway. And since women were often so much more complicated than men, the arrangement often worked out quite well. When a wife would get made at one of them, it was sometimes possible for others to smooth the waters. 

Sven laughed, "Definitely Bjorn's job. I have no patience for such things and Mikael is not even certain he wants any part of this whole thing."

"What, brother? You called me," Mikael answered as Sven stepped onto the deck.

He shook his head, "It is nothing. Do not concern yourself with it." He saw his brother bristle at his words. He wondered as he often did how he would have handled it were the roles reversed? Would he have been able to follow his brother's orders as easily as Mikael did? It had not been an issue when they had first taken to sea. As teens and young men working along side their fathers they had been almost equals though both had known that eventually the primary responsibility would fall to him. 

But that had seemed so far away then. Until one by one their fathers had become old men, retiring to land and years of love, laughter and warmth that they had been denied for a lifetime alongside their mother. Or dying. Only Uncle Olaf remained to keep their mother company and occasionally offer his son and nephews what wisdom he had gained over a lifetime of rough and difficult seas.

He could use some of that wisdom now. "Has the harbor master cleared us?" he asked Mikael. 

His brother shook his dark head. "He said he wanted to speak with you himself first." Mikael looked worried, but then again it was all too common a thing for him these past seven years. Sven missed the care-free if a bit quarrelsome man that his brother had been before that woman came and ripped his heart out. 

He frowned, let that be a warning for all of them, not to let this woman get too close. Not much chance of that with Mikael. He was not certain that his brother's heart would ever heal from the bitch's cold and callous rejection not only of him but of their child as well. As for him, well, he was too practical to allow any little slip of a woman to get to him. 

But he would have to keep a close eye upon Bjorn. The two of them were closer in age and with his brother's winsome temperament it would only be natural for a deeper bond to form, which would not be a bad thing to bind their woman to them. On the other hand, not if it could hurt Bjorn. Whoever had thought this polyandrous marriage was the best solution for their complicated way of living?

But he did not have time to ponder it further as the bulky form of his friend the harbor master stepped onto the deck. Sven held out his hand and greeted the man with a smile, "Welcome, my friend."

The man shook his hand firmly and smile widely. "So did you get the little lady settled, old man? I got to tell you I never thought an ugly old mug like you could capture a woman like that one. Mind you, I did not get a good look at her earlier. You were in quite a hurry, but from what I saw of her, who can blame you? Besides with a woman that pretty she might get better offers."

Sven smiled and shook his friend's hand. He tried not to react to how accurate the man's description of the situation was. Especially the word...capture. If his friend knew the truth he would be obligated to betray him. So he kept up the polite conversation for a couple of moments as he handed the man all of their documents, including her forged passport. 

"So where has the little lady gone off to?" asked the older man with a bit of a leer. 

So this was what it was all about? His friend wanted a closer look at his 'new bride.' It was the last thing that Sven could allow. If, or more likely when, her disappearance made the news, he wanted as few a connections to them as possible. Sven was almost certain that the girl had not told anyone about him or their meeting. And while there was a cyber trail of their conversations, thanks to baby brother Bjorn's interest in computers all of it had been routed through servers around the world. The profile he gave and the information in that email would lead nowhere. 

And thanks to the bitter British rain and wind, he was certain that neither the surveillance cameras at the harbor nor this man had gotten a really good look at her. Other than tall, with long legs and red hair, he doubted that his friend could provide any description of the woman. And he wanted to keep it that way.

"She is settling in below. Big day and all," he could see that the man was not satisfied as he stretched and stared at the stairway that led below.

"I really should see for myself. Check her against the passport and all you know," the man cleared his throat.

This was not going as easily as Sven had hoped. Perhaps a half lie would serve him well now, he moved closer to his friend. Shoulder to shoulder as he lowered his voice a bit, "Honestly, I left her sleeping," he added a conspiratorial wink for good measure.

His friend cleared his throat and slapped him on the shoulder, "Good job then. Don't suppose I absolutely have to see the new bride...if she is indisposed. We've known each other since you were just a lad so I suppose I can take your word for it. Besides I caught enough of a look at the girl to see that she was not drugged and went with you willingly and all. I know it sounds awful, but the whole custom's people are overly concerned about this human trafficking thing. 

Which was why the laws and sentences for what for their family and people had been a custom for centuries had become so stiff. And why getting this man off the boat and them out to sea as soon as possible was so important. 

Bjorn's smiling face appeared out of the lower decks. He carried a tray of homemade cookies that looed to still be warm from the oven. Their mother often did things like freeze the dough for them. And she had taught them all to cook, clean, sew and fend for themselves, but Bjorn especially had taken to the kitchen. When at sea, he was generally their cook. He held out the tray for the man, "Take a few. I made a fresh batch for her."

"Don't mind if I do," said the man. "So you met your brother's wife already? I'd figure he'd want to keep the little lady as far away from your pretty face as he could," the man chuckled.

Bjorn blushed, "I have not spent much time with her, no, but he introduced her earlier."

"I was just telling him what a pretty little thing she was or what little I could see of her. But with legs like those, I suppose it don't matter much if her face is butt ugly," he joked around a full mouth of cookie.

Bjorn smiled and nodded as he held out the tray to their friend again. He took three more of the sweets and wrapped them in a tissue as he gave a final look around the deck of the small ship. After a curt nod, he held out his hand to both men, taking the younger man's first and shaking it briefly. Then he turned to Sven, "All seems in order, my friend. See you in another three months or so. Until then, try to get some work done. Forget that, leave it all to these two young chaps and enjoy your new bride."

Sven nodded and shook the man's hand. They would not be returning for some time, but he did not tell his friend that. He doubted that the man would give it more than a casual thought when they did not. After all the life of fishermen were uncertain and in the current economy many of his kind were simply disappearing. He was sure that in a year or so the man would assume they too had become victims of either the sea or financial troubles. 

No, it would be some time before Ӕgir's Captive returned to these shores and even then perhaps it would be best to select another port. He watched as the man disappeared down the docks. With a huge sigh, he turned to his brother. "Tell Mikael we leave immediately." Bjorn nodded and turned towards the back of the ship. 

Sven climbed the stairs to control room. He checked the latest weather and tide updates as he watched his brothers untether the ship and lift anchor. Within five minutes they had pushed back from the docks. He was thankful that their ship was not large that it required a tug into deeper waters. He would not want to waste precious time waiting. 

Within a very short time they had cleared the harbor and were out to the open sea. It would be days before they were home, but at least the sea would embrace them in her wide arms, give them some time and space to get to the safety of their home with their captive bride. Now he could breathe a bit easier. The girl had no place to run. The matter was settled. 

Or it would be soon. As soon as the sea was deep enough and calm enough, he set the autopilot and went to seek out is brothers. He found Bjorn first. The youngest was smiling as always. He tried to think of a time when the man was not, but only the strongest gale or the death of one of their fathers could countenance such a thing. 

"Take your cookies to her," he said. "Make small talk. Hell, you can even untie her. But do not tell her anything until Mikael and I join you. Is that understood?"

The younger man nodded, but he seemed reluctant to go. At last he spoke, "What is she like?"

Of course, this had been a joint decision, of sorts anyway. All of them had worked together, trolling the fetish website looking for a good candidate. They had even written most of the emails together, though Sven had to admit that Bjorn and Mikael did most of the work. His contributions were mostly terse notes about the places they visited. He never had been very good with talking, even with his brothers. So he really did not know what to say to Bjorn now.

"See for yourself. She is easy to talk to," he shrugged at the best response he could give. He suspected that Bjorn and Kirsten would hit it off immediately. Who could not love his little brother? Between his handsome face and his almost naively sweet personality, the boy had been a ladies' man even before he had known what to do with them. 

Sven smiled as he remembered his baby brother's first voyage. The ship had docked in Nederland and his fathers and the three of them had taken to the bars. Even though he was barely fourteen Bjorn had come with them. Already he was over six feet tall and unlike either Sven or Mikael who had been lanky well into their early twenties, Bjorn was already board shouldered. He looked almost as old as Mikael, who was seven years his elder. Even now Sven wanted to laugh just thinking about all the women, some of them almost as old as their mother, who had thrown themselves at the boy. 

No, Bjorn would do fine with the woman. It was his other brother that he was worried about. He needed to talk to Mikael. Now. "Go on, boy. Use that charm. Us old men are counting on you to calm the seas for us." He forced a smile to reassure the younger man but he once more urged caution, "Just do not give her any details of the situation. Until we join you. We'll be as quick as we can. The sooner we speak with the woman, the sooner she can begin to come to terms with her destiny as Mother would call it. But right now, I need to talk to Mikael. Alone."

His younger brother nodded and for a split second that smile was gone. Sven realized then that it was more than Mikael that the woman's betrayal had hurt. His brother's failed marriage had touched them all in one way or another. And right now, he had to ensure that the three of them truly were untied in this endeavor. He slapped Bjorn on the shoulder, practically pushing him towards the stairwell. As he continued towards the keel where he was almost certain Mikael was trying to hide from him...from the situation...from their new bride.



Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 04



Bjorn piddled around the galley. The cookies should be done baking soon. What would he do to delay the inevitable then? 

Why did he want to? This had after all been his idea. He had been the one to bring it up, first with mother. Then after her help was assured, together they began to work on Sven and Mikael. That had not been easy. It had taken the better part of year to convince Sven, and even now Bjorn feared his eldest brother was only half convinced. And Mikael...even more reluctant, though he of all of them understood exactly why. 

No, this was his plan. The youngest. But he could always see what his brothers could not. The bigger picture, while they struggled through the forest one tree at a time. Not that he was unhappy with his place. He was not. He loved being the baby. It had afforded him more time with their mother, a better education and a freedom from the heavy weight of responsibility that his older brothers actually battled for. While he was content to simply...live. 

But he knew that it was not that simple. Their way of life was under attack from all sides. Fishing was becoming more difficult as fewer fish inhabited their artic waters due to pollution and overfishing. Today they competed not just with other family fishing vessels but with large corporate ones...and with farms. Fisheries where fish were grown like their mother grew her 'wild' flowers. 

It was not just that though. The harbor masters visit had reminded him of all they stood to loose if this plan went wrong. Their very freedom. He and his brothers could spend several years in prison for what had been a way of life for as long as anyone could remember. But modern society would not see it that way...kidnapping. They would be gone so long that the business would surely fail. Monika would be grown...and their mother...gone. 

He swallowed hard at the thought. Just as he always did. But it was a reality that he had to face. One that he had forced himself to face over a year ago. And one for which the solution was crystal clear...at least to him. They must find their 'one.' 

His mother and Uncle had seen the logic quickly enough. But Sven and Mikael were another matter. It had taken him and their mother months to convince Sven to even consider the possibility. Even then it had been nothing but grudgingly agree that Bjorn could at least look...see what might be out there. 

It was strange that the modernity that threatened to bring an end to their way of life actually had provided the key to finding her. The Internet...that Bjorn had been the first to learn...had provided them with the means to search the world over for that one special 'wild flower' as Mama called her. A flower that could grow and bloom its sweetest petals in the cold, rocky soil of their homeland...and the battered hearts of three rough brothers.

He had been reluctant at first to allow their mother to assist him. While he did post a couple of profiles at traditional dating sites, it was the ones that catered to his and his brothers' darker side to which he gave the most effort. Obviously, they could not advertise for a woman to share. 

He chuckled at the memory of one of his mother's favorite Christmas presents. He had been a little boy and they had gotten a VCR for Christmas that year. Each of the boys had received videos that might be of interest to them. So too had their mother. He would never forget the light in her eyes or the sound of her rich laughter as she opened her gift. He knew that their mother still watched that video sometimes, especially when she began to miss the men whom she had loved for so long. Except now the Kerry green eyes that he had inherited from her were filled with tears by the end of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. 

No, their mother had reminded him any woman that could accept and love four men could manage a touch of kink as she pushed him aside and viewed the profile he had created in Sven's name at the BDSM site. She had merely chuckled and murmured something about nuts never falling far from trees as she began to point out things that he had missed that would appeal to the type of woman they sought. 

So their mother had begun to help him search through the thousands of profile on the site in the half dozen cities and ports where they would call. It had been a long and at times very depressing process. This one was too submissive. That one too bratty. That one too uptight to manage polyandry. Even though they had specifically not decided to announce their unusual lifestyle in the adverts. 

It had taken them three months to identify a handful of women who might...might...be possible candidates. He had with his brothers and mother begun communicating with them all. Then one by one they had fallen away as the women either found Doms closer to them or showed flaws that would make them incompatible with what the brothers needed. 

In the end only two women remained. A Russian woman who was slightly older than Bjorn with a young child of her own and Kirsty. Mikael had favored the Russian because as a mother herself she would perhaps take more quickly to Monika. But that had ended disastrously when Sven returned from meeting the woman enraged over the abusive way she treated her son. 

So they had redoubled their efforts with Kirsty. She had been their last chance...at least for this trip. And perhaps forever. Bjorn was not certain he and Mama could keep Sven and Mikael interested in this 'project.' He feared that his brothers would continue to drift further apart until...Sven had returned with her today. 

He glanced at that closed door once more, she offered Bjorn and Petrine hope. A chance at least that their way of life might be salvaged...at least for one more generation. Bjorn had enjoyed the messages that they exchanged with the woman. With Kirsty. She was intelligent. She cared passionately about her job. She was very beautiful. But like him, she knew there was something missing...something that she craved to find in life.

His gaze drifted longingly to the laptop on the table. He knew what he wanted. A chance to do more with computers that were merely a hobby between fishing trips. Thing was that he loved the fishing too. Mikael and Mama might think that he longed to break free...to do his own thing as Mikael had. But he did not. All he wanted was a chance to combine his loves more fully. If as he had with their search for 'the one' he could turn the tides of modernity in their favor instead of trying to sail against her all too strong winds, then perhaps it was another step closer to their dreams.

Sure Ӕgir's Captive had over the past few years adopted several modern technologies such as sonar to help them locate the schools of fish they sought, but there was so much more they could do with technology to make the business more profitable. The Internet could connect them with buyers who would pay much more than they were getting in the various markets. Top end restaurants could get the fish directly from them ensuring that it was fresher and higher quality. And they could cut out the middle man...make more money. 

It made perfect sense to Bjorn, but convincing Sven was another matter. To his eldest brother, he was Loki...the comedic god. A jester. What Sven never realized was that the jokes were simply his tool for being noticed. As the youngest, it would have been easy for him to get lost in a houseful of men. His father, his uncles, two older brothers. He had only his quick mind, his smile and the ability to make Mama laugh. 

While he might have made a place for himself in Mama's heart and in their family, Sven was especially challenging. By the time that Bjorn had been born his eldest had taken to the sea with their fathers. He was practically a man full grown. Even Mikael was gone within a couple of years. He alone remained with Mama as she taught him all that he needed to know of the world. 

But his path was diverged from his brothers the day that Stig brought a computer home from one of their trips. Not that he could access the Internet...not back then anyway. But they had loaded the thing with all kinds of programs that would help his mother teach him. Bjorn had gone from a mediocre student to a boy genius overnight thanks to the magical machine.

When he had joined them at sea, or more importantly on their trips where he could spend hours exploring the World Wide Web in Internet cafes along their route, he was forever hooked. Knowledge beyond his wildest imagination was at his finger tips. He could learn anything he wanted, any time he wanted. And he did. 

Unfortunately, as he drifted deeper and deeper into the world of knowledge, he drifted further and further from the brothers he loved and wanted nothing more than to emulate. His learning set him apart somehow, made him different. When he began to talk about anything beyond the sea and fish that they knew, they merely laughed and tuned him out. 

His mother had been his only sounding board. Her mind was as active as it had been all those years ago, when the wander lust as she called it drew her to distant shores. That had been the only way to see new places, learn new things then...was to go. Now she had taken to the computer as fervently as he had. Together they explored ideas and spoke long into the night of ancient philosophers, modern psychology and especially of ways that they could save the life they loved. A life that both felt slipping through their fingers every day. 

But their mother was getting older. She would not be around forever. Even now Bjorn felt her withdraw further from them as she said her final farewells to each of the men she had loved through a lifetime. When Lars had died last year, it was only Uncle Olaf and Monika that kept his mother from drifting away in a depth of despair from which none of them could draw her back. 

This woman who loved her men, her sons and their way of life was growing older. And if...when...Uncle Olaf was gone? It was the question that forced Bjorn to face reality when Sven thought only of bottom line profits and how to keep Ӕgir's Captive afloat when so many small family fishing vessels like theirs were going out of business. And Mikael...he was too busy feeling sorry for himself since that woman came into their lives. 

Bjorn shook his head in disgust. He hated Greta. For how easily she had abandoned her daughter for certain. But the reasons went much deeper than that. It was a secret that he hid from his brothers, even his mother. The woman had tried to seduce him. When he rejected her advances, she had merely laughed and asked why he was acting so high and mighty; brides were to be shared with them anyway. He had shoved her way, pointing out that cheating behind Mikael's back was not sharing. Still she had only laughed...and left.

Of course, that woman could never understand. He was not sure that even his own brothers understood just how important finding 'the one' was. But he did. He knew, just knew deep inside his gut. If they did not find her, the one that could bind them all together with the tightest of bonds that would weather whatever storms this modernity was certain to throw at them...then all of Sven's hard work to salvage the business would be lost. And what would become of little Monika when Mama joined their fathers on the other side? 

But perhaps what scared Bjorn most was what would become of them. Three brothers born of different fathers, tied together by the sea and a mother. Without both, they could easily drift apart. Go their separate ways. The rivalry between Sven and Mikael grew with each passing day. Mikael's failure to etch out some space, something all his own, only made the chasm wider.

And Sven was so damned busy trying to manage schedules and markets that sometimes it seemed he forgot...they were his brothers, not merely crewmen. Oh, he knew that his eldest brother did his best. He felt the weight of their combined destinies on his broad shoulders. But he forgot...they were in this together...all of them. Or they should be anyway.

Which is where she came in...or where Bjorn hoped like hell she did. He looked down the hallway to the closed door to his brother's room. As he heard the ding of the timer on the oven, he knew that he could not delay this much longer. He needed to meet her...face to face. This woman whom he and his mother had pinned their hopes for saving the dream that they both held so dear. 

He shook his blond head. Could she do it? This woman. He was not sure. Like Greta, she was a city girl. To make matters worse, a career woman. And an only child. All three seemed strikes against her. They needed someone capable of spending long months alone. Someone who saw her job as keeping the holding as they called the farm that had been in their family for as long as time itself, their children and them together. Someone whose heart was big enough to love them all...for the men they were, faults and all. And that was a damned big order to fill and their mother's shoes were huge. 

Was it even possible in this modern world to find such a creature? Strong yet loving. Intelligent yet submissive. Loyal and kind. Someone who could see into their souls and give to each what he needed and take from each what he could spare without complaint. 

When he thought about it that way, Bjorn's respect for his mother deepened even more. Not that her youngest son had not always been the one closest to her. From his Kerry green eyes as she called them to his quick mind to his keen insight into the hearts and minds of others, Bjorn carried the most of Rachel inside of him. And the determination of Petrine to save the life that he genuinely loved.

But they needed an alley in that battle, that endless war against time itself. And he hoped like hell they had chosen well, because after Greta's games, they got only one more shot to salvage all they held dear...family. 

It was time he found out. Time he saw this creature upon whom they had pinned so many hopes and dreams for himself. Time he met his bride for real.

He picked up the plate and arranged the cookies on it. He would be lucky if they did not end up being thrown at him. Then again his mother had warned him to expect nothing less. After all, like the sea herself, where was the joy in fishing still waters? 

Time to pay the piper as his Mama would say, Bjorn smiled as he carried the plate down the hall. He opened the door to his brother's cabin. 

His breathe caught in his chest when he first saw her. She was so much more beautiful than in those photographs. Though her face was lined at the moment as dreams, or perhaps nightmares, assailed her sleeping mind, he could easily picture her laughing at one of his jokes. In that moment he made it his personal mission in this marriage to see that she laughed regularly. She would need lots of laughter to balance the tears that came with loving them all and the heavy weight of holding them all together. 

But the knot in his gut loosened just a bit. Something told him that she could do it. That they truly had chosen well. That they had found 'the one.' The only woman capable of such a monumental task in a world gone mad with greed and hubris. This woman would as their mother had find a path to love and nurture them all through the storms of life.

Bjorn knelt beside the berth and watched her sleep. Though her eyes were closed, he remembered from one picture that they were a deep, dark blue unlike Mikael's paler ones or Sven's almost cold grey ones and definitely nothing like his green ones. His fingers picked up a strand of her thick, burnished red curls that fanned out around her against the stark white pillows. It was as soft as it looked and he imagined his fingers threaded through it as he tugged and guided her head while her sweet lips were curled around his hard cock. 

He frowned. Would it be Sven or Mikael that fucked her while she sucked his cock? It was a strange thought to imagine sharing her with them. It was something they had never done...although they had had plenty of offers. Three brothers with the blonde glory of their Viking forefathers and that same air of confidence. Oh, they had that offer regularly. 

But that was a level of intimacy that was meant to be shared with just one woman...their woman. Their wife. So while none of them were innocent virgins, this would be as new to them in some ways as it was to her. 

Would he be jealous? Probably. His mother had explained that such things were only natural. But that overcoming them was the very core of forming the bonds that would bind them together. She had told him how his father and Uncle Anders had almost come to blows more than once over her. When he had asked why, she had merely smiled and replied that different men showed their love in different ways and that coming to accept that was part of the process. 

She rolled onto her side, facing him and the thick duvet fell away. He saw the dark red and purple bruise that was forming on the swell of her breast...and he had the first true taste of his mother's wisdom. The idea that Sven had first tasted the pleasures of her body tormented him. Though he knew that tradition dictated that the eldest had final say and was the first to claim their bride. It did not sit well with him. 

He chuckle; was that what had bothered Uncle Anders? That it was his father who had first loved the woman that Anders had chosen for them. Was this Loki's own humor that now he was the one feeling that bite of the green demon? Perhaps. But did it matter? He must overcome it just as his uncles had. 

His brother might fancy those lush tits but it was the soft sway of her hips that had captivated him as she followed Sven onto the deck of their boat...and into their lives. If she now bore the marks of his brother's teeth upon her sweet tits, she would soon bear the red print of his hand on her ass. His cock hardened at the thought. Hmmm...maybe it should be one of his brother's whose cock she sucked as he pounded her from behind and spanked that sweet ass? 

But his fantasy was put on hold when those blue eyes sprang open and stared right at him. "Who are you?" she almost whispered. Then she seemed to realize that she was naked beneath the blankets and tried to reach for the blanket. Her hands were still tied and she could not so Bjorn drew it almost to her chin. "Where am I?" Her voice was a bit stronger but he could hear that she was still groggy and confused.

Bjorn smiled, he hoped reassuringly, "You are on board Ӕgir's Captive." Bjorn decided that the truth was the best way forward...of course as his brother said...a little at a time. From the way that she suddenly began to thrash and pull at the ropes which bound her to the bed and the way that her face, neck and chest reddened to almost match her hair, he knew that a northern gale was forming in this sea. And when she turned those eyes that had deepened until they were almost as dark as the night sky upon him, he knew that they were in for a ride. 

He smiled...nothing he loved more than rough seas. It was when he faced their dark dangers, stared down death herself that he felt most alive. And from the look on her face now, he and his brothers were in for a nice long storm. 

But what he loved almost as much as the power of the wind and waves of those storms was the calm, fresh dawning of new day. Nothing ever felt as clean, pure or right as the morning after the storm. And that was what he wanted with this woman. With Kirsty...he wanted that tomorrow. For himself. But also for Sven and Mikael. For little Monika. And for their mother, their rock to know that she could safely put her ship to port for a final time, knowing that she had a fine captain to replace her. 

If that stare was any indication, this one was most definitely a match for their mother's strength and beauty. Now they had only to guide this vessel through the seas of life until they found more tranquil waters. 




Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 04



He chuckled and reached behind him to the plate of cookies. He found one and held it out to her, "Welcome aboard, Kirsty. Care for a cookie? Mama and I made them."



Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 05



Kirsty stared at the man in front of her...and the ridiculous biscuit that he held out. As if sweet breads could make kidnapping and rape all right somehow. She was not sure whether she should laugh or scream down the whole damned place. She went with the logical choice as her cries rent the crisp air of the tiny cabin. 

She tossed and tugged at the bonds which held her hands above her head. While they were looser than she remembered they were still secure. There was no way she could get out of them...without help. She turned back to the young man with the 'cookie.' She tried very hard to remember which he was...Mikael or Bjorn. Then again did it matter? 

All that really mattered was getting off this fucking ship as quickly as possible. While she knew that she should go directly to the police and report him for kidnap and rape, honestly she was not sure that had the strength to face that whole ordeal. For parents and friends to find out...the truth about her little fantasies? She swallowed back self-loathing that had brought her to this point...that had blinded her to the dangers she was taking. 

But she would deal with guilt later. Right now she needed to get the fuck off this boat...before it sailed. Oh my god, it could not be? She had only been on one of the river boats that took tourists up and down the Thames once or twice. But the to and fro sway of the boat seemed more pronounced than it had been before she... Well, when she first came on board. But that would mean? And her screams did not seem to bother the man. Was that because he knew that no one hear them? 

The man nodded as he looked at her, still holding that damned biscuit like it was some supreme peace offering. "Yes, we are headed home now, Kirsty. Ӕgir's Captive is far enough out to sea now that no one can hear your screams." He stretched and reached above her to untie her hands, "And there is really no where that you can run." 

Kirsty stared at the young man as she tried to assimilate his words. He was the youngest of the three. And honestly, the best looking though he lacked that brooding darkness that was so enticing in Sven. This one smiled easily...perhaps too easily, she thought. As if the smile could hide the tears, but she shook her head. 

It was one of her gifts that made her good at her job. She was able to read people. Almost know what they were thinking and feeling before they knew themselves. It was a valuable tool when you worked all day with autistic children, many of whom were still non-verbal. So why had she not known with Sven? She frowned...or maybe she had as she thought about the need to run at the train station and looking back just one last time. But she had ignored her gut instincts and look where that got her. 

Where did that get her? Her frown deepened. What did he want with her? He had already...they had. Stop being polite, Kirsty, she chided herself. He had already raped her. Although to be fair, had he? She had... She shook herself, okay, kid, admit it...that was the best damned sex of your life. Maybe even better than the shit that you cannot get enough of in those dirty books of yours. 

She snuck another glance at the man crouched next to her. She had to force her brain away from memories of her favorite book...about Texas oil baron brothers...who shared a bride. That was fiction she reminded herself. That sort of thing did not happen in real life. Sure there were some religions where men had more than one wife...and that was crazy enough. But men were way too territorial and possessive to share a single woman...even with their own brothers. 

But he might know what Sven planned to do with her? If she played her cards right he might even be sympathetic with her. Help her to escape when they finally reached...wherever it was they were going. She searched her mind as she tried to remember what Sven had told her about his home. But as she rifled through her memory banks she realized too late that it was precious little. Even if or when she was discovered missing there would be very little information for the police. 

She had always prided herself on being intelligent, a good judge of character. So how the hell had she ended up in this position? Kidnapped and...taken, she could live with that word? 

The only way to find out was obvious, "So what does your brother want with me?" she could not even meet his eyes which looked almost as green as grass. 

"We will talk about that when Sven and Mikael arrive. Until then...can I get you something to drink? The bathroom is over there," he said as he waved his hand towards a small door at the foot of the bed. Where Sven had stood as he knotted her legs together as if he had been doing it all his life. How many other women had his brother kidnapped? Were these men serial rapist...or worse? 

She felt panic begin to rise until she could barely breathe. The room began to spin as images of her body lifeless and tossed over the side of the boat...never to be found. Her parents would be...she wanted to say devastated, but that was not their way. They would mourn the loss of their only child with the same polite reserve that they lived and worked. Then they would move on. Patients to see, papers to write, parties to attend. 

The hard truth Kirsty was forced to face was that her life was expendable. Her friends would be upset, but they would marry and have children, perhaps one of them would even remember to name a daughter after the woman they had once known. Her clients at the clinic would miss her. Probably more than anyone since forming the types of bonds that she had with some of them took years. But she saw them for an hour a week, sometimes less. They would get another therapist who would eventually replace her in their hearts and minds. The truth was that even if he had not moved onto the arranged marriage with his cousin, Raj would have been no better. 

Kirsty stood and rushed towards the tiny door, throwing it open and then slamming it shut again just as quickly. The space was tight...barely a meter square for a shower, toilet, lavatory and mirror. She stared at the woman in the mirror. The naked woman. Had she ever even gotten completely naked with Raj in all their years as friends and lovers? She could not remember even once. But she had with him. With Sven. Then she had just pranced naked in front of his brother. 

This situation was exceptionally weird...but still what was she thinking? The truth was that she was not. She had not been thinking in months. She had lost herself in the strange world of feelings. Emotions that she had been taught from the cradle to suppress. She had allowed them to overrule her mind and her morals. She had followed her heart...and look where it had gotten her. 

There was a soft tap at the door, "I will leave a towel on the bed while I get you something more substantial to eat and drink. We can talk more when my brothers get here, but maybe you will feel better after a shower, no?" 

Feel better? No, she seriously doubted she would 'feel' better, but a shower might give her the chance to calm down, for her to think and reason her way out of this disastrous situation. She turned the water on and waited for a moment until a gentle steam filled the tiny cubicle. She stepped beneath the pounding spray of the water and just stood there allowing it to wash over her for a long moment. She felt boxed in on all sides. How did he even fit in here? 

Her nipples hardened and she cursed her own body. Even after everything that had happened, the man still made her ache for things she could never have. And having tasted just how sweet those things could be only made matters worse...much worse. Her body screamed in pain at the bruises and marks from the rope. 

So why did it feel so damned good? What was wrong with her? Hell, she had even read the scientific papers on the subject...a cross-wiring in the brain between the pleasure and pain centers. But that did not explain how easily he could manipulate her body and even her mind. Seriously, what was wrong with her? 

But she would have years to pursue that answer in therapy, but first she had to figure out a way out of this place, off this boat and back home. As soon as possible. Maybe she could convince them to turn the ship around? They could not be that far from shore, right? If she assured them that she would not press charges...would not tell anyone what had happened...maybe... 

The knock on the door was stronger this time. "Come out, woman. You cannot hide in there all night. We talk now," the voice was deeper, gruffer. She recognized it immediately. She debated what to do. But he was right, every moment she spent hiding in here took her further and further from home. Better she faced him now, confronted this situation and convinced him to take her back. She turned off the water and opened the door just a crack. "The towel, please." 

He filled the doorway. She could not see past the man. His shoulders were so wide that they reminded her of the Greek myth of Atlas. Yes, this man carried the weight of the world upon those shoulders. That was what was behind the sadness in those grey eyes, not coldness but the opposite...love. He felt the weight of those burdens every bit as much as Atlas had. 

Despite everything, she found herself wanting to reach out, to soothe the worry lines that caressed his forehead, wanting to take even a small bit of that weight off those board shoulders. Because Kirsty could see the truth...even shoulder that broad could not hold the whole world all alone...not forever anyway. 

She shook her head. Stockholm syndrome she told herself. But her logic argued that it was much too soon for her to be empathizing with her captors. And they were her captors, she reminded herself firmly. She needed to remember that. 

The smiling face appeared over his brother's broad shoulders and once more she was uncertain whether to laugh or cry. He pressed a bundle into her hand. In addition to a towel there was a shirt folded on top of it, "It maybe a bit big but I thought you would rather wear one of my shirts than just the towel," he blushed like a sheepish little boy and her heart skipped a bit. She would need to keep her guard up around this one just as much...until she got out of here...and away from them. 

She nodded her head and whispered polite words of thanks though that seemed odd given the situation. She closed the door and quickly dried off. She was surprised at how the shirt hung on her. She was not a little girl, zaftig even. But this thing swallowed her whole. The soft warmth of the flannel material and the crisp clean smell...of man maybe...was doing strange things to her. 

"They are the enemy," she reminded herself as she looked in the mirror. What she saw there frightened her. Yes, the deep purple of the bruises peeked from the unbuttoned top of the shirt and the red circles about her wrists reminded her that ropes were no longer just a fantasy. 

But it was the soft blush in her cheeks that made her look alive and almost beautiful even that scared her the most. This creature reminded Kirsty of the tales of mermaids and sirens that called to men and entranced them with their sensuality. She shook her head, that could not be right...but then who was that woman in the mirror? 

She ran her fingers threw her wet hair. It smelled of him...perhaps even more now. His shampoo had been all that she could find. She tried to put it into some sort of order but in the end she gave up and plaited it into a single long strand. She had a brush and some clips in her purse, she would secure the end in a bit. For now the dampness would hold it in place...mostly anyway. 

She sighed as she looked back in the mirror at that creature. Well-loved? Was this what those authors meant when they described the disheveled heroine as that? Admittedly, she had never...Well, obviously she had. That was the whole purpose of those books after all...pornography for women. And after the break up with Raj, she would often...take care of herself before bedtime. She chuckled, ironically it was better sex than she had ever had with him. 

But even her wildest fantasy paled in comparison with what had happened in that cabin earlier. Was that why she was so reluctant to go back out there...to face him. Face them all it seemed. She sighed even heavier, she could not delay it forever though. Her hand tentatively reached for the door knob. She willed herself to turn it and push. 

She stepped into the cabin that was filled to overflowing with masculinity. Three huge giants that did their Viking ancestors proud. All of them different but oddly the same. Shades and shadows of the same man, but as unique as their fingerprints...individuals. She shook her head as she tried to overcome the odd sensation... 

Of safety...belonging? But that made absolutely not fucking sense. The very fact that Kirsty cursed, even in her thoughts, told her how desperate she was becoming. She looked around the small cabin, searching perhaps for some magical means of escape. But there was none. 

She was relieved that someone had taken the time to straighten the bed. Its crisp white duvet was pulled up to just cover the bottom of the oversized pillows. But what was even stranger was the small table that was probably meant more as desk was laid out with plates, bowls and silverware. She noticed that the beautiful artic wildflowers that Sven had brought her had even found a home in a vase at the center of the table. Small folding chairs that she thought she remembered seeing in the galley were arranged around the table. 

"I will be back in a moment with the stew," smiled the youngest. She shook her head as she stared after his retreating back. She turned to the other two men whose silent facades reminded her of storm clouds on the horizon. Dark and brooding. That was certainly Sven. 

And the other man was almost a copy of him. Except this one hid even the simplest of emotions behind a thick beard. She noticed that in the light of the cabin his hair was practically white, a true Nordic blonde, which was at odds with his beard which was a darker shade of blonde almost the same shade as Sven's hair except that was highlighted with a tinge of ginger. Not as red as her hair of course, more a strawberry blonde. A grizzly bear...of course not, a polar bear. And one that was hurt and hiding. That would make him more dangerous because he would come out fighting, thinking he had nothing to loose. 

Kirsty shook her head. She was never sure where this stuff came from. These silly little voices in her head that whispered to her the deepest darkest secrets of man. She had lived with it for a lifetime. At first she had thought that it was something that everyone just knew. But by the time she was in secondary school, she had learned never to reveal all that she knew about the minds and hearts of others. 

She walked past Sven. It was impossible not to brush against him in the confined space and she cursed her body that came alive at the memory of this man's touch. But she was determined not to let him know that, though the smile that curved upon those firm lips told her perhaps she had been a bit tardy with her stiff upper lip. Let him enjoy the small victory, it would be his last. 

The younger man came back into the room carrying a large wooden tray laden with fresh bread, butter, cheese and a stew that smelled more delicious than Kirsty could remember having in a very long time. "It is not fancy, but I hope you like it," he uttered with a smile as he ladled a big spoon into the bowl in front of her. He broke off a piece of the bread and put it on the small plate under the bowl. Then he held out the tray for her to take butter and cheese. 

She lifted the knife and for a split second thought to perhaps use it to threaten the men. But she doubted that she would have the nerve to actually use it. And even if she did manage to escape...where would she go? They were out to sea. She had no idea how far from land. Or even which direction to swim...in the freezing cold waters of the English Channel. It would be suicide...and as bad as the situation might appear, Kirsty was not that kind of drama queen. 

Instead she cut a couple of slices of what appeared to be rich cheddar cheese and a bit of butter that she spread on her bread. When she was finished, the younger man handed the whole tray to Sven, who merely smiled at her and replied, "Wise decision, Kirsten," as he began to fill his own bowl and plate. The men passed the food around as if eating dinner in silence with a half naked woman was an every day occurrence with them. 

Maybe it was? After all, Kirsty was coming to realize just how little she did know about this man. Of course she had come to that realization a bit too late. She took a bite of the stew. It truly was as delicious as it smelled, but she was not in mood for idle polite conversation so she was not going to say that. Instead she ate in silence. She might need her strength. As she finished the last bite of her stew, she sat back in the chair and looked around the table at the brothers. 

Sven she knew the most about...or she thought she did anyway. How much of those messages were the truth was anyone's guess at this point. She should have thought more about that before agreeing to this crazy...meet for coffee plan. She tried with all her might to remember, she thought that the middle brother was Mikael. That would make 'Happy' as she had nicknamed the youngest, Bjorn. She supposed she could called the middle one 'Grumpy;' it certainly fit his dour expression. But Sven defied description and she kept coming back to that image of Atlas with shoulders stooped under the heavy strain of his load. 

But she had had enough of analyzing and empathizing with these men. It was time she found out what they wanted with her. And a full frontal assault was as good a method as any, "So what do you plan to do with me?" She asked calmly as she brought a glass of wine to her lips. 

"You are to be our bride," said Sven equally as calmly as he brought another spoon of stew to his mouth without so much as even glancing up at her. 

Wine spewed across the small table and caught the man right in the eye as she choked and sputtered trying to catch her breathe. Happy tried patting her on the back though it felt more like pounding her to a pulp. And Grumpy just stared at his plate as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here at the moment. 

Kirsty was certain that she must have heard them wrong. This had to be a joke right? She must have left her e-reader lying around the flat open at some point. Her roommates? Would they really take a practical joke this far? But what else could it be? They had seen the type of stories that she was reading and perhaps thought to teach her a lesson? But that seemed more like something her parents would do. They were always one for 'natural consequences' and 'learn your lesson, young lady.' 

It made no sense. When she finally cleared her airway and could breathe again, she looked up at Sven who had wiped his face clean and returned to his meal as if nothing had happened, "You're kidding, right? This is one of those practical joke telly shows, right?" She stared around the cabin looking for hidden cameras, "You are all actors and one of my friends is going to jump out and say...got you...any moment, right?" She pleaded but for the life of her she could not see cameras and none of her friends appeared. 

Sven just shook his head, "You may choose who sleeps in here with you tonight...if you wish." 

She looked from brother to brother, seeking allies in this craziness. Sven was simply enjoying his tea as if the intimacy they had shared that afternoon was nothing more than a casual fuck. As if sharing a woman with his brothers was as normal as a pipe after dinner for her father. Happy was clearing the table but kept glancing at her with those green eyes that seemed to plead with her like a puppy dog...pick me, pick me. And Grumpy was shoving his chair back from the table, ready to abandon them all and this lunacy. 




Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 05



"I pick him then," Kirsty pouted as she pointed to Mikael, or Grumpy as she had so accurately nicknamed him. 

Sven nodded to Happy who at the moment looked anything but as he slammed dishes onto the tray. "Very well then. Bjorn and I will say gut nach, good night. We shall see you in the morrow." He practically drug the younger man out of the room as she turned to face the man she had chosen...the man she knew least wanted anything to do with this whole thing. 

But what she saw behind that thick beard was a mouth was set in resolve and pale blue eyes that brokered no arguments. Maybe Happy would have been a better choice she thought as she stood up and began to inch towards the bed. 

*** 

Sven watched as Bjorn slammed the tray down on the counter. The dishes clattered and he feared that more than one broke in the tussle. "It was like she knew," he muttered. 

Bjorn spun on him. His cheeks glistening with red anger, "Of course, she fucking knew. She knows us all. Better probably than we know each other. Better maybe than we know ourselves. Don't you get that! That is what it takes to be 'the one.' Damn it," he cursed as he threw a glass against the opposite wall. 

Sven watched his youngest brother. Where had that happy little kid gone? The one that made them all laugh with his jokes and pranks. He wished that he could do that now for the man before him. But he barely knew how to laugh himself. Let alone make another do so. "Do not fret. I spoke with him. He will not let us down," he tried to sound more confident than he felt at that moment. 

Bjorn shook his head, "Of course, he won't. Because while you and I might want...might long for...her, he needs her in a way that neither of us ever will. Monika needs her. And Mikael knows that." He sighed and his huge shoulders slumped, his head banged against the cupboard in front of him, "But that does not make it any easier. She should have been mine. She is mine," 

Sven could see his brother's fingers curled into the shiny metal of the sink until he feared that he would actually bend it. "Yes, Bjorn. She is yours. Your choice. But she is also mine." He turned towards the closed door at the end of the hallway, "And she is Mikael's too. Let us just hope that he has the courage to see that." He slapped his younger brother on the back and turned to take the upper berth in the cabin next door. 

It was going to be a long night. A very long night. He just hoped like hell that his brother thought to use the damned gag in the toy box at the end of the berth. Because the idea of sleeping in the crew quarters with an angry Bjorn while he listened to her sweet cries of pain...and pleasure...was not one he wanted to consider at the moment. Not when he could picture in intimate detail what those intense blue eyes looked like as she soared to the heavens and gave her body so fucking completely. 

"Fuck, this was a bad idea," he cursed as he stripped his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. He climbed into the top bunk and brought a pillow over his head to muffle whatever sounds came.



Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 06



Mikael stared at the woman. Why the hell did she have to look so fucking beautiful without any make-up, her hair in a simple braid and wearing nothing but Bjorn's shirt? "Take off the shirt," if she wearing anything this night, it would be his.

The girl clutched the shirt about her neck tightly and stared at him, "What is it with you guys and clothes? Is that all you know? Are you naturists or something?" 

He watched as she shuffled about the room. He would have asked why him, but he knew. The woman had sensed that he was the weak link, that he wanted this the least of them all. And she had thought she could use that to manipulate the situation. Manipulate him. But he had had enough of women manipulating him to last a life time.

And as much as it pained him to admit, Mama was right...he might not want this, but he needed it. More even than his baby brother. His child's very future depended upon binding this woman to them...to him and ultimately to Monika. He was not going to fail his daughter...not again. He might have been unable to stop her own mother from abandoning her, but he would not allow his own 'issues' to stop them now. 

She inched towards the closed door. He chuckled, "Where do you think you can go, Kirsty? We are on a boat in the middle of the ocean. It is dark and cold out there." He stood to his full height of six foot six and used it to tower over her. She was not a small girl like Greta had been, she would not be used to such displays of dominance from men. He would use that surprise to his advantage. 

"And did you forget that my brothers are just down the hall? Do you think they are just going to let you walk right past them?" Almost to make his point he turned and fumbled through the trunk that sat against the wall behind the door to the bathroom. 

It was their toy box. Big boy toys that they used when any of them entertained guests. He knew that she preferred rope and from the looks of marks on her wrists, Sven had given her a taste of that. For once though he was not going to get into a contest of one-up-manship with his brother. He reached for a different set of toys and the clink of cold metal filled the room.

When he turned back to her, she had inched closer to the door. But prudence perhaps had kept her from testing his theories. He smiled as he lifted his prizes in his hands. "Do you know what these are?"

Mikael had to admit he enjoyed the surge of power that rushed straight to his cock at the look of shock in those expressive eyes. "I will not ask if you have tried them. We both know you have not." He shrugged his broad shoulders as he stepped closer to her, "And I really do not give a damn if you want to or not."

He stood within inches of her then. He bent his head so that he could whisper in her ear, "You thought you could top from the bottom with me, didn't you?"

Her braid hit the side of his face as she shook her head so violently, trying to deny what they both knew was true. "I just thought..." she stammered as she held up her hands. She started to back away like he known she would. He had positioned them so that only brought her closer to the bed...where he wanted her. Though perhaps not as she thought. Not as his brothers did. But wanted her nonetheless. 

When the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, when he knew that he had her cornered, exactly as he wanted her, his hand captured her wrist as it came up to push at his chest. He smiled with satisfaction at the clank of metal against metal as the handcuff tightened around her wrist. They were surprisingly small for a girl of her size but he adjusted them until they fit just right. Not too tight so that he would need to constantly check for circulation. But not loose enough that she could wiggle away. 

She was going nowhere this night. She might have thought she had chosen the weakest link but she would soon discover that even then their resolve was stronger than she was. 

He had to lift her other hand from where she had tried to hide it behind her back as the first cuff closed around the other wrist. His body brushed against hers and his cock hardened inside of his jeans. He cursed under his breathe. At her, but more so at the betrayal of his own body. He did not want to want her. He never wanted to want another woman at all...ever. 

But this one was not one of the hookers that he paid in the Red Light district of whatever port they called upon. Then only when he could no longer deny his physical appetites or satisfy them himself. This one he could not simply walk away from without a backward glance by tossing a few extra bills upon the bed. 

This one was his wife. Their wife, he corrected himself. His wife had left him. Had hated him so much that she did not even want to take their daughter with her...because she reminded her of him. He froze. For a moment, he feared that the woman had been right. That he was so weak that he could not go through with this. Could not do what he knew he must to bind her closer to them. Closer to him as much as that frightened and disgusted him. 

It was his little girl's face in his mind as he closed his eyes that ultimately gave him that courage. Mama was right, she needed a mother. But if what he feared was true proved right, she needed more than that. She needed this woman's skills. 

When they had started to talking with her, they had done a bit of research into many facets of her life. Google had told them much about the people she called parents. But what it had not told them, niggled at the back of his mind. There was not a single mention anywhere of the brilliant couple's only child. Their careers most definitely. Their charity work. Their presence in high society. But not her. Not Kirsty. This he did not understand. 

But that was not all they had investigated. They had learned more about her work too. He in particular had spent hours investigating what it was that she did with these children. It was this that had given him hope that perhaps if she loved her work so very much and her messages indicated that she did, then perhaps she could, would come to love Monika. 

The thing was that the more Mikael read and learned of autism...the more he saw his own little girl. At times, he had had to force himself to keep reading through eyes that were clouded with unshed tears. So much of it all finally made sense. His daughter's withdrawal, the way that she could never look any of them in the eyes...well rarely. Her sometimes almost violent outbursts that seemed to come out of nowhere and have no cause. Even the fact that at almost five she spoke less than a handful of words and then only rarely. It all made sense to him...

And that was why he needed this woman. This woman above all others might hold the key for reaching his child. And he would do whatever it took to keep her...to bind her to them. To him. His daughter was counting on him not to let her down...not this time.

He opened his eyes and stared into hers as he lowered her to the bed. He re-arranged her long legs that he was delighted to see was covered with the light brown freckles that ran across her nose. Was her whole body, he wondered. He would discover for himself soon enough. 

He clicked the other handcuff into place around the other wrists and then tugged her hands above her head, securing them to the hook above his brother's bed. But he was not done yet. 

He stood up and walked back to that trunk. It was not hard to find what he was looking for, it was one of the larger items in it. He felt the weight of it in his hand as he lifted it high into the air. He watched her eyes as the faint light from the overhead bulb caught on the metal bar. "I don't need to ask if you know what this is. I can see in those beautiful eyes that you know exactly what a spreader bar is used for," he chuckled as he took the single step between the open box and the foot of the bed.  

"I don't think this made your fetish list on the site," he bent and unbuckled one of the straps, slipping it around her ankle even though she fought, tried to keep him from buckling it firmly into place. "But it makes mine," he replied as he turned to attention to the other ankle. Without the momentum of both legs this one was easier still to capture. He had the restraints secured around both ankles in less than two minutes despite her protests and fighting.

He looked up at her. Stared her down for several long moments without saying or doing anything at all. It was a battle of wills. A game of chicken. Who would look away first? And he was determined to win this primitive game of domination that even beasts of the field knew and practiced. 

Though she did not see it, he nodded his head in satisfaction when she looked away, staring at the wall. "Why me?" she whispered. 

Her simple words froze Mikael and melted something inside of him. He wished he could give her an answer, but the one which he had to give would only make matters worse. It was self-serving and probably nothing more than a father's desperate attempt to save his only child. So he simply ignored her plea though something about it ate at his soul. 

But he pushed it all aside and focused upon doing what had to be done at this moment. He adjusted the bar, loosening it until it was almost its full length. The girl really did have the most amazing long legs. And the spreader bar only emphasized that. 

Her pale skin with its light smattering of freckles almost blended with the white duvet. The only color was the deep blue of his brother's shirt and the striking red of hair. Neither one of which was to his liking at the moment. 

He knelt at the foot of the bed and bent over her. There was barely a foot between their bodies as he leaned all of his weight upon one hand near her head. The other hand he used to rip open his little brother's damned shirt. Was it some perverse reminder from Bjorn that this woman had been his choice? It did not matter really, because in the end she was their choice. Their woman. Their wife. 

He smiled as he noticed the freckles that covered her neck and shoulders, they continued down her chest. They called to him like stars in the night sky. He wondered if he stared at them long enough, could he find patterns among them as the ancients had in the skies. Would those patterns and stars led him home as his forefathers had once followed the stars to navigate the seas?

He doubted it. There was no home for him, no peace to be found. His hope had walked out the door, out of his life, out of his little girl's life three years ago. It was too late for him. But not for his daughter. Not for his brothers. So he would go through the motions. Do what he knew needed to be done to bind this woman to him. To them all. He would not be the weakest link. He would not fail them. Never again. 

"Bjorn will have to find another favorite shirt," he said as he drew the knife from his back pocket. He had meant only to cut the shirt from her. These games...knife play was much too advanced for a novice. But the look of fear...and excitement in those Odin damned eyes did something to his gut, his mind and damn it that Judas...his cock. 

"Be very still, Kirsty," he whispered as he stared into the depths of those green fields. "Do you understand me?"

The girl only nodded her head against the white pillow. It was a reminder of the other thing that he did not like. He rose up and shifted the knife to his other hand. He noticed the look of relief...and disappointment as he bent back over her. He smiled as he used his long fingers to tug and pull her hair free of the braid. Maybe he should have been more gentle but he was in too much of a hurry to see those thick curls spread like a hallo of orange tulips around her. It took him just a moment to complete the task and return to his earlier one as he shifted the knife back to his other hand.

He stared directly into those eyes as he brought the point of the blade to her cheek. He told himself that this game, one of his favorites was much too much advanced for them. It required a degree of trust that was built up over time. But that was just it, he did not have time. Three days at best before they reached port. Three days before she had the chance to run...not that any of them was going to let her do that. Not physically anyway. 

But Mikael of all them knew how easy it would be for her to withdraw from them all. He knew exactly what it felt like to live with and sleep next to a stranger. On the small island that they called home, with acres and acres of fields and trees, a house that had been added to time and time again as their family grew over the centuries, it was easy to find places to hide. He should know...he was expert at it.

So he did what he must, he forced her deeper into a level of trust than perhaps he ought. Deeper than either was ready to go as he ran the tip of the blade along the bottom of her prominent cheek bone from her ear to the corner of her mouth. The line that the sharp blade left in its wake was red and raised, but as he knew he would not, the skin remained unbroken. That line would disappear quickly, but this lesson would remain deep in her submissive brain.

He hated the way that his cock hardened and throbbed painfully inside the coarse denim of his jeans, but he loved the way he could almost hear the rapid beating of her heart in the tiny room. He loved the look of surrender in those eyes even more as he bent towards her full lips. Her mouth was open and his blade remained at the corner of it. 

His eyes never left hers as he captured that pouty bottom lip between his teeth and bit into the succulent flesh. She held perfectly still no matter how deep his teeth sank into the tender skin until he tasted the coopery sweetness of her blood on his tongue. "Good girl," he whispered as he released the swollen flesh and straightened a bit. 

He used the knife to cut away the rest of his brother's sign of possession on her body. Until she lay completely naked on the bed beneath him. The spreader bar held her legs open almost obscenely. He sat back on his heels and began to toy with her. He stared into those eyes as he used the knife to draw delicate patterns of raised welts down her neck. 

He paused for a long moment alongside the point where they both knew that her jugular vein and carotid artery pumped blood to and from that brilliant brain. He held her very life at the tip of his knife and they both knew it. It was a head rush that he had rarely indulged in with any partner. And never with the same intimacy that he shared with this woman...for they both knew that it was not just symbolic. They truly did hold her life in their hands...he and his brothers.

He smiled secretively. Of course, what she did not realize was just how much she held theirs in her hands and heart too. And it was better that she did not. He had learned the hard way not to give that type of power to any woman...even this one. 

He continued the trail down her neck and across her chest as it heaved to suck air into her lungs where fear and excitement melted together into a powerful brew that demanded more oxygen than if she were running a race. She was of course but this was a marathon and not a sprint...and he intended to show her that...in some very intimate ways. 

When he came to her tits, he added his marks to Sven's. He traced the outline of his brother's teeth on her pale flesh. The bruises were a deep purple now so he added the deep lines of his knife to accent each one. He knew that the pressure of the blade against the tender flesh would be painful and her quick intake of breathe a couple of times when he applied a deeper pressure only confirmed that. 

Then he came to her nipples. They were hard, standing like pinkish brown summits against the white hillocks of her breasts. They reminded him of snowcapped mountains in reverse. They captivated him. Breasts always did. This uniquely womanly feature to the ability to nurture life and provide comfort. 

Greta had refused to nurse Monika calling breastfeeding disgusting, she would not risk her perky tits merely to feed a child. But now was not the time to ruminate upon past mistakes. Now was about bonding with the future. He trailed the sharp tip of the knife in ever tightening circles around her areola until the point buried into the tender flesh of her nipple. He held her gaze as he sink the point as deep as he dared. 

A soft whimper escaped her throat but he could not tell if it was pain or pleasure. He smiled triumphantly and bent once more to taste her blood on that swollen lip. His tongue invaded the recesses of her mouth and licked at the wound as it retreated. He returned to repeat the game upon her other nipple. 

These games were more fun than he remembered, but he was tiring of toying with his prey. The point of the hunt was the kill of course. And he zoomed in for it as he scooted back to the foot of the bed and began to run his knife along the soles of her feet. 

He chuckled as he watched her writhe against her bonds. Her own teeth biting into her swollen lower lip until she gasped out at the pain...and the unique torment unlike all others. "Ticklish are we? I shall remember this," he said as he drug the point of his knife slowly up the inside of her calf towards her thighs. 

Without the impediment of his brother's offensive shirt she was fully open to him and he could clearly see her cunt glistening in the dim light. He knew that these games were exciting her as much or even more than they frightened her. And he was just getting started. Soon...very soon...he would see just how sweet she tasted. He would feast on her...until he was satisfied. 

It was no accident when his blade sank a little deeper into the sensitive and tender flesh of her inner thigh just an inch from her mound. He held her gaze as he allowed the blade to slice through her skin, to mark her. He smiled like one of his ancient forefathers as he corned a polar bear and went in for the kill as he watched the trail of red blood against creamy white flesh. 

Then he did what he had been waiting to do. He bent his artic blonde head that was almost as white as her skin and he tasted her. Tasted her blood once more as he lapped the trail away. Then he placed his mouth directly over the open wound and sucked until the warm coppery taste of her life force filled his mouth and ignited something ultimately primal inside of him.

Then and only thing did he allow himself to turn towards his true focus. That morsel of sensitive flesh that was peaking between the glistening folds of her slightly spread pussy lips. He was glad that she was freshly shaven although maybe in the future they would extend these games a bit. He hardened and thickened at the thought of her immobilized like this as he took his straight razor to this most delicate of flowers...oh yes...he looked forward to shaving her cunt one day soon...very soon.

But for now, this game was about tasting her sweetness...and tormenting her. Until she broke...for him. Just for him as he sank his teeth around the throbbing flesh of her clitoris.



Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 07



Kirsty could still feel the slight tingle of the raised pattern of pink welts like some perverse map that he had drawn on her body. A map that led to this. Of course, she had read about knife play. Admittedly, it had even turned her on. But it had been the final scene in the book...not the first. So why then had she been more excited than frightened?

Of course, logically, the men had told her what they intended on doing with her. So why would one of them then wish to crave her up like a Sunday roast? Maybe, they could have lied, but something deep in her gut told her they had spoken the truth. 

But it was more than that. And that was what Kirsty did not want to think about. When he stared into her eyes, something had happened. She had seen past the confident even arrogant demeanor to the pain. And pain rolled off this man like a tidal wave. Maybe she was just imagining it all. Maybe she had read one too many of her stupid books. Maybe, more than likely, she had even lost her mind. But when she looked into Mikael's eyes, it was as if she heard him pleading...trust me. Until it made her so uncomfortable she had had to look away.

Kirsty tasted the coopery sweetness of her own blood as she chewed upon her injured bottom lip to keep herself from crying out. It was not the pain of his teeth imprisoning her clit, honestly he was not biting that hard. If the whole damned thing were not so fucking uncomfortable, it would probably be quite pleasurable. 

But it was uncomfortable. Well, embarrassing mostly. This act was much more intimate than she was comfortable with. Hell, she had been with Raj for years and they had never...gone there. Oh, sure, a few times she had licked or sucked his penis a bit to get things started, especially towards the end when sex became such a rare commodity and then only when she investigated it. But he had never...gone down on her. 

All Kirsty could think about was hygiene. Perhaps it was her medical training. More than likely it was her puritanical upbringing where certain areas of your body were simply not discussed. Despite being medical doctors, her parents had dealt with the whole issue of puberty and sex by handing her a leaflet. A leaflet that had emphasized cleanliness and purity. So now all she could focus on was...had she cleaned herself well enough during the shower?

She tried pulling and fighting against her bonds, but the metal bit into her flesh more painfully than the rope had. As for dislodging him from between her thighs, the spreader bar immobilized her too effectively. In the end, her only choice was to use her words. Ironic, considering how many times she had encouraged, almost forced, her kids to do just that. "Please, please stop," she pleaded.

His only answer was a polite shaking of his Nordic blonde head, his remarkable blue eyes still closed and her tender flesh still captured between his teeth. If that was not bad enough, the way that his tongue began to flick back and forth across the bud was torture. Torturous pleasure that even her embarrassment found hard to overcome. So she went back to biting her lower lip.

She tried hard not to let her body betray her with this man. She did not want this. She had not wanted to be kidnapped, ripped from her job, her friends and her family; taken to heaven only knew where. She had not really wanted to be 'raped,' okay, forced by Sven earlier. Despite how her body had betrayed her. And she sure as hell did not want to be their wife, shared between the three brothers.

Oh, yeah, some tiny voice in her mind retorted, who are you trying to convince? Why are you having to actually fight off your body's reaction to this man? And come on, princess, that was the best sex of your life earlier...and you know it. It was hotter than all those dirty books you read all the time. Oh, and isn't this whole scenario just like those books? Just what you have been fantasizing about for months? 

She whimpered, but she was not sure whether it was from self-loathing at how accurately that voice in her head analyzed the situation or the way that the Viking god between her legs had intensified the erotic sensation as his fingers joined in the fray, teasing and stretching the opening to her vagina.

Kirsty shut her eyes even tighter. Her vagina? Even in the middle of the most intimate sex act she had ever engaged in, the echoes of her parents Victorian attitudes still reigned in her mind. Vagina? She supposed it could be worse. Who-who. Dirty place. Down there. 

But was now the time to assert her independence? To try and break free of their staid influence? Wasn't that what got her into this position to begin with? Reading books that she should not, simply because no one would ever know what was on her password protected e-reader. Joining websites that no 'decent' person would. Meeting strangers, rough fishermen that she knew nothing about. Hadn't her little rebellion gotten her into enough trouble? What could really be gained by using words like...pussy, cunt, and twat? Honey pot? 

"Oh," she moaned as he slipped a single finger just inside that very body part. Her nipples hardened, but she insisted on blaming the frigid temperature in the cabin. It certainly could not be the gentle way that his tongue was lathing her clit as if it was the sweetest, coldest ice cream cone on the hottest summer day. Almost as if he could never get enough of it.

Kirsty felt her body slipping further under the man's erotic spell as his teeth, tongue and fingers worked in tandem to excite her senses. But she was in no mood to surrender to another of the brothers. To have them...what? Force pleasure upon her body? Was that even possible? 

But it certainly seemed that way as her body spiraled closer and closer to another powerful release, despite the mind-blowing ones that Sven had given her just hours before. Damn, she had had more orgasms since stepping on board this boat than she had in all her years with Raj. But she seemed powerless to stop her body from doing what came natural to it. 

Just as she felt her toes curl, her whole body tense and arch up automatically to meet this man's caress, he slowed the pace. His tongue gave long, slow laps across the hard nub. Kirsty found herself whimpering like a wounded puppy, begging and pleading for what just a moment before she would have sworn she did not want. Now she seemed to crave it like a man lost in the desert thirsted for cool, refreshing water. 

Kirsty opened her eyes reluctantly. She did not want to see the man, kneeling, full clothed between her indecently spread legs. His full lips pursed around her swollen clitoris. She especially did not want to see the self-satisfied smile that played at those lips even as he worried her tender flesh. And she most definitely did not want to meet the heated blue gaze of those eyes. She was powerless to look away as he played with her like a cat with a mouse it had cornered...and captured. 

Her mouth opened. Formed a perfect 'O.' Ægir's Captive. The very name of their boat suddenly took on new and more powerful meaning. She was not sure who Ægir was, but she knew that she was their captive. In more ways than one. And at the moment she was powerless...even to control her body's own reaction as she felt her body once more climbing towards the powerful release that it had been denied just a moment before.

She worried her lower lip again as she fought to control the tiny thrusts that her hips seemed to make. Up and into this man's determined lathing. She would not moan. She would not give him the satisfaction. She would not come. She would not.

But the more she fought it, the closer her body came to that same heaven it craved. She loathed herself as much as them. None of it made any difference as she soared once more closer to the sun. Close enough that she could feel its heat singeing her skin as she reddened from pleasure as much as embarrassment.

Then once more the man slowed the pace and she felt the frustration rise like bile in her throat. What was his problem? Did he need an anatomy lesson? He had managed to find her damned clitoris without a road map, which was more than she could say about Raj. For a doctor the man had been surprisingly stupid about female erogenous zones. This one knew where they were just not how to use them. Perhaps he needed an instruction manual? 

That did not seem quite right though as he returned to once more to the exact combination of teeth, fingers and those damnable slow circles of his tongue across her love button. Love button? She chuckled quietly. She was losing her mind. She had read too many of those damned eBooks. Perhaps this was all just another of her erotic fantasies that she used when she masturbated. Damn, but it was the best.

The Nordic god between her obscenely spread legs was certainly female fantasy material. She wondered if he would be as delicious naked as he was with his broad shoulders and arms straining the soft material of his shirt that seemed to augment the work of his tongue as it caressed the back of her thighs as he lifted her bottom to meet his tongue. And the way the man filled out his jeans was indecent. 

Fully clothed? Damn, Sven had remained mostly clothed too. What was it with the brothers? They were always commanding her to 'get naked.' But never them? Was that some of the control too? Did it matter?

Kirsty tried to focus upon that thought rather than the pleasurable pressure that was once more building in her lower body. She tried to deny it. Maybe if she just thought about something else. Hadn't she read somewhere that men with premature ejaculation problems would think about other things in order to prevent orgasming too quickly? Maybe if she did that, she could keep herself from responding all together?

But when he slipped as second finger to join with the first as it slowly massaged and stretched her open, she found she could not stop the tiny whimper of pleasure. But it was tiny, perhaps he would not hear it. The bold and determined way that he increased the pressure of his tongue across her clitoris told her that he had heard though. She reddened as she once more felt herself spiraling towards that bright of ball of red hot gasses, towards heaven itself.

This time it was not just her skin that was singed but her very slow as she felt the will to fight draining from her. Who was she fighting anyway? Him? Unlike Sven he was not using her body to take his own pleasure. Instead he was giving her pleasure. Forcing it on her? That seemed almost more indecent somehow? 

Before she could unravel the mystery though, she was once more jerked back from the red hot flames of her orgasm as he slowed the pace for a third time. She frowned. Perhaps it was not that the man needed an instruction manual, perhaps he was doing this on purpose? Getting her hotter, wetter and more wanton than she had ever been before, pushing her right to the edge...then pulling her back? But why? 

She pondered that idea while he went back the more aggressive torture of her tender flesh. She toyed the idea that this was some silly game of chicken, seeing how close he could get her without actually making her come. Wasn't that what she wanted though? Not to come for this man? 

So why was her body once more screaming out for that very thing? She felt all the muscles in her body tighten, straining towards the powerful release that she knew would not come. Like a rider on a horse, putting on that last burst of speed as he approached the finish line, but someone kept moving the damned finish line. Pushing it back further and further. She felt the frustration growing as she shook her head from side to side.

As he backed off once more, denying her the very thing she did not want, she knew. She knew. He was definitely doing this on purpose. But to what purpose? That she was not sure. But whatever the reason, she was tired of playing his game. If he was not going to make her come, what was the point? If she was the cornered mouse, she would simply stop running. The cat would either tire of their game then and go away. Or go in for the kill. 

Kirsty withdrew deeper into her mind. Instead of focusing upon the way that his tongue and fingers seemed to work in perfect harmony to torment her, she focused upon why. Why was he doing this? What was the point of taking her right to the edge of a powerful orgasm only to pull her back from it at the last moment? And each time he seemed to push her further, take her closer, pull her back later. Why?

She tried to hold onto that line of thinking as he slipped his fingers just slightly deeper inside of her. She would not be his little mouse to toy with again, she promised herself even as she felt more moisture flood her body, easing the way of his thick fingers making them slip a tiny bit deeper. She moaned before she could bite her lip. Damn him. Damn this man! She would not play his game anymore.

Why? She forced her cloudy brain to think. Orgasm denial. She had seen it listed a fetish on a couple of Dominant's profile. But it was so far beyond her comfort zone rope play and light spanking that she had not done much research. She supposed the point was that by denying someone something they wanted you had a higher level of control. 

Well, the joke was on him. Because no matter what that traitor her body thought, she did not want to come. Not for him. Not for any of them. So let him play his little games, he was just helping her without realizing it. 

With this new found revelation, she was buoyed and elated. She had found some safe corner of her mind into which she could allow herself to slip, confident that he posed no real danger. As he began to push her body, stimulate her clitoris as bit faster, his fingers beginning the slow erotic dance of parry and thrusting, sawing in and out of her tight channel, she smiled. She could allow herself to simply enjoy the sensation for what they were, knowing that she did not need to fight him. Did not need to fight her own body's reaction to him. 

And it was pleasurable. Not unlike all the times that she had had sex with Raj. Even knowing that she would almost certainly not reach an orgasm with her boyfriend, she still desired sex. She thrilled in the stimulation, enjoyed the game. Then after he had fallen asleep she would finish off what he had started. This was no different. 

She sighed and did not even try to stop the slow circular motion of her hips that sought to bring her closer to his sweet kisses. She moaned and whimpered a bit as she felt those movements supplementing the ones of his fingers. She felt this fingers slip deeper, brushing momentarily across a bundle of nerves that drew her into the flames, but it was fleeting as if he sensed what she was doing and pulled back just far enough to keep her from taking what he did not want her to have. 

Kirsty wished her hands were free. Her nipples were painfully hard. Her breasts seemed to actually pulse and throb in tempo with his tongue and fingers. She always played with her tits and nipples when she masturbated. Without breast stimulation she could not come. But that was the point. Not to come. It was what he wanted. What she wanted too. Right? Still she found herself wishing in vain that she could softly pinch and pull at the turgid peaks. 

She felt herself rushing through the darkness of space once more, barreling towards the brilliance of that sun. She did not care. Why should she? She embraced it. Knowing that he would only jerk her back at the last moment. So she might as well enjoy the trip. 

She arched off the bed as much as the spreader bar would allow. Once more his fingers caressed that bundle of nerves. She moaned even louder as they played longer on that sweet spot. It was not like she really had anything to worry about. There was no need to fight her body's responses when he was not going to allow her the release it wanted, needed, anyway. 

She undulated her hips like some lewd belly dancer. His teeth clamped down once more on her clitoris, capturing it so that his tongue could torture it with firm, sure strokes. He added a third finger. She sighed at the increased pressure of being filled. It was almost as satisfying as his brother's thick cock had been pounding away at her. A deep moan escaped the back of her throat at that thought. 

She knew that she should feel violated, dirty, that it was wrong to want these men. Brothers. It was every taboo she could think of. Fucking Sven then just hours later Mikael eating her out like a wild wolf feasting upon its first spring meal after a long winter's hibernation. Gorging and filling himself upon her flesh. And she was loving it all. Her body responding to these men as it never had to the clumsy love makings of her gentle Raj. 

Maybe she would have felt guilty or embarrassed but there was no need. She did not have to worry about surrendering to whatever erotic naughtiness grew and darkened her soul. She was safe because this man did not want her to enjoy the pleasure of his touch any more than she did. So she could just relax and hurtle head long into the sun. Knowing he would pull her back.

His fingers slipped deeper, all three of them. "Yes," she cried out as she arched higher than she had thought she could. The metal of the handcuffs bit into her wrists, but it was no longer cool. Her body had heated it. Or perhaps the sun into which she soaring was melting it onto her flesh. Her thigh muscles ached from unnatural way that they were forced to remain open for so long. They became to tremble whether from muscle fatigue or the intense pleasure as she soared closer to that sun than she had ever come.

Then he thrust his fingers deep into her. He arched them upwards against those raw nerve endings as his tongue increased the pressure on the other bundle of nerve tissue. And the white hot heat of that sun consumed her. She cried out as the orgasm that she thought he would not allow her burst like supernova in its final moments of glory. Her whole body tensed and arched, strained at the bonds that held her as the pleasure went on and on...and on. 

She was hoarse and her voice was barely audible as her body and mind began to coalesce into one once more. She opened her eyes though she knew that tears shone in their green depths. She stared at the man as he began to rise above her. She was certain that like Sven he would now use her body for his own pleasure.

Instead he stood up and walked silently to the table. Picking up a full glass of water that remained on the table he brought it back to her. He lifted her head and bid her, "Drink." She obeyed simply because she felt the burning at the back of her throat and needed to quench it somehow. When she had drunk half of it, he turned back towards the table and sat it back down. 

He walked over and pulled the keys to the handcuffs from his shirt pocket. He released her wrists and massaged them until she felt the sharp shooting pains of pins and needles as blood returned to her fingertips. When she began to clasp and unclasp her fingers, he seemed satisfied that no damage had been done and turned instead to the spreader bar between her ankles. He worked just as efficiently to unclasp it and massage life back into her legs. 

But it was all so mechanical. As if what had just happened was not even real. Gone was the dying man thirsting for his last drink, instead was some cold, calculating machine. Not even a logical Mister Spock. More like Data, an android incapable of human feelings. The tin man. But he did not seem to even notice he was lacking a heart, let alone search one out. 

Kirsty could not stop the single word from escaping her throat any more than she could have those final cries of ecstasy. "Why?"

He shrugged, "Get some sleep." As he picked up the cut shirt from the floor and pulled the duvet up to cover her nakedness. 




Ӕgir's Captive Pt. 07



Kirsty wanted to fight it. Fight him. Fight them. Fight sleep. She should be thinking. Planning an escape. But she was too tired. It was all too much. As the darkness of exhaustion overcame her. She slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

***

The sun was barely peaking over the horizon in the east. Over their home land perhaps, thought Sven. The day should be glorious. One more closer to home. Closer to the safety of their world. 

But still the echoes of her cries filled his mind. More like cry. He supposed he should be thankful that it was just the one. But somehow that made it worse. As if all of the pleasure...and pain...were held back for as long as she could fight it. Fight them. Then released suddenly as if a dike had broken and flooded their whole world.

Bjorn had heard it too. Felt it more deeply perhaps. As he tossed in the berth above him, he had cursed. "That should have been me."

Sven watched as Mikael emerged up the stairs. For a man that had spent the night in the arms of a woman, he looked...less than satisfied. Angry. Frustrated. More morose than when they had talked even. This was not good.

He watched his Mikael walked over to where Bjorn worked at the nets preparing to drop them deep into the sea, seeking out their catch for this day. Their livelihood. Their life's blood. He threw something at him. It took a moment for Sven to recognize the pattern of Bjorn's favorite shirt. The one that she had been wearing when they left his cabin.

"Sorry. You may need to get another favorite shirt, little brother," Mikael pronounced slowly as Bjorn unfurled the shredded piece of material. The look of fury on his face had Sven take a step automatically in their direction. But Mikael was smart enough to know when retreat was in order and walked towards the back deck as if nothing had happened. 

But something had. Something deep and painful. "This was not a good idea," Sven said quietly once more as Bjorn rose from where he had been crouched. He walked to him and threw the shirt at Sven's chest. "She is mine tonight. There will be no choice this time. Do you understand me?"

Sven felt his youngest brother's pain and simply nodded. This had been a very bad idea.



Ӕgir's Captive



His strong fingers laced through her hair, tugging on it, pulling her head back, forcing her to look up at him. "Mitt damer," he spat. Those eyes were glazed, had darkened to an almost blue black. She shivered and was about to ask him what they meant. 

But he pulled harder on her hair, forced her backwards, her feet moving tentatively backwards. Then she felt something solid at the back of her thighs, opened her mouth once more to speak, but he covered it instantly, another of those scorching kisses that seemed to go on and on, stealing her every thought. Except this time she was falling, actually falling. Then a cloud came up to cushion her fall, surrounded her in its softness while it trapped her against his hardness. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue plunged down her throat. 

She felt his hands about her waist, realized that he was battling with her skirt and tights. She lifted her hips, tried to dislodge his weight but the movement only aided his task as he pushed the layers of material over her hips and down her thighs. Then he gave her the release she sought. Drawing back, his fingers pulled her clothes down to her ankles. Her boots stopped him, but only for a moment. Then she was naked. Totally naked in this stranger's bed. With her arms trapped behind her back, she could not move enough to sit up. He smiled down at her as he reached behind him. "You like ropes?"

It was a rhetorical question. Kirsty was fascinated with bondage. Shibari, the ancient Japanese art of knots, in particular was her favorite new fetish. In fact, they had met in a forum on the subject. 

But she had not yet worked up the courage to do more than look at the photographs of women, usually naked, contorted and bound. Then she felt those strong, rough hands about her ankles. He crossed them, positioned her so that her thighs were spread open as he bound her shins to one another securely, preventing her from closing her legs. 

"I don't think," she began.

"Good. Do. Not. Think." He growled as he tied off the last knot. She looked down at the intricate lattice work of rope and knots on her legs. How had he managed such complex beauty in the space of just a couple of moments. 

He smiled again as if reading her thoughts. "I have been working ropes, learning knots almost before I could walk."

She nodded, but the knot that worried her most was the one growing in her stomach. When he bent over her, kissing her lips softly this time, it loosened, but just a bit. His hands snaked under her and a moment later she found her own hands free once more. She sighed with relief.

But it was short lived as he brought another rope from somewhere beneath him. It was cinched already. He had only to slip it over her wrists then secure it above her head to a hook on the wall. How had she not noticed them sooner?

"No," she cried out, thrashing about on the bed. 

His golden brows arched as he smiled down at her. He reached for her one free limb. She thrashed about, trying to dislodge his weight, reach her other hand, free herself. Somehow. Panic and bile rose in her throat as the degree of her vulnerability dawned upon her. 

"Stop," his command was quiet but compelling. "Do not hurt yourself."

"Let me go," she pleaded.

"You do not want this?" His smile broadened as his hands ran down her upper arm, her neck and shoulders. His hand tenderly cupped her breast as he stared directly into her eyes. "Then why are your nipples hard?" To emphasis his point he ran his thumbs back and across both of them until a soft moan was torn from her throat. "If you do not wish to be bound by me, then your little pussy will be tight and dry, will it not?" 

Kirsty's blush deepened at his bold words. Or perhaps the blush had more to do with what she knew he would find. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. She swore that she could actually feel the cool sea air caress the wetness of her folds, wetter than she could ever remember being, so wet that she feared it would actually drip down the crease of her ass onto the bed. "Please."

"Oh, Kristen, mitt damer, I will most definitely please," his mouth covered hers to inhale the sharp cry from her lips as she felt her other hand captured and quickly bound above her head. Her heart bounded so fast within her ribs that she feared it would explode from her chest. 

His mouth, lips, tongue and teeth began a leisurely exploration of her bound and naked body. From the depths of her throat down along her firm jaw lower still to the pulse that strummed in her neck. He bit at the veins in its side as he slipped his hand between her legs. His fingers found her slick folds, the rough pad of his thumb danced against the hard nib at its apex until she arched her body up against his. His thick middle finger slipped into her quivering channel, finding a spot that she had only heard about. As his fingers pressed deeper and harder against it, she cried out, feeling a gush of fluid unlike anything she had ever imagined.

He laughed aloud at her predicament. "Most definitely as dry as a desert," he licked across her collar bone as he asked, "Would you like to reassess your claim not to want this, Miss Dickins?"

When she arched this time, it was not to seek out his touch but to dislodge him. "Bastard," she spat.

His teeth bit hard into the tender swell of her breast. She feared that they would actually break the skin, leave marks for days to come. She screamed in shock and pain. The hand between her thighs pushed harder and deeper into her depths, driving her over the edge once more as she felt the wetness spread on the bed beneath her. His other hand wrapped through her hair, pulling her head back hard against the pillow, tugging so strongly that tears sprang to her eyes. And still his teeth held their perch upon her breast. The pain and pleasure melded together, one augmenting the other as sensations crested over her like a tidal wave. Her throat was growing dry from screams, but it did not move him. He continued to torment and tease her.

She felt her world lurch then he was sliding slowly up her body once. Her breast ached where he had bitten into her, her eyes were blurred as he suddenly loomed over her. She realized then that his hand was no longer between her thighs that were spread open mercilessly by his bonds. She felt that hand, still wet with her juices, bite into the soft flesh of her ass, tilting it upward, holding her in place. Then he was filling her. Her eyes went wider still in fear. 

"No," came out a throaty whisper, an unheard plea. "Please no," she tried again. She felt her body stretching slowly, burning as he pushed deeper and harder inside of her. She was thankful for the orgasms he had given her earlier, their wetness cushioned his thrusts. He was considerably larger than Raj. And not at all the tentative, gentle lover that her ex had been. 

Then why was her body betraying her? Why was it opening for him? Drawing him deeper? Spasming around this invader. She had to stop this. Had to reason with the man before this went any further. Before it was too late. "Please, Sven. Please, there's condoms in my purse. Please," she whimpered. 

"Nej," he growled into her ear as his teeth found the same tender spot on her lobe, biting down once more. "Nej," he repeated as he pounded harder and faster inside of her. "Mitt damer, mitt bebis."

She shook her head, uncertain what he had said, but somehow knowing it was not the answer she had hoped for. She fought against the bonds once more, knowing that it was too late, that she was powerless to stop this man from doing whatever he wanted with her. And hating herself for the choices that brought her to this point. 

But no matter how much her mind might fight him, her body was surrendering to every touch, every bite, every thrust. Her body was tightening, straining, reaching once more for the powerful release that she had never felt before. It was so close, so incredibly close, she could almost touch it, but not quite.

Then he pulled her hair hard once more, his teeth pulled her ear away from her head and his cock thrust deeper inside her than anything ever had been. "Nu," he roared, "nu, mitt damer, nu!" 

She felt him swell inside of her. Knew that it was too late for reason, too late for more pleadings. Too late for her. But not for her body, she arched upwards as she crested the peak once more. Her orgasm matching his own, going on and on. Until her brain disconnected for her traitor body. Until nothing mattered anymore. Only the intense need and power that was thrumming inside her. Everything inside of her burst outwards in a million bright lights that went higher and higher, soaring, reaching towards the stars. Then it all went black.

***

He bent and kissed her. His fingers found her pulse and he smiled. "God natt och dröm sött. We talk imorgon." But for now, he had things he must see to. Even if his body protested, demanded that he join his mate in slumber. If they were to sail, he was needed on deck. Besides they had much to discuss, he and his brothers. It was not every day that they took a captive. A captive bride. Their bride as ancient custom commanded.