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The Norseman

By: clarabella



Emma looked up before there was even a sound, as if something had told her what was coming. She watched the sea for some moments, looking out into the mist. She heard the oars cut the water and then she saw the ship loom out of the moist air, moving with speed towards the shore. She didn't wait any longer – knowing what the sight of a Longship heralded she was off, running across the sands and shouting for the others, the winds catching her voice and flinging it back to sea. The villagers heard her, even as she gasped to catch her breath and together they began to try to hide the livestock and make the more vulnerable of the homestead safe. It seemed no time at all before they began to hear the guttural shouts in the unfamiliar tongue. Emma had never seen the Norsemen herself, but travellers told tales that woke her from her sleep for days after their telling.

Shouts outside and the sound of frightened animals signalled their arrival in the small hamlet, and when men entered her home she felt that they would hear her body shaking and her heart hammering from her hiding place amongst the roof beams. They kicked at her sparse furnishings, and inspected the few objects she owned with such callousness she felt she could weep, but when they took the burning log from the fire and held it to the roof she knew she had little choice, either burn here as her home burned, or die as she attempted an escape. 

As the roof began to smoulder she swung down from the rafters, hoping for the element of surprise and made almost to the door before arms captured her and pulled her back into the dwelling. Flung roughly down she found herself looking up towards two enormous, hulking men. They spoke together and she needed no knowledge of their mother tongue to recognise the topic of their conversation. She recognised the look in their eyes and willed herself to be wrong. 

The one who stood furthest away stepped closer, pushing the other to one side, giving the impression of higher status, as the other evidently dared not question whose right it was to go first. He bent down and lifted her easily from the floor, taking her across to the rough, unmade bed and lowering her down. She protested with words they didn't recognise, and the man held her wrists firmly above her head. He spoke to her in his own tongue and she could not make sense of the words, but the harsh language sounded softer, an attempt at reassurance, but she read a hunger in his eyes that she could recognise, and had felt herself, many times. He pulled at the ties of her dress and his strong fingers released her on the second tug, freeing her breasts, and exposing her flat, soft belly. He caressed her, feeling the need build in him, appreciating the softness of her body and looking into her eyes which held his with surprising courage.

Gellir felt something for this woman – an identification with her. He could see a passion and spirit that he could admire, and all the fierce, real beauty of a hard working woman. He touched her neck, and stroked her cheek, feeling her still beneath his touch, and as he moved his hand over her breast he felt her breathing quicken with something other than fear. Her nipples hardened between his fingers and he felt the flutter of her terrified heart he felt a swell of passion. He felt the ache in his groin, the tightening of muscles and the swell of his penis. 

Emma felt trapped and uncertain; she had been prepared to fight, in spite of the odds, to protect her modesty, but now she was lying here exposed to two strangers and had no desire to hide herself. She had been terrified, but this enormous man, with his long hair and harsh words, softly spoken, was touching her with his rough hands and bringing heat to her cheeks and a tingle deep within her body. The man was pulling at her skirts and as he lifted them she felt cold air against her thighs, closed her eyes and turned her head. This was not the first time a man had touched her, she had been careful, and hoped the villagers hadn't known, but nevertheless, she had lain down with several men in this same bed.

As Gellir lifted her skirts and stroked the length of her legs he worked his way through the layers of fabric toward her precious place. A small noise escaping from his throat he touched the soft downy hair between her legs and, slipping a finger in between the folds he found, to his surprise, that she was wet. She reopened her eyes and met his gaze, and for a moment they shared the secret of her obvious desire, she looked ashamed, but he felt emboldened. He didn't have much stomach for molesting women, but it excited him that this beautiful creature was wanting him, as he wanted her. 

As she watched he released himself from his trousers and she caught sight of his huge penis, broad and long, hanging from the front of his breeches. He seemed to think for a moment then move forward, towards her face. He held the tip of his engorged penis so close to her mouth that she could be in no way fooled about what he wanted, but she had never done this before and hesitated. He placed his hand gently on the back of her head and the hot red tip touched her lips. Tentatively she licked with her tongue, tasting the saltiness of it. As she licked again she became accustomed to the taste and as he nudged closer she let the tip of him enter her mouth. He groaned and his fingers tightened into her hair as she began slowly to suck, feeling the hot flesh fill her mouth and feeling the passion build in him she began to feel the wetness grow between her legs, and an aching sensation deep in the pit of her belly. 

As if sensing her growing need Gellir pulled away from her mouth - for seeing her lips parted around him like that he had feared he would explode. He had been travelling for a long time and had not had the pleasure of a woman's body throughout their journey; he did not want to waste himself in her beautiful mouth. Repositioning himself he placed his penis at her entrance, aware again of her hot wetness, and he began to rock forwards, gently at first but building in intensity, forcing apart her walls to gain entry. He knew he was a big man and he wanted to take care but as desperation began to build he could no longer wait for her to accommodate him and he began to piston back and forth inside her, powering into her tight tunnel with long hard strokes.

Emma felt him fill her entirely, she hadn't believed she could make room for him inside and she had felt at first like she was being stretched as wide as she could go, but as he built up speed she forgot any discomfort and felt the delicious friction build in her, felt his heavily veined shaft pounding into her, and his large testicles banging against her, slapping loudly against her behind. Before she could stop herself she was shouting, cries which filled her home and gave away her passion.

As she cried out, feeling the tension built to an aching crescendo deep inside her Gellir grunted and shuddered and she felt the hot, thick seed fill her – her muscles gripping his penis and the seed dripping out her, down her behind and onto the bed. 

As her breathing quietened she covered her face with her hands, feeling her cheeks burn with passion and shame. Gellir moved her hands gently aside and she felt him withdraw from her. The other man came forward, releasing himself in readiness but he jumped back suddenly when Gellir spoke. She had no idea what had been said, but the other man re-sheathed his penis and glared at her with an evil look borne of pure frustration.

Gellir lifted her easily from her bed and strode out into the daylight. She could see the evidence of the sacking of her village and she cried out to see the destruction of her home. Gellir lifted her onto a cart, alongside an assortment of animals and the spoils of their pillaging; he shouted at some unseen others and the cart began to move. She tried in vain to cover herself where her clothes were still awry and gazed in horror at the smouldering destruction that had been her home.

The Norseman Ch. 02



Emma screamed and fought, struggling for breath and freedom from the unseen forces of her nightmare. As she surfaced from her dream her heart still pounded and her body wore a sheen of sweat. The lurching around her was disorientating and it took many moments before she remembered that she was being held on the moored Longship with all the other spoils of war. Grief overwhelmed her and she rocked back and forth when she thought of what the strangers had done to her village. She burned with shame at the thought of what she had done whilst the attack had taken place; of how little she had tried to protect herself and how easily she had been taken. Inside she could feel the dampness of his seed and felt sickened by her own arousal. 

Gellir was on board, with the other men, having returned from a second raid on this coastline. Like Emma, his thoughts were on their time together and he could feel his penis hardening as he thought of himself slipping into the tight, warm place between her legs.

"Gellir!" He was roused from his reverie by Agnar, their leader "You brought the whore aboard, shut her wailing or I'll share her amongst them men then drown her"

Gellir had no doubt that Agnar would be true to his word, he had seen him rape and kill more times than any man should see, and indeed Agnar was a fearsome warrior. He nodded in recognition of the order and went to her in the hold.

Gellir felt caught between compassion for the woman, who he could see was distressed and fear of what might happen if she didn't control her outburst. He felt frustrated that she hadn't recognised how protected she had been by his influence and his patience. If his father had not been a powerful elder he felt certain that Emma would have been passed around the men until she ceased to have a use.

Emma lifted her head when he spoke. He voice sounded angry and he looked resentful. He came down to her level and put his hand on her mouth to quieten her. She stopped crying for a moment and breathed deeply. She hated the affect he had on her – that his presence made her forget herself and acquiesce like this. She thought of the destruction of her home and she spat straight in his face.

In an instant he struck her with the back of his hand across her face, and it stung but was a reminder of how strong and how dangerous he really could be. They glared at each other, breathing hard, and he spoke again, pointing beyond the door, unsure of what he meant she leapt up to try for her freedom, and as they reached the door together she flung it wide and saw the men beyond it. In a moment of terrifying clarity she realised how vulnerable she was and retreated without question when Gellir pulled her back. He closed the door and pushed her back against the wall of the hold. His broad hand was pressed against her heaving chest and he was looking at her directly. She could see anger and triumph in his eyes and knew she had no escape.

As he held her there he felt her breasts heave and her limbs shake, he felt his physical power over her and the desire rose again. He would take her, as was his right, and if she protested it would matter not, as he had seen her passion once and knew how easily her body could be swayed.

With no preamble he reached for the hem of her dress and she shook her head defiantly. As he lifted the skirt and drew his hand up her leg he could hear her breath catch in her throat, but in his desperation he didn't care if it was passion of fear. With the other hand he wrenched her at her bodice to free her breasts and buried his head between them. 

He freed himself from his breeches and cupped her round bottom in his hands, lifting her body from the ground and guiding her onto his penis. It found its point easily and slipped into her opening without resistance. He looked up and into her eyes with a triumphant grin, she was ready for him again and there was no way she could deny it.

Emma was indeed ready; she had been afraid and furious but could not deny the images of the previous day as they flashed in her mind. She ached inside to feel his penis, she needed to be filled so completely, as she had been before, and the thought of him spilling his hot seed deep inside her had aroused he to the point where she cared not for her modesty or for the rights and wrongs of what she was doing, only that she wanted to be satiated.

As he slipped inside he was banging her up against the wall, the rough wood harsh against her soft skin, but she paid it no heed, only thinking of the rising tension and pressure of him pushing into her relentlessly. Giving in to the desire she threw back her head and moaned, pushing back against the wall to push herself harder onto him, forcing him deeper still.

She opened her eyes as she heard the door and before her stood another man.

"I see you have found a way to quieten her sobs, if not her moans, Gellir?"

Gellir glanced back to see Agnar "Don't stop boy" and on instruction Gellir pushed into her again, emboldened by an audience, and knowing that he could please this woman in a way that Agnar could not. Emma also used her defiance to great effect, feeling abandoned and unleashed by the height of passion she ground herself down onto Gellir's increasingly hard penis feeling him solidify for a few moments as she cried out in ecstasy before the pulsating heat of him climaxing deep with her. As he continued to push into her she felt his semen drip down her thighs, hot streams which she put her hands down to touch and rub against her skin.

Agnar watched fascinated, rubbing his own penis and wishing he could inspire such desire in one so beautiful. He sexual encounters tended to amount to bored whores and unwilling victims.

"Bring her here" he ordered "I want her mouth around me, boy" seeing Gellirs reluctance he sneered "it is either her mouth or yours, boy". Emma could see the outcome of their discussion, and could sense the reluctance, but playing her role to its fullest, and still riding the passion throes she knelt in front of Agnar and took his small and crooked penis in her mouth.

Gellir watched as she sucked him, cradling his testicles in her hand and was astounded. He watched as she moved her hand to her thighs and rubbed his own semen into her skin before he felt sure he could see her rub between her legs. Lifting her skirt at the back her touched her and she moaned, emboldened he slipped a finger into her soaking hole and she pushed back against him, riding his fingers as she had ridden him, but this time with her mouth around another mans penis, with another finger slipped in beside the other she squealed and sucked until with a grunt Agnar spend his seed over her chin and onto her breasts, followed closely by the shuddering climax of this amazing woman.

Agnar simply adjusted himself and went back on deck, and Emma laid down on the floor feeling shocked at herself for being so abandoned. Gellir could not believe that the ache was back in his penis so soon, and he felt sure that he would need to be with her more than he had ever needed anyone before.



The Norseman Ch. 03



The journey to the North Lands took many days, and Emma had no concept of day or night in the hold of the Longship. She had woken some hours after Agnar and Gellir had visited her in this same small room and she could smell the scent of their sex heavy in the air.

When she thought of what had happened, and how she had allowed herself to be used in such a way she doubled over and wept. Fear and shame engulfed her, and she wondered who this woman was who could leave everything behind, lose her home and her kin, yet still respond to her captor like his whore.

Gellir visited her often during the journey, but seemed distant and had not moved near her body as if he was wary of it. He brought her water and food and sometimes sat quietly in one corner, watching her with an intent gaze. Happily Agnar had not visited her again and her gut coiled in revulsion when she thought of his flesh in her mouth.

For some time she became ill with a feverish sickness, and Gellir silently cared for her during dark hours when she retched and called out in her sleep.

Gellir had to work hard to avoid the curiosity of the fellow men, when he was seen to visit the woman, especially when they knew her to be too ill to be put to good use, he had had to bargain hard with Agnar to avoid a repeat of the earlier events, stating that as his chattels he could determine her fate, and he intended to make a present of her to his brother. Again the family name and reputation protected her as; even the warrior Agnar had no desire to make enemies of Gellirs' extensive and powerful kin.

He had wanted her so badly, but seeing her with Agnar and seeing her display herself had left him in torment. He hardened at the thought of her, and the sight of her soft, ripe body maddened him, but he recoiled from images of a woman who could be so free and so open to a mans attention, in a way he had never really seen before.

*  *  *

Emma became aware of changing temperature and of different scents permeating her small imprisoning room and she could tell from the sounds and shouts above deck that something of importance was happening. When finally the boat was landed she felt alternately afraid and elated – she longed to be released from the hold, but had no idea of where they had landed and what might become of her in this strange land. The Vikings were known to all in her region for their cruelty and barbarism, and the tales told to her made her tremble.

After some hours she was approached by a young boy who pulled her to her feet and ushered her out on to the deck, the air was frigid and it was night time, she saw torches and people everywhere – but no Gellir.

Her destination was a room no bigger than the ship's hold, shared with another girl who didn't speak, or perhaps could not understand her, and as she lay on the pallet bed in this cold new land she wondered why Gellir had stolen her away, only to forsake her now, when she needed the warmth of his body against her more than ever.

*  *  *

Early the next day Emma was awoken by a stranger in her room, a woman as old as her mother, gesturing and shouting in her foreign tongue, she worked all the day in this house, far larger than even the Shire House near her home. She cleaned and carried until she felt weak with fatigue, struggling to understand orders and cowering from the open handed slaps the woman rained down on her when she made mistakes.

It was late when she entered the great room, with its huge fire and long wooden table, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Gellir, standing with others drinking and feasting. He saw her, an instant after she had seen him, almost as if he felt the draw of her gaze and the strength of her longing. She ached to run to him, just to see something familiar in this terrifying alien place, as he met her gaze he looked distressed and he glanced almost guiltily behind him to where another woman stood, and once he had seen that she was paying him no heed, he walked towards Emma, taking from her the dish she was carrying. She looked ready to speak to him but his look silenced her and it was apparent that here she was servant and he master and that to converse would be unacceptable. The woman she had seen before spoke and broke their reverie, Gellir moved swiftly back towards her and Emma was ushered from the room.

When her exhausting day had ended and she was returned to her room she felt the full weight of her new situation settle upon her. She was so far from home that she could never imagine making her way back, she was, it seemed, a slave to a wealthy family and she was to watch Gellir with what she now assumed to be his wife. Crushing sadness was matched by a terrible coiling jealousy – whilst she had not imagined a man like Gellir to be hers alone, she found it hard to bear witness to another woman in his life. To watch them together and know she could never again feel his shaft buried within her was tortuous – worse than never to see him was to see him and not have him.

Thinking of the brief moments they had had together brought back the familiar feelings, the ache in the pit of her stomach and the trickle of moisture between her legs. Tired as she was she lifted her skirts and moved her hand to between her legs. She stroked the inside of her thighs, feeling the softness of her skin and thinking of the feel of his beard against her. Her breathing deepened and she listened to ensure the other girl in her room was indeed asleep.

She allowed her fingers to moved slowly in towards her private place and tentatively the touched the soft hairs nestled there. She had never touched herself, except to bathe and the guilty pleasure enhanced the feelings. Her fingers reached between the soft folds and she parted easily, ready to welcome her fingers, just as she wanted to welcome his swollen manhood. She could feel her softness, hot and inviting and she inched her fingers towards the depth of her sex, slipping around the entrance to herself and feeling the ache deepen. She felt her breath catch in her chest and her breasts swell within the tight confines of her bodice. The need felt overwhelming, threatened to engulf her and if she could have found something hard to press inside her she would have ridden it in her desperate search for release.

As she allowed her finger to search deeper inside and felt the slippery contours of her unfamiliar sex she heard a sound and moved swiftly to hide her shameful actions. At the entrance to the tiny room she saw a huge shape loom before her. As the shape moved closer she opened her mouth to cry our and he lunged toward her, putting a huge hand against her mouth, she wondered what knew torment had been sent to her, but behind the strangeness there was some recognisable scent and when he spoke she knew it was Gellir. 

Withdrawing his hand, he touched her parted lips and whispered her name, in the darkness his features were beginning to develop before her. His eyes were intense and held hers with passion for some long minutes before she uttered his name and something within him seemed to unlock. 

He laid her down against the pallet bed and covered her mouth with his. They had not kissed before and his soft lips and rough beard teased and tormented her sensitive, swollen lips. He kissed down her jaw line and onto her neck and she felt the tingle of desire along the length of her body, struggling to remain silent. As his hands worked free the laces of her bodice his face pressed hard against her breasts, as if his longing was a fierce as her own, and when she felt the heat of his mouth on her nipples she let a stifled moan from her lips and grabbed at his hair.

When he moved away from her breasts she felt lost, wanted him to keep his hands and mouth on her but when he lifted her skirts and she felt his breath on her thighs she gasped in disbelief. Surely he could not want to touch her there with his mouth? No man had ever touched her in this way and she could not believe it could be acceptable to him, but when she felt his hot tongue lightly touch her nestling folds she cried out, covering her own mouth to capture the sounds.

He traced his tongue long the line of her outer lips then her inner ones and she felt herself flood with moisture, angling her hips to allow him to go wherever he may. At that moment she felt sure that she must have that tongue buried inside her, just as she had needed his shaft. Sure enough this slippery invader dipped deep into her hole and she felt the softness of him filling her entrance and teasing her open still further. The further into her he pressed the more his beard rasped softly against her and she could feel herself rising to a crescendo just as he withdrew.

Longing and desperate she knelt quickly and lowered her head so that he would know what she wanted. He released himself and the sight of his engorged length captivated her. She took the tip of him into her mouth tasting him and enjoying the fullness in her mouth, she swirled her tongue around the bulbous head and, hearing his gasp at a particular point, rubbed her tongue against the base of the head. With his hands buried in her hair she swallowed as much of his length as she could manage, sucking hungrily, then removed her mouth to lick along the entire length of his shaft, burying her face in the musky hair and the tightening sacks at the very base.

Fighting the need to come Gellir moved her beautiful face from him and laid her back against the bed. With eyes locked her opened her slim legs wide and positioned his shaft at her entrance, she wriggled and bucked, as if desperate to force him inside her and when he pushed forwards his shaft slipped slowly but readily into her willing depths. 

Again she cried out, feeling every vein in his shaft and the slap of heavy sacks against her, she could hear the changes in her roommates breathing, long since woken by their muffled sounds, but knowing that she was being watched was no distraction from the pressure mounting deep within her.

Gellir was fighting to keep from coming, but the sensation of her tight willing hole sucking him in deeper with every stroke, and her full breasts swinging with every thrust made it almost impossible to resist. Hearing her keening cries, so loud in this tiny space he knew he need wait only seconds more, and as her body tensed and bucked beneath him he knew he had taken her as far as he could.

He withdrew his glistening shaft from her, even as she shuddered under the last throes of her orgasm and he grunted as he came across her soft smooth belly. Seeing the trails of glistening white against her milky skin he lowered his face and kissed her belly, the rose to kiss her deeply on the mouth.

Tenderly he covered Emma with her rough blanket and touched her cheek as she lay on her low bed, spent and finally satiated. He too became aware of the other girl, awake and watchful, her eyes gleaming with devilment, and he feared he may pay heavily for this indiscretion. He had not intended to visit her, he knew his wife would expect him their bed tonight, after being parted for so long, but the urge was irrational and had to be obeyed. There was something about this woman, and power and a passion that weakened him and made him foolish. Of course, this would be the last time, he was not expected to be faithful only to his wife, but she was a powerful and jealous woman, and this was definitely too close to home. 

He would give Emma to his brother and free himself from her spell. Tomorrow. Or sometime soon. 



The Norseman Ch. 04



It was light when Emma next awoke, and she was aware of movement close to her. With her eyes still closed she imagined Gellir had returned to her and when she felt her skirts lifted up towards her waist she purred gently and rolled onto her back.

When fingers gently touched her thigh her eyes flew open and she gasped to see her roommate, with whom she had not yet shared a word, crouched over her, gazing at her pale, exposed legs.

"What are you doing?" Emma moved swiftly up her bed and covered her legs, angry and afraid.

"Just having a look." the girl smiled a disingenuous smile, and Emma was stunned to hear her speak the same tongue.

"You...you're an Angle?" she stammered, amazed that this stranger would hide their shared origins, the stranger nodded smugly "Northumbrian?"

"I hail from Murcia – my name is Amity" she paused and smiled again, her eyes harsh like flint "I believe it means 'friendship'..." 

There was a pause as Emma was caught between her suspicion and anger at being hoodwinked by this girl, and her desire to grasp at the sense of kinship and belonging. 

As if sensing her hesitation, Amity pushed playfully against her legs and said,

"Go on then...let me see," and seeing Emma's puzzled expression "there was plenty on show last night, and you weren't being shy then – so let me see what the Master was after!"

Emma's mouth fell open in shock; she could not believe this woman dared to speak openly of such things. She pulled her skirts tight against her ankles and stared defiantly at her. With her hands at her ankles and the element of surprise she was unable to defend herself from the unexpected blow Amity dealt her. She crashed her fist into her shoulder and sent Emma sprawling back against the bed.

"Don't play with me, I saw you last night – ripe for his picking – and I know you saw me" she crowed "you didn't feel the need to cover your pretty self then, when he was dipping like a beast between your legs."

Amity positioned herself above Emma, straddling her with surprising strength.

"Now listen, it is time to be nice – you help me out and I'll keep your filthy secret." Putting her hands down between them she tugged once again at Emma's skirts, lifting them up to expose her thighs. 

"I want a taste of what the Master had, and without it I'll be sharing your little night time visit with his Lady."

Amity reached towards her to loosen the already slackened ties of her bodice, exposing her breasts as Emma hunted for an escape.

"She wouldn't understand you...you bitch – you can't speak her language!" Emma felt momentarily triumphant.

"She's a Mercian, been here for many years but she can understand me just fine. And that..." she gave Emma a sharp slap across her face "is for calling me names."

Amity bent her head forward and flicked her tongue across Emma's left nipple, seeing it tighten immediately at the sensation.

"I want to see you, see what was so special that the Master should choose you for his pleasure, over all the other women who might want him." She yanked hard to bring Emma's skirts up above her waist and gazed with lewd excitement at her exposed flesh. 

"Let me taste him within you and I'll keep your secret nicely." She licked her lips "It's an age since I've had a man in me, and I have to take my pleasure where I can," she laughed, slipping her fingers down amongst the soft hair nestling over Emma's sex.

Emma pushed up with her hips in an attempt to unseat Amity, but succeeded only in driving her fingers against her sensitive nub. 

"Be silent!" Amity hissed, her voice harsh and her eyes threatening "I'm warning you! I'm not scared to hurt you, and it is nought to what the Lady would do – so do as I say."

Sensing defeat Emma laid still and Amity wriggled down to allow herself better access to the sight of her interest. She stared intently down at her, and pushed hard against her soft thighs, forcing her legs apart. Emma saw her breathe in deeply, lingering over the heady cocktail of Emma and Gellir's scent, mingled deep within her. Lightly she stroked her outer lips, savouring the softness, then gently she parted them to allow herself to gaze upon the soft pink folds, delicate as petals, glistening with moisture and sticky with the residue of their nights' passion.

Emma wriggled in embarrassment and Amity gave a sharp nip to her thigh, reminding her of the threat and keeping her still and silent. Dipping her head forward Emma felt for the second time in her life, the delicate flick of a tongue against her and covered her mouth to prevent her gasp escaping. The horror and shame of this strange woman with her head between her legs, was entwined in her mind with the heat of Gellir's breath against her and the feel of his hardness deep inside. Despite the strangeness of the circumstances the girls tongue began to urge life into her, opening the folds of her sex and igniting a hunger in her belly. 

Amity tasted the fresh tang of Emma's own flesh and the salty reminder of Gellir's presence and she dipped her tongue deeper and deeper to savour the taste and urge life into her new roommate. She felt Emma tilt her hips to allow her softly stroking tongue better access deep inside the hot, slick centre, and she knew then that Emma had been hooked in by the shameless probing. She had known that Emma had the passion in her, she had witnessed it when she watched them last night, like animals here on this very spot – fused together pushing in unison to get further and deeper – their bodies consuming one another in desperation. She had seen Emma, head thrown back, mouth parted, clawing at his clothes and hair as he thrust deeper inside her.

Amity had a fancy for the man herself and had wondered what it would be to have him bury himself within her, it was indeed some time since she had been taken and frustration was her constant companion. Today she would enjoy having a partner, one who seemed, after some reluctance, to be entering into the spirit. 

Suddenly Amity withdrew her tongue and she heard Emma utter a soft howl of frustration, she wiped her mouth and spoke.

"A gift is as good to give as to get..." her eyes flashed with a dangerous mix of lust and challenge, and as she clambered up the bed she lifted her skirts high to reveal herself. 

"It's my turn – put your tongue in me or the truth will out."

Emma's mouth twisted in disgust, and she backed towards the wall, which simply invited Amity to move closer still until her sex was right there before Emma's face. 

"Do it!" she snarled.

Fighting the revulsion and shame, yet fearing the consequences, she darted her tongue against Amity, a hard stab with no passion, just a desire to end the torment quickly. Amity reached down and grasped her head, tightening her fingers in her hair and pressing her face against her hot, moist mound. Emma wriggled to free herself, but seeing no option and fearing the strength of this strange and unpredictable foe, she allowed her tongue to reach out again, finding the softness within and tasting the sweet tang of her juices.

Hearing Amity breathe deeply, shuddering with pleasure, Emma felt her own heat return. She had been amazed that another girl could bring her pleasure, but to see Amity, her lithe legs parted and her moist lips opening, dewy and red with the dark centre tempting her, she could not help but appreciate the beauty and feel it stir her deep inside.

Instinctively she drew a finger forward and slipped it into the slick darkness, feeling the odd contours deep within her and hearing her muffled cry of appreciation. She moved her fingers slowly; slipping them in and out she gently eased another finger in there, thinking once again of Gellir fitting so tightly within her. Amity opened her legs still wider, making soft throaty noises with each push of her fingers and each laps of her tongue. Emma reached down to touch herself, until she heard a noise just to her side and she jerked herself away from Amity, covering herself and wiping at her mouth in horror.

The woman before them was the same one she had seen with Gellir in the Great Hall. She was fine woman, with the kind of beauty that came from an easy life, and an august, superior air that left Emma in no doubt of her status. Glancing at Amity she was astounded to see that she had remained in place with her skirts raised and her sex on show and looking from woman to woman she began to sense that all was not as it had seemed. 

"Well, Amity – I see you have started without me?" the woman admonished her playfully "are we to show her how we amuse ourselves when our men are at sea?." 

The woman lifted her own skirt to reveal fair skin on slender legs and a neat, dark thatch of hair nestling between her legs. 

"I hear you have been playing with my husband" she paused to give her softly spoken words their full significance, and Emma shot a furious glance at Amity, who seemed to be revelling in her mischief. 

"Perhaps now you may do me the same service."

To see this woman open her legs before her seemed unreal and unbelievable; her sex was engorged and red, with glistening moisture clear on her inner lips. Emma moved forward, uncertain, but sure of her self-protective urges. Her tongue snaked into the folds of this woman tasting her unique flavour and feeling her slippery contours. 

The woman spoke once more.

"Amity, you owe this woman some satisfaction, I watched you from the door, and you teased her near to coming." 

She glanced down at Emma, with an almost benign kindness in her eyes. 

"She needs an end to it – we can at least send her off satisfied."

Emma tried to make sense of her words at the same time as she pleasured the woman with her tongue. She felt Amity raise her skirts and, with Emma kneeling in front of the mistress, she began to slip her tongue between the folds of Emma's engorged and dripping sex, she wriggled and arched her back to allow Amity to probe as deeply as she could. She craved to feel what she had the night before – the full length of a heavily veined shaft pounding into her tight space, filling her entirely.

She heard the mistress making noises in her throat, urgent, desperate sounds that sounded both frustrated and excited. She began to mew and cry out as Emma quickened the pace of her tongue against her sensitive nub. Responding to the quickening of Amity's attention at her own place she proffered her finger to the lady and slipped them between the folds to fill her as she wished to be filled herself.

The Lady writhed on the fingers, crying out in a mixture of her own language and the language of the Danes she bucked against the fingers, moisture flooding her sex and coating Emma's hand and mouth. Emma drank it greedily, grateful finally to feel the mistresses satisfaction, captivated by the softness and the heady scent of the woman.

Behind her Amity's hand was working fast between her own legs and as her breathing quickened her fingers moved to a blur, her mouth still pushing against Emma even as she bucked and writhed against her own hand. Taking a few moments to recover Amity smeared her fingers, wet with her juices across Emma, from the apex of her outer lips, to the curve of her behind, raking her fingers across the puckered entrance to her anus.

As if an agreed and familiar game the Lady dropped her skirt and stepped forward, rubbing her hands across the ripe curve of Emma's rump. As Amity slipped her fingers roughly into Emma the Lady ran her fingers through he mingled juices and brought it to her second hole. Before Emma had acknowledged what was to happen, and giving no time to protest she pressed down hard against the entrance and her finger pushed up the her knuckle into Emma's anus.

Emma cried out in shock and pain, but the combined feel of the fingers deep inside her and the intrusion of the movement in her anus felt oddly exciting, and as they moved in unison she felt orgasm approach almost instantaneously. She found herself pushing back against the hands to feel as filled as she could and as the knot of tension grew in her belly the mixture of pain and driving pleasure mingled until she was swept by orgasm, her body wracked by spasms so powerful that she could barely keep upright.

As she quietened the woman removed their fingers and stood over her. She could feel nothing except the heat and moisture between her legs – it was as if the shame she should feel, the soreness in her loins and the embarrassment at her noisy climax were all meaningless, the only thing that mattered was getting this satisfaction, feeling filled and feeling replete.

"I have some news for you, my dear" said the woman, distant and formal once again. 

"My husband informs me that you are to go, he is tired of you and he thinks you will do well as a gift for his brother." 

The words stung and Emma gasped at the thought of being cast off by the man she still longed for. 

"Today you will be taken to him. He is a fine man, and will make a suitable Master." she smiled with satisfaction "He will make good use of your talents, I am certain, and he has a fine reputation for some pretty dark pleasures." 

Seeing the look in Emma's eyes she bent down low and hissed, 

"Did you think I would let you have him? Let him fill you when it is I who have waited for him? Nobody takes my husband from my bed..." she straightened "and now you will pay for it." 



The Norseman Ch. 05



Emma left the house shortly after, she was given a meagre cloak and roughly ushered from her room by a gruff old man with a huge, unsightly belly. 

People seemed to be everywhere, as though every man and woman who came to the great home had heard of her shame and had come to gloat. The looks on their faces told everything – they had heard all about her, perhaps even heard her with Amity and the Mistress – and they smirked at one another, enjoying her discomfort, sharing whispered gossip behind their hands.

She raised her chin to play at feeling brave, but stepping out of the house into the cutting wind she felt afraid and alone. She could scarcely believe that Gellir, only the morning after they had made love like equals, had finished with her, and discarded her in the way. 

The crushing sensation in her chest felt unbearable, and the thoughts of him coiled in her mind with a mixture of passion and betrayal. Could he really pretend so easily? For her the fusing of their bodies, with her full and happy consent, had been a mark of something great between them, but for him, it seemed it had made her undesirable, an unnecessary distraction – something to be removed.

The man ushered her forward and motioned for her to mount the horse before her, and she shook her head rapidly. Emma had never ridden before, and had never the wealth to afford a horse, so the beast in front of her it seemed wild and enormous. She stepped back and tried in vain to explain her fears, but the man did not comprehend and casting a glance behind him to an unknown person he got his orders to place her how he could.

For a short man he was squat and burly, stronger than he appeared, and he lifted her easily, and in spite of struggles he mounted her across the horse's back like a sack. Emma howled in fear and humiliation, hearing the laughter of the watching audience. The horse's rough hide rasped against her face, and the animal smell assaulted her nostrils, her feet flailing in midair. The man tethered her tightly, pulling her hard against the horse until she feared she would not be able to breathe.

The horse, justifiably alarmed by his reluctant rider shied and whinnied, twisting around until the man stepped up to calm him. With the movement Emma could now see the house and see the figures standing and watching her with great humour. Amongst them was Amity, laughing fiercely 'till her shoulders shook, and within the entrance was the Mistress, jealous and vengeful, eyes alight with triumph.

The old man jumped easily onto his own horse, and with the reigns in his hand he led Emma away, the watchers went back to their duties quickly, the distraction only short lived, but Gellir's wife, Cwen, watched them until she couldn't even hear the horse's hooves. She smiled at the image of the Emma as unceremoniously seated cargo, and took satisfaction in the woman's humiliation. 

Her life had been a hard one before she came to this place; she had travelled far with her father, a trader, and had fought hard for every scrap of comfort life had ever afforded her. Her only goods to barter were her looks and she had traded them well – finding a fine, eligible husband. He was wealthy, powerful and handsome, and she would be damned before another woman would come between them.

She waited for him to return from his morning ride, and had banked on him being long enough for her to rid them of the girl. Indeed when he did return the horse, the girl and the servant were long since gone, and all that lay before her was sharing her actions with her husband.

*   *   *

Deep in the woods Emma found the steady motion of the horse begin to comfort her, she was cold, but her horse's body provided some warmth. Her tears had dried and she felt numbly resolute. With the trees thick around her she noticed a change in their motion. Turning her stiff neck she saw the manservant dismount, he tethered both horses against a branch and glanced up at her guiltily. 

He walked around the horse, patting its nose and coming around behind her. She tried to speak, but he made no response. For what felt like minutes she heard and felt nothing, then slowly she felt colder air against her already shivering legs, as the man lifted her clothes and exposed her. 

Algo, the servant was a lonely man: his wife was as ugly as he was fat, and he felt no interest in having her. Having this beautiful young woman in his charge had felt like a gift, and whilst he knew he shouldn't touch goods that weren't his, he couldn't imagine when he would get another look at a fine young pussy like this.

Lifting her frock he found her legs more lovely than he could have imagined and to see the little secret at the top had him almost fill his breeches there and then. He had never really looked at a woman closely like that, and to see the delicacy, the softness – it was so inviting he simply couldn't help himself.

He would have liked a stool or something to stand on, so that he could have pushed his squat little knob in-between those pretty petals. He didn't dare cut her free, for if he lost her he would surely die for it. So, he looked and he lusted and he palmed himself in his fat hands until he could feel himself ready to explode.

He stepped back around towards Emma's face crooning softly to her.

"So pretty, my girl. Uncle Algo loves your pretty little pussy." 

She could see his ugly little shaft in his hand and heard his gruff foreign words, just in time to have him shoot his seed in a high arch, landing like streamers in her hair.

*   *   *

Cwen had been ready for her husbands rage, and she weathered it in spite of the hurt it caused. It was only the sight of his face, white with rage, which brought home to her just how great a threat the other woman could have been. She told him in their private chamber, away from the servants, but his shouts could be heard by all. He railed and threatened and she tried hard to soften him without success.

"You were going to give her away, you said you would – she was a gift to Stefan!" he grunted in uncertain agreement.

"Of course, but not yet. I'f have given her when I was ready, after all, she was mine to give - not yours. You forget yourself, woman, you are as much my goods as she was – be sure you don't overstep your mark or I might give you away instead."

She slapped hard at him, lashing out in fear and sorrow as well as in anger, and he lashed out hard in return. Fighting was not new to her – in her homestead there had been many men to fight with, brothers and cousins and neighbours all willing to take something from her if she was not ready to stop them. She had grown up fighting for food, shelter and her chance to sleep unmolested, so fighting her husband had been an anticipated part of her life.

She pushed hard against his chest and locked her fingers around his long sleek plait, tugging his head forwards and reaching forward to bite him on the cheek. He spun her away with a bellow and pushed her back hard.

"What is wrong with you, you're like an animal!" he breathed hard, pressing her into submission against the nearest wall. "What do you care if I bring a quarry back from a raid?"

"Quarry!" she shrieked "It's you that's the quarry. This isn't gold or cloth or livestock! Since when would any of those things call you from my bed?" her breasts heaved and her voice dropped dangerously low. 

"What was I supposed to do, when you visit her in the night on your first night back from sea? When you had a duty to do for me, and you slinked away to be with that filthy Angle whore!"

"So, this is jealousy?" he was incredulous "You would do this because I left you empty for one night?" he laughed "Don't pretend you've been waiting all the time for me – the bed has hardly been cold from the moment we set sail. You call her a whore but you're so debauched you'll do this just to get a piece of cock?"

Their eyes were locked with fierce rivalry, both bodies set in stone and pressed tight together.

"I'd better not neglect you any further dear lady, or who knows, you might dispose of the rest of my staff, just to avoid an empty hole!"

She grunted as he tore open her bodice, newly made for his homecoming feast, and he bent his head between her small, pointed breasts and nipped her with his teeth, hard enough to hurt. He loosened his clothing to release his shaft, painfully hard and still smelling of Emma. 

In one swift move he lifted Cwen bodily from the ground and thrust her hard against the wall, tilting her hips as he did so, allowing her to lift her skirt and give him access.

Without waiting to see if she was ready and without caring if he hurt her he pushed himself into her in a single, driven stroke. She called out with a sound of mingled anger and pleasure, and grunted at him through bared teeth.

"Happy now?" he snarled, pushing ever deeper, until her could not help but begin the steady movement back and forth. 

She shuddered as his thrusts pushed her back hard against the wall, impaling her on his iron hardness. The walls of her sex closed hard against him, gripping him within her, soaking his shaft in her slippery moisture. As she began to moan and urge him on he stopped abruptly, rocking his shaft at her entrance, only allowing the tip to lie inside. She bucked forward to thrust herself onto him, but he held her steady.

"What if I were never to fuck you again, woman?" he glared at her "What would you do?"

"You couldn't!" she gasped, struggling to get more than his tip inside "You want me as I want you – we have the same need!"

He stepped back, away from her body, and let her drop to the ground abruptly. In front of her face his hard cock swayed, purple, rigid and smeared with her juices and she howled in frustration.

"I have hands for those needs, maybe I will satisfy myself for a while," and he began to stroke the length of his shaft slowly.

"No!" she cried out "I am sorry, my love – truly." She knelt before him, eyes on his hardness, desperation mounting. 

"Please!" she begged in a whisper. "Love me...please. I'll do as you bid, but don't leave me needing you like this."

Glancing up to meet his eye she opened her mouth just in front of him, her tongue snaking out against the bulbous, purple head. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, before stepping back away from her. She followed on her hands and knees across the chamber floor, she would move toward him and he would step away.

The sight of his beautiful wife, face agonised, creeping on the floor to reach his cock was unbearable. He wanted nothing more than to bury it again inside her hot, responsive body – but this was matter of power, and letting her rule his body would be letting her rule their marriage. 

Finally he stopped moving and he saw a gleam in her eye as she thought she had overcome his sudden reluctance. She reached up with her mouth and when she was just an inch away he grasped her hair, holding her head still with both hands and with an enormous grunt he released himself. Threads of white shot from his aching shaft and landed like ribbons across her beautiful face. She struggled to mouth him, but being held fast she had to make do with the streams of his seed which fell into her mouth or against her outstretched tongue.

He gazed down at her; face streaked, mouth open in desperation, drips landing against her breasts and her hand working furiously between her legs. It was a sight erotic but shaming to him, and his gut clenched to see her so degraded.

"Please?" she cried softly. "Please, Gellir, do something for me."

"Get her back and we will see."

He walked out and left her there on the floor.



The Norseman Ch. 06



Algo delivered Emma as he had been bid, ushering her into another grand house built to the same design as Gellir's. This house seemed darker, surrounded as it was by thick swathes of Spruce, and was almost empty of people. Compared to the home she had just left, which had bustled with servants and visitors, this appeared to be inhabited only by a maid and her new Master, Stefan. 

The maid, a thin wretch who would not meet her eyes, took her forward into the Great Hall, where a man sat pouring over scrolls and heavy texts. The maid handed him the parchment Algo had been told to deliver and Stefan read swiftly. Cwen had confirmed that Emma was his gift, a treasure brought from Gellir's last travels, and glancing up only momentarily he took in her exhausted and dishevelled appearance and gave orders to the maid.

"You must feed her and bathe her, then return her to me, Ginna." He nodded in thanks and Emma was taken away.

Emma felt sick with nausea after her journey, and her fatigue was so great that she hardly cared what might happen next. The girl, Ginna, produced a plate of bread, pork and solid, white cheese, and brought her a cup of ale. She had not realised how hungry she had been, but couldn't recall the last time she had eaten something substantial. Left alone by the other woman she drank heartily and crammed the food into her mouth until her hunger was at last satisfied. The ale warmed her belly and the food made her drowsy, but the biting cold of the journey remained, and Emma felt weary to her very bones. She put her head against the table and fell asleep within moments.

* * *

Emma awoke with a start when Ginna hailed her in her own tongue and took her to a small ante-room, lit only by firelight, where she had prepared a huge tub of steaming water. At home bathing was the luxury of the wealthiest only and Emma had never experienced anything of this sort. 

Ginna helped her out of her dress and she shivered in the cold of the room, but stepping into the heat of the water was one of the most wonderful things she had ever experienced. Tears began to course down her cheeks as the hot water stung her icy fingers, and began to seep deep into her limbs. In the midst of this misery the comfort of warmth and cleanliness felt like a gift and she felt a wave of gratitude for her new host.

Ginna took a huge cloth and washed her body, beginning at the tip of her toes. The feeling of her soft touch and the warmth was cosseting after so much hardship, and she felt a sense of safety, here in this great, dark house.

After the water had cooled Ginna helped her from the bath and dried her gently, rubbing soft fabric across her bruised and aching skin. She paid attention to every inch of her body, and when she parted her legs to dry between them Emma felt the unmistakable tingle of arousal. She wondered again what Cwen might have meant when she mentioned Stefan's penchant for 'dark pleasures'. She felt that her recent days had introduced her to so many new things that surely there was little left to surprise her.

If Gellir had indeed finished with her, and her new Master sought to care for her like this, then perhaps the change was to her advantage, and was one she could learn to enjoy.

Once dry Ginna wrapped her naked body in a cloak made of fabric so soft that Emma could not stop her hands from stroking it where it fell. She tried to indicate her nakedness beneath and ask for her dress to be returned to her, but it seemed that Ginna did not comprehend, and she ushered Emma back into the Great Hall.

By now night had fallen outside, with a darkness so complete that the Hall was shrouded in impenetrable shadows. At the far end an enormous fire blazed, but she could see no one. Ginna slipped away and Emma walked slowly towards the fire. She felt the soft cloak billowing away from her body as she walked, exposing her legs and opening wide to reveal her breasts and smooth, flat belly.

She stood in front of the fire, mesmerised by the flickering heat and comforted by its warmth. She heard only the crackle of the wood as it burned until Stefan spoke.

"Are you rested, my dear?" Emma cried out in surprise "I am sorry to startle you, but I was reading when you arrived and, if I am honest, I enjoyed watching you."

"You speak my language?" her appreciation and gratitude grew as he nodded.

"I have studied it for many years." He handed her a goblet, "Wine?" 

She tasted the unfamiliar liquid, blood red in the firelight and felt it stir something in her belly, flooding her limbs with a kind of liquid heat. Stefan bid her take a seat on a broad flat seat in front of the fire and he stood by the hearth to watch her. He was surprised that Gellir had parted with this one; they had shared women before, but never one as fine as this. Even on her arrival he had seen her beauty, but now he felt captivated by the softness of her skin, the sheen of her hair and the fierce beauty of her eyes.

Emma too appraised her new host. He was smaller than Gellir, lithe and wiry with a quick intelligence in his eyes. They shared the same broad mouth with full lips, but beyond that the similarities were mercifully few.

"You understand that you have been gifted to me?" she nodded warily. "I can appreciate this is very new and strange to you, but I wish you to be happy and satisfied in your new home. There are," he paused "expectations." He looked as though he was weighing up what to say next. 

"There are things that will make me a happy guardian, and if those expectations can be met you will have your rewards. If they cannot then you will be sold to whoever may bid for you – do you understand?" It felt that he was asking if she knew what that might mean for her, and she could imagine. He refilled her glass.

"I have certain preferences," his voice grew soft, "Activities that please me. I don't wish to engage in anything except those things, and I need your...contribution with some of them. I don't require anything from you beyond that which I will outline tonight and if you can learn to take pleasure in this your time here can be very comfortable."

"Remove your cloak." His voice grew softer still, and husky with desire.

Emma stood and the fabric fell quickly to the floor, revealing her nakedness. She felt astounded that she could be so shameless, that she could stand uncovered in the house of a stranger, without knowing what his plans might be. She also recognised that for the first time since Gellir had entered her home and taken her she was warm and fed, and could hear in this man's words the chance of some comfort and safety. Emma was a practical woman, and if she could serve her own needs through serving his she felt this may indeed be a productive union.

Seeing Stefan's eyes in the firelight lit her inside. She could see both lust and admiration in him, and to see him gaze at her with longing made her feel powerful and beautiful in a way she had never known before. He pressed his hand between her breasts, palm flat against her breastbone, feeling her heart quicken beneath his touch. He liked the way she met his eyes, unafraid and unashamed and he felt himself harden painfully within the restriction of his clothes. He began to undress himself, but she held her hand over his and began to untie his garments with her tiny hands. She felt that by taking charge she was keeping the balance between them, keeping this an action between equals, rather than the feeling of subjugation she had allowed in her desperation to have Gellir.

As she bared his chest she found his skin smooth with a swathe of fine hairs which led from between his nipples down below his trousers like a trail. She moved her fingers across it and as she reached down she felt the muscles of his abdomen tighten and heard a hissed breath escape him. Unaccustomed to removing a man's clothing she took much time to undress him and the delay was a delicious torment. 

It had been a while since he had last had a pleasure like this, and whilst there were women to be had the delight at finding such a suitable and, it seemed willing one was maddening. He had to fight to keep his hands to his sides, to stop things progressing as fast as his loins were urging, he wanted to take time to savour the precious build up before discovering if she was truly as sweet as she seemed.

Seeing him naked captivated her, Emma had never seen a man fully unclothed, and the partial sights she had seen before were nothing to the rugged beauty of the unfettered male form. He was broad about his shoulders, narrow at the hips, angled with hard lines over taught skin – so different to her own soft curves that they might be of a different species. 

She touched him, feeling his hot skin and firm muscled flesh, already sheened with sweat that had little to do with the heat of the fire beside them. Walking slowly behind him she loosened the plait that swung down the length of his back, the colour of wheat in summer, and felt the softness of his hair as it fell over his chest and shoulders. As she moved beside him she could feel the heat of his body radiating against hers, and every touch made them both more and more aware of the sensation of skin against skin.

His chest was rising and falling faster, and his longing showed as his erection pushed out before him, catching against her hips and legs, sending ripples across the hard muscles of his stomach, and building desire to a level he could never recall before. Stefan moved away from her reluctantly and crossed to step in very close to the fire; he bent and retrieved a tall bottle with an elongated neck. It appeared to be made of heavy green glass and contained a liquid that shimmered within its depths.

He removed the stopper with his teeth and spat it out into the dark recesses of the room without removing his eyes from hers. He tipped the bottle against his palm and the liquid ran across his fingers, along his arm and dripped to the floor. He pressed his hand to her chest and Emma felt the warm oil against her skin, dribbling from her breasts and down between her legs in a hot trickle.

Stefan began to move his hands in slow rhythmic circles, coating her high, budded breasts with a sheen of oil and feeling the warmth of it against the heat of her skin. She began to breathe heavily, smelling an unfamiliar scent within the oil which coupled in the air with their own musky scents. As his hand travelled down across her belly she was powerless to stop the moan escaping her lips, and she opened her legs to invite his hands between them, but he ignored her and moved behind to smear oil across the delicate skin of her back.

He coated every inch of exposed flesh, his hands firm against her, the oil hot and fragrant. She could feel her need mounting, could feel the dribble of her own hot juices running freely down her thigh, she wanted him to stop and take her, but she wanted the tortuous pleasure to continue forever, and when finally her arms, legs and torso were slick with oil she felt sure he must finish this wondrous game. 

Kneeling before her he now allowed her to part her thighs. He trailed the path her juices had taken with his hand, and collecting them on his middle finger he placed it in his mouth to taste her, gazing up to see her expression of wonder and desire. Once again he oiled his hand and gently moved it between her legs, running his fingers from the thatch of soft hairs that hid her folds right across her to the deep and willing hole at her centre. He smiled as she moved to try and force his fingers into her, but he was not to be rushed and he moved again.

Behind her he tipped the bottle against the small of her back and watched the firelight catch a stream of oil disappearing between the rounded cheeks of her rump. He pressed on the small of her back, motioning her to bend forward and as she did so he caught his breath at the sight of her tight, puckered hole. With his fingers he smeared her oil against her and heard her moan again. He placed the pad of a slippery fingertip against her hole and just at the moment Emma recalled what Cwen had done to her not so long before, Stefan pressed to enter her anus.

She called out in surprise, but he was soothing "Don't be alarmed, it may feel alien at first but the oil will help. Trust me and there will be pleasure in it for you." She thought of the fingers of Amity and the mistress working between her legs and she recalled the shameful pleasure she had felt. This indeed was easier; his finger had moved in swiftly and felt less invasive coated as it was in oil.

She tried consciously to relax herself and allowed him to move his finger in slowly and firmly to fill her. It felt odd and mildly uncomfortable, but strangely exciting, and she could feel her other space clench in desire allowing more of her juices to mingle with the oil. She shuddered as Stefan began to move his finger within her, in and out, and she arched her back and whimpered quietly as she began to feel excitement build. She could feel his other fingers brush against her open folds and she felt that the now familiar feeling of orgasm was nearing.

Suddenly Stefan withdrew his finger and she growled in frustration. 

"Don't worry, there is more to fill you up." 

He motioned her to the broad bench in front of the fire, where she had been sitting, and he positioned her kneeling upon it, with her backside high in the air and her breasts hanging down, her oiled body shining in the firelight. 

Once again her poured oil in a river against her beautiful rounded behind and before she was prepared she felt the nudge of his shaft at her anus. "No!" she struggled away and he grasped at her, slippery with oil. With strong hands he held her fast, pushing her face down towards the bench.

"Listen, I can see your pussy aches for me - you have your fine essence all over your legs, so don't be coy now, girl!"

"Not there, though!" She looked up at him pleading. "You can't put it there!"

"I can put it where I wish, don't forget. Or I could call the stable man and farm hand and we could all have you." Seeing her fear he relented, "I don't aim to harm you, but this is my passion and I will have it!" He stroked the length of her back with his hand.

"You are a great beauty, I want to see the look in your eyes you had just now, I don't want to force you, but I will have you. I will take care of you tonight and be with you gently, or I will rape you and sell you in the morning." He looked away, ashamed at his empty threats. His voice dropped enticingly "Let me show you the pleasure that I can give you. You can take this journey with me willingly and embrace it, and you may never want anything else!"

Seeing the choice that existed, and not knowing Stefan to be softer in his heart than his words might show, she relented and he felt her body relax. Determined that she would indeed feel pleasure he swallowed hard his desire, in an attempt to pace himself and give her the time she needed to relight her passions.

He began again to stroke her soft skin, his hand slipping easily over the oil and pausing to knead her soft ripe buttocks. He reached around to cup her breasts, hanging down below her and shifting invitingly with every minute move she made. 

He could hear her breath quicken as she felt his fingers brush against her nipples, and as he ran his hands down across her taught stomach she tilted her hips in unmistakable encouragement. Stefan was amazed that she could go from open protest to obvious desire in such a short time – this woman was truly captivating him, and his cock hardening still further at thought of slipping between her cheeks to finally relieve the raging tension within him.

By now her hair was sticking to her back with the oil, and he himself was shining with oil that had collected on him as he rubbed against her body. In the firelight they shone, unearthly and beautiful, entwined together in the limited light, breathing heavily and crying out in passion. 

When Stefan eventually felt he dared wait no longer he pushed her in the small of her back, so that her rump was pushed up in the air and her delicate rosebud showed in the glow of the fire. Again he introduced an oiled finger, which her anus accepted more readily and this time he heard her exhale gently. Drawing the fingers of his other hand across the drenched folds of her pussy he smeared her juices across her rump and spearing her hole again with yet more moisture. 

He brought the tip of his shaft to her entrance, and almost nervously he began to press forward against her. She called out, but this time he could hear lust alongside her fear.

"Don't fear me, my beauty. Let yourself relax and I will fill you." He stroked her back with his strong hands, long fingers tracing a path down her spine, making her shudder and arch her back. He was indeed being cautious, and she could acknowledge his self control. Seeing his gentleness allowed her to relax her muscles and she felt the enormity of him within her tight space. He pressed forth again, past the tight grip of her entrance, sweating and praying that he could hold himself back.

The sight of her glistening body, his cock lodged in the entrance of her, was almost more than he could bear. He rocked his hips forward fractionally, feeling her tightness relent as she opened up to him. As he began to feel her accepting him, closing like the tightest sheath around him, he began to move in and out with a tormentingly slow rhythm, consumed by the desire to drive into her. 

He could hear her panting, could hear the familiar route to a woman's orgasm, and he was overwhelmed. He had brought her to this, taught her the pleasures of his own particular passion, and now she was moving in rhythm to his hips, pushing back against him to accommodate him deep within her. She tossed her head back her hair clinging to her oiled, sweat soaked back, and her breaths became as hard, loud moans, filling the cavernous hall.

She could feel the muscles of her pussy clenching, empty but desperate, juices running freely from her, her behind filled completely. She reached between her legs and found her soaking, desperate centre, pushing two of her fingers into herself with one swift motion, feeling the friction of his motion so close to her fingers, pressing hard against the thin wall that separated him from her. 

Her belly was on fire, her muscles rippling and tightening and as she pushed her own fingers as far as she could inside herself, feeling them rub against the large shape of him in her backside. She could think of nothing, remember nothing, and nothing mattered but the burst of sensation clutching at her. She shook and reeled, her head falling hard against the bench, her body held up only by his presence. 

Hearing her cries alone would have pushed him beyond the brink of orgasm, but feeling her fingers against him, feeling her attempts to fill herself twice he could no longer contain his passions, and the flood began. He could not recall when he had last spent his seed, but it had been a number of days, and as he came he thought he may go on forever. His cock, enclosed so tightly, bucked and squeezed until every drop of him was emptied inside her velvety depths. He leaned forward to embrace her, feeling her heart racing against his strong arms, her breathing still rapid.

As he moved, he slipped from within her and he stepped back to admire her opened anus, still holding the shape of his shaft. She flagged, falling onto her back and panting heavily, with a broad smile playing on her lips. Stefan leant forward to kiss her fiercely on her mouth.

"You are the finest creature I have ever met." He gazed at her, spellbound. "Do you think you can be comfortable here, with me?"

Emma smiled her eyes glazed with spent passion. 

"I think I can learn to please you, Stefan - as I think this may please me too."



The Norseman Ch. 07



It was late the next day when Cwen journeyed to the house of her brother. She rode alone on horseback, as the light was fading, snow falling softly upon her and upon the enormous trees, almost black in the twilight. Alone in this silent landscape, darkness beginning to surround her, she felt afraid. A brave woman, well used to this harsh landscape and the cry of the wild beast that inhabited it, she was not afraid of anything around her – she was afraid of what lay ahead.

She wept in anger and frustration – acknowledging her fears and hating herself for them. In thirty years she had never bowed to another man nor woman – yet here she was, being controlled by her husband and fearing the whore who had stolen his heart.

She had tried every way she knew to win her husband's favour back, but he was resolute and had stubbornly refused her. He barely spoke to her, he turned from her body and when she had woken him that morning with her mouth around his sleeping cock he had thrust her away violently. Sex, her only bargaining tool, had become worthless, so it was with a heavy heart and frustrated body she saw her only option was to return Emma to their home.

*

When Stefan's house loomed out of the darkness before her she dismounted, shook the snow from her cloak, and stepped up to the door. She heard them before she reached it. In the gloom and silence of the snowy night she could hear the animal sounds of sex – guttural, grunting sounds made in his throat mingled in the air with breathy mewling cries and in spite of herself Cwen felt the immediate trickle of moisture between her legs.

She entered the house unheard and unseen, following the sounds. She was drawn towards the bed chamber and stepped softly to the doorway, and in spite of her preparation she could barely believe the sight before her. 

Emma was knelt on all fours on the low bed, head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes tight shut. Stefan knelt behind her, his pelvis thrusting back and forth, banging against her soft, rounded rump, his naked body taut – every muscle building its own clawing tension as the thrusting pace quickened. He held Emma's hair, his hands woven deep within the soft brown curls, holding her head back as she pushed against him, desperate to feel him deeper within her.

Cwen could barely stand to see it – to see the beautiful, ripe softness of the woman's body, the hard lines and delicious tension in Stefan's face. She moved her hand against the front of her gown and pressed hard through the folds of fabric to feel her own desire; her pussy ached to join them, juices now running freely as a mark of her desperation. The small movement rustled her cloak and Stefan looked up to see her for the first time. 

If he was shocked it didn't register and he did not break his stride, still pistoning back and forth, each thrust shaking her body, rocking her fine, rounded breasts and increasing the urgency of her cries. 

"Welcome Cwen!" his voice was husky and he sounded almost breathless. "Glad you could drop by. Perhaps you can assist me?" He smiled at her look of surprise. "Pass me that candle" he indicated with a jerk of his head "that's right. Pick one you think she might like."

Unsure exactly what he might mean she picked a long, fat candle from a small pile near the door and handed it to him dumbly.

"Here darling," he spoke this to Emma "A gift for you"

Cwen watched the candle disappear between them, and heard the deep, lusty growl Emma made. She watched amazed as Emma's body began to quake as orgasm neared. Her cries filled the room, a great noise coming from her long, white throat in waves that matched her waves of ecstasy. Her body bucked beneath his, and he reached around to cup her swaying breasts in his large hands.

Stefan took one almighty push forward against her, pressing deep inside her as his own climax began. Watching him he seemed transformed – Cwen saw her brother, a man whom she had always seen as quiet, studious, and civilised – but tonight he looked like a beast.

He bared his teeth and thrust his head back, his body wracked with tension. He grunted hard into the dark room and she fancied she could feel the pulsing, surging rush of his seed filling Emma.

Cwen was open mouthed in shock and lust, she wanted to feel him between her own legs, feel the sensation of complete fulfilment she could see on both faces at that moment. Emma looked up at her with a lewd expression of satisfaction and triumph, and Stefan smiled comfortably, as though it were entirely normal to welcome ones relatives in this way.

Cwen found her voice finally, wanting to break the potent silence. "I just called...called to make you an invitation. Both of you." She cleared her throat. "Will you join us for Hökunótt? There will be feasting and...merriment." She felt flustered and anxious, embarrassed by their calm response.

"A gracious invitation Cwen." Stefan smiled handsomely, his chest still heaving from recent exertion. "We will indeed join you, and I am sure a fine time will be had by all."

Stefan, his shaft now soft, moved away from Emma and for the first time Cwen could see the full truth of what she had witnessed. Unable to help herself she gazed between Emma's legs to see her anus open wide, stretched by Stefan's pounding and retaining its new shape. As she watched it slowly began to close and as it did so a stream of foaming white began to pour from it. The seed, escaping from within her forbidden depths, ran freely down the contours of her open pussy, and Cwen could see something nestling between the folds, coated in shining juices – the candle. 

She was mesmerised by her own imaginings – her mind filled with images of a hard shaft buried in her own backside, and harder still, the unyielding candle buried deep in her pussy. She was captured by the momentary desire to taste the trail of cum which was now dripping from Emma onto the bed.

Stefan stepped again towards his lover, and pressing one firm hand against her back he reached down between her legs with the other. In a swift movement which brought forth another lusty cry from Emma he retrieved the nestling candle. He stepped forward, his brazen nakedness stunning in the half light of the room.

"A gift for your trouble, my lady." His smile was dark and knowing. "For whilst my good brother pines for Emma this may be of use to you." He held out his hand and placed the candle in Cwen's palm.

She felt the sensation of the damp, slippery object against her hand, still warm and slightly softened by being inside Emma's hot and hidden depths. Cwen wasn't certain whether it was shock at what she had witnessed, or a fear that she may follow her desires, but she knew she could not risk another moment in the stifling room, and, clutching the candle to her chest Cwen turned on her heel and ran from the house.

She felt glad of the darkness to hide her flushed skin, and glad of the cool snow against her as her body burned with its own heat. She fell to her knees, and thinking about nothing but the building need within her, she took the candle deep beneath her gown. 

She quickly searched out her aching, streaming pussy and felt the candle slip easily between her nether lips to find its mark. The thought of the candle, smeared with Emma's heady, scented liquors, and Stefan's thick, creamy seed was enough to bring her to the edge, without a thought to the feel of it buried within her. 

She rocked back and forth against the snow, the wind catching her cries, feeling the candle slip easily within her. Thinking once again of the sight of Emma's ravaged holes she reached around behind herself and slipped the tip of her middle finger into her tight rosebud.

With one final cry she felt the breaking climax deep in her belly. Her walls clasped at the candle, desperate to make it the living flesh she craved, and she felt the pulse of tightening muscles milking the seed that would never come.

As the tension lifted, the cold and the isolation hit her suddenly. She could barely lift herself to her feet, exhausted and weak from desire and exertion. She slipped the candle from inside her and flung it far into the trees, angry to be relying on a false cock, whilst her husband kept his for that whore. 

Furiously wiping tears from her cheeks she mounted her horse, feeling its hard back press against her sensitive and battered places. Emma had robbed her now of her husband, her dignity and her control over her desire. She knew she had no choice but to welcome her back the very next night, but as she rode home hard between the snow covered firs she began to search the darkest parts of her soul for a suitable means of revenge. 



The Norseman Ch. 08



The festival of Hökunótt began with the arrival of many guests on the very next night.  Cwen and Gellir appeared, at least to their visitors, as a united couple welcoming family, neighbours and friends with open arms.  Huge platters of food were presented and wine and ale flowed readily.

Almost nobody could have seen beyond the façade presented by their genial hosts.  Gellir kept an anxious watch on the door, knowing that Emma would be his guest again, in such different circumstances, and Cwen kept a watchful eye on her husband, horribly aware of his eager anticipation.  When they spoke to one another it was with a cool civility – polite and smiling, but with deeper feelings of fury and jealousy hidden behind their eyes.

When Emma and Stefan joined the throng of guests the festivities were well underway.  Emma looked fit and strong, well fed and rested and was dressed in a fine new gown, the colour of ox's blood.  Stefan entered with a possessively placed arm around her shoulders, proud to show her off to the local men, yet wanting to make certain they knew and understood her ownership.

Gellir saw her as if at a distance, yet there were only a few feet between them, he felt as though the rest of the room had fallen to a hush, as his attention was so completely focussed upon her.  He feasted his eyes upon her, on the soft skin of her face, her full lips, slightly parted, her large eyes the colour of bronze – the sight of her stopped his heart.

He recalled how he had dreamt of his mother after her death – dreamt they had been reunited with a longing and love like he felt at this moment.  When he had awoken he had been bereft, an aching agony in his chest as the reality of his loss has washed over him.  He feared that tonight, seeing this lovely woman before him, if he were to blink or to look away he might lose her forever, with the same force of agony that he had felt at the loss of his mother.

Emma was trying hard not to look for Gellir, she was keeping her eyes trained on her Master, laughing and animated; but in her heart she longed to look around, to catch sight of him once more.  

Cwen approached first, speaking only to Stefan, ignoring Emma very deliberately. "Stefan, my dear brother, I welcome you"

"We thank you for your hospitality."  Stefan smiled broadly, his eyes knowing "I trust you had a safe journey home yesterday.  It was a wild night indeed."

Cwen blushed in spite of herself.  "Please, make yourselves at ease and enjoy the festivities."  She moved away quickly, her face prickling with shame, and she fancied she could feel the candle wedged deep inside her and the snow beneath her knees.  Had Stefan seen her?  Had he watched her debase herself?  

Having seen Cwen, Emma was unable to hide her curiosity any further, and she glanced quickly about her, to see Gellir standing close by, still as a statue, mouth slightly parted and his eyes fixed upon her.  She ignored the hot rush of pleasure at the sight of him, and gave him a quick hard smile, before stepping away, still arm in arm with Stefan.

If the man was happy to discard her then she would never let him see the reality of her feelings.  Her heart hammered in her chest and she could feel the warm reminiscences of their time together put a tingle between her legs almost immediately.

She had forgotten how beautiful he was, how handsome his broad face was – his sleek, sandy hair, his large long-lashed eyes the colour of a winter sea.  If she could obey her heart she would step up to him and touch his skin, feel the warmth of his skin against her finger tips and the rasp of his stubble against her palm.

Her heart quickened pace when she thought of his long shaft buried deep within her, opening her up and transporting her, body and mind.  She couldn't deny that she wanted him still, that the very sight of him had made her ache for him.  Stefan, she realised, was simply a temporary distraction, a dalliance to occupy her until she could be with her true mate again.



As the feast continued and the wine flowed she kept finding her eyes searching the room for him, keeping watch on his every move, and it seemed that every time she glanced in his direction he would be looking at her with an intense gaze.  Around them the room became noisier, as the wine and ale fuelled the guests with a raucous energy. 

Cwen could feel a sickening nausea rise in her gut, as every time she looked at her husband she could see his eyes trained on Emma with longing.  She knew she had been right to try and rid them of this girl, and that she had no option but to execute the plan she had made on the long ride home the previous night.

Looking around the room she could see Stefan, blind drunk, laughing heartily with some of the men, a proprietorial hand clasped tightly around Emma's arm.  He looked as though another glass of wine would have him asleep or ailing.  Her husband however, looked sober and alert – engaged as he was in watching his whore.  Cwen breathed deeply, trying hard to settle her rage, and she crossed to where he stood in reverie.

"Husband?" she gave a broad, flashing smile, that didn't quite meet her eyes.  "You are quiet tonight – please, let me get you some wine."  He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, and seeming to notice her for the first time he agreed.

Nobody paid her any attention as she collected wine from a vast flagon, hence nobody noticed her make an addition to the goblet –the contents of a small glass vial which was hidden within her gown.  The liquid was invisible in the ruby red wine, and almost flavourless, and as she returned the goblet to Gellir she watched with mounting exhilaration as he drank the wine distractedly.

It took barely a few minutes for the brew to take effect – astounding in such a big man – but soon he found it hard to focus his vision, and seemed a little unsteady on his feet.  He swayed a little where he stood.

"Cwen, I feel...I feel unwell." He blinked rapidly and put his hands heavily on her shoulders to steady himself.

"Darling, come and find a place to sit."  She ushered him from the great hall, slipping past the revelling guests without drawing any attention, and took him to their bed chamber.  

By the time they reached the bed he looked ready to fall, and she steered him to lie down.  Asleep almost instantaneously, she kneeled down and straddling him on the bed.

"Oh, Gellir!  You should have trusted me – she isn't the one for you.  I can't let her come between us, and you can't want a woman who lets herself be used so wickedly."  She remembered the sight she had seen in Stefan's bed the night before and found herself pushing her aroused pussy down against Gellir whilst he slept.  "By the time tonight is over, you won't want her – she won't be fit for anything."  She shuddered with anticipation and left her husband to sleep his drugged sleep, so that her plan could come to fruition.



Back in the Great Hall the tamer guests were leaving.  Cwen said her farewells, struggling with her desire to push them from the door and get on with the plan – she was breathing heavily and has a sheen of sweat on her brow, such was her feverish excitement.

With about a dozen guests remaining, she glanced around the room.  The din in the hall was growing as the raucous, ale fuelled voices raised ever louder, and in the fire and candle light the shapes of the guests took on an animal quality – feasting, drinking and laughing loudly.  Emma was at the centre, attracting attention from most eyes in the room as one of the few women remaining, and Cwen felt heartened at the sight of Stefan slumped in a seat, oblivious with drink.

Cwen stood to the centre of the room, and heart in her throat she called to the servants.  At her instruction they brought forward a huge travelling trunk made of fine leather and metal work.  The guests began to give Cwen their attention, wondering what treat she might reveal from the trunk.  In one smooth motion she covered the trunk in a thick soft blanket from her own bed, momentarily noting the scent of Gellir that lingered upon it.

Cwen spoke loud and clear for the whole room to hear, and immediately they fell silent.  She spoke in the language of her audience, rather than the woman she addressed – for this was for their benefit, not Emma's. "Emma my dear, will you join me?"  She smiled widely, a gesture that didn't reach her eyes, and looked, to those who knew her, like the smile of a snake.  "I want to welcome you formally to our home, as our guest rather than our bounty.  I too, Sister, came from the same land as you, and know the perils of your journey." With a nod to her men she continued.  "I wish you to feel at home here, to feel you can act as your self and be..." a theatrical pause "...satisfied by our humble company."

Behind Emma the servants had moved into position, and held her fast by her upper arms.  She struggled and tried to protest, but her language was unfamiliar to them, and they feared Cwen too much to release her.  The pulled her across to the trunk and laid her back against it.  She felt the hard wood beneath her back and struggled fiercely against their hold.

She was quickly tethered to the ironwork on the great casket, her wrists bound with soft cloth, but held so tight that she could barely move them at all.  Her legs were tied more loosely, in a longer tether which allowed her to move a little way, and find her feet against the floor, but with her back against the trunk and her wrists bound she was unable to right herself.

Cwen bent over her, face flushed and eyes alight with malice. "You can indeed be yourself tonight!  You can be the whore you have been playing since you set your feet on Norse soil."  She brought her face very close to Emma's and hissed "By the time we are finished here tonight Gellir will have no use for you – you'll be as ruined and slack as a street girl!"

She turned to her guests with a flourish.  "Gentlemen!  Let me offer you a unique opportunity – a fine young thing with holes to be filled – she exists tonight for your pleasure and entertainment."  Taking a short knife from within her gown she began to loosen the bodice of Emma's dress.

Around her the rowdy guests had fallen into a hushed disbelief, all eyes on their hostess and the foreign girl.  With each tug of the knife Emma's dress began to fall further open, exposing her breasts to the eyes of all onlookers.  In spite of the warmth of the room her fear made her nipples hard and they pointed from small dark areola atop the white flesh of her heavy, youthful breasts.

As more and more flesh was exposed the guests gazed hungrily upon her flat belly and then, as the layers of her new gown and undergarments were cut away, the dark swathe of soft hair nestling between her legs.

Cwen tugged at the gown, pulling it away from her body and exposing her to all around her in her full nakedness.  She checked her bindings, pulling the ankle ties further apart so that the others could, for the first time, see the flash of pink that lay within the hairs between her legs.

She stepped back; her eyes alight with furious triumph and satisfaction.  She breathed hard and felt delicious anticipation light the flame between her own thighs. "Guests!  Who will be first to taste her?  The first to make her writhe and squeal gets to keep her!"

There was a rustle, and murmur as the men gauged the acceptability of what they were about to do, they struggled for only a short time with the conflict of their desire and their sense of right.  The vision of the pretty young thing, tethered and exposed, her pretty slit calling them, had many on their feet within a minute.  As they moved forward, crowding to get a better sight of her one man stepped forward and the others parted quickly in deference to his status.

The man was outside of Emma's range of vision, tied as she was against the curve of the trunk, but he was older, with grey hair and beard and his robes were the finest in the room.  He stood briefly before her and looked down with hunger in his eyes.  He spoke softly. "Forgive me, sons."

As he knelt before her, between her dainty, tethered ankles Gellir and Stefan's father was acutely aware of treading painfully on the toes of one, if not both of his sons – having witnessed their devotion to this woman earlier – but he could no more stop himself than he could stop the seasons.

He could not recall the last time he had touched young flesh like this, and he thought only momentarily of his wife, mother to his sons, who was as cold as the Norse winter and as stout as the trunk Emma laid upon.

He stroked the bare skin of her ankles, his cold fingers skimming her soft thighs and tentatively reaching the soft warmth of her centre.  She was dry, and flinched to his touch, so as he released himself from his trousers he spat on his fingers and smeared it against the aching purple head of his shaft.

He murmured softly to her, words he knew she would not understand, in an attempt to quieten her fears and he brought his tip to her pink opening.  Feasting his eyes on her soft, creamy skin and stroking his fingers across her nipples with the lightest touch he began to nudge at her, gently opening her to him and urging his way in with all the restraint he could muster.

He could hear others talking, urging him crudely, and he wanted desperately to quieten them and focus himself on the gentle drag of her lips against his shaft.  He felt the heat of her when she had only accepted such a tiny part of him, and he wanted to blot out the desperate need to thrust, regardless of her reluctance.

As he worked himself in slowly he could feel the hot, tight walls of her channel tight around him, and unable to bear the building tension he cupped hold of her breasts in his large hands and made one final thrust.

Emma, face turned away from him, eyes tight closed felt his orgasm come mercifully quick, she felt him push deeper and the now familiar thump, thump, thump of him coming hard against the neck of her womb.  She felt her hot, dry centre flood with warm fluid and she grimaced in horror at the sensation.

As the man's flaccid shaft slipped from inside her he sat, panting, head hung low and the crowd of onlookers cheered.  In part it was the sight of the woman taken, in part seeing this grand man on his knees, acting on the same base needs as his minions.

He stood slowly, and left without meeting the gaze of the other parties, and as he moved away Emma could sense movement out of sight and knew that that could not be the last time she would be taken tonight.

The next man slipped in easily where she was now slick with seed.  It was like a terrible parody of the wondrous feelings she had had with lovers taken my choice.  She could feel the sensation, the movement within her, the thrusting and hear the passion in the breathing and grunting, but she felt little in herself.

A young lad brought himself to her head and with her eyes closed she could feel him close by.  She could smell a male scent and opened her eyes to see his small, pink cock almost at her lips, and though she tried to turn her head away he held her and rubbed the head of his shaft against her lips.  She tasted the familiar saltiness, and felt the smear of his early dew on her face, and, reluctantly, she opened her mouth to accept him.

Almost at once, with him in her mouth, she felt the man inside her shaft come heartily and be replaced in seconds by another.  She could feel hot, sticky liquid against her thighs and with the urgency of the young man in her mouth she could begin to feel the shameful beginnings of arousal.

She would look up the boy, see his face contorted in ecstasy, mouth open and eyes shut, and she thought of her mouth around Gellir, or Stefan, the feeling of power their gratitude gave her, the sense of taking them anywhere, everywhere within her, and she felt herself stir.

Her change was noted by the others, they could see her alter the angle of her hips to encourage them deeper, hear the soft sounds in her throat and the see the tension mounting in her limbs.

Cwen, watching her, had revelled in her discomfort, and positively crowed when her fine father had done his business in her like a cheap whore.  She liked it far less now.  She could see admiration and lust in every eye before her and she, too, could see the subtle changes that heralded Emma's pleasure.  She had wanted her humiliated, dirtied beyond recognition, not adored and enjoying it!

"Come on!" She ordered.  "She has more holes than that – fuck her, men!  She is ripe to be used."

To her side a man spoke.  "Cwen, my dear host, we are waiting our turn.  How much quicker it should be if there were two whores."

"Why Sir, that is true – but she is whore enough for everyone here!" she smiled, suddenly anxious.

"Let me see." He moved closer to her and Cwen stepped back.  He raked her with his eyes and spoke to another close by.  "The new one has the fine bosom, but I hear Cwen has a sweet cunt."

"I have heard this too, brother."

Cwen knew in an instant that she was soon to become victim of her own plot, so she spoke sternly and with confidence she did not feel.  "Gentlemen, my husband is here, only in another room, he would be mighty angered to hear you speak in this way."

"I do not see your husband, lady, and if he isn't here to protect her," he cast a glance towards the tethered beauty behind him, "when she is his pearl, then I doubt he would make a move to save you."

She balked in horror at both the truth in his words and the reality of what was coming.  In a moment the two men has wrestled her onto her back and lifted her skirts, they called to the whole room, and those who were not at work with Emma came to gaze upon the telltale wetness between Cwen's legs.

"She likes to watch it, but it would be a shame not to join in!" and she howled in shame as the first entered her roughly.

Emma heard her cry and looked over, past the hip of the young man to see the fine mistress with her legs held spread and a man pistoning back and forth between her thighs.  The sight was almost too much for her, and it seemed, altogether too much for the young lad who suddenly withdrew from her mouth and in a swift shuddering motion emptied his cream across her lips.

Emma was astounded when her next sensation was a kiss from the soft, fragrant lips of one of the women in the company.  She had kissed Emma soundly on the lips and her tongue was capturing the gleaming trail of white that was across her chin.  The woman was knelt beside her, her hand beneath her gown and a look of longing and desperation about her face.

Now the room was filled with the soft sounds of moving bodies, the panted breaths and throaty sounds of sex.  Cwen was on her back, red faced with indignation, yet the telltale thrust of her hips showed her need to be fulfilled.

For Emma, as the young man moved back, and yet another filled her soft, slick hole with his seed, the crowd separated to allow more forward.  She lifted her head and shuddered at the thought of how many more would use her.

Someone called out "Din! Come forward man, if anyone can fill her it is you!"  The guests cheered and a huge rock of a man walked forward, slightly unsteady on his feet, worse for drink she supposed.  

Din was easily the biggest man in the room, and she would have supposed Gellir to be dwarfed by him.  He had huge, hulking shoulders, fists like hams and a broad face nestled in a wiry, unkempt beard.  He laughed and it sounded like rolling thunder, and when he spoke his voice boomed from deep in his chest like the toll of a great bell. 

"I was only letting the rest of you break her in!  Didn't want the fair little thing to be hurt!"  He smiled down at her with sea green eyes and spoke to her with unfamiliar words.  "Don't worry, I'll not break you – but if Cwen keeps her promise I'll be taking you back with me!"  The others laughed heartily, seeming to agree, slapping his back, urging him on.




The Norseman Ch. 08



Standing between her legs he shook his head at the sight of tethered form.  He released her ankles first and instinctively she closed her legs, slowly, struggling with the bindings, he released her wrists and she was free to move.  Her fingers were cold and stiff with restricted blood flow, and her limbs ached.  She wondered momentarily if she might be able to run, but her legs wobbled precariously when he helped her up off the chest, and she knew she would be lucky to make the door before they caught her.

Din lifted her easily across his shoulders leaving her spliced dress behind, and as he carried her many hands caressed her rump, touching the soft smooth flesh.  One even tried to slip a finger into her folds, but Din whisked her past the hands to where the guests had earlier been sitting.

"Here's better!  I am too old to scrabble on the floor, even for pretty pussy!"  He placed her on a soft, wide seat and gazed down at her, appreciating the dip and curve of her young body, trailing his huge fingers down across her breasts, across the hard point of her nipple and down across her belly.  He kept his eyes on her as he dipped his fingers lower and they found her hidden place.

Emma forgot the sounds from the room beyond her; they were eclipsed by the singing of blood in her ears and the increasing urgency of her breathing.  As he slipped on enormous digit into her, sliding easily on the streams made by other men, she felt her breath catch and the deep itch of desire raised itself again.

Din smiled to see the need in her eyes, and in the rise and fall of her chest, and he reached into his clothes and brought forth his swollen shaft.  Emma felt her mouth open involuntarily at the sight of it.  She could not have put a measure on its length, and it hung heavy from his garments, thick, veined and purple at the tip.  It protruded from a thickly haired base with two enormous sacks which hung low, heavy with seed.

In spite of herself and her position she felt herself wanting it – wanting to take this enormous thing into her mouth and taste it.  To feel the heat of it on her lips, to lick at the glistening droplet she could see on its tip.  

It seemed that Din shared her thoughts and he stepped forward to meet her, holding her head to support her as she opened her mouth widely for him.  She tasted the tang of salt and felt the heat and the urge in the pit of her belly deepen.  Afraid to lose his chance too early Din withdrew from her mouth after only a few moments and she obligingly spread her legs wide to invite him in. 

The nudge of his enormous cock at the mouth of her channel took her breath; she could feel the gentle teasing open of her folds, his bulbous head sliding easily against the creamy fluid still draining from her.  As he rocked gently forward, his heavy body looming above her, she was opened wider and wider by the determined and welcome force of his thrusts.

The tension was there to be reawakened, and she thought of the candle she had used only the day before.  The feel of hot, hard flesh between her tight walls reminded her why she needed to feel a man here, rather than in the place Stefan had preferred.  She had managed to make Stefans pleasure her own for a while, but she knew now that the need she had – that need that lay like an animal in the pit of her belly – could only be quietened by the feel of a heavy flesh shaft pressing hard against the neck of her womb.

She bit down on her lip, her eyes locked on this new man, trying to hold back the sounds she longed to let free.  She wanted to grunt and mew and buck against him – but she thought of the onlookers as they watched her bought to pleasure by the biggest cock, when she should have been fighting against it and her shame kept her still for a little longer.

Din called out, she balked, thinking him come, but he was hailing the young lad who had shed himself on her face.  He was at her side in a heartbeat, holding his slight cock in his hand, hard again already.  

With just a little discussion they indicated to her to move and allow the lad to take the seat behind her.  They bid her kneel in front of him, with Din still held within her.  Stefan's tutoring told her exactly what lay next, and feeling beyond reason with the need to be satisfied she allowed the young man to slip his fingers across her.  He gathered the slick fluids from her, and as he did she felt his fingers drag gently across her nether lips and contact for a moment with what was buried between them.

She felt the now familiar probing of her tight bud with a smeared finger and a moment later the nudge of his probing head at her anus.

Din held still, and she was gripped by an aching frustration to be filled and yet the delicious wait for the friction to begin again.  Agonisingly slowly the movement began again, the two men working together to allow the lad to inch himself into her tight rear, whilst Din worked her gently back and forth.

The sensation was astounding.  She felt herself rocked between them, the feel of their heat across every inch of her body and the scent of their sweat filling her lungs.  She was aware of every place where their bodies touched hers and with every movement she would feel the rasp of hot skin or the silken touch of loosened hair.  

Between her legs she could barely make sense of the sensation now, the feeling was so complete and overwhelming.  She could feel the motion and the gentle dragging of skin over slippery skin.  The thrust of cock, harder with every stroke, filling her so fully.  The sensation of both men moving separately, but so close together, and the rasp of both of them against her dividing wall.

She rocked there between them watched by others, envious of their rapture, listening to the howling cries of Cwen as she rode above the prone body of one her esteemed guests, her face contorted and her body showing no pretence now, just her desperate need to bring herself to climax.

Held there, the feel of two men's hands upon her, their grunting sounds growing she thought she could stand the feeling no longer and that she might soon explode, but Din was ahead of her and she howled in frustrated abandon when she felt the streams of heat fill her as he came.  With just the young man behind her she knew she had missed the best of her sensation and felt robbed, but as Din slipped out of her, deflating swiftly, the woman who had kissed the come from her face knelt before her and in a moment snaked her tongue between the folds of Emma's stretched pussy.

Emma could no longer hold back and her cries rang out and she bucked forward against the woman's beautiful, smeared face.  The power of her orgasm was almost painful, tearing at her, wrenching together the walls of her channel, knotting and releasing low in her belly, and with every motion, spearing herself deeper on the cock in her rear, feeling the doubling sensation of tongue and shaft and loving the depravity of it with every fibre of her.

She still shook and rocked and mewed when she heard another sound in the great room.  Standing in the doorway, surveying the scene of an orgy before him, was Gellir.

He swayed on his feet, reaching out to rest against the huge broadsword in his hand.  He was blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear himself of the poisonous sleep his wife had drugged into him.

"Get away!  Get away from her!"  His voice was terrible and caught every one of the party and gave them pause.  The man beneath Cwen tipped her unceremoniously onto the floor, his small, red member clearly visible as he hurried away from her, seeking to put distance between himself and Gellir.

"I am sorry, Sir!  It was by invitation – but I realise how this might seem!"  The man stuttered and stumbled, trying to stand with his clothes tripping him.  Gellir looked addled and confused and shook his head again, as though finally comprehending.

"Not her!" He looked down at his wife, red faced and sweating, with disgust and stepped slowly and unsteadily past her.  "Get away from her!" he spoke again, this time looking directly to the young man whose cock was rapidly losing girth inside Emma.  He wriggled free from behind her, trying hard to cover his obvious terror, for Gellir, so impassioned, made a awful sight.

The woman had disappeared and Emma was there alone, her naked body marked by hands and smeared with sweat and the stains of sex.  Her legs were still parted showing deep inside where her red heat still flared.

She thought of Cwens words – he would indeed have no need for her, used as she had been and in spite of everything the thought was like an arrow to her heart.  All the pleasures she could have were nothing to the feeling she had had when he had come to her room and loved her as an equal all those nights before.

The bitter tears sprang to her eyes and she moved to cover herself.  He lent forward, his eyes still glazed, but his face gentle.  He touched her cheek with one finger, his touch so light she barely felt it, and then straightened.

"If there is any man who thinks they can take her then have them speak now!" The bellowing cry echoed around the room, a voice vibrated with anger, but also with an aching hurt and jealousy the gave her precious hope.

He swung the sword out before him, holding it at eye level, steady in spite of his malaise.  He passed from guest to guest and locked them in a stare.  No one would meet his eyes, and they turned, shamefaced from him.

The revellers left quickly and quietly, their own behaviour and the look in the eye of the host seeing them swiftly on their way, until there was only four people left.  Stefan remained unconscious, possibly drugged and was carried to his horse by the servant, which left only one thorn Gellir needed to rid himself of.

Cwen reached forward, catching the hem of his garment and playing at tears.  "Look what they have done to me, husband!  What will you do now to assuage my honour!"

"Your honour!" he snorted "Your honour was lost before I found you, and don't think me mistaken about your part in this."  He lifted her with one hand, by the hair and dragged her to her feet.  He brought her face close to his and met her eyes, and even she shrank from him.  He strode forward, pulling her to the door and, at his instruction, a horrified servant opened it wide, bringing a snowy gust of frigid air howling around the room.

With one enormous thrust he had turned her out into the night and the door was closed again, and for the second time in a day and a night Cwen was kneeling in the snow, unsatisfied. 



Back in the Great Hall, the echo of the cold wind made Emma shudder.  Gellir came towards her slowly.  His eyes were clearer now, as though sobered by the breath of wintry air.  He took Emma's head between his huge hands, cupping her face gently he kissed her softly, his beard rasping against her bruised mouth.  He kept his eyes wide open, gazing at her in agonized wonder.

"Let me keep you." His voice croaked and tears welled in his darkened eyes.  "Let me keep you, just for me!"

She could not speak; she could only feel the weight of her past lift from her.  She thought, in a haze of remembering, of the burning of her homestead and the filthy, tortuous journey to these cold Norse lands.  She thought with bitterness of Cwen and her manipulation and with indifference towards her time with Stefan.  The pain and the fear and the isolation dropped away like a discarded cloak and she reached to hold Gellr, her hands pressing against his broad body, and now she was at home.

"I am just for you." 

Thank you to everyone who has been following The Norsemen, and for your kind thoughts and positive voting.   I am going to leave Emma and Gellir to enjoy their privacy (at least for now), but please watch out for future threads.

Clarabella