Cum For The Viking (2 page)

Chapter Two

On the fourth day of my isolation, I
became desperate, not having eaten anything substantial in more than two days.
I scoured the forest searching for berries and mushrooms. I tried to catch fish
in a stream. I collected minnows instead and ate them raw, out of sheer need.
Exhausted and weak, I wandered further from the cave, hoping to find anything
that would fill my belly.

The ground suddenly thundered with
the sound of horses. This sent me into the underbrush, crouching and hiding from
the strangers who approached, but I foolishly stepped on a branch, the wood
snapping loudly under my foot. There was movement in the trees, and I fled in
the other direction, the ends of my cloak flying out behind me. In my panic, I
stumbled, tumbling over knotted roots and falling hard. I struggled to breathe,
the wind having been knocked out of me. A boot appeared to my right, scuffed
and worn looking. As I gazed up, I felt the cold end of a sword pressed to my
neck.

“What have we here?” said a heavily
accented voice.

Terror gripped me, my body trembling.
I will die now or worse.
The
emptiness of my stomach was long forgotten, replaced by the knowledge that the
person who stood over me was one of the invaders. He was shockingly tall,
blonde, and heavily outfitted with a helmet, shield, and chainmail. The sword
was still pressed to my neck, cold and unyielding. The man with him spoke in a
language I didn’t understand, and the blonde smiled, his face transforming into
a handsome visage. He removed his sword.

“Get up.” I struggled to my feet, and
he grabbed me, dragging me to him. Interest flared in his pale blue eyes. “It’s
a dark angel.” I pushed against the solid mass of his chest, and he laughed,
“You’re no match for me, little one. What’s your name?”

“Lora.” My hand drove into my cloak,
to my thigh, where I snatched my knife. “Who are you?”

“Bram Laxdale.”

“You Viking scum!” I spat.

He threw his head back in laughter,
his Adam’s apple moving beneath the skin. I took that moment to press the knife
to his arrogant throat. His eyes widened with surprise. His friend spoke then,
and the blonde answered, his expression was considering. My knife was sharp,
and it punctured the pale skin, producing a single drop of blood. He swiped my
arm aside, sending the weapon flying. Strong fingers gripped my hair, pulling me
nearer. I was so close I could smell his breath, which was laced with the
honeyed aroma of mead.

“This one is mine. She’ll tickle my
cock nicely.”

His friend spoke, the language of Old
Norse sounding alien and vulgar. I had been expecting to be raped or worse. I
would be lucky to survive the night, but the closeness to this pale stranger
had an unusual effect on me. I could feel the vibrancy of his energy, heady and
raw. He would be all muscle beneath the encumbrances of war, and this oddly excited
me. I’d resented my virginity, wishing it were gone for years now, craving the
touch of a man, but none of the villagers would have me. They feared me as a
witch, and they cursed and spat whenever I set foot in town. The Green women
had always been reviled and spurned.

“
Fríðr
,” he breathed, desire
flaring in his eyes.

He spoke to his friend, his grip
tightening. Then he dragged me with him, his strength beyond comprehension. A
horse waited in the thicket, the animal having been tethered to a branch. I was
lifted onto it, the Viking settling behind, his steely arm around my tummy. He
called out, and the animal bounded forward, the hooves tossing up clumps of
earth. The cold wind of autumn sent my hair flying. We emerged from the forest
to gallop across farmland, the greenness of the fields stretching on for miles.
Plumes of smoke dotted the landscape; fires burned, undoubtedly set by the
marauders. Corpses were left to rot on the side of the road; most were bodies
of young men and farmers, who had fought bravely with pitchforks and shovels,
which were no match for battle-axes and swords.

The harbor had become a fortified
Viking camp, outfitted with newly erected walls and a formidable looking gate.
The streets teemed with the fair-haired scoundrels, who wore iron helmets and
chainmail. The dragon ships dotted the sea, their red sails having been furled.
It was an ominous scene, filled with the smell of decomposition and the smoke
from a hundred fires.

“She’s a witch!” screamed an old
woman, who sat in the muck on the side of the road. I glanced at the hag,
recognizing her. “Your Viking cock will rot off, if you fuck her.” She laughed,
the sound grating.

I glanced at Bram Laxdale, his pale
eyes glinting with amusement. “Did you hear that, you dumb oaf? I’m a witch.
I’m bad luck. Release me before it’s too late.” Something struck me then, a rock
thrown by a villager, no doubt. I held the side of my face, my cheek smarting.
Several elderly women
loitered,
their faces caked with
grime. Our horse trotted on, snorting his displeasure at the hostile crowd.

“Witch!”

“Evil Green woman!”

…“fuck her at your own risk, Viking
filth!” This was followed by more laughter and insults.

It was disheartening to know that I
might be safer with an invading army than my own people. We dismounted on the
beach; an assemblage of tents stretched out as far as the eye could see. The
structures were covered in a roughly woven material, hopefully watertight, to
keep the rain at bay and protect the inhabitants from the elements. A strong
hand gripped my arm, dragging me along, the sounds of chaos echoing in my ears,
punctuated by screams. Bram seemed to be in a position of power among his men,
because they nodded deferentially towards him, as we passed. He tossed open the
flap of the tent and shoved me inside. It was dark, the sun having set behind
the clouds, and there was no light. I sat on something soft, feeling the pelt
of a dead animal beneath me.

“Wait here.”

He returned a moment later carrying a
stack of wood, which he dropped into a sunken pit in the middle of the space.
Something sparked then, and the wood ignited, burning brightly. The Viking
removed his helmet, revealing thick blonde hair. This was followed by his
shield and chainmail. He wore a tunic and shirt with loose fitting braes. I
eyed him warily, wondering when he would force himself on me. He poured fluid
into a wooden cup and downed the contents in one gulp. Repeating the procedure,
he approached me.

“Drink.” I took the offering and
quaffed it without hesitation, the delicious mead sliding down my throat and
warming my empty belly. “Good?” I nodded. His smile was disarming. “You’re
hungry. Wait here. If you leave, my men will show you no mercy.” He stalked
from the tent.

I sat and listened to the sounds of
arguing and laughing nearby. Swords clashed, followed by shouts of victory. The
invaders were relieving boredom and tension by engaging in boisterous play.
Bram returned, carrying a large ceramic bowl. My mouth watered instantly, my
tummy rumbling at the smell of meat. There were two succulent looking lamb
shanks resting on a bed of cabbage. He knelt before me, placing the food at my
feet, and, as I grabbed a shank, he removed my cloak, exposing a simple gray
dress, hidden behind a woolen tunic.

I ate ravenously, the food utterly
delicious, while the Viking worked to remove my clothing, lifting the tunic off
and discarding it on a blanket. My shoes and woolly socks were next, followed
by my dress, which revealed the first of two long gowns, with tight fitting
sleeves. He grasped an arm, trying to remove a gown, while I struggled to eat,
tearing away at the meat, which came off the bone easily. My interest in food
far outweighed the fact that a stranger was divesting me of my clothing, one
piece at a time. I wasn’t going to make it easy for him, and I continued to eat,
while he struggled to get the second gown off, his face tightening with
irritation.

“Put that down for a moment!” His
braes bulged in the crotch area. I continued to eat, tearing off another chunk
and chewing determinedly. He lifted me to my knees. “When was the last time
you’ve eaten?”

“Two days ago.”

He sighed. “Raise your arms.” I did
so, refusing to let go of the lamb. He pulled the garment over my head,
exposing me entirely to his lustful gaze. My breasts, no longer hidden beneath
countless layers of clothing, appeared gloriously full and firm. I had never
shown them to anyone other than my mother, and, judging from the Viking’s
reaction, he seemed surprised and slightly stunned by their appearance. “Praise
the Gods,” he murmured. “You’ve been blessed by Freya herself.”

I had no idea what he was talking
about. My focus was on eating, and my teeth ripped off a delicious strip of
meat. I eyed the Viking, as he began to remove his shirt and trousers, exposing
heavily tattooed arms and a muscled chest, coated in a smattering of nearly
white hair. Never having seen a man naked before, this was a forbidden treat,
and I stared as his pants lowered, revealing a stiff looking cock. The object
between his legs had my undivided attention. I’d even stopped chewing for the
moment, to ogle the strange looking protrusion, which rested upon curly blonde
hair.

“Never seen one before, have you?” I
shook my head, meeting his gaze. “You’re going to get to know this one very
well.”

I swallowed the food in my mouth,
ripping off another piece of meat. All that was left now was bone. I grasped a
handful of cabbage and brought it to my mouth, chewing indelicately. My
dedication to the meal seemed to amuse the Viking. He poured mead and handed me
a cup, which I took gratefully and downed within a second.

“Good Lord, woman! You were
ravenous.”

I belched loudly, surprising myself,
yet not caring in the least. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. There
was food all over my face. My lack of manners and decorum were a non-issue,
because I could have cared less. This might be my last meal on earth, and I was
determined to enjoy it. He poured water into a small wooden bowl and dunked a
cloth, ringing it out. His thighs touched mine; his legs were three times as
big, if not more. I wiped my face and hands clean, lethargy beginning to seep
into my bones, producing a lengthy yawn. I’d spent days in the cave not being
able to sleep on the cold stone floor. The pelt felt wonderfully soft,
cushioned by sand beneath. The warmth of the mead spread through my body,
leaving me satiated and content. My immediate needs had been met, and, as I lay
on the pelt, I grasped a blanket, bringing it to me. Turning on my side, I
closed my eyes.

I felt the Viking’s hands on me,
touching my arm. If he wanted to rape me, I would not be able to stop him. He
had given me shelter, food, and drink. Now all I wanted was sleep. His fingers
touched my face gently. Then he murmured something in a language I didn’t
understand. He shifted, drawing me into his arms, the warmth of his body
pressed against me. He smelled of horse and leather, a musky combination that
sent pleasurable tingles down my spine. As I drifted into the void of
unconsciousness, all I could think of was that I liked this man.

Chapter Three

The squawking of seagulls brought me
out of a sound sleep, the chill of morning forcing me to burrow into something
warm. A strange hardness pressed against my tummy, wetting me. It was marvelous
to wake not feeling exhausted or starving. I remembered the Viking who had found
me in the woods, and I knew that I would know him intimately. If the feel of
his cock was any indication, he had been awake and waiting for me to stir.

Soft lips touched my neck, sending
delicious shivers down my spine, and a muscled arm drew me in. The low and
seductive sound of a manly growl filled the tent, a harbinger of sinful things
to come. I found myself on my back, the stranger’s kisses landing on my neck,
sucking and gently biting my flesh. I threaded my fingers through his long,
thick hair, enjoying the luxurious sensation. If this was what being raped and
brutalized felt like, he could do it to me often. He kissed me then, his tongue
entering my mouth. His lengthy form was over me, his cock pressing into my
wetness, while he kissed me nearly senseless. I should have been ashamed to
find pleasure with a heathen, but my response was a direct result of his skill
at seduction.

“
Ooohh
…” I
moaned helplessly, as his hand pressed into my tummy, massaging its way lower.
I had lost control, my hips bucking upwards, trying to rub against him. My
fingers gripped the muscles in his shoulders. “Oh, no…”

“Yes,” he murmured.

Pleasurable tingles erupted, which
centered in my belly and fanned out to every part of my body. He stroked my
nub, wetting himself in my arousal. I tossed my head back, overwhelmed, because
the sensations were rapturous and sinful. His fingers drove between the swollen
lips, spearing me with their thickness. A sudden, inexplicable burst of pain
registered, and I gasped.

“Ouch!”

He froze, his face in my neck, his
breathing labored. “You’re virgin.”

“Yes.” He moved within me slowly, but
it hurt, so I clamped my legs together, trying to force him out. “Ouch.” He
exhaled his frustration and closed his mouth around a nipple, which he suckled.
I tried to dislodge his hand, but he insisted on driving in further, adding to
the sensation of pain. “Oh, stop!” His thumb moved over my clit, rubbing me to
pleasure, yet again, but the intrusion continued to sting with discomfort. “Please
stop.”

He withdrew and sucked his finger
into his mouth. “I taste blood.”

I didn’t want to look at him out of
embarrassment. I could feel the skin on my chest flushing. He grasped my
breasts, pressing them together and laving them one at a time. His attention
turned towards my tummy and lower, where his mouth lingered over me. It was
mortifying, because he was so close to an unmentionable place.

“Oh, no, you mustn’t.” But it was too
late, as he licked my clit, leaving a path of wetness. The feelings this
provoked had me biting my lip to keep from moaning. He slid over my silken nub,
wetting me with saliva, while pleasuring me intimately. My fingers threaded
through his hair. “
Ooohh
…” This assault continued for
long, spellbinding minutes, the attention relaxing me thoroughly, leaving me
trembling and weak. His tongue plunged, spearing and wiggling deeply. Whatever
discomfort I had felt was gone, and now only delicious sensations lingered. I
tingled everywhere, my stomach shuddering with mini convulsions. The release
was building, gathering up the energy to overwhelm me completely. “Oh, Bram!”
His mouth pushed me over the edge. I thrust my hips up, wetting his face, while
shuddering helplessly. “
Ooohhh
…Viking!” I collapsed
on the pelt, my heart pounding in my chest, as waves of bliss crashed and
receded. He kissed me, pillaging my mouth. I could smell myself on him, and it
was oddly arousing. His cock pressed against me, urgent and demanding. I
wrapped my hand around the throbbing object, feeling wetness.

“Put it in your mouth,” he groaned.

That thought was alarming, but a part
of me wanted to know what it tasted like. His tongue had been inside of me,
after all, intimate and probing. He fell onto his back, his phallus thrusting
into the air. My thumb moved over the rounded tip, rubbing away a bead of moisture,
but only more appeared. I flung hair over my shoulder, scooting closer, eyeing
the lengthy object with interest. The sounds outside the tent revealed a camp
coming alive: sporadic male shouts; iron clashing and horses neighing, but none
of it mattered because I was about to have my first real taste of the opposite
sex. I licked him, surprised by how salty he was.

“That’s it…” He smelled musky, yet
sweet, his aroma teasing me, compelling me to take even more in my mouth. His
fingers drove through the strands of my hair, holding me in place. “More. Eat
me, Lora.”

He groaned, as I closed my lips
around him. It was a thrill, affecting another person in this manner; he was in
complete and rapturous pleasure. Now I knew what my mother had done with the
men from the village when they had come to call in the middle of the night. I
understood why she had enjoyed it so much. Being this close to another person,
naked and aroused, was infinitely more satisfying than self-pleasure. We had
been taught to fear the raiders from the North, who were rumored to be not only
brutal thieves, but cannibals as well. This Viking had shown me nothing but
mercy and kindness, and, to thank him, I sucked him whole, swallowing his
juices.

“
Ooohhh
…”

He pressed me to him, the length
prodding the back of my throat, choking me. I gagged repeatedly, but this
pleased him, because his groans filled the tent. Things seemed to be
escalating, the pressure he applied on my scalp increasing. His tummy rippled
with hidden muscles, his thighs shaking ever so slightly. Over and over I sucked
and gagged, trying to take as much of him as I could.

“
Já
, Lora!
Aaachh
…”

A burst of warm liquid suddenly erupted
in my mouth, and I pulled away, as it shot into the air. Several creamy streams
jetted, landing on his belly. He’d closed his eyes; his blonde lashes falling
over his cheeks. A pungent, salty taste lingered on my tongue. I snuggled next
to him, and he put his arm around me. We’d hardly had the time to recover, when
someone appeared at the opening of the tent. The sound of Old Norse shattered
the silence.

Bram squeezed me. “I’ve work to do,
my English angel.” He stood, naked and proud, the expanse of his muscled chest
impressively chiseled. I watched him bathe quickly with a cloth dipped in
water. “You mustn’t leave this tent.” He stared at me. “Do you understand?” I
nodded. “I’ll have food sent to you.” His shirt went over his head, and then he
stepped into his braes, pulling them up and hiding his cock. He truly was a
magnificent specimen, interlaced with muscles, his shoulders bulging. It was a
shame to hide a body like that behind a cloak, which he tied around his neck.
He wasn’t dressed for battle today, but he did carry a formidable looking
sword. He glanced at me briefly and stepped from the tent, leaving me alone in
an enemy camp.

Food arrived within minutes, and I
ate heartily, delicious chunks of meat in a tasty sauce. I washed with the same
cloth Bram had used and made myself presentable. Then I spent the day tidying
up the tent, sleeping, and working to untangle my hair. By the time he
returned, the sun had set, and a cacophony of noises registered. Men had
returned from a day of pillaging.

“So you didn’t run after all?” He smiled,
his cheeks ruddy from the cold.

“No.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I can’t be naked all day. It’s
freezing.”

Food arrived, brought in by a boy. He
was fair-haired and curious, eyeing me with interest. “Leave it now,
Gretter
.” The boy hadn’t understood what he said, so Bram repeated
himself in Old Norse. The youngster inclined his head respectfully and darted
from the tent. “Come sit; eat.”

I scooted next to the Viking, helping
myself to a portion of fish. There was a type of bread, which was delicious,
and boiled carrots. I glanced at Bram, curious about why his people had invaded
us. “How long will you be here?”

“Long enough to finish the job.”

“What job?”

“We seek gold and silver and jewels.”

“Where do you find those?”

“Mostly in the monasteries and
churches.”

My heart sank. “You’ve looted the
churches?” He grinned, confirming my thoughts. “But…that’s sacrilegious.”

He shrugged. “What use has a man of
God with such material encumbrances? Shouldn’t he be praying for our sins
instead of hoarding gold?”

“They do pray for us. They help us.”

“How?”

“They…they help the poor. They care
for the sick. They offer sanctuary to refugees and serfs.” He seemed
unimpressed with my examples.

“They only help themselves. Have you
any idea how much gold we found today?” He grinned. “I’m rich. I’ll be able to
pay my debts.”

“Excellent. Then I’ve come at the
right time,” said a deep, melodic voice. I gasped at the intrusion; a man
dressed entirely in black had entered our tent. His cloak was made of mink, and
it was soft and warm looking. “How are you, Bram?” His gaze rested upon me.
“Ah, the comforts of home.
A beautiful woman to warm your bed.
It would’ve surprised me, if you’d been alone.”

The Viking’s expression changed
dramatically, displeasure marring his features. “
Matheus
Hrolf.” The tone in his voice was flat. “What an unexpected surprise. What
brings you here?” He muttered, “How did you find me?”

“I’ve known for some time about this
raid. It was no secret.”

The stranger sat on a pelt, crossing
his long legs before him. His looks were as dark as Bram’s were pale; brown
eyes, thick, russet hair, and the hints of a beard graced his handsome face.
His nails were clean, gold and gems flashing from several rings on his fingers.
He wore a heavy gold necklace, with a large ruby pendant. There was something
about his look that sent tingles into my tummy. He was clearly a man of great
wealth, but I didn’t sense cruelty in him, only his interest. I had his
undivided attention.

“She’s lovely.”

Bram glanced at me. “She is, isn’t
she? I found her hiding in the forest.”

“And now she warms your bed.”

“Indeed she does, but that’s not why
you came here.”

“I’d be remiss not to monitor my
investments.”

“No. You’ve come for payment.”

He smiled, flashing impossibly white
teeth. “That too.”

“The raid has only just begun.”

Matheus
waved a hand. “Don’t trouble
yourself. This is a gentle reminder of your obligations.”

“How could I forget them?” griped
Bram. “I feel the noose around my neck every day, you Danish bastard.”

“You mustn’t be sore. You gambled
with my money and lost. Someone always pays the price.” His dark gaze lingered
on me, and I shivered, my tummy turning over in silken knots.

Bram noticed his interest. “I’ve a
business proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

“I’ve never shied away from a
venture.”

The Viking’s eyes were on me, and I
got the distinct impression that I was going to be a part of his “business
proposition”. “This lovely English lass is Lora. She’s shunned by the villagers.
They think she’s a witch. How much would a virgin be worth?”

“A virgin?” he laughed. “She’s been
in your company. I doubt she’s pure.”

“She is.”

The stranger appraised me. “She’s
pretty to be sure, but your debts far outweigh a lovely girl.”

“Consider it a down payment.”

“You must think me a fool. I could
leave this tent and find a woman in five minutes.”

“Not one this beautiful. Take your
dress off, Lora. Show him what you’re hiding.”

I bristled, feeling violated and
disgusted and used like chattel. I wasn’t this Viking’s property. “I will not.”

Bram’s brows lifted. “I beg your
pardon?”

I drew away from him, my hand closing
on a knife. “I’m not your property.”

Matheus
Hrolf’s expression revealed his
amusement, dark eyes flashing. “I’d say you’ve lost your touch with women,
Bram. This one isn’t as docile as you thought.”

He scowled, looking displeased. “Take
the damn dress off!” I was seeing an entirely new and unpleasant side to my gentle
lover, who had been sweet and patient with me. Now that I could be used as a
commodity, his attitude had changed dramatically. This left a bitter taste in
my mouth. He lunged forward. “Must I rip the clothing from your back, woman?” I
took that opportunity to strike him with the knife, catching his hand, which
bled instantly. “You little bitch!” His fingers wrapped around my wrist,
shaking the knife free. He dragged me to him, growling his displeasure. “I
should teach you a lesson, you won’t soon forget.”