Teena Thyme (18 page)

And here, illuminated harshly in un-shaded sunlight, was I, trying to offer myself to a man whose sexuality was still a mystery to me. Not only that, but quite how I imagined he could find me even vaguely attractive in that garb, I had no idea. Of course, in the years since I've grown to learn that there are men - and women, for that matter - who prefer their 'quarry' in just such a state; perhaps it was just some inspired guesswork on my then naïve part...

Erik stepped closer and, without warning, placed a huge hand on each of my breasts. To my even greater surprise, I felt a tingle travelling up and down my spine and that sensation in my nipples that I knew meant they were hardening like brazen little acorns.

'You want?' I breathed. I had to crane my neck awkwardly now, in order to look up into his eyes. They seemed almost blank. Then, as I waited, hardly daring to breathe, I saw a spark from deep inside and somehow everything was changing.

Ohmigod, Teena! I thought. What are you letting yourself in for? Except that I was in for about as much and as bad as I could be anyway, so what did ravishment at the hands of my own personal Viking matter? And, if I could win some sort of sympathy or loyalty from him in the process...

'Buttercup,' he whispered. 'Pretty it is you are underneath this all?' He detached one hand from one breast and used the finger to trace a delicate line down my leather covered left cheek. His gentleness was unexpected.

'Why don't you look and see for yourself?' I suggested. I paused, again holding my breath. Would he remove the mask? Would he like what he saw if and when he did?

'Forbidden,' he said tersely. Had he been tempted, if only just for a moment? 'But this...' The free hand now descended and pressed against my mound, which seemed to be burning inside its hide skin cover. 'This,' he repeated, 'forbidden has been not.' He paused again and I realised he was trying to rationalise something. Had he actually been forbidden to fuck me? Maybe he hadn't, but maybe it was supposed to be taken for granted that he wouldn't?

So...

My crotch area was actually covered and protected by a sort of strap arrangement, which ran between my legs and was buckled somewhere behind me. This was presumably so that I could be allowed to answer calls of nature before they became screams, but it also meant that, whilst I was unable to free myself, I was readily available to anyone who held the key to the small lock that secured the buckle. And Erik, as my minder, shepherd, whatever, had a copy of that key.

I felt awfully naked as the strap dropped away, revealing a narrow strip of me that contained two of my most personal orifices. The gentle breeze felt cold against my exposed flesh, a complete contrast to the heat that was being generated from somewhere just within those pouting lower lips.

What on earth, I thought vaguely, was up with me? It was one thing to try to curry favour by offering the charms of a body that was mine only temporarily, but did I really have to be reacting like a bitch in heat.

'Oohh, yes,' I heard myself groan, in Angelina's girlish little voice. Was the supposedly prim little Angelina ancestor some kind of raving nymphomaniac in reality? That conflicted with all the fleeting dream images I had of her, but then what trust should we put in dreams?

Dammit, his finger was probing inside me now and already I could feel I was sopping wet and trembling at his explorative touches. I heard this keening little wail and realised it had come from me, and then there were two fingers in there, filling me, stretching me, probing for a clitoris that was only too willing to respond.

Automatically, I tried to grab at his breeches, forgetting momentarily that my hands were both useless inside the gloves and leather mitt extensions and well restricted by the short chains between my wrists and waist. All that happened was that leather covered paws slid uselessly over leather covered male hips. I groaned and stretched upwards, my lips seeking his, but all the time hampered by the fact that there was only a narrow slit opening over them.

Erik, however, seemed little worried by this fact and a long tongue slid inside my mouth without any second bidding, pressing my own tongue back and almost choking me in its insistent eagerness. I moaned and tried to draw my breath in through my nostrils and the two tiny apertures that sat beneath them. The hissing sound that this produced apparently served only to increase Erik's ardour.

A hand snaked out, the arm encircling my waist, crushing me too him and instinctively I tried to curl one leg about his, the weighted boot temporarily forgotten. And then I was somehow on my back, laying on a carpet of grass and soft ferns, my legs spread crudely apart, my hips raising towards Erik as he fumbled with the belt and fastenings of his breeches.

For a second or two that could have been eons, I feared his eagerness would get the better of his dexterity, but such was his determination that I suspect he would have ripped the trousers off had the buttons or whatever not suddenly yielded to his clumsy efforts. He thrust the black hide down his thighs and I swallowed and gulped in awe at the massive organ that was revealed, huge already, even though I could see it was not yet fully erect after the constrictions of his clothing.

'Oh my-y-y-y-y!' I heard myself moan, as I stared at the approaching monster through slit eyes as well as slit eye openings.

He wasted no more time and, before he'd even dropped to his knees between my thighs his shaft was well and truly ready. I expected no foreplay and got none. In an instant he was upon me, guiding himself between my slippery lips, forcing them apart with his sheer size until I feared that my poor flesh must tear, but no, the elastic tissues responded, yielding to form a close gripping sheath about his throbbing pole, which then slid home unceremoniously until his pubic bone collided with mine.

Romantic this was not, but for pure animal based lust, the next few minutes will probably remain seared in my memory as certainly as I felt myself impaled upon something that surely most women will only ever encounter in their wildest fantasies. Thrust after thrust threatened to tear me apart, but now more mentally than physically.

I writhed and bucked, growling and howling, shrieking carelessly as I surrendered myself totally, knowing that my orgasm, when it arrived, as surely it soon must, would hit me with a wave as destructive as that from any nuclear blast. Lights exploded everywhere, rockets screeched their way through my head, huge seas crashed upon rocks: my world turned red, then purple and lightning tore across before my eyes. Blue, gold, lurid greens - a whirling, swirling mayhem of impossible colours and then I was lost, cast helplessly into a vortex of self-sating lust, plummeting in a headlong helter-skelter drop into one final, softening cushion of black velvet oblivion.

14
.

I gradually regained my senses, or what tattered remnants remained of them. I was lying, still flat on my back, my legs still wide apart, my chest and stomach rising and falling slowly as oxygen began to find its way once more back into my ravaged system. Warily my eyes flickered open, to be greeted by the sight of Erik, standing casually between my feet, adjusting the buckle of his belt and looking for all the world as if nothing whatsoever had happened.

Dimly I thought that this approach might not, after all, be quite the ideal; winning Erik's sympathy, trust, or confidence this way had sounded so obvious, but now, now that I had made my opening gambit, I was far from sure. If I didn't succeed soon, the likelihood was that he would reduce me to a total physical wreck and yet he himself seemed not to have even raised a sweat.

'Up to be getting,' he instructed me, the flicker of a smile crossing his features. Easier said than done. I tried rolling sideways in order to allow myself the luxury of some partial leverage from one hand, but my arm and shoulder simply refused to respond to the messages my brain was frantically trying to send them. With a grunt I fell back again, feeling as if I knew how a fish out of water must feel as it lay floundering on the deck of a trawler.

'Can't,' I managed to gasp, shaking my head hopelessly. 'Can't... do it!' I closed my eyes and tried to suck in more air, but my chest felt tight and my head had begun to throb. 'Sorry,' I muttered, too exhausted and weak to care whether he accepted and understood my apology. Apparently he did.

I felt myself lifted bodily and planted onto numb feet, the legs between them and my still pulsating body wobbling and threatening to give out on me at any moment. Desperately I tried to shuffle into a more stable stance, but I no longer had the strength to move in the weighted boots and would have fallen flat on my face if Erik had not been waiting and anticipating just such a thing. One powerful arm thrust beneath mine, gripping me tightly and holding me against his side like a useless rag doll.

'Thanks,' I managed. It sounded stupid to my ears, but Erik apparently appreciated my gratitude.

'Of it nothing to think,' he said. 'Soon it is better you will be feeling.' He half turned me, so that now I was looking up into his face again and I saw he was grinning.

'You like Erik, no?' he asked.

I swallowed and managed to nod.

'Then we do again,' he announced. I felt my stomach turn a somersault and my sudden apprehension must have shown in my eyes, for my huge Viking's grin widened still further and he let out a gruff chuckle.

'No,' he said, shaking his head. 'Do later, not now. Well exercised now, Buttercup is, think I.'

'I can't, honestly,' I groaned, when Erik tried to get me to begin the journey back. 'Please, just a few minutes. I need to get my breath back.' Which was a lie, because my breathing now seemed to have returned to something approaching normal, yet still my legs refused to function properly. Taking even one step was beyond me.

In the end, Erik solved my perambulatory quandary by the simple expedient of throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me back. Again, hardly dignified, but I was past caring, other than to feel grateful that my legs weren't going to be asked to perform the impossible.

Back in my stall I lay in a crumpled and exhausted heap and tried to think again, but my brain refused to progress much further than attempting to analyse Erik and my body's reaction to him. With a superhuman effort, I managed to tear my thoughts away from the actual sex and concentrate instead upon Erik himself and his position in this muddled mess of a jigsaw.

It appeared that Hacklebury must be able to carry out the threat he had made regarding the big Scandinavian, but that was probably based upon his superior wealth, authority and possibly numbers of men available to him, for there was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that in a one-on-one confrontation, Erik would be able to crush Greg like an egg. An image of that flitted through my mind and brought a smile to my face beneath its mask.

Presumably - and it could only be a presumption - Greg paid Erik a decent amount to do his dirty work for him. The next question therefore had to be: how much and how willing would Erik be to risk losing that money on the gamble that I (as Angelina) might make it worth his pecuniary while if and when everything worked out to my advantage?

Not that willing at all, I concluded. The problem was that I was a woman in an era when females had very little say in anything, virtually no legal status and were, in effect, the property of their husbands. True, I wasn't legally married to Greg Hacklebury, but even if I attained any degree of freedom, that was going to take some proving and I was in no doubt that Hacklebury, or Meg, or any other of his minions I had yet to encounter, would slit my slender white throat rather than let me have the opportunity to gather or present any evidence against the bogus wedding ceremony scam.

So, where did that leave me - apart from flat on my back again and with my poor abused pussy throbbing like a Formula One racing engine? I let out a little throaty growl of frustration, for the truth was that I'd made no progress at all, other than to establish the incontrovertible fact that Erik did indeed like women and that the likelihood now was that I was going to get more than my 'fair share'.

The next twenty-four hours, or thereabouts, comprised a boring sequence of resting, sleeping, drinking, eating and the awkward business of bodily functions, which I shan't expand upon, except to say that it appeared I was expected to survive on a diet of some sort of thick gruel, spoon fed at irregular intervals by my guardian, who otherwise made no attempt to communicate with me.

For my part, still sore and surprisingly wobbly after the sexual gymnastics, I was content to let things be as they were for the moment and wait to see if Erik would make the next move himself. However, when the time came for my afternoon exercise he simply clipped a leather thong onto my collar and led me up and down the same route we had followed the previous day, displaying very little interest in me beyond ensuring that I was not pressed to go too fast.

Back in my stall once more I lay down and closed my eyes yet again, trying not to take any notice of the odour my leather encased and very warm body was now producing.

To my surprise, however, Polly appeared in the early evening clutching a bundle that was a replacement outfit for me and a handful of clean rags. Erik brought in a pail of cold water, placed it on the floor just inside the door and then stood, arms folded, in the doorway, looking at me with a frown on his face that I suspected was more for the maid's benefit.