VIKING THRALL (Historical Romance, Medieval, Viking) (5 page)

Ten

              "What are you about?"

              Esme stood as far away from the Viking as she could. He was leering at her, looking somewhat drunk.

              "You promised me…"

              "Aye, I promised. But I grow weary of waiting. I will have what I want of you now woman."

              "But-"

              "Oh be silent. You agreed to let me try and convince you. That is all I ask."

              Esme bit back the sharp retort on her tongue. She knew it was hopeless. Especially since every time the man touched her, she craved more.

              Of what use to her was her maidenhood anyway?

              It's not as if she were the rich daughter of a chieftain like Magnus or even a merchant like those who'd she'd seen traveling up and down the road back home. If she'd once hoped to marry, those dreams were long gone by now. No one would believe her a virgin after being abducted by Vikings.

              Especially not if they saw the look in this one's eyes.

              He was heating the room with his gaze, and there wasn't even a fire in the hearth!

              Esme sighed, letting her shoulders droop. There was no way across the ocean anyway. And nothing to go back to other than being the caretaker for someone else's unwanted children. Just as she had been.

              "Come."

              He sat in his chair, beconing her imperiously with one meaty palm. Tentatively she walked forward. She told herself it was a matter of simply placing one foot in front of the other. That is all.

              In no time at all she stood between his massive legs, feeling incredibly small and inconsequential before him. He smiled at her warmly, sending a thrill straight to her gut. Without even moving he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She was thrust against his chest. It felt like a wall.

              A warm, pulsating, incredibly strong wall.

              He pulled her hair gently, forcing her head back. She stared up at him, his piercing blue eyes seeming to see straight through her. He wanted her. Not just as a passing pleasure.

              No, there was something in his eyes just for her.

              A strange feeling settled in her chest.

              When he lowered his lips to hers, she did not protest. He slid his lips back and forth, his hands exploring her body at will. She gasped and his tongue delved inside, tangling with hers. Unsure of how to proceed, she matched his movements, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders and grabbing on as their tongues pressed and retreated, swirled and played.

              Esme moaned, finally caving under his tender onslaught.

              The Viking grunted adjusting her so that she straddled him on the chair. She felt his shaft protruding through his hose, pressing into her juncture. Instead of being frightened, she felt something else entirely.

             
Desire.

              "Oh!"

              He had his hands on her hips now, guiding her against him in a circular rhythm. An urgency took over and she began to make the same movement, pressing down against his blazing hot manhood. His lips found her neck. He growled grabbing her bottom with both hands as they moved together as one.

              "Esme…"

              She was panting, whimpering, not sure what she wanted… What she was about to ask for…

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              "Please Magnus…"

              His reaction was instantaneous. Magnus lifted her slightly, shifting his hose to the side so that his manhood could spring free. Her dress was pushed up around her waist. He guided his cock to her slick opening and pressed inside. Slowly, he pushed her hips down so that her petals spread and closed over him, welcoming him inside.

              And such a welcome!

              Hot, honeyed wine slid over his sensitive tip. She was whimpered, clinging to his shoulders. He knew he was overly large and she overly small. And yet somehow, he fit. His cock felt like it was in Valhalla itself.

              Hot, tight, Valhalla.

              "Magnus!"

              "Shhhh… be still…"

              He couldn't have stopped now if he tried. And yet, something was impeding him from burying himself inside her. Oh course. She was a maid. This must be the proof of innocence so many men spoke of.

              He growled in impatience.

              He wanted to break through and plow into her again and again like a wild beast!

              He'd been afraid that he was going to spill himself in his hose like a green boy a moment ago. That's how excited he'd been. The thrall had woven some sort of spell over him.

              Aye that was it.

              She was a witch.

              "I will take your innocence now. I will try and do it quickly but it will hurt. Just for a moment sweeting. Do you understand?"

              "Aye- aye Magnus."

              He stared at her beautiful face. She was fearful, and yet he could still see the effects of their lovemaking in her flushed and sweaty cheeks. He reached down and circled his finger on the delicate nub above her sex. Her hips bucked in response and she cried out.

              He held her thighs wide, playing with her until she was gasping for air, thrashing against him. Then he jerked his hips up sharply. He felt her barrier give way and was rewarded with the sweet hot bliss of being fully embedded inside her sheath.

              "By Odin woman!"

              She had barely made a sound but now she was whimpering, sounding much like an injured animal at the end of a hunt. He pushed her silky hair aside and kissed her. He was holding himself back with everything he had, giving her time to adjust.

              "You're mine now. Well and truly."

              "Aye Magnus."

              She shifted restlessly and he groaned.

              "Don't move- not yet!"

              But it was too late. He started thrusting upward, holding her hips flush against his. Her body arched backwards, giving him a view down her dress of those magnificent tits of hers.

              Next time, she would be nude.

              Next time, he would take his time and thoroughly enjoy her.

              Next time…

              Magnus let out a bellow as he felt the seed erupt from his shaft. With tremendous force it pulsed forth, filling his thrall with his essence. Again and again he pumped himself into her quivering flesh until he was spent.

              His thrall.

              His woman.

              His Esme.

Eleven

              Esme rolled over in the bed. It was nearly daylight but all was quiet. The celebration had raged late into the night.              Not that they'd taken part in it.

              They'd been too busy.

              Last night Magnus had made her a woman. The first time had taken her senses away. But after that, he'd given them back, making tender love to her on the bed. Then they'd slept a few hours. When she awoke, Magnus had been impatiently waiting for her to arise so he could have her again.

              That had struck her odd.

              He'd waited for her to wake. His slave.

              That time had been longer than all the others. He had not been gentle, thrusting into her again and again and leaving her sore. She'd been unable to do more than roll over and fall into a deep slumber when they were finally through.

              Hours later she'd woken to find him once again waiting to take her. That last time had been quick and yet somehow, just as intense as all the others.

              Each time, she had been just as eager as he.

              He'd been right when he'd told her he'd convince her to his way of thinking. He had. Of course, that didn't mean she was ready to spend every day, all day in his bed as he'd decreed last night.

              She was more than just a bedmate. She must prove that to him and to the people who lived here. Other wise she would be nothing but a bed slave, the lowest of all.

              Esme was not the sort to let that happen without a fight.

              If she must live her life as a lowly slave, she would be the best servant she could be.

              She crawled from the bed, cheeks burning at the sight of Magnus's magnificent nude body. She'd never before pondered whether a man could be beautiful or not. But he was. His muscles were carved of rock, smooth and hard all at once. His face was perfectly symmetrical, harsh and yet appealing all at once. And his eyes were the color of the sky on a cold winters day.

              She shook herself mentally. He was her master, nothing more. True, finding him attractive made her duties more palatable, but that's all this was, another duty.

              Esme pulled her dress over her head and went in search of proper work to do.

              In the main hall, no one was about. Well, no one who wasn't snoring or passed out in one uncomfortable looking position or another. She snuck into the kitchen and looked about. The other slaves were also asleep, several of them underneath the warriors they must have lain with.

              Her face reddened, knowing she was no better than any of them.

              And then she got to work.

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              Magnus awoke with a broad smile on his face. To be sure, he'd never felt quite so sated in his life. He reached out, deciding to have his woman again before even opening his eyes.

              His hands found nothing but cool sheets to greet him. He sat up, looking about for his slave. She was nowhere to be seen.

              SHE WAS GONE.

              A bellow erupted from his chest. He'd been foolish to leave her untied. He should have keep his treasure strapped to the bed awaiting his pleasure. He'd trusted her, thinking her as pleased with him as he was with her.

              He would not make that mistake again! She would regret trying to escape him. He'd punish her this time. No food for a week!

              Nay, but that might make her ill.

              A beating then!

              But he could not lay with her if she was sore and bruised.

              He'd take away her dress!

              Aye, that was it. If she wanted to leave his chamber, she'd do it nude. That would teach her.

              He'd make her attend him at meals, bare for all to see.

              But then the other warriors would be filled with lust for her.

              He frowned, pulling on his hose.

              No matter. He would handle any lust that arose. For now, he had simply to find the disobedient slave.

              "Olric! Everyone awake- my thrall has escaped me!"

              The men were on their feet in an instant. The main hall became a buzzing hive of activity. Leftover grog was swallowed. Broadswords and axes were slammed into belts. Servants came running from the kitchen bearing trays of bread and meat.

              "No time to eat! We must bring my slave back! She will regret the day she ran from me!"

              "Magnus?"

              He turned, seeing his thrall standing behind the others. She had a flagon of mead in one hand and a goblet in the other. She had not run. She was working.

              "ESME! You disobeyed me!"

              Her beautiful green eyes grew wide with alarm.

              "I was just trying to make myself useful."

              "You are not to work in the kitchens like a common house thrall!"

              She swallowed nervously. He grabbed the flagon from her, thrusting it onto the table. Mead splashed out in every direction.

              "You are to serve me as I see fit! In my bed!"

              His thrall's face was white as the entire room grew silent. Everyone was staring at them but he cared naught. He thought her gone! How dare she frighten him like that!

              "You will attend me. Now."

              He grasped her arm and led her back into his chamber. Esme stood by the empty fire place looking fearful. As well she should, having frightened him like that.

              "You will not try to escape me again!"

              "But-"

              "'Tis not safe for a female with your appearance! Anything could have happened!"

              She stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

              "You belong to me and me alone! I will tie you to the bed if I must!"

              Her eyes looked suspiciously moist. She would be brazen to weep- it was he who was upset!

              "Do not dare to cry in front of me thrall!"

              His thrall stepped backwards once. Again. And again. Until she was nearly standing in the hearth itself.

              "You will learn to show me proper gratitude for my gentle care of you!"

              She nodded, her head lowered. He was starting to feel guilty for yelling at her. She was such a delicate and rare little thing. He knew he was being louder than necessary.

              Magnus forced his voice to grow soft but still remain stern so she would know he meant what he said.

              "Do you understand Esme?"

              "Aye. I understand."

              He crossed his arms and stared at her sternly.

              "What exactly do you understand?"

              "That I- I belong to you. I am not to do anything that you do not find pleasing, like going outside or weeping. And you- will tie me to the bedpost to keep me from cleaning up after a feast."

              His mouth dropped open. When she put it like that, it did sound a bit nonsensical. She looked more than slightly annoyed with him. He decided that was preferable to looking fearful and weepy.

              Her beautiful hair was coming loose from an intricate braid she must have put it back in before starting work. The soft tendrils were driving him mad. He wanted to shake it free so that it flowed loosely over her slender shoulders.

              "And you will wear your hair down going forward!"

              She reached back, combing her fingers through her hair. A graceful shake of her head and it came tumbling loose over her shoulders. Esme stared up at him, waiting for his next command.

              By Odin, she was beautiful!

              Suddenly his mouth was dry. All blood had fled his head, seeking other, lower body parts to inhabit. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out.

              Magnus cleared his throat, gathering his wits.

              "Come here thrall."

              His voice sounded low and husky, even for him. She walked toward him, a vision of feminine perfection in crimson. And she was his to do with as he pleased.

              Suddenly, all was right in the world. The past hour of searching for his missing thrall was forgotten. After all, she was here before him.

              "Lift your arms."

              He bent low and picked up the hem of her dress. Slowly he slid the soft red wool up her body and over her head. He cast her dress aside and stared down at his beautiful, remarkable,
sneaky
woman.

              "I will have you now."

              "Aye Magnus."

              He smiled at her.

              "You will scream in pleasure."

              "Aye."

              She smiled at him then.

              "And so will you."