Mastered by the Berserkers (Berserker Brides)

by Lee Savino

  “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  The two warrior’s brows furrowed in unison. I wasn’t making sense. I was losing them.

  “I mean, I-I wanted to,” I stammered. “I wanted to be good. I wanted to be safe.”

  “Safe,” Fenrir echoed and nodded. “That is why you cling to your beliefs.”

  I dropped the horn and it clattered to the ground. I pressed my hands to my ears. “Kyrie eleison. Christos eleison.”

  “Juliet. Juliet.” Gentle hands came to mine. They tugged lightly and I resisted but in the end my hands were captured in ones much larger than mine. I gazed into Fenrir’s golden eyes. “Stop. Hush now. We are not angry with you. We seek only to understand.”

  I licked my lips. I was so hot, and my mouth was dry. My mouth still moved, forming shapeless prayers.

  “How can she make us understand? She doesn’t understand herself,” Jarl muttered.

  Fenrir growled in his direction. Jarl shot out of his seat and started pacing.

  “I didn’t mean that, Juliet,” he said, running his hand through his hair so it stood up. “I meant only the things you were taught have no meaning, other than what you give them.”

  I was too shocked not to answer. “Are you saying there are no gods?”

  Fenrir sighed deeply. Jarl rubbed the back of his neck.

  “No,” Jarl said. “That is, I do not deny the gods. But they never have granted me favor. Why should I give them more than their due?”

  Fenrir pulled me into his arms, and I was too shocked to stop him. “Ignore him,” he advised. “He is angry because the gods never answered his prayers.”

  “I never prayed to them,” Jarl snapped.

  “Your mother’s prayers, then,” Fenrir corrected patiently, and this time Jarl growled.

  “Do not speak of my mother. I have never spoken of her to you.” Jarl’s eyes flared bright. Tension hung in the air between both warriors. I shifted uneasily on Fenrir’s lap and his arms locked around me.

  “You didn’t have to.” Fenrir’s voice was still mild as he spoke to his warrior brother. He shifted me in his lap to explain, “We share memories.”

  “Is that the magic?” I asked, too overcome with curiosity to stop myself.

  “It’s the curse,” Jarl said. He smacked the doorframe and walked out of the lodge. The tension leaked out of me, but the lodge felt strangely empty with him gone.

  “We can speak mind to mind,” Fenrir said. “And share thoughts, dreams. Sometimes memories, though not always intentionally. The connection comes unbidden. And then, yes, it does seem like a curse.” He eased me into a new position on his lap, facing him. “Why did you take the vows, Juliet?”

  “I thought it was what I wanted. I was an orphan, with no family. My mother’s family gave me to the nuns when I was a few years old. I knew nothing but the abbey.”

  Fenrir listened patiently. He looked at me with such calm and a hint of something else—tenderness?—I could not meet his eyes.

  I dropped my gaze to my lap. “When I came of age, I begged to stay. I promised to work hard and help take care of the orphans. I love the girls like sisters, for they were the only family I’d ever known. The abbess wanted to cast me out, but the friar took pity on me and said yes.”

  “What would they have done if you hadn’t taken vows?”

  I shivered. “I don’t know. There were girls older than me. They came of age and disappeared. The friar said he’d found husbands for them.”

  “But you did not believe it.”

  “No, I—” I fell silent. “I felt something was wrong. But it was not my place to speak. In matters of the church, women are not to speak.”

  Fenrir sat back. “You were right to take vows.”

  I blinked. That was the last thing I expected him to say. “I was?”

  His fingers combed through my hair. Soothing me. I leaned into his palm. “Those girls were not given to husbands, but to the Corpse King, to feed his growing power.”

  I sucked in a breath. He stroked my head, but I’d gone stiff and cold. “Truly?”

  “Yes. Your vows saved your life. They kept you safe until we found you.” His fingers sifted through my hair, then gave a little tug. “But now it’s time to put them aside.”

  “Put them aside?” I shook my head, dizzy.

  “Yes,” Jarl said, stomping back inside. “Your vows saved you. But now we are here to protect you. And you must admit your god brought you to us.”

  I wrinkled my nose, ready to argue, but Fenrir tugged my hair so I turned back to him. “You say your god made the world and everything in it. Including you.”

  “He knit me together in my mother’s womb,” I quoted. “Yes.”

  “Then he made you like this.” His left hand settled on my chest and slid down over my breasts, leaving heat in its wake. “You were created thus, and filled with desire.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Yes,” Fenrir insisted. “All these nights you’ve prayed for release. And your god allowed us to take you.”

  Oh, God, no. I closed my eyes.

  “Your body burns in our presence. You were made for us, Juliet. As we were made for you.” His hand covered my breasts, rubbing gently. A tide of golden pleasure rose, ready to sweep me away.

  “No, no.” I grabbed his arm. “This desire is a thorn in my flesh. I wish that I could cut it out.”

  “Juliet,” Fenrir said, but I wouldn’t hear another word. I kicked, trying to free myself.

  “I have sinned. I have fallen short. I am damned. I must be cleansed and made new.” I was babbling now. I clawed at Fenrir’s hand, and when it fell away, I clawed at my own flesh.

  “Stop,” Fenrir ordered.

  “Juliet.” Jarl lifted me. His hand collared my throat, and he held my back to his front so he could murmur in my ear. “You have done wrong?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Then you must be punished.”

  Relief flooded me and I went limp against him. “Yes.”

  “What if we were to punish you instead?”

  “What?”

  “We captured you. We have a right to you, according to our law.”

  I tried to shake my head, but Jarl held me fast. My pulse pounded against his hand. “What law is that?”

  “The law of might.” Jarl maneuvered me through the lodge, towards the drying frame. His hand was still at my neck and his arm was around my waist. “You cannot stop us.”

  They were right. I could not. If God had meant for me to fight, he would’ve made me stronger.

  “That’s settled then. You are ours to punish and control.” He positioned me between the posts of the frame and stretched my arms over my head to bind my wrists with the dangling strips of leather. My feet rested on an elevated platform that put my head closer to the bottom of their chin.

  Fenrir approached, the firelight shining on his bare chest. “We will punish you. And then we will make you whole.”

  6

  Juliet

  Jarl stepped back, leaving my arms bound above my head. “You have no choice, Juliet,” he reminded me. Then he took hold of my shift and ripped it from top to bottom.

  I hung from the ties, my chest heaving as he stripped me naked. When he stepped back to view his handiwork, I pressed my pale legs together, trying to hide the dark thatch of hair at their apex.

  But Fenrir knelt and tied my ankles apart until I stood on the platform, spread eagled. I could not escape. Jarl appeared in front of me and I jerked back as far as I could in my tethers.

  “Easy,” Fenrir steadied me with hands at my hips. His rough hands smoothed over me.

  “Here.” Jarl draped a cloth over my eyes. I tried to shake free, but he tied it behind my head.

  “What—” I tried to ask, and one of them stuffed a piece of cloth in my mouth.

  “The time for arguments is over,” Jarl mocked. I cursed him. It came out muffled, but he understood all the same and laughed. “What happened to b
eing silent before men?”

  I screamed curses at him loud enough to hurt my throat. Then a mouth brushed the top of my thigh and my shout died to a whimper.

  “Easy, Juliet,” Fenrir said. His beard scraped my skin, so close to where my core throbbed. “Submit.” And his thumbs spread my inner lips. Hot breath hit my center. I strained to close my legs.

  “No,” Jarl cracked his palm against my ass. “This is part of the punishment.” He squeezed my bottom cheeks roughly, and spanked me again.

  Fenrir’s head brushed my belly. I curled away as much as I could as he swiped his tongue over my heated folds. He tickled and licked, scratching his jaw over my tender flesh and soothing the places his beard prickled.

  There was a golden wave of heat brewing in my belly. My legs ached from trying to close. Jarl spanked me for that, smacking each cheek until my rear burned. But the pain was not as disturbing as the pleasant sensation curling out from my core. Nothing wrecked me like Fenrir’s gentle tongue.

  Desire sang through me, turning into delicate golden wisps that swooped and swirled and touched every part of me. I trembled, straining, no longer trying to escape but seeking Fenrir’s mouth. And when he covered the whole of my sex with his hot mouth and thrust his tongue into my entrance, I cried out, contracting in anticipation of pleasure.

  But before I could tip over the edge, he withdrew. I sobbed as my pleasure died.

  “Shhhh,” Fenrir petted me, stroking my upper thighs and planting a kiss on my cunny. “Not until you beg.”

  I shouted behind the gag, but it came out garbled. I wasn’t even sure what I said.

  “Not tonight.” And Fenrir moved away.

  Jarl gripped my chin. “Now we will mark you.” He brushed a kiss to my forehead, then stepped back.

  I tensed, waiting for the pain to come. I’d been beaten before.

  Instead, someone kissed me again, this time on my jaw. Maybe it was Jarl, maybe Fenrir. The kisses were soft, but the beard chafing my skin felt like Jarl’s. I shifted on my feet, dancing as the unseen warrior let his lips trail down my neck. His mouth licked and sucked, painting a line from my chin to my chest. He rubbed his beard over my breasts. I arched my back, welcoming the prickling sensation.

  Someone else stroked my back. Fingers ran up and down, thrumming my skin until my body sang. These warriors played me like a lyre.

  “This is not punishment,” I breathed into my gag. Someone pulled it away and pressed a water skin to my lips. I drank in great gulps. A little water ran from my mouth and whoever offered me the water licked it up.

  “What was that, little nun?” asked Fenrir from behind me.

  I stiffened. I didn’t need a reminder of what I was.

  “This is not punishment,” I said again.

  “We have only just begun,” Fenrir murmured and put his mouth to my shoulder. He bit lightly, then sucked hard enough to leave a red mark. He pressed his full body to mine. Sleek muscle and coarse hair. He was naked. I tried to shift away and his hardness poked my behind. His fangs nicked my skin and he kissed his way down my back. I arched backward as his beard tickled me. Lightning shot down my spine.

  “Juliet,” Jarl growled and fisted his hand in my hair. He drew my head back, pressing his bare chest to my front. A shudder went through him and shook me. His cock prodded my belly. I whimpered. He brushed his lips over mine and I angled my head, trying to kiss him back. “You are so sweet,” he breathed. He tugged down the gag, grasped my chin. His mouth came down on mine and his tongue plunged inside. Desire surged between my legs and I rose to tiptoes.

  Fenrir’s mouth browsed over my buttocks, kissing and sucking the places Jarl had spanked before. A nip of his teeth struck sparks and fire roared through me. I hung between them, suspended in a dark world of pure sensation.

  Then they drew away. I danced on my tether, turning this way and that, trying to find them.

  A hand steadied my hip and Fenrir shushed me. He dragged something over my hair, steadying me when it caught in a snarl.

  “It’s a brush,” he told me. “You have beautiful hair.”

  “So do you.” I relaxed and let him brush out my hair. The long strokes soothed me until I floated. He reached around me and brushed the tops of my legs and I barely roused. The stiff bristles chafed but did not break the skin. He brushed my belly and breasts, and warmth rose and spread over the surface of my skin.

  He rubbed the bristles over my freshly spanked buttocks and I hissed. My skin was tender.

  “Is it punishment or is it a gift?” Fenrir murmured. “Pain is so close to pleasure.” He rubbed the back of the brush over my heated bottom, then slapped my behind with the hard surface. I cried out.

  “Enough?”

  I shook my head and gripped the leather bindings, bracing myself. “More.”

  But instead of more pain, he took something soft and silky and rubbed it against my abused flesh. Fur. It tickled. He swirled the scrap of fur over my breasts and belly, and it felt like heaven on my abraded skin.

  The soft fur went away and something else touched my skin. Five hard points, brushing over my belly. Something loomed close to me, big and growling low. The hair raised along my neck and when I turned my head, I caught a whiff of magic. Hot breath puffed over my cheek.

  I was in the presence of the beast.

  I stiffened and closed my eyes tight under the blindfold. My heart pounded faster.

  The creature in front of me caught my hips. Its claws pricked me and I shrank away. It growled and I would’ve crumpled to the ground if I hadn’t been tied.

  Human hands caught me from behind and I stifled a shriek. “Enough,” Fenrir said. I felt the beast retreat and I could breathe again.

  The scrap of fur returned, rubbing me down and soothing me.

  “You’re doing well, Juliet.” He dipped closer to the throbbing place between my legs but did not trespass there.

  His lips came to my ear. “If you beg, I will make you feel good.”

  I shook my head. “No, please.”

  “Juliet…”

  “Please,” I whispered. “I need it to hurt.”

  He retreated and for a moment I was disappointed. But he wasn’t gone long.

  A whistle of air and something long and thin struck the front of my thighs. A switch. It whipped up and down my legs as I danced on tiptoe.

  When it stopped

  “More?” Fenrir asked.

  I bit my lip and nodded. The switch struck my backside. He painted thin lines of pain up to my shoulder blades and down my back, bottom, and calves. One of them even tugged my bounds until I hung higher, my feet barely touching the ground, so the other could whip the bottoms of my feet.

  When they eased off my bounds, I remained on tiptoe, sniffling. My body was covered with little welts.

  “My turn,” Jarl growled. He spun me around and hooked a hard arm around my middle, lifting me. My relief didn’t last because he rubbed my bottom with a smooth wooden surface. Whatever he held was much bigger than the hairbrush. I tensed.

  He paddled me softly at first, then hard enough the crack echoed in the lodge. Every so often he paused to soothe me, rubbing my aching rear with the paddle. Then he’d begin again.

  Tears dripped down my face by the time Fenrir took his place.

  “Almost done,” Fenrir crooned. I leaned into him. I hurt all over. A good hurt. Inside my chest, I felt clean.

  “Lean back, Juliet,” he ordered. I did and he tipped me back further. My bare breasts were offered up to him.

  A prickly leaf brushed my skin. I jumped and cried out, but Fenrir held me fast as he rubbed nettles over my breasts. I choked on the sting.

  “It’s over.” Someone cut the bounds holding my arms above my head and Fenrir caught me and carried me to the bed where he lay me down on the soft pelts. I whimpered as my back hit the fur.

  “Shhhh, you did well.” He stroked the hair back from my face.

  I throbbed in every corner of my body. My breasts pri
ckled from their brush with the tiny barbs on the nettle leaves. My back and legs were striped from the switches and my buttocks were hot and sore. And yet all the aches grew faint and weak when compared with the throbbing between my legs. It was as if the pain and need flowed together into one growing wave of sensation, threatening to crash through me.

  I reached for the blindfold and someone stayed my hand. “Not yet,” Jarl growled. He pinned my wrists to the bed.

  My sigh shuddered through me.

  “We punished you. You are absolved.” Fenrir gentled me with a hand on my breastbone. “Now, we will make you feel good.”

  A horn of mead came to my lips and I drank deeply.

  Someone else was soothing something over my breasts. A balm of some sort, thick and sticky.

  A finger touched my lips. My tongue flicked out and the sweetness burst on my tongue. I smacked my lips.

  “Honey,” I said.

  “Yes,” Fenrir said, and licked between my breasts. He brushed honey over my nipple and closed his mouth over it. All the sting went away as he prodded my nipple with his tongue. Pleasure flashed from my breast to my cunny. I arched off the bed, my ears filling with my moans.

  I felt Fenrir move away and Jarl took his place. He smeared a whole handful of honey over my abraded chest and leaned down to lap it up. His beard pricked my skin and became soaked in honey, so much that when he lifted his head to kiss me, the rich taste filled my mouth. I sucked on his lip, savoring the sweetness.

  Fenrir worked his way down, stroking honey over my belly, the tops of my legs. Jarl licked up my neck, his beard tickling, making me shiver. Fenrir lapped long strokes up my thighs, growing closer and closer to my aching cunny.

  When he nuzzled the valley between my legs, I squirmed. He swirled two fingers over the tops of my thighs and dipped between them, painting honey into my sex.

  “Oh no.” I twisted, trying to escape, but two sets of firm hands grabbed my legs.

  And then, oh, then they licked me. Two rough tongues danced and delved—into my belly button, into the crevice between my legs, pressing further and further. They were everywhere. A rough hand covered my breast, squeezing. Another gripped my knee and drew it out and up, holding me open. My body held no secrets then. A mouth covered my cunny, licking deep between my folds. I pushed my sore bottom into the bed but I could not get away.