Beast (A Prydain novel Book 1)

by AJ Adams

  I didn’t kick or even swear because it hurt too much. My thighs were solid knots of pain. Rune looked, and then he was poking at me.

  “That hurts!” I gasped. “Stop!”

  But he kept at it, spreading the fire around my body.

  “Get off me!”

  He pushed on, and then suddenly the knots unwound.

  “Oh Wotan’s hairy arse, it’s a miracle!”

  For a moment I thought he’d thump me, but then I remembered he’d not bothered before, either. Rune didn’t mind cursing. He picked me up, trotted me across camp, and deposited me on his bedroll. Like before, we were away from everyone else, in a dark little spot, screened by bushes.

  There were two apples, and from the way they lay on the blanket, next to a small pot of goose grease, finest quality, I knew one was for me. Beast or not, at this point I was thinking Rune was being pretty mellow, so I made my pitch. “Listen, it’s a short walk back to King’s Cross. You don’t want to feed me. Trade me.”

  “No.”

  “My family will pay. All I have to do is send a message.”

  “No.”

  “Look, they can’t pay you because they won’t know where I am. They’ve never been to Haven. I have to contact them so they know where to find me.”

  “They don’t want you.”

  I just stared at him. “Of course they do!”

  He shook his head. “I’ve seen your back.”

  His words struck me harder than a fist. I just sat there, feeling stricken.

  In the nine cities you have taverns where they sell beer, brandy and everything else, including women. However, according to the Patriach, Ullr thinks women’s bodies are vile and enticing men is an affront to him. Because of this, Vale laws forbid whoring.

  After I was found guilty, they took me to the square, tied me to the whipping post, and then the Patriarch made a speech. It’s punishment, so to make the most out of it, he read out the sin and the sentence first.

  “For whoring, for shaming her name and her family, and to correct her faults, ten lashes!” Then he cut away my tunic and skirts, making sure that everyone could see naked me. “Behold the shameless whore!” he’d yelled.

  I was dying of shame, so I didn’t even scream when he cut off my hair. It had been waist-long, beautiful and thick, and he’d shorn me like a sheep, but with less skill.

  “The whore has lost her crown of glory!” The Patriarch was spitting with righteousness. “See the ugliness of the whore!”

  Back then, I thought the shame would kill me. I really thought I would die on the spot. Of course there was much worse to come.

  He’d stepped back, and shown the Vale that his whip was three feet long, the proper length for punishment. He measured it, and got three witnesses to check it. At this point I was ready to pee myself with fear, but I didn’t beg. I could see my uncle and my cousin, watching and cheering with excitement as the witnesses checked the whip and read out the sentence again.

  “Ten lashes!”

  Finally the formalities were over. The Patriarch stepped behind me, raised his whip, and then it was whooshing through the air. It landed square across my shoulders. There was a moment of numbness, and then I was on fire. The pain ripped through me, strangling the scream in my throat.

  “One!” The Patriarch cried. “One lash for the wanton whore!”

  He paused, positioned himself again, and then the lash was whistling in the air. Liquid pain consumed me. I was just hanging there, unable to breathe.

  “Two! Two lashes for the wanton whore!”

  He’d waited between strokes, making sure I suffered. I knew he was hoping I would beg and scream, so I was determined not to give him the satisfaction. Each time he lashed me, I told myself that one stroke meant one step nearer the end. One more meant one less.

  I was aware throughout the whole thing of the faces and the laughter, of the screaming agony invading me, and of my helplessness. But I didn’t cry. Didn’t beg either, not even when they left me on display, naked in the public square, the blood running down my back, covered in flies.

  They let me down at midnight and poured salt over the wounds, the final part of the sentence. I fainted, and when I came to, they were standing around me.

  “Look into your heart and ask Ullr the glorious one for forgiveness,” the Patriarch intoned.

  Thankfully I was too faint to tell him to go suck Ullr’s warty cock. You get burned alive for that in the Vale.

  “From now on you sleep in the barn,” Uncle Algar snarled. “I don’t want whores under my roof.”

  “Cover yourself!” That was Cousin Bryce. “Have you no shame?”

  “Ullr has turned his face from her,” the Patriarch was enjoying his outrage. “She is shameless.”

  I’d never been popular, but as family I’d at least been allowed in the house, and to sleep in the kitchen by the fire. Also, as a potential shareholder, potentially owning two fields in the farm, I got my part of the profits as wages. It wasn’t much but having my own money made me feel like a goddess. With every copper, I felt my freedom.

  After the judgement, that all changed.

  I fell sick after the whipping, out for three days with shock and fever. When I got on my feet again, I knew I was back where I started. As a criminal, I was officially an outcast. Nobody would want me, not even as a farm worker. That’s when my family showed their generosity.

  “We will pray to Ullr for you,” Uncle Algar announced.

  “You’ll do your work as always,” Bryce snapped.

  “You’ll be housed and fed,” Uncle Algar said.

  “But not paid.” Bryce was filled with zeal. “Ullr has turned his face from you.”

  Some generosity, right? I was a slave again, just like in Caern.

  I’d slept in the barn, done my work, and been fed along with the livestock. I’d stayed, waiting for my back to heal so I could go to Brighthelme and speak to the Steward. I was determined to clear my name. I’d burned with rage, but I’d kept my temper, knowing that once he vouched for me, they’d have to give me my land.

  Rune had seen my back, and he’d known everything. So much for his being a stupid, violent animal. He’d seen straight into the heart of me.

  Now he was just silent, inscrutable as always, and it infuriated me. “I’ll fight,” I snapped. “You can’t keep me. I won’t be a slave again! I won’t! I’ll kill you! The second you turn your back on me, I’ll pick up a rock and bash you with it!”

  “Pass over?” Siv was looking at us, grinning evilly.

  “Go suck Wotan’s warty cock, fat-gut!” I yelled at him.

  I was up, ready to fight, when Rune grabbed me. “Not yet.”

  I was back on the ground, hands twisted behind my back, and cuffed. Worse, he was leaning on top of me, and he had a massive hard-on.

  Chapter Six

  He sat on my arse, holding me down with his weight. He was taking off his tunic, and I knew what was coming. Except this time I wasn’t going to be friendly. I’d bite.

  But bloody Rune was way ahead of me. First he folded his tunic into a long strip and gagged me with it. Then he leaned a hand on my shoulder blades and took off his leathers. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Just like last time.

  He stretched out on top of me and I was fully intending to buck when he put a hand in my hair. “I love it when you fight.”

  I lay totally still, cursing him fluently in my head.

  “You’re mine. Get used to it.” A hand slipped underneath my hips, reaching between my legs. He was rubbing my clit. “You know you like this.”

  I was determined not to.

  “And I enjoy a wild ride.”

  I’d be limp. Lifeless.

  “You were made for me. You’re mine.”

  Never, never, never.

  His fingers dipped inside me, movingly sweetly. I was getting creamy again, feeling that bliss begin to shimmer through me. Forcing myself to focus on the smell of the grass, the h
unger I felt, and the noises of the camp, I tried to switch off.

  It wasn’t easy. He was all over me, his warmth soaking into me, his scent surrounding me. Part of me just wanted to melt, but I was determined not to give in.

  I realised I was losing when I felt myself lie flat so that I could arch into those fingers. By rubbing my face over the blanket, I got rid of the tunic that was forcing my mouth open and making me drool. He didn’t bother pushing it back in.

  I felt a hand in my hair, brushing it softly. It felt good, but I stopped myself moaning. I would play dead. Except I might just quietly try and enjoy myself, before trying to buck him off.

  Like before, he took his time, petting and stroking me till I went liquid with delight. He slid into me, delving deep and then just leaning over me as he moved his hips. I was so wet that I was rippling. My breath was coming out in shallow gasps and my body was tightening up in a way that was becoming very familiar.

  He sighed and thrust in and out, before pulling away. He was dipping into the jar, taking fingerfuls of grease, and lathering his shaft with it. Then the tip of his cock was leaning against my bum, pushing between my cheeks. Fear rushed through me. He was going to sodomise me. This was going to hurt.

  “Okay now.” The voice was low. “Just let it happen.”

  I was breathing like a running horse, sucking in air as I tried to bury myself in the earth. He was pushing down, stretching the forbidden flesh. It hurt, but not enough to banish the ripples that were still washing through me.

  He kept up a steady pressure, feeding the hot hardness into me inch by inch. His thighs were rock hard, keeping mine spread. I could feel my bound hands brushing against his stomach, my nails grazing the flexing muscles. His breath was in my ears, the warmth of his body washing over mine.

  The pleasure had gone, leaving just the pressure and the little slivers of pain. I tried to burrow down, rolling my head and biting my lips, too proud to scream and knowing it was impossible to get away.

  He stilled, and there was the hand in my hair. “Just lie still, little Ylva. It only hurts a moment.”

  Pushing the final inches inside me had me stretched wide and whimpering. The fear was throttling through me, but each movement hurt, eroding the bravery that had gone with it before. I was gasping, wanting to cry.

  He kissed the back of my neck. “That’s right. Take a slow breath, Wynne.”

  He was using my name! And those lips, warm and firm, were in my neck again! That was different. So different that I lay still.

  He wasn’t moving, just staying inside me. I took a slow, deep breath and felt my body unclench a little. Another breath, and the pain ebbed. More breaths, a shuddering moment of relief, and it retreated, leaving just a hard, threatening pressure.

  The hand moved underneath me again, the fingers gentle against me. “Just lie still.”

  I admit, I was afraid to rebel, thinking that he might tear me apart if I resisted. So I lay still, listening to his breath, feeling the solid weight of him on top of me.

  At first I was cold, feeling the night air on my legs and sides. But as the magic fingers rubbed and teased, warmth began flooding me. An eon later I was rippling again. It felt strange, the hard shaft up my arse throbbing deep inside me, but slowly the stretching became pleasurable. He began moving against me in small circles, the hot flesh dipping and dancing inside me. The pleasure heightened, transforming into bliss.

  The whimpers were now moans, pulled from deep inside me. The happy throbbing was back, pulsing through me, powering my quickening breath. He was thrusting now, each dip triggering swells of warmth and sharp arrows of delight. My fingers were curling, brushing against his muscles, feeling his flesh heat and moisten as he pulsed inside me.

  I could hear our breaths exploding in rhythm as he delved in and out. He kept the movements small, half leaning on me while his fingers fucked me, his thumb steady against my thumping clit.

  My body was clenching and pulsing in a steady rhythm, writhing with the waves of bliss that spilled over me. He dipped his head, his lips on my neck, nipping the soft skin. Instantly my body banked and burned. His fingers were stabbing inside me, his shaft now throbbing as it plunged deep.

  “Come on,” he gasped. “Come on, little Ylva!”

  He arched his hips, holding me still as he began thrusting hard. The burning delight was instantly laced with ecstasy, pounding through me, puckering my nipples, blazing in my lungs, and finally pushing me screaming into shattering release.

  I was thrashing against him, my body rising to meet his, lost in rapture. I heard him groan, his balls slapping against me as he exploded inside me. He was pounding into me, emptying himself inside me in shuddering waves.

  The power of it washed through my soul, heightening every sensation. His scent, a warm, smoky musk, came off him in waves. I lay supine, gulping in air, as I came rushing back to earth. We were slick with sweat, sharp hot beads rolling over our burning flesh. He was so close to me that I felt his heart thunder in tune with mine.

  “Mine!” He was moaning in my ear. “Say it!”

  “Never!” But as I defied him, he was reaching round, touching my clit. Bliss swept through me, and I was peaking again. “Rune!”

  He clutched at me, his arms sliding around my body, his hands cupping and stroking as he kissed my neck. I was caged in sweet fierceness, the snake heads dancing before my eyes, wrapping themselves around me.

  I was spread wide under him, consumed by rapture. His cock was deep inside me, he weight flattening me, yet filling me with delight. I was wracked with delicious pulses, little bolts of heaven shimmering through my limbs. I rode the wild wave of delight, pulsing as it swept through me, the all consuming wave reverberating, washing through me, before ebbing slowly.

  An age later, I shimmered to a stop. Hot, sticky and exhausted, I could barely lift my head. The night sounds switched back on, bringing the world rushing in.

  I became aware of a quality of silence that told of people listening closely. Then there was cheering and whistling. “Go Rune!” The Beasts were enjoying the show. Instantly I felt hot embarrassment flood me. I was furious with him for seducing me and with myself for letting him.

  The snakes were right there, slithering and snickering. I bit him. Right in the forearm.

  “Ouch.” He said it dreamily, and I knew it hadn’t bothered him.

  “Get off me!”

  I was squished by his weight, conscious of his softening cock inside me. He leaned up, and pulled out, the rapid movement dagger sharp. When I hissed, he ruffled my hair. “Sorry.”

  Another first. I was suddenly freezing cold, shivering as a brisk breeze froze my sweating body.

  “Come on.” He was pulling me up, and propelling me to the river. He splashed in, and pulled me with him, holding me against him as he sluiced us both down. The water must have been icy, but I was so cold that it felt warm. Even so, the second we got out, my teeth were chattering.

  He rubbed me down with a cloth, rolled me in the blanket, and shrugged on his leathers. I felt warm again, and that’s when I realised I was starving. I could have eaten a cow. Raw. What I got was chicken, stewed with onions and potatoes. Rune went off and came back with a steaming bowl of it. He settled me between his legs, my hands once again tight against his stomach, as he fed me one spoonful and took another himself.

  “If you take off the shackles, I can eat myself.”

  “And hit me with a rock and run off? No.”

  He still hadn’t picked up his tunic.

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  There was a pause. “It’s warm.”

  So Beasts weren’t human. It was bloody freezing. Even in the blanket I was shivering. Rune didn’t speak again. He just spooned the rest of the stew into me.

  Afterwards, he held the apple as I chomped on it. I was beginning to regret screaming at him. If I’d been subtle, he might have softened towards me. I looked out over the camp, seeing the girls sleeping in little huddles by the f
ires. I couldn’t see Mina but Tawny was curled up against two Beasts. Not one of them was tied up or chained, but on the other hand, they’d been passed over.

  “You’re mine,” Rune had said earlier. “Get used to it.” Clearly he’d made up his mind about keeping me for himself. The knowledge that he wouldn’t pass me over was a huge relief. The idea that he was thinking of keeping me long-term was not.

  Although the Citizens probably didn’t want me back, I was hoping the people at King’s Cross would help if I tried again. They wouldn’t want to pay wergelt for me, but they might take me on a loan basis. I’d be in debt for a couple of years, paying it back at the lowest wages probably, but it would be better than being stuck in the northern wilderness with Rune who might decide after a few weeks of fun to turn me into dinner.

  “You know, the town people always need workers,” I said carefully. “I’m great with chickens, and I can sew. If you market me right—”

  Rune yawned. “No,” he said. Then he was putting me down, and curling up. “Sleep now.”

  “Look, be reasonable!”

  He flipped a bit of blanket over my face, pushing the end over my mouth. “Sleep.”

  I knew he wouldn’t listen; he might, in fact, gag me. I’d have to leave it till the morning. Well, at least I was warm.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning was different because we started with a meal. Greens and chicken, smelling utterly yummy, is what woke me up. Rune went off, got a bowl of it and sat by a fire, wolfing it down. I was watching, telling myself I wasn’t hungry again, really, when he spotted me. He paused and I could see him thinking. I was determined not to beg or even give a pleading look, so I turned my back to him.

  That’s when I saw Lizbeth, sitting in the field with a Beast shoving himself into her mouth. Being a tavern slut’s daughter ensured I’d seen even the most perverted acts at least twice. It’s amazing what drunk men will do with their penises—even donkeys aren’t safe—but that particular thing had always disgusted me.