A squirrel, disturbed by their arrival, scampered across the leafy ground, and digging its claws into a nearby tree, made its escape. Even in the dim light she was able to see the lust in the man’s eyes. Part of her wanted to run from him, but her belly burned with the same desire as before. ‘What ails you, Sigurd?’ she asked boldly. ‘You’re not in the habit of praising me.’ She brushed twigs from her mantle, leaves from her hair.
‘You do not deserve praise,’ he shot back just as swiftly. ‘I am merely making an observation.’ He caressed the switch with wilful intent and Rowena shrank back against a tree. ‘You are fortunate, wife. Had I died from your hand my men would have used you well before putting you to death.’ He took a step forward and she lent against the firm oak lest her legs refuse to support her.
His mantle was thrown back from his shoulders and she had to admit he was a fine looking man. His huge erection made an impression in his breeches, making her wonder if he was always so well primed. The sight of this, and the image he had implanted in her head of many muscled warriors ripping her clothes away, and taking her roughly, increased the burning. Her vulva throbbed and leaked profusely and she silently castigated her rogue body. What was it about this ruffian that inflamed her so? But she didn’t have to question it for long; deep down she already knew the answer.
‘Your cheeks are burning, wife. Are you so eager to impale yourself on my cock you have taken a fever?’
Rowena’s back stiffened. ‘How dare you? I would rather be beaten senseless than have your vile body near me.’
Sigurd regarded her grimly. ‘Your crimes are on the increase and I thank the gods I have the strength to tame you.’
Despite the fact that her fear was mounting fast, Rowena faced him regally. ‘I will never be tamed by you or anyone else.’
Sigurd laughed so loudly crows took flight from their nests. ‘I could snap your pretty neck with the crook of a finger. But you fascinate me. Come, let your husband begin your education.’
He picked her up from his great height as though she were no more than a babe and, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk, deposited her over his lap. Before she had time to protest his meaty hands had lifted her kirtle, leaving her bottom, still rosy from his previous beating, naked. And although it was a small consolation, she was extremely glad that he hadn’t destroyed another kirtle.
His palms ran over her blushing cheeks with great possession, causing her so much pleasure she had to fight back her sighs of delight. Then, ignoring the switch he’d let drop to the forest floor, he grabbed at a nearby fallen branch and holding her firmly snapped off a sturdy length.
Rowena squealed when she realised what he was about to do. ‘You cannot think to whip me with such a thing!’
‘Wild women are best dealt with in a wild manner,’ he rejoined, bringing the stick down with great gusto on her naked buttocks.
Rowena’s screams matched the squawking of the crows and tears spilled from her eyes. The skin on her bottom cheeks, already sore, stung worse than any bee sting she’d ever had. She did not expect to survive the assault, for though her spirit was strong her body was fast weakening. It was as though a thousand devils spat their fury on her tender buttocks with red-hot tongues, and her screams became even louder.
‘You must have some pity inside you,’ she cried weakly. ‘How can you use me so?’ But she might as well have saved her voice, for Sigurd ignored her pleadings and carried on wielding the stick until she thought her skin would soon be stripped from her cheeks.
Then as before the pain did something strange to her insides and they buzzed with even more desire, so that each stroke of the stout stick brought more emissions from her vulva, and she cursed her traitorous flesh.
Sigurd gave a lusty laugh that shook her even more, especially when she realised he was laughing at her. ‘You can’t resist the feel of something hard, can you, slut?’ he remarked triumphantly. ‘Be it on your arse or up your cute cunny that even now spurts like a waterfall.’
Rowena’s face flamed with shame and she tried to twist from his grasp. But he was far too strong and she gained nothing but his wrath, so that he beat her even harder. ‘Stop,’ she cried. ‘Have mercy.’
A few slaps later he gave up beating her and inserted a finger in the sticky dew that coated her nether lips. ‘Such a noise for one so small. And such a slippery pathway for your husband to follow.’
She kicked her legs furiously. ‘Unhand me, you wretch. I am the daughter of a princess and unused to such violence.’
Unimpressed, Sigurd clicked his tongue. ‘So ‘tis time you lived a little.’
Rowena’s reply was smothered in a gasp as he slid one finger into her vagina, then two. He began to slide them in and out, and at the same time he reached for her breasts and began pinching her nipples, one first then the other. Her cries of agony soon turned to ones of passion and Sigurd grunted his satisfaction.
‘Shall we try a little variety,’ he suggested, and to her horror reached for the switch and stuck it into her juices. Before she had time to demure he began to slide it into her vaginal passage, tentatively at first, but when it was in a good few inches he eased it back out. The action was repeated time and time again until Rowena realised he was actually ravishing her with the stick.
At first she was appalled by what was happening to her. What more degradation would he heap on her? But Sigurd wielded the stick as cleverly as he wielded his own tool and she began to rock to his rhythm, pushing down onto the switch so it would gain more purchase in her vagina. She sobbed as her wanton body welcomed the intrusion, as her clitoris strove to feel the cloth of his breeches.
Realising her intent, Sigurd slid a finger beneath her and found the nub of her arousal. He began to rub the slippery flesh, still keeping up the momentum with the switch. Her predicament began to appeal to her; it was so rude, so utterly disgusting. What, she wondered, would they think back at the burh if they could see her now with her body draped inelegantly over Sigurd’s lap, while he diddled her boldly with a switch and tickled her clitoris with his finger?
The thought merely increased her excitement and she clung onto him for all she was worth, concentrating on that finger as it rubbed her pleasure zone, enjoying the switch as her muscles sucked it further and further in her vagina.
When the spasms of her climax began to radiate around her clitoris he dumped her unceremoniously on the forest floor. She gaped up at him in surprise. ‘Sigurd, what are you doing?’ she asked, disappointed that her pleasure had been taken from her.
Although she was sprawled on the damp ground she was able to think of nothing but the heat that surged through her private place. She opened her thighs to him, welcoming him like a siren, and she suddenly knew what made Gilda like she was; she had obviously discovered the diversities of the flesh and refused to deny herself such pleasures. It had taken her a long time to work her cousin out, but now she had she gave a secret smile of understanding.
Sigurd was grinning down at her, releasing his huge tool from his breeches. ‘You are nothing more than a whore, wife. And one of my missions in life will be to punish you for being such a slut.’ Approaching her with his enormous erection he knelt between her thighs, nudging them even further apart.
Rowena was appalled at his tone and whimpered at the size of his member. The memory of it ripping into her most tender part brought mixed feelings. But she knew that to fight him inflamed him even more and lay back passively, knowing it would be over much sooner this way.
Sigurd raised an eyebrow. ‘The blushing maiden has gone from me,’ he taunted. ‘In her place I have a bitch on heat. Open your portal, wife,’ he groaned, bearing down on her, ‘for I have needs of my own.’
Sigurd pushed into her eagerly. Rowena grimaced against the great pain that was to come, her muscles clenched against him with apprehension. But because it was not the first time he had stretched her and be
cause she was wetter this time, the pain was not as bad as before.
He was tireless, and continued to lunge into her long after most men would have collapsed. Despite her dire hatred of the man and all he stood for, Rowena’s insides began to thrill to his ministrations and she matched him stroke for stroke, her inner muscles sucking him in, her young body riding with him to fruition.
He came with a loud shout, pumping his seed into her. Without a word he rolled away and she lay exhausted at his side. How she hated herself for her animal desires, hated him for using her so. As a new bride she should be able to expect tenderness and concern. Instead she was treated no better than the beasts in the fields.
Sated, Sigurd appeared relaxed, his head resting on his arms. She clicked her tongue with annoyance and without pausing to think how dangerous it would be, sat up and pummelled his chest with her fists. ‘You are impossible,’ she intoned miserably. ‘How can you ever expect me to settle into wedlock when you treat me so?’
‘I think you have forgotten the reason for your being here,’ he remarked coldly. ‘‘Tis not a lover’s tryst. If my memory serves me right I was laid low by your own fair hand.’
The dark cloud of his face issued a stark warning. Rowena scrabbled to her feet but was brought down by his hand grasping her ankle. She tried to stand with little success. Each time she gained a little ground Sigurd’s hand toppled her.
‘You are a no account lowlife,’ she railed, out of breath after being pushed over for the umpteenth time, her eyes brimming with tears from the pain inflicted by her father’s switch. How apt, she thought ruefully, even though Athelwine was absent he was still able to have a hand in her misery!
Sigurd’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Be silent, wife,’ he said nastily. ‘You will learn to be obedient. It is clear that you have not been chastised enough. Mayhap I will give you over to my men, after all. Olaf, Magnus,’ he called, ‘show yourselves.’
Rowena’s heart sank and her face flamed when two lusty Norse came from behind some trees. Both wore swords that hung from their baldrics and one carried an axe. They were dressed similarly to Sigurd, in smocks and tight breeches. The one carrying the axe also wore a sheep’s fleece.
Rowena tried to cover herself with her clothes, but Sigurd lifted her kirtle and she was left lying on the forest floor, her sex covered only by a triangle of red-gold hair. ‘How… how long have they been out there?’ she stammered, embarrassment flushing her skin.
‘Long enough.’ He grinned at his men. ‘I am a chieftain; my warriors are trained to watch my back.’
‘What we did should have been private.’ She covered herself with her hands. The thought of the two men witnessing her most intimate moments with her husband sickened her. They had seen him beat her naked bottom. They had watched while he used a switch like a cock to abuse her with. They had seen her sprawling before their chieftain, begging with her wanton body for more. Her tears flowed freely; she would never live down so much shame. Not long since she had been a chaste virgin, she knew nothing of men. Now, thanks to the Norse who had taken her to wife, her body was sport for all.
Sigurd viewed her silently, his head on one side. Magnus and Olaf looked as if they were getting ready for a feast, their eyes glowing with expectation.
‘What if we make this more interesting?’ Sigurd declared with a roguish wink, inclining his head towards the trees.
To Rowena’s surprise another man approached, dragging a dark-haired girl.
‘Has your whole army been watching us?’ she asked, as disgust and despair washed over her.
‘I suggest you rest your tongue and take note of what will happen to you should you continue your disobedience.’
Knowing she was not strong enough to put up with any more violence, Rowena said no more. Instead she directed her attention at the dark-haired girl being held by the bulky Norwegian. She was very beautiful, with skin like milk, but her eyes were the strangest shape she had ever seen. They were like almonds and instead of reducing her attraction they merely emphasised it.
‘Who is she?’ she asked quietly, lest she anger him some more.
‘Just another slave I captured and decided to keep to pleasure my men.’
‘What do you intend doing to her now.’
‘I’ll use her to show you what will happen should you not behave.’
The girl’s eyes were glazed and Rowena wondered what they had given her. She had seen people with that same look when Cwendritha used her skills to ease pain. Rowena kept her own council and Sigurd looked satisfied.
‘That’s better,’ he chuckled. ‘Now then, wife, which one shall I order to punish her first?’
She was aghast. ‘You cannot be serious! Even you would not be churlish enough to force your own wife to witness the poor girl being beaten.’
Sigurd grinned. ‘Would you rather I had Eiric punish you instead?’
Rowena got to her feet shakily. ‘I would see no one hurt.’
Her eyes were brimming with tears but Sigurd was unmoved. ‘It is for your own good. A wife should be demure and mindful of her husband at all times. I think Olaf should take a turn first,’ he said, beckoning the tallest man of the three to come closer and addressing him in his own language. ‘My men are always eager to have a hand in the disciplining of a woman, so be warned,’ he said, turning back to Rowena.
Rowena paled. Ignoring her Sigurd slapped him heartily on the back. ‘Show her how we deal with females who do not please us, Olaf.’
He spoke in the two languages once again so she’d know what was going on. The girl was handed over to Olaf and forced to lie over the fallen tree. Her clothing was ripped from her, leaving her perfect flesh on display to all. She said nothing when the hefty blond Norwegian took the switch from Sigurd, and using it like a sword, swung it in an arc over her body.
Rowena saw it cut through the air, heard the snap it made, saw it connect with the lovely bottom and choked on her tears. The Norwegian’s mouth was turned up in a sly smile and she shrank away from her husband in terror. She knew that no matter how much she remonstrated with him nothing would save the girl. But she also knew she had to try.
Running towards the brute she tried to put herself between him and the girl. But Sigurd was faster than she was. With a loud snort he caught and dragged her back to her original position, holding her in a cruel arm lock.
‘That little performance will earn her a more severe beating,’ he promised, curling his lips in satisfaction.
He nodded at Olaf, who was thrilled at having an audience. He swung the switch, this time catching the girl right across her secret entrance. Her cries only made his smile wider, and Magnus and Eiric looked on approvingly. More so when he decided to tease her, swinging the switch one way without striking, then swinging it again, catching her when she was not expecting the blow. He would snap it down either on her thighs or on the darkly fringed sex, and take great delight in her distress.
Sigurd put up a restraining hand and Rowena thought the girl’s ordeal was over, but he merely ordered Olaf to hand the switch over to Magnus. ‘Pay close attention, wife,’ he commanded.
Rowena’s entire body seemed to throb with pain. She did not want anyone else suffering as she did. ‘No, do not do this,’ she begged. ‘I will be obedient.’
Sigurd snorted disdainfully. ‘‘Tis too late for that,’ he said sternly. ‘Now watch.’
Wearily she did as she was told, wondering just how much pain the lovely dark-haired girl would be able to stand. Magnus, who was slightly shorter than Olaf but every bit as strong, lifted what was left of her kirtle with the switch until her red-striped bottom was on show to all. With an excited breath he swung the switch and brought it down again and again, torturing the skin that was already sore.
Rowena imagined the agony and bit into her hand to stop from crying out. The girl screamed, but the more she cried the more e
xcited they became and the more she was hurt. Rowena watched in pity, knowing she had probably taken far more punishment than she could stand, and that she would probably faint. The prospect filled her with relief; there would be no pleasure in abusing an unconscious girl.
Sigurd released Rowena, and approaching his slave gave her sex one hard slap with his hand. Sweet dew leaked from her vulva. He slipped a finger into her juices and offered it up to Magnus. ‘Taste the honey of her sweet nether lips, my friend. Then you can stick your cock right up her. Let my wife see what she is missing.’
Rowena couldn’t believe what her husband was saying; it was bad enough making her endure what she had, but urging them to have sex with the girl in front of her was demeaning. She swung away from the scene, but Sigurd pulled her back and forced her to face Magnus and his poor victim.
Magnus did not need telling twice; tossing the switch aside he released his stiff member and fed it home. Still draped over the fallen tree the girl whimpered. But in spite of her tears he rode her long and hard, while Sigurd watched with a broad grin on his face. Finally, Magnus shot his seed into her and rolled off.
Sigurd chuckled. ‘See, wife, how the minx wiggles her rear, how her cunny floods with lust. At this very minute she is hoping Eiric will give her a good ride too.’
Rowena had to admit that the lovely girl did seem to have a smile on her lips and her bottom did seem to wiggle quite a bit. Sigurd gave Eiric a signal and he took Magnus’s place. But the last Viking, excited by the display of his friend pumping in and out of the bruised bottom of the slave, did not last as long. He quickly reached his climax with a long, loud cry of triumph that Rowena imagined echoed through the entire forest.
She hung her head in misery. Her life was in the hands of barbarians and there was nothing anyone could do.
Chapter Five
Rowena opened her eyes and stretched wearily. She had been asleep for hours but she did not feel refreshed. Everything had happened so swiftly since Sigurd’s unexpected arrival in the great hall. After just one day’s grace he declared himself well enough to travel, and Rowena found herself and her belongs being transported in a sleek sailing craft with bright striped sails and a fierce dragon carved on the prow.
a Wicked Conquest Page 7
