Cum For The Viking 3
Lora’s Seduction
By Virginia Wade
Copyright © 2012 Virginia Wade
All Rights Reserved.
Published by I Love Stacy
Kindle Edition
Virginia Wade
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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
Chapter One
I had survived the invasion of barbaric Norsemen. I had lost my virginity to a lusty Dutch merchant, who wanted to take me to his home. There was nothing left for me in Dorset. The villagers decried I was a witch, my mother had fled inland, and I was about to begin a new life with a stranger. As we stood on the dock, I stared at Matheus, remembering my mother’s prophetic words. “I see two men, but only the dark-haired one will be your love, your protector. He’s foreign.” Mother had been right. I was going to leave England with a stranger and begin a new life. The future was wide open, and, as I placed my hand in his, I smiled; knowing that the last words she had spoken to me had come true.
“Ho there!” called an approaching Viking. His booted feet clomped on the wooden dock. He was dressed in chainmail; a sword was at his side.
“Who is that?” asked Matheus.
Bram Laxdale, the Viking who had abducted me, squinted in the early morning sun. “One of Lord Vapnfjord’s emissaries. I wonder what he wants?”
“Your presence is requested, Matheus Hrolf. Lord Vapnfjord wishes to have a word with you.”
“Beiskaldi!” he muttered. “Tell him I’ve set sail. You never saw me.”
“This is a matter of urgency. He commands your presence at once.”
I glanced at Matheus, wondering what would happen next. We were going to leave England. He had cargo from Italy that needed to be transported. “I’ll wait for you here,” I said.
“It’s not safe. Come with me. Tell the captain I’ve been delayed, Bram. This won’t take long.”
“As you wish.”
Matheus had purchased me from the blonde Viking, paying his debts. He was a wealthy merchant, whose dark looks and pale skin matched my own. I had been living with my mother in our wattle-and-daub hut on the cliff when the invasion came; the ships were long and sleek, with dragon-shaped prows and high curving sterns. Billowing sails of red had filled my vision, as I had stood on the cliff witnessing history. Bells began to ring in the village, the inhabitants having seen the approaching storm, but it was too late. We were all doomed, and days later, the conflict continued to rage, the pillaging, raping, and murder. It had ended the peace of our once tranquil bay.
I wrapped my cloak around me, because the brisk breeze held a spiteful chill, my spirits sinking at the thought of having to wander through town, which had become a fortified Viking camp with a newly built perimeter and gate. Matheus held my hand, as we strode through the muddy streets, teeming with fair-haired scoundrels drinking and fornicating openly with less than eager maidens. I had been spared this atrocity, only having been ravished by two men, who had seen to my pleasure, much to my shame. I would never admit it, but I felt a fondness towards Matheus, hoping secretly that he would take me away from the people that had chosen to hate me and call me a witch.
To illustrate this point, an object came my way at astonishing speed, hitting my arm. “Ouch!”
“Witch!” cried a shrill female voice.
“Viking lover!”
“Whore!”
“Who’s done this?” shouted Matheus; his handsome face had twisted with anger. “Show yourself, you coward!”
I glanced at a window, knowing that whoever had thrown the rock was hiding in a house. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Let’s continue. I…don’t want to linger here.”
He cursed under his breath in a language I didn’t understand. “Simple-minded fools!” His arm went around my shoulders protectively. “You hurt her again, and I’ll slice your heads off!”
The remainder of the walk was uneventful, save for the bodies decomposing by the side of the road, their flesh being eaten by a flock of vultures. Noisy squawking filled the air along with the smell of smoke, as buildings smoldered from the fire that had ravaged the village after the attack. It became clear that we were heading to the Abbot house; its occupants were the richest family in town. Lord and Lady Abbot and their daughter’s Emma and Charlotte lived here. My mother had foretold the death of their son, and Lady Abbot, in her anger and grief, had ostracized her, spreading untrue rumors, culminating in the townspeople believing we were witches. I wished my mother had lied about her vision, but she preferred to speak the truth, no matter how painful such a revelation might be.
A two-storied, half-timbered house with a tile roof came into view; the courtyard was filled with wagons, carrying looted wealth and a contingent of fair-haired scoundrels, who wore iron helmets and chainmail. They stared at me as we passed; my long, black hair hung down my back. The cloak I wore had seen better days; the ends were frayed, and its material was coarse. My mother had traded her fortune-telling services for leather shoes, and I was eternally grateful for this one luxury, as it kept my feet clean and warm.
“A present for Lord Vapnfjord?” asked a steely-eyed man, with matted hair. His friend standing next to him laughed.
“Be at ease men,” said Matheus confidently. “This one’s mine.”
“Lucky bastard,” snickered a dark-haired Viking, who spat on the ground.
We ascended stone steps and entered a large hall with enormous fireplaces on each end. A heavily curtained bed emitted the sounds of sex, which was off-putting. I had never been inside the Abbot house, and, glancing around at the dimly lit space, I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be. There were wool tapestries on the walls and a staircase leading to the second floor, but other than those embellishments, nothing remained other than a large rectangular table with chairs. Vikings loitered around the table, speaking in Old Norse.
Lord Vapnfjord’s emissary cleared his throat. “Matheus Hrolf, my Lord.”
As we approached, I remained behind, eyeing the room judiciously. An authoritative looking Viking sat at the head of the table. The flaxen-haired warrior glanced up from a ledger he had been reading, watching our arrival. His pale eyes lingered on Matheus. Then he saw me, pausing. He was broad-shouldered and youthful, his face as pale as ivory. A shorn, blonde beard graced his cheeks, giving him a ruggedly handsome appearance. He was clearly in his prime, virile…hungry…
“Good. I was afraid you’d sailed already,” he said in a heavily accented voice.
“My ship is waiting.”
“So it is. I have a proposition for you, Hrolf. You’ll want to hear this.” He glanced at me. “Is she a present?” There was a predatory gleam in his eye that made me shiver.
“No. I bought her from Bram Laxdale. She’s mine.”
This announcement lessened Lord Vapnfjord’s smile. “Sit. We have things to discuss.”
I remained standing, fearing to come any closer. The room was filled with the odor of men; leather was laced with perspiration and mead. It was exactly what a tavern smelled like. Se
veral mangy dogs sniffed at my feet, wandering in and out from beneath the table, presumably searching for scraps to eat. Where were the Abbots? Had they fled before the invasion?
“Who is your friend?” asked the Viking leader. “Where has she been hiding?”
“She was Bram’s.”
“Indeed. He’s a lucky man, or he was a lucky man.”
“The luck is all mine now.”
Finn Fapnfjord smiled slightly. “Yes…it is.”
The heat of the Viking’s stare left me feeling exposed and in a certain amount of danger. My cloak hid my form, for which I was grateful, but I doubted it would be enough. I had been blessed with an athletic frame, and then cursed with obscenely large breasts. My mother’s figure was similar, and men had flocked to her, scratching at the door in the middle of the night like wolves in heat.
“What is it you wish to discuss? I’ve goods waiting to be transported.”
“This raid is richer than I could’ve imagined. Long-ships aren’t exactly ideal for cargo. I’m willing to pay a handsome price for your fleet, if you’ll send it my way. I’ve several tons worth of gold. You’ll receive a hefty share of the profits.”
“I’ll be at sea for months then.” He glanced at me. “I…had other plans.”
“You’re letting your cock think for you, Hrolf. She’s pretty to be sure, but is she worth risking a fortune? We’ve confiscated gold, jewels, sacred emblems, and ornaments. The churches and monasteries have been fruitful. The sum I mention is only the tip of the iceberg.”
To my vexation, Matheus seemed to be mulling over the proposition. “I can’t bring her with me then.” He gazed at the floor, deep in thought. At length he asked, “Who will provide for Lora while I’m gone?”
This question seemed to please Lord Vapnfjord. He stared at me with interest. “I will.” I was about to be passed to yet another man, who would undoubtedly use me in unspeakable ways. Would the atrocities ever end? “She’ll be safe with me.”
“I’m sorry, Lora,” said Matheus. “This is an enormous opportunity. I’d never forgive myself, if I didn’t take it.” He smiled contritely. “We’ll see each other again. You’ll be safe here.” Several men snickered in the shadows. “She won’t be passed around for sport. Do you hear me? If I find that she’s been mistreated, I’ll find the culprits responsible and dole out my own brand of punishment.”
“Be at ease, my friend,” said Finn. “No harm shall come to her. You have my word. Now, let’s review the contract, and you can be on your way.”
After the papers had been signed, Matheus left the table and came to me, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I should tell them to go to hell and leave with you right now, but I can’t.”
“I understand. I’m not worth the bother.”
He touched my face, smiling sadly. “But, you are. I’m probably a fool for deserting you here. I see the way Finn looks at you. I know he’ll take you for his own. I’m not stupid. Or maybe I am. Maybe this will be my one regret.”
“It’s to be expected, coming from a Danish pig.” I squared my shoulders, mustering up the last vestiges of my dignity. “I’ll be perfectly fine. You needn’t worry over your English whore.”
“Stop it. Don’t talk like that.”
Lord Vapnfjord got to his feet, revealing that he was a tall, broad man. He wore a shirt and tunic with brown braes. His booted feet clomped on the wooden floorboards. As he approached, I slunk behind Matheus, using him as a barrier.
“I’ll toss your gold in the ocean, if you harm her,” warned Matheus. “If she’s not as hearty and hale as she is right now, you’ll be short a fortune.”
“I’ve never been fond of threats, Hrolf. When I say she’ll be looked after, she will. Do not question my sincerity.”
Matheus drew me into his arms, whispering, “I’ll regret this. I know I will. I’m so sorry, little one. Keep yourself well. I will return.”
I let him kiss me, his tongue sweeping the insides of my mouth. From what little experience I’d had with men, this one had been kind and gentle. What the future held for me now remained to be seen. Finn watched us, with his arms crossed over his chest and a bland expression on his face. I was about to be deserted and left with the leader of the brigands.
Chapter Two
Matheus Hrolf, clad in a black mink coat and boots, took his leave, striding from the house. No sooner had he departed then several women arrived, servants, who I assumed had worked for the Abbots before the invasion. I’d seen one of them in town; her name was Gertrude.
She eyed me with alarm. “Dear Lord!” She crossed herself. “What’s the Green witch doing here? You’d better set her out at once, Lord Vapnfjord. She’ll bring nothing but bad luck.”
“I’m not a witch!”
“Yes, she is!” said a woman, whose hair was hidden beneath a wimple. “Your mother put a hex on Lord Cameron Abbot. He died shortly thereafter. She’s sprung from the loins of a witch all right! Send her away, before she ruins us!”
“Stop this caterwauling,” complained Finn. “Enough! Keep your superstitions to yourself. I’ll not have your nonsense infecting my men.”
“I speak the truth, my Lord. You’d do well to heed my words,” said Gertrude. “She’s nothing but a whore and a witch. A plague will settle on this house and any man who sleeps with her. He’ll meet an untimely end. Mark my words.”
It was at that moment that something black fell from the rafters, striking Gertrude in the face. The cat landed on its feet hissing, baring sharp teeth, then it scurried out the door. I recognized the feline instantly; it was Vincent, my beloved pet. This was the worst possible thing that could have happen. The Vikings gasped and stepped away from me, horror filled their eyes.
Gertrude screamed, clutching her face, which bled profusely. “I told you! I told you she was a witch!”
Finn glanced upwards, eyeing the rafters. “It was an accident, woman.”
“Get rid of her!” cried a voice from the shadows. “She’s bad luck.”
I glanced around, seeing faces filled with fear. It had been this way for years now, and there was no sign of it stopping, especially after what had just happened. The appearance of my cat at that particular moment had sealed my fate. Damn you, Vincent!
Several men shouted in Old Norse, their arms waving before them in emphasis. A rumble of angry conversation resounded, and the feeling was decidedly hostile. The Vikings no longer eyed me as an object of lust. They glared my way with hatred. Someone grabbed me, and I screamed.
“No harm shall come to her!” bellowed Finn. “Tie her to the post, if you have to, but leave her be.” He glanced at Gertrude. “See to it that she receives food and water. Is that clear?”
Gertrude looked less than pleased, her plump lips quivering. “Y-yes, Lord Vapnfjord.”
“Good.”
Pale blue eyes fell on me, and I cowered, chilled to the bone by his stony expression. His lust had transformed into something unpleasant. My arms were seized and I was secured to a wooden pole that was one of the pillars holding up the second story. I found myself seated on the floor, with one arm tied behind me, the bindings digging into the skin of my wrist. I remained this way for hours, watching as Vikings came and went. Once the sun had set, wood was stacked in the fireplaces and lit, warming the space. My stomach grumbled, as hunger gnawed at me, my senses were overcome from the aroma of the cooking fires. Barrels of mead were rolled in, one after the other; the inhabitants were preparing for a feast.
Gertrude approached with a pewter cup, which sloshed with fluid. “Here you go. Here’s your drink.” Instead of handing me the beverage, she spilled it over the front of my tunic. “Oh, that’s a shame. I’m terribly sorry about that.” She turned and sauntered off.
I reeked of mead, my face dripping with the sticky brew. I wiped myself dry with the bottom of the cloak, while I shook with anger. The room began to fill with marauders dressed in chainmail and carrying the encumbrances of war. They had been busy toda
y killing innocent people and robbing them blind, no doubt. One by one, these men dropped their things, and snatched cups, which serving wenches filled generously. They drank in lengthy gulps. Musicians played flutes, sitting on crates in the middle of the room. The noisy bluster of talking and laughter filled the space along with pipe smoke. I huddled near the pole, wrapped in my cloak, which I pulled over my face. Thankfully, no one paid me any notice.
Several women suddenly appeared, dressed scantily. Their arrival was heralded by appreciate murmurings and ribald snickers. Several Vikings whistled. The women enjoyed the attention, snatching gold coins from outstretched hands and flirting shamelessly. Lord Vapnfjord appeared then, wading through the throng. He’d changed clothing, and his hair was damp; the blonde strands hung past the collar of his shirt. He sat at the head of the table, leaning against the chair, and gazed apathetically at his surroundings. The scene had degenerated into an orgy, his subordinates taking women over the end of the table or up against the walls. Sounds, carnal in nature, began to compete with the music. The grunting and moaning of men finding their pleasure revolted me, but the women were worse, enjoying their ravishments and screaming with orgasm. While they waited for their turn at the whores, manly hands grasped at food, as teeth tore meat off the bone. More women appeared then, and, to my shock, I recognized Charlotte and Emma Abbot. They wore thin sheaths and nothing else, which was scandalous on a highborn woman. The outlines of their breasts and thighs were on full display. Blonde strands, which gleamed in the candlelight, hung down their backs.
What was even more shocking was the way they smiled and promenaded around the hall, their eyes glinting with pleasure. They were set upon instantly; one was taken into the arms of a dark-haired Viking. Emma giggled happily, letting him slide his hand into her robe, grabbing a breast. Charlotte’s behavior was worse, because she let a blonde brute lift her onto the table, displacing several cups, which tipped, spilling fluid. She moaned, as the Viking dove between her creamy thighs and began to service her intimately. Charlotte grasped at his hair, holding him in place.
Cum For The Viking 3 (Lora's Seduction) Page 1
