Besieged

by Jaid Black

  “The trainers know what they are about, brother. Many of them are married women who have been dealing with captive brides for years.”

  “True.”

  Aevar grinned. “Hurry up and breed her and then she can leave the breeding stalls. Mayhap you won’t worry about her fragile—” He coughed into his hand, knowing it was a ridiculous word to describe Peggy given today’s outburst—”spirit. If she’s always near to you, that is.”

  Geirwolf gave him a semi-smile. “I’ll let her settle in.” His expression grew thoughtful, serious. “But,” he murmured, “I’ll begin as soon as the ceremonial words are spoken.”

  Chapter Nine

  Peggy was certain she had died and gone to hell. Gone were her clothes, gone were her shoes, gone was her dignity, gone was her life, period. In its place was Hell with a capital H.

  Upon awakening from the effects of the sleeping agent she’d been given last night to help calm her, the first thing Peggy noticed was that she had been bathed without her knowledge or consent and was now completely naked. Even her pubic hair had been trimmed into a tiny triangle, the coppery arrow pointing down to her hooded clit. The rest of her mons was as smooth as baby skin.

  The second thing she noticed was that her feet were painted with intricate designs in a henna-based pigment. She had no idea why this had been done to her and harbored a strong suspicion that she wouldn’t like the answer.

  The third thing Peggy noticed upon waking was that she was being corralled in an area with a bunch of other naked women, some of them English-speaking and weeping in the way she felt like doing, some of them giddy and speaking that odd tongue she couldn’t place. All of them had henna designs etched into their feet. Again, the anthropologist in her screamed, this didn’t bode well.

  Especially since in some cultures, such as India, painted feet often preceded marriage ceremonies. Shit.

  “Good morn, everyone.”

  Peggy’s head shot up at the sound of the feminine voice. Her gaze immediately honed in on the speaker, noting her to be in her late thirties or early forties. The woman was naked like the rest of the females in the corral, her pubic hair trimmed down into a tiny blonde triangle. Also like the other females, her feet were painted. The only noticeable difference insofar as Peggy could see was that the speaker was wearing gold arm bangles around either bicep, whereas the other captives hadn’t been adorned with them.

  “My name is Ivara,” the speaker continued in that same accent as Geirwolf’s, “and I, along with the help of two other Valkraad women, will be helping…err…how do you say?…prepare you for your new lives.”

  Peggy frowned. This definitely did not bode well.

  “Please stand up.” The speaker smiled warmly. “I would like for everyone to introduce themselves.”

  Peggy blinked. She had been kidnapped, drugged, and otherwise humiliated, yet she was supposed to stand up and introduce herself as if nothing was amiss? Yeah. Right.

  “I said stand up.” Ivara’s smile dissolved, replaced with a harsher expression when none of the English-speaking females took to their feet. Peggy snorted at that, wondering what kind of reception this woman had possibly expected from them.

  Ivara narrowed her eyes at the English-speaking women, Peggy included. “I repeat,” she said softly, motioning toward a male guard without breaking eye contact, “stand up.” The guard, a huge, thickly muscled male close to seven feet in height, raised his hand, revealing the bullwhip he held. He lashed it once on the ground for effect, the severe sound shocking.

  Peggy’s eyes widened. She scurried to her feet.

  Shit.

  “Very good.” Ivara smiled warmly again, her earlier irritation seemingly forgotten. “Now, you will introduce yourselves to me and to your other trainers. When we have finished, I will then tell you more about what will be expected of you in New Norway.”

  New Norway, Peggy thought as she nibbled on her lower lip. So she had been right—this society was some offshoot of the ancient Viking lineage. If she’d been studying this culture as an anthropologist, she would have been fascinated. As a captive, however, all she felt was unadulterated fear.

  Peggy listened with half an ear as the captives introduced themselves one by one. When it was her turn to speak, she muttered out a half-hearted “my name is Peggy,” then spoke no more. Apparently she’d said enough, for the whip-wielding giant didn’t make any moves to hit her.

  Before long Ivara was speaking again. “Every female in this area has been claimed as a Valkraad bride.” Her smile was proud. “Of this, you should feel fortunate—”

  “Fortunate!” an English-speaking captive spat out, interrupting the trainer. A beautiful caramel-colored woman of what looked to be mixed Afro-European lineage, her light brown eyes were as frantic as her speech. “Well, I don’t! And I want to go home!”

  Ivara’s eyes narrowed at the recalcitrant captive. The whip-wielding giant took a step forward, but Ivara held up a palm and shook her head. She muttered something in her tongue to the giant, who apparently grumbled his agreement. “Michelle, is it?”

  But Michelle didn’t answer. She was too busy crying. Peggy reached out and took the young woman’s hand, noting that she couldn’t be more than nineteen. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Just stand by me and relax. We’ll figure something out.”

  Ivara’s eyebrows rose. Peggy could tell the trainer was wondering what she had said to Michelle to calm her. Michelle was now standing close to Peggy, quiet and semi-collected, though still sniffling.

  “Well,” Ivara said to Peggy, her gaze a bit suspicious. “I see you are a quick study.” She shared a look Peggy didn’t know the meaning of with the whip-wielder behind her, then turned back to the crying captive. “Michelle,” she said softly, “I realize this is difficult for you. At least right now. But things will look up.”

  Michelle said nothing. She huddled her nude body closer to Peggy’s and continued sniffling. Peggy put her arm around her, offering silent comfort.

  “It’s best,” Ivara continued, “for you to accept your fate and adjust to the new life waiting here for you in New Norway.” Her gaze remained fixed on Michelle, though Peggy realized the trainer was speaking to all of the female captives.

  Ivara was silent for a moment, but finally smiled warmly to the captives and continued her speech. “I had thought to begin by telling you of what your future mates will expect in their wives, yet I see now that topic must wait.” She sighed, and oddly enough, Peggy was fairly certain the action was genuine. Whatever it was Ivara was about to tell them, it appeared that she held no desire to do so. Peggy gulped.

  “A happy fate awaits every woman here in the breeding stalls,” Ivara began. She stopped when the English-speaking captives, Peggy included, gasped at her words.

  “Breeding stalls?” Michelle murmured to Peggy, her gaze unblinking. “Oh my god.”

  Peggy swallowed against the lump in her throat. Her thoughts exactly.

  “Unless,” Ivara said firmly, “you refuse to accept your fate.” She whispered something to the giant behind her, then turned back to the captives. “I want everyone to form a single file line. We will begin this morn’s instruction by visiting first the Commons and then the Dungeon of Shame.” She turned around, then cocked her head to look at the captives from over her shoulder. “I think it’s best,” she said softly, “if you see what becomes of recalcitrant brides.”

  Peggy and Michelle glanced at each other warily, then broke apart to form a single file line. Peggy stepped in front of the younger woman, unconsciously trying to shield her from the trainers and the whip-holding man whose name they had still not learned.

  The other captives got in line behind them, all of them looking solemn. Even the women native to New Norway seemed to tense up at the mention of this field trip.

  Peggy stepped in line behind Ivara and another trainer, preparing to follow them to wherever it was the captives were to be led. The giant with the whip and the third train
er took their places at the end of the line, keeping a vigil to make certain nobody dared try to escape. The giant’s eyes flicked over Peggy’s body as he took to the end of the line, a gesture that made her conscious of her nudity. She blushed, her hands instinctively flying up and cupping her breasts to shield them.

  He grunted and continued on. She blew out a breath of relief.

  As the naked women were led from the large underground earthen room they’d been closeted in, Peggy noticed that there were several stone doors dotted all around it, leading to what were presumably connecting chambers. She was curious as to what all the doors led to, at first assuming that they permitted natives to reach the “breeding stalls” from various points in the primitive underground kingdom. But she assumed incorrectly, a fact she was quick to find out.

  Peggy’s heartbeat accelerated when the captives passed by an open door. She immediately recognized the rooms for what they were—trysting chambers. A place for the men of New Norway to be with their captives in private. A place where they could—she gulped—breed them.

  The individual rooms were much smaller than the large inner chamber they were adjoined to. There was enough space in each one to fit two people and a bed, but nothing else.

  Her thoughts turned to young Sara. She wished she had heeded the twelve-year-old Inupiat girl’s whispered advice more than words could say. She had been a fool to dismiss the stone-dweller legends as just that. Her present circumstance was living proof of the fact that the tales were true.

  What now, Peggy? How the hell are you ever going to break out of this place?

  Escape was looking grimmer by the moment, she silently conceded. Even if she could find a way to sneak from the breeding stalls, she had no idea where they were located in conjunction to the ice-coated stone door leading to the outside. And even if she made it to the outside, what then?

  On the way here their party had driven by dogsled for days without seeing a single soul. How in the world would she ever manage to find civilization on foot?

  Peggy shivered as the captives were led from the breeding stalls and down a frigid earthen corridor that wasn’t heated. Her nipples immediately plumped up, the ice-cold air making them stiff. Her hands dropped to her sides, her nipples too sensitive to continue palming her breasts in a fruitless mission to keep them covered. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway, she thought resignedly. Anybody passing by could see the rest of her naked body.

  “Here is our first destination,” Ivara announced in thickly accented English. She stopped before a tall door made of wood and iron bars, then turned around and faced the group, her expression grim. She threw a blonde curl over her shoulder. “In this room,” she said in an authoritative tone, “you will bear witness to what becomes of recalcitrant brides. This large cavern we are about to enter is called the Commons Chamber, or more simply, the Commons.” She waved a hand towards the door. “The females inside have been sentenced as laborers here. They see to the needs of all males covetous of their bodies, rather than just the one male who was to be their husband,” she said pointedly.

  Peggy could feel Michelle tense up from behind her. She held out her hand without turning around, letting the young girl clutch onto her for comfort. Lord only knows, Peggy thought as she nibbled on her lower lip, that she could use a little comforting herself.

  The captives were ushered in single file through the door and paraded in front of a group of loud, boisterous—and huge—men. The men immediately took notice of the captives and began to whistle and shout out things at them in their native tongue.

  Peggy tensed up, yelping when a heavily muscled blonde man ran his callused palm over her exposed breasts, squeezing them as she walked past. Ivara said something to him in a reprimanding tone, to which the giant only grinned.

  Peggy blew out a breath of relief even as her heart rate picked up. She quickly forgot about the man who’d groped her, concentrating instead on gawking at her surroundings.

  Males were seated all around the Commons, a room that looked to be a large tavern. Naked women were scurrying about everywhere, waiting on tables and catering to the men here. The only difference Peggy could see about the females in general was that rather than having a small triangle of hair between their thighs, all of their pubic hair had been shaved bald. Also, their feet were not painted. Otherwise, they looked the same as everyone else here. Naked, she thought grimly.

  But that wasn’t what was making her gape at the people inside of the tavern. The upsetting part was that Ivara hadn’t lied. The bodies of these poor women were being groped and fondled, pinched and played with, and none of the males seemed to be asking for permission. Men were pulling the serving maids down onto their erect laps and doing whatever they wanted to do to them. Suck on their nipples, shove the women’s faces down to give them blowjobs, fuck them—they did everything.

  Peggy’s hand unconsciously flew up to cover her mouth. She watched in morbid fascination as the body of a beautiful brunette was stretched out onto a table by four men. The men were laughing and boisterous as they sucked on her stiff nipples and played in her cunt. They spoke in their native tongue so she had no idea what was being said.

  “Oh my god,” Michelle whimpered, threading her fingers through Peggy’s. “Look what they’re doing to her.”

  Peggy could only nod, her gaze snagged by the scene across the room. She watched as the woman was turned over and placed on all fours. A groaning Viking sank into her pussy from behind, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he rode her body hard. The woman gasped, giving another male the opportunity to shove his swollen cock into her mouth.

  The men rode her body hard, stuffing her cunt and mouth full of cock. She could hear the woman moan from around the penis fucking her face, and didn’t know what to make of it. Were they moans of pleasure? Or, she thought wide-eyed, moans of horror at what was being done to her?

  When a third man slid underneath the serving maid and began to frenziedly suck on her nipples, Peggy looked away. She glanced toward Michelle, feeling sickened by how ill the girl looked. “Are you okay, honey?” she whispered.

  “No.” Michelle closed her eyes briefly and took in a deep tug of air. When she looked at Peggy again, there were tears in her eyes. “I’m a virgin,” she quietly admitted.

  Peggy’s breathing stilled. Good lord in heaven, she thought, please don’t let these men violate a child. “How old are you, sweetheart?”

  “Eighteen. Almost nineteen,” she whispered.

  Peggy nodded. She squeezed Michelle’s hand. “What do you want to do?”

  “Escape!” the girl fervently whispered. “I can’t believe this has happened. I feel like I’m living a nightmare!”

  Peggy couldn’t disagree with that. But, she thought warily, if they tried to escape and were caught, she’d never forgive herself if Michelle’s first time with a man was the result of a gang rape in the Commons. “What if we’re caught, sweetheart? You don’t want to end up here,” she said quietly. She glanced around, noting that Ivara was watching them like a hawk. “The trainer hasn’t taken her eyes off of us,” she murmured.

  “I know,” Michelle softly cried. She closed her eyes tightly and took another deep breath. When she opened them again, she seemed a bit more in control but not by much. Peggy could only imagine how frightened she must be—she was eleven years older than the girl and even she couldn’t recall ever having been more scared than this.

  “I think we should go through with the marriages,” Peggy whispered. “And escape when everyone isn’t watching us so closely.”

  “Look at this beauty!” a drunk Viking interrupted in heavily accented English as he pulled Peggy down onto his lap. Her gaze wildly darted toward Ivara, looking for an escape from this groping. But Ivara was embroiled in a conversation with her whip-wielding giant.

  Oh shit, she hysterically thought. Of all the times to not be watching me like a hawk…

  Peggy’s heartbeat sped up and her breathing grew labore
d as the muscular man set her on his knee and began kneading her breasts. His blue eyes so much like Geirwolf’s were narrowed in desire, his words thick. “Such a pretty little girl you are,” he said hoarsely, his thumbs grazing her nipples, causing her to gasp. He rotated his hips a bit, letting her feel his solid erection under her bottom. “Do you feel the treat I have waiting for you?”

  If she had met him on the street, she idly considered, she would have found the man dangerously handsome with his piercing blue eyes and dark hair. But under the conditions in which she found herself in, naked in the lap of a man who’d had too much to drink, all she felt was acute fear. “Please don’t,” she breathed out, her breasts heaving from her labored breaths. “I—I—I’m promised to another!” she stuttered out in a rush.

  His hands stilled on her breasts, though he didn’t release them. She bit her lip as she watched his gaze stray down to her cunt. She realized by the disgruntled look on his face that having pubic hair apparently meant that you were protected from all this, a fact that made her release a pent up breath.

  The man muttered something in his Viking tongue, his irritation as he released her obvious. Peggy scurried to her feet, preparing to dash away, when he pulled her in close, her nipples just inches from his awaiting mouth.

  “Tonight, I have no luck,” he mumbled. The man’s blue eyes, glazed over with inebriation and lust, fixated on her nipples as he flicked them back and forth with his forefingers. He played with them for a solid minute like a cat with two toys, making Peggy bite her lip.

  Peggy’s body reacted to the stimulus, arousing her, a fact that didn’t sit well with her. But between standing naked in front of a clothed man and watching helplessly as he fondled an extremely sensitive erogenous zone, there wasn’t much she could have done to prevent it.

  But eventually, thank the lord, he stopped. She’d never felt so relieved as she felt the moment he put her away from him, apparently having decided he’d contented himself enough after rubbing her nipples for a while.