Enslaved by a Viking

by Delilah Devlin

  And while Hakon grimaced, he gave a brief nod.

  Freed to play rough, they’d teased and petted, pinched and spanked—not nearly hard enough to please the wanton. A delightful discovery for both men.

  But then they’d bound her, letting her think they were ready for things to take a darker turn, only to leave her as they ordered baths for themselves.

  Short, hip-height bathtubs filled with steaming water were rolled inside. Female attendants, keeping their gazes carefully averted from Aliyah’s distress, silently delivered towels and soaps, and then quickly left.

  Eirik stepped into one of the bathing tubs, and sighed as the hot water enfolded his hips. Flesh that had been rubbed nearly raw with use was instantly soothed. Who knew fucking could leave a man’s rod this chafed?

  Hakon stopped in front of a rolling cart and turned over the towel that hid the rest of what they’d requested be delivered. An array of dildos in assorted sizes lay spread on a white linen cloth. He picked up one and squeezed the base. Humming sounded, and Hakon’s eyes widened. He tentatively closed his hand around the tip, then grunted in surprise. “It warms, like flesh.”

  A devious idea bloomed. Eirik chuckled and rose from his bath, unmindful of the trail of water he left behind him. Passing Hakon, he held out his hand for the phallus, snagged a beaker of warmed oil from the tray, and more strips of silk, and then strode toward the bed.

  He crawled over the edge, right between Aliyah’s legs, and tipped the beaker to dribble oil over her mound, letting it seep between her parted folds and into the bedding beneath her.

  Her nude pussy was still reddened from where he’d suckled and gently teethed the lips. He smoothed his fingers in the oil, rubbing it into her abraded skin, soothing her and lubricating her entrance—and ignoring her pitiful moans. Then he reached for the phallus and squeezed it, turning it on, and slid it quickly up inside her.

  Her body stiffened, and she would have shouted a curse, but he’d stuffed a balled strip of her gown into her mouth to muffle her cries.

  He pressed the dildo deeper, using the flat of his hand to push against the base until it was fully seated. Then he lay down on his side beside her. With a finger under her chin, he turned her face toward his. He trailed his lips along her cheek. “I have to finish my bath,” he murmured beside her ear. “But I’ll leave this running so you won’t grow bored. You may not find your pleasure, madam.”

  Then, sliding strips between her legs, he tied them around her outer thighs, forming a small basket that held the base of the dildo firmly in place. He pinched a nipple, and she groaned against her gag. “If you come, I will know it, and we are done. Do you understand?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed, but her body remained still except for the telltale moist sounds her pussy made clasping around the humming device he’d lodged deep inside her.

  Hakon watched from his bath, lifting a tankard of ale in silent salute. The devilish grin indicated he was enjoying the sensual torture.

  Hakon’s mean streak didn’t bother Eirik so much. He needed a constant reminder of just how delicate a line they walked between sensual torture and the uglier brand. Hakon’s glee tempered his actions, kept him mindful of the fact a woman lay at their mercy.

  In Thorshavn, his kingdom, women were pampered, their safety assured by their warriors’ might. However, things in Hakon’s Odinland were very different. Their feminine counterparts, the Valkyrja, demanded no such cosseting.

  Eirik shuddered at the thought of the Valkyrie Birget he’d marry upon his return. The match had been arranged between Dagr and Sigmund. Eirik had never felt the need to meet her, seeing as the impending event was a political match. He hadn’t given the marriage much thought at all until the stories of his betrothed’s exploits were carried by a traveling bard.

  Birget led the Valkyrja squad responsible for the protection of the Bearshirts’ king. She trained for battle with the men, winning many physical contests. She’d even saved her father from an assassin’s knife with a somersaulting kick that deflected the thrust, and then fought the assailant with short blades until she’d pierced his neck.

  Visions of a tall, manly woman, her fists curled around his cock, began to haunt him. His body tensed.

  Dagr had laughed himself silly when Eirik confided his doubts about the match, assuring him Sigmund promised him a comely woman. But what father would admit his daughter was more of a prince than a princess?

  The woman trussed up like a goose here and now was a far more attractive prospect to bed.

  Eirik returned to the bath. As much as he wanted to linger, for her sake, he found himself too eager. He washed quickly, dried off, then went back to the cart.

  From the tray, he selected a short flogger with bundled flanges made of soft suede and feathered the edges with his thumb. Then he approached the bed again and loosened the makeshift belt that held the dildo in place between Aliyah’s thighs. The dildo slid easily from her passage, thin, whitish arousal coating its length.

  She sighed with relief and flexed her legs and arms.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned her.

  Eirik made a low, growling rumble as he looked his fill of her beautiful body. She was perfect. Every tender curve balanced and womanly. Her skin was the color of a dark cream and even, as though she never walked in sunshine, which perhaps she did not. He’d noted how the women here seemed to prefer a lighter skin tone, which no doubt increased interest in the spectacle of twenty pale-faced Vikings.

  Aliyah’s breasts were round, but not overly large. She possessed a figure that would stand well against the test of age. Her belly was a concave hollow that tempted a man to scoop his hand inside. Her hips were lightly flared.

  Her sex, however, was a rosy, slick delight.

  When he trailed the flanges of the flogger along her thigh, she tightened again, knowing exactly what tickled its way up her body. Moisture oozed between her pink lips. When he lifted it from her skin, she cried out, anticipating the sting, even before he flicked her breast.

  A deep, agonized groan gurgled against the gag.

  He flicked it against the other nipple, then swirled the edges over the entire breast to soothe the ache he’d caused, watching as both tips beaded into round nubbins, perfect for plucking. He took his time watching her reactions to where he laid the next stinging flicks, and nodded to Hakon when he found how sensitive her lower belly and mound were.

  With increasing vigor, he plied the flogger, leaving her tender skin pink and blotchy as he tapped a fresh spot each time. Working his way lower and lower, he then bypassed her pussy, which had her writhing in frustration against her bonds. He whipped her inner thighs, letting the flanges glance against her labia, but never fully connecting.

  More of her arousal wet her sex, and he thrust two fingers inside her, gratified at how hot and swollen the tissues of her channel had become.

  His cock swelled as his own urgency built.

  Tossing aside the flogger, he knelt between her legs, roughed his palms over the well of her belly, and then swept them up her thighs until his thumbs touched her folds. He parted her and bent toward her fragrant sex to lick between the split, stroking her like a dog lapping at water, until her hips followed his motions and rocked up and down.

  Her muffled moans came faster.

  Two fingers pushed inside her again, and he latched his mouth around her woman’s bud, sucking gently until he felt the faint, fluttering ripples working up and down her channel. “You may not come,” he said, his tone hard.

  Her legs stiffened, and she shouted against her gag, head thrashing on the pillow.

  He grinned at the strength of her fury. A well-aimed swat against her pussy cut short her tirade. He liked the wet sound so much he did it again, his palm warming against her reddened lips.

  Her cunt would be hot and quiver all around a man’s staff. He’d not make her wait much longer, because he was just as eager. “Will you let us take you however we wish?” he asked, and he
nuzzled her sex.

  Her forehead wrinkled while she considered his softly spoken question. But then she nodded.

  “If I loose your bonds, will you be pliant, submitting to our whims?”

  Again she nodded, breathing harshly through her nose.

  Hakon untied her feet and her hands, then stood ready to subdue her again.

  But she lay still.

  Eirik smoothed over her shoulders, rubbed her belly and down her thighs. Then he backed off the bed and indicated to Hakon that he should lie beside her.

  Hakon stretched out on the bed, cupping his erection and then gliding a fist down his shaft as he awaited Eirik’s next command.

  Hakon’s cock was his equal, thick and pulsing. Crude and huge compared to the exquisitely small and feminine opening it would intrude upon. But Aliyah wanted this. Craved it, if the sucking of her nether lips was any indication.

  Satisfied with his preparation, Eirik walked around the bed and reached to pull off the blindfold.

  Aliyah’s dark eyes blinked, and then narrowed on Eirik’s face.

  He arched a brow. “You wanted this,” he reminded her. He plucked the gag from between her teeth, half expecting her to scream.

  She licked her mouth and swallowed hard, but otherwise made no sound.

  Eirik bent and kissed her mouth, dragging his lips off hers, then whispering, “Climb over my friend and seat yourself on his cock.”

  Aliyah’s breasts shook around her ragged inhalations, but she climbed jerkily over Hakon’s hips, eyeing his cock greedily before fitting him between her folds and sliding slowly down his length. Her eyes closed and a long sigh escaped.

  Eirik tapped her nose.

  She blinked again and glared.

  “Don’t hide,” he said, giving her a small half smile. “You will not pretend you aren’t here with us.” He bent to retrieve the beaker of oil and coated the fingers of one hand with the warm liquid, making sure she watched.

  Her eyes widened, questioning.

  “Bend over him.”

  She shook her head.

  He ignored her hesitation and slid his fingers down the crevice bisecting her buttocks. He rubbed the tiny, furled hole, which caused her eyes to widen even farther.

  “Has this entrance ever been tried?” he asked, deepening his voice while he continued to tease.

  “Yes,” she rasped, “ but never with one as large as you.”

  “Will you deny me?” he asked, gently sliding a finger inside her.

  Her back arched. “No, gods, no!”

  He didn’t care whether she meant he shouldn’t. He climbed behind her, forced her lower over Hakon’s body, and cupped her buttocks, parting them. Then, gazing down, he flexed his hips, placing his cock against her small hole.

  Body tense, Aliyah whimpered, the sound pleasing in its distress. His thumbs eased her open, and he pushed. Her small tight ring gave as he pushed harder.

  Her whimpers grew in tenor.

  Hakon muttered, and then fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her down for a rough kiss while Eirik worked his way inside her.

  Her back and buttocks shivered, but she held still for him.

  When he breached the ring, he paused for a long moment, savoring the strong clasp of her muscles around his girth. Then he adjusted his knees, widening his stance, and bent over them both, beginning to slide in and out in shallow pulses.

  Hakon growled deep in his throat. “Feel that, mistress? He rubs us both. Frigg!”

  Aliyah’s whole body shuddered, but began to rock, forward and back, meeting his tentative strokes.

  Assured she would take him and not be harmed, he increased the fervor of his thrusts, tunneling deeper, reveling in this ultimate act of subjugation.

  The triumph was momentary, he knew, but it strengthened his heart. After two weeks of helpless rage, he had a way to lose a little of his fury and fear for the future on one of his enemies. He slammed forward, fucking her in earnest.

  Hakon’s hands clamped around her hips and guided her into a rhythm that pleased them all.

  With his body consumed by the heat surrounding his cock, Eirik’s thoughts wandered back to Fatin, whom he’d treated with even less respect, less care. He wondered where she was, whether she thought of him, and if the marks he’d left on her skin pleased or horrified her. Whether he’d left her insides raw.

  If she’d been the one to enter this chamber, would he have shared her as easily with Hakon? Or would he have kept her for his own pleasure? And when he was through, would he have wanted to save her from the wrath of his companion and his own deep-seated rage?

  Buffeted between two large, virile men, Aliyah’s body quaked. Her breaths grew increasingly jagged and her whimpers more desperate.

  Eirik nodded to Hakon, and then bent toward her ear. “Mistress, you may come now.”

  Her cry was broken, agonized. She flung back her head and screamed, bouncing back against his groin, forcing him deeper, harder, inside her, until her movements finally slowed, and she shuddered to a halt. Breathing hard, her body soothed by the strokes of their hands, she slowly stiffened between them.

  Taking his cue, Eirik pulled free and sat back on his haunches while Hakon lifted her from his cock.

  She crawled sideways off the bed, her gaze never meeting theirs. With unsteady steps, she walked to the windowsill and picked up her amulet, then retrieved a long towel from the trolley and wrapped it around her body. At the door, she glanced over her shoulder.

  “Posture like a king if you like,” she said hoarsely. “For now. Just know that when you leave this room, you are still my thralls. Attendants will escort you to the baths. You’ll have freedom to exercise on the grounds.” Her gaze flicked toward the bed. “You’ve earned a respite. Enjoy your ease.”

  With her tattered dignity drawn tightly around her, she exited.

  Eirik drew a deep breath, wondering if he’d placed himself and his men in even deeper peril with his rough handling of their keeper.

  Hakon grunted and stroked his still-engorged cock with a mighty fist. “She’s an eel-skinner, that one.” His voice held a note of admiration.

  Muscles relaxing a bit, Eirik shook his head. Dawn was breaking. And they had another evening of frolic to endure. “We’d better find our breach soon.”

  The dirty gag loosened around her head, and Fatin spat it from her mouth. Her two captors walked around the chair they’d slammed her down into. For the first time, she got a good look at their faces in the greenish glow given off by the overhead lighting.

  One was definitely a Norsewoman, though dressed in a Helio man’s light trousers and tunic. By the deep indention showing through her clothing, her slender waist had forced her to cinch a belt tightly to keep her pants from sagging down her sturdy hips. However, her height and generous frame weren’t the only clues that gave away her ethnicity. A waist-length blond braid fell over one shoulder, her skin was as pale as cow’s milk, and her eyes were a brilliant green.

  And for all her manly height, she was beautiful—a fair-haired Diana in the flesh. Wouldn’t Aliyah love to get her hands on this one? Fatin schooled her expression.

  No wonder Eirik was so furious to be stolen from his home world. Helio women could never compare. She tamped down the thought. What in Hades did it matter if her own stubby height and mud-colored skin fell short in his estimation?

  The other, by his dark complexion and black eyes, was clearly Helio, although an unusually muscular specimen. They made an odd pair.

  She glanced around the room they’d brought her to. A ship’s canteen by the looks of the long tables and the stoves in the back. Fatin sat sullenly while the two eyed her up and down. Her own trousers and ragged shirt were covered in dirt from the struggle in the alley way. Her dark braid was ratty, and she’d lost the band holding it together at the end.

  They’d forced her at knifepoint to march all the way back to the end of the dock. Then the male had covered her body in a sack to hide her, and hoisted h
er over his shoulder to get past the guard shack, smacking her rump with a little too much enthusiasm whenever she gave him a kick.

  The layered bruises on her bottom ached like fire, and now she was seated on a hard wood chair. Cursing all men in general, her anger flared. She lifted her chin and spat at the woman’s boots.

  The blonde raised an arm and backhanded her.

  Fatin’s head jerked. The coppery taste of blood seeped into her mouth. A quick push of her tongue against her teeth assured her none was loose.

  The male stepped forward and snagged the woman’s hand before she could strike Fatin again. “We want her awake. Question her first. Then make her clean your boots, Princess.”

  Princess? Fatin sincerely hoped it was just a term of affection. But something of the woman’s pride, which she wore as easily as some women might wear silk, showed in the tilt of her chin. Her narrowed green eyes looked straight down her nose at Fatin.

  Feeling like the grubby street urchin she’d been before being led into the Garden, Fatin hated the sick feeling building in her gut. This wouldn’t end well.

  The woman slipped a long, lethal blade from the sleeve of her shirt and held it up to catch the flickering light. “Your life balances on the edge of a very sharp blade, bounty hunter.” She leaned toward Fatin, braced her hands on the arms of the chair, the blade of the dagger flattened against the wood, and glared into her eyes. “I want to know the location of the men you abducted from my world.”

  Hadn’t she known all along what this was leading to? How the hell had they followed her? The Icelanders had long been denied space travel by the Consortium. Fatin crimped her lips together. Her answer would spell her death.

  “You will deny it,” the woman said, her voice soft and hard at the same time, “but we have the manifest bearing your name. A very helpful dockworker told us your cargo had already been off-loaded and sold. And the barman pointed you out. It’s funny, really. He was only too eager to give you up. Tell me, do you have any friends?”