The Viking's Captive

by Lily Harlem

  “You have not learned your lesson yet.” He rubbed over his handprints, which were blooming on her skin. “Nowhere near.”

  She groaned and tried to hang her head, but could not because of his hold on her.

  “Here we go again,” he said. “Try and be brave.”

  He didn’t want her to hate him. He certainly didn’t hate her.

  He set up a new round of spanking, alternating between buttocks and slapping his palm down with force.

  She wailed and cried out. It became one long sob as he got into a rhythm. His hand was on fire. His cock was hard. He wanted this woman to be his in body and mind.

  When he paused, he tested the heat of her ass. There was a tremble beneath her skin, and her breaths were ragged.

  “We’re nearly done,” he said, his own breathing labored as he gently caressed her ass.

  She didn’t reply. Her resignation to her punishment pleased him.

  He resumed the spanking. Reluctant to stop now as she was taking it so well and her peachy ass was such a beautiful color, as if it were made for this.

  Her jerks on each landing strike were barely existent now. Her moans were long and low and rumbling into one guttural sound.

  Enough.

  He stopped, but kept his hand on her ass. “I’ve finished, Duna, but do not move.”

  She didn’t reply.

  He released her hair and stepped directly behind her.

  From this angle, he could easily push down his breeches and enter her. Get some relief for his hard cock. Several fast plunges, good and deep, would be all it would take. It had been so long since he’d entered a woman’s warm, tight cunny.

  His cock expanded further, pushing on his clothing to the point of discomfort.

  Was she aroused? Had the spanking made her wet for his entry?

  He ran his fingertips down the cleft of her ass, slowly, carefully, and watching its journey.

  She twisted her head from side to side and stiffened her spine. “Master?”

  “Shh,” he said.

  “What are you… doing?” Her voice was hoarse.

  “I’m touching you, slave, you are mine, remember.”

  “But…”

  “Be still and be quiet.” He tapped her ankles with his shoe, forcing her to widen her stance.

  He ran his fingertip to her entrance. A pleasing warm wetness greeted him, and he circled his fingertip in the dampness, then held it up to the sun. The moisture glistened, giving him evidence of her arousal. She was also ready for a man. Her body had been traitorous in letting him know the female in her had enjoyed submitting to him and being at his mercy.

  “Please, Master,” she said. “I need… a drink.”

  “And you shall have one in a moment.” He set his hand on her sore ass cheeks, and squatted down, so he was at eye-level with her cunny.

  Like her, it was small, though her lips were plump and inviting. “You’re sore?”

  “Yes, Master.” Her breaths were coming quick.

  “The sting will soon ease, and it will not return if you’re a good slave.”

  “I will try.”

  He leaned closer to her, closed his eyes, and inhaled her scent again. It was so alluring. Musky and spiced, slightly soapy too from her bath.

  Once more the urge to fill her, to get her tight cunny wrapped around his cock besieged him. It was all he could do to fight it down. If he let his lust take control, she really would hate him, and he’d never have a chance to turn that around.

  Quickly he stood and faced the lake. He placed his hands on his hips and stared at a flock of water birds. He took several deep breaths and firmed up his self-control.

  It was then he spotted a patch of ginger growing beside the patch of reeds. Quickly he pulled up a long root, withdrew his dagger, and peeled its fibrous skin away. He then shaped it, like a thick, pointed finger with a horizontal bar at the base. The tangy smell was pleasing, the juice on his fingers warming.

  Duna hadn’t moved. Her head hung low and her legs were still parted, showing her cunny and the cleft of her ass.

  He re-sheathed his dagger and rinsed the ginger root in the lake.

  A swirl of excitement caught in his chest as he stepped back up to his slave. He knew this would shock her. It would give her a sensation she wouldn’t forget in a long time. He also hoped it would teach her something about her sensuality as a woman.

  “Be still,” he said, gently pushing her right buttock to expose her tightly puckered hole.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, tensing.

  “I own you,” he said. “Every part of you, inside and out. It’s time for you to understand that, slave.”

  “But I… oh?”

  She jerked as he set the tip of the ginger plug over her asshole.

  “What is that?” she asked on a gasp as she twisted to look over her shoulder.

  “Nothing that will cause you harm, but something that will feel strange… and hot.” He applied more pressure. “Now keep still.”

  “Why are you doing this?” She tried to buck away but he trapped her with his legs against hers.

  “There is a sting in your words, Duna, and insolence in the way you speak to me. I wish for you to have something else to occupy your mind other than hating me, and having this ginger in your ass will do that.”

  “You’re sick, you know that.”

  “In which case as are many other Viking men who discipline their women this way.”

  “Oh, God, help me. That’s burning.”

  “The heat won’t grow.” He was enjoying watching her tight ring of muscle open up around the cream-colored root. She was trembling, panting, her body heat was radiating from her onto his flesh.

  She groaned as he pushed the plug in farther. For a moment he paused and slid his fingers through her soft folds, spreading the ginger juice into her arousal. But he didn’t push into her entrance; it wasn’t time for that yet.

  He smiled at the slickness of her outer lips. She was aroused. Her body was reacting to his attentions again.

  “Please, no more.”

  “Your cunny tells me a different story, slave. You are enjoying this.”

  “You’re an imbecile if you believe that.”

  “Really?” He twisted the root.

  She groaned and arched her back, pushing her bottom up as if needing more.

  Halvor’s grin widened and he gave her what she’d silently asked for. Her asshole widened and took the biggest diameter of the plug before it popped inside her, leaving just the bar outside, so it could be easily removed.

  Each one of her breaths was a groan, and her entire body was shaking.

  He knew her asshole would feel on fire, as would her cunny lips, but it would reach a limit and then stop. She’d be able to handle it; otherwise he wouldn’t have done it.

  “Stand up,” he said, curling his arm around her waist.

  She managed to straighten, but then sagged against him and her eyelids fluttered shut.

  “Tell me how it feels?” he whispered. “To have my fiery plug inside you.”

  “It feels like… you’ve invaded me.”

  “How can that be the case when you are mine? Invasion is attacking something that doesn’t belong already to a person.” He lowered his head and held her closer. “And you are mine, Duna.”

  “Not willingly.”

  “And that kind of answer is exactly why you have ginger root in your ass. Breaking my rules will earn you a spanking. Bad-mouthing me will get you ginger figged, every time.”

  He stroked his finger down her cheek, enjoying the way her eyes had glazed and her eyelashes were fluttering. Every now and then her body shuddered as if the ginger was spreading out fingers of heat. This was the most submissive he’d seen her; she was like clay in his hands, ready to be molded. And right now he needed to mold her brain. She needed to learn to think before she acted or spoke.

  But I want her, so badly. My cock needs her sweet cunny. I should tip he

r over again, claim my thrall once and for all.

  “Get out of here. Now,” he said, suddenly releasing her.

  “Get out of here?” She opened her eyes though her lids were heavy. She was clearly surprised by his change of tone.

  “Yes. Go to the longhouse, now, wench. Do not remove the ginger until you get there. When you do you may throw it on the fire.” He released her and turned to the lake once more. “Odin, give me strength.”

  He heard the rustle of clothing along with footsteps. Within seconds he knew she’d left his presence. He’d wanted to be close to her, as close as a man could be with a woman. But he’d restrained himself, and now it was damn painful.

  He shoved at his breeches, took his cock in his hand, and began to masturbate. There was nothing else for it. The ache would not go away until he found release.

  Gritting his teeth, he pumped his erection. His balls tightened, his breaths were coming in short sharp pants. He thought of Duna’s red rump, and of his handprints crisscrossing it like some delicate, perfect weaver’s design. He imagined being that root of ginger invading her tight asshole, fucking her there, bringing them both immense pleasure.

  He grunted, his hand moving so fast on his cock it was a blur. He was getting near. He knew it wouldn’t take long.

  He moaned long and low, not concerned about holding the sound in.

  His abdomen was tense, the sun beat down on his shoulders. It was there, the pleasure. It ripped from him and he roared with relief, the noise echoing around the valley.

  Still he didn’t let up. He remembered Duna’s scent, her pretty wet cunny with swollen lips. Another blast of release tore from his cock tip, landing on the shoreline next to the first. Then another and another.

  He was gasping for breath. Sweat prickled his forehead, his top lip, and his armpits. It was as if his legs had been taken from under him, and releasing his cock, he staggered backward and sat with a bump on the sandy grass.

  “Odin.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the water birds now flying in the opposite direction. “I fear my slave may be the master of me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Duna peered around the rock. He’d told her to go to the longhouse. And she’d taken several fast paces there, wincing as her undergarments rubbed on her pained behind and the ginger had shifted inside her ass, but then he’d spoken and grunted, and there was something unique in his tone—something she’d never heard before and was compelled to listen to again.

  So she’d stopped behind a rock that was half under the cover of a hawthorn bush, and turned to see what he was doing.

  And now, watching him yanking his big, hard cock, she wondered if it had been wise to pause.

  Sure, she’d seen his manhood when he’d risen from the bathtub, but now… now it had grown to an enormous size.

  Is this what happens when he punishes me? When he touches me? When he puts a ginger plug inside me?

  He had his manhood in his fist, pumping his hand along the length over and over. Judging by his moans she wasn’t sure if he was enjoying himself or in agony.

  A crescendo was quickly reached. And in that moment she found him beautiful. His body was pure power and strength. Virility oozed from him and flooded the air around him.

  She cupped her breast, squeezing her nipple through her tunic in a way she liked—in the way he had with his mouth. Her ass was so full, so hot, her cunny damp and trembling. Shame filled her the way the ginger did, but she couldn’t deny there was something pleasing about the heat around her most intimate hole.

  Halvor’s shoulders hunched forward and liquid released from the end of his cock. He roared, a pleasure-soaked yell that caused a flock of water birds to take to the sky. More liquid landed on the shoreline, the sunlight catching its arc through the air.

  Duna squeezed her nipple harder and clenched her ass. A full body tremble attacked her, starting in her cunny and winding up her spine to her scalp.

  Halvor suddenly sat back on the ground, ran his hand through his hair, and said something she didn’t catch.

  A sudden shard of fear went through her. She’d disobeyed him again by not going directly to the longhouse. And something deep inside her knew he’d be unhappy to know she’d watched him taking action with his cock.

  Silently she stood, picked up the hem of her dress, then weaved her way back along the narrow path to the house. Her heart was thudding, her ass stung, and her head was filled with the image of Halvor’s big cock.

  Luckily her new boots were soft and quiet, and she made it indoors feeling sure he wouldn’t find out about her most recent disobedience. Her ass would never cope with another spanking; two in two days was enough for anyone’s buttocks. And to get spanked with the damn ginger in place. Would she even survive that?

  She bent over the table and pulled up her dress. The cool air washed over her hot buttocks but she ignored that; the invasion in her bottom was the more pressing matter. After carefully feeling for the ginger she located the bar that she guessed would remove it. Pulling it a little, she was aware of a thrum of need in her cunny, right over the point Halvor had rubbed her the day before.

  Quickly she shoved her fingers to that spot. It was instinctual to copy his actions and she rubbed gently but swiftly.

  She caught her breath. The movement served only to increase the want inside of her. It was as though a pressure was building, a desire for something but she didn’t know what.

  Clenching around the ginger, she held in a small moan. Was it supposed to feel this good? She had been claimed, spanked, and taken Halvor’s hot plug into her ass. Surely she should be pulling it out, storming about the room, raging at his dominance over her and her body.

  But she didn’t want to do that. The sensation was mesmerizing. She upped the speed over her special place, her fingers skimming over the hair that grew near there. She pulled the ginger out a fraction then pushed it back in, enjoying the way her ass filled and the heat of it spread over her tingling buttocks and to her cunny.

  Soon the sensation was all-consuming. Sweat popped on her forehead and in her cleavage. Her wrist ached but still she continued.

  It was then everything changed. Whatever was happening to her body was growing so big. Suddenly it felt frightening. What if her heart gave out? It certainly felt as though it was trying to burst from her chest. Her knees were weak, and her breaths hard to catch.

  Making a sudden decision, she pulled the ginger from her ass and tossed it onto the fire.

  Without it she felt empty, though still the heat from the spice burned.

  She straightened, adjusted her undergarments and dress, and wiped the back of her hand over her brow.

  What the hell had just happened? God would surely consider it a sin. She’d have to explain herself to him one day.

  She grabbed a cask and filled it with spring water from the pail. She drank deep, quenching her thirst but not the need in her cunny.

  With her knees wobbly and a tremble in her spine and shoulders she sat. No sooner as she did, she leaped up again. “Damn it.”

  Her buttocks were so tender, sitting had been like another swift spank. And her hole, it was tingling and aching, the ginger juice still working its wicked magic.

  The only thing for it was to rest over the table, her elbows bent and wait for the burn to ease and try her best to catch her breath and slow her thudding heart.

  Fifteen minutes later, she heard Halvor approaching, his big boots crunching on the gritty pathway.

  Quickly she stood then picked up Misty and cuddled him close.

  Halvor wandered in, holding the gutted fish. “Try and do better with this one,” he said, setting it in the cleaned pan.

  “Yes, Master. Shall I cook it now?”

  He kind of grunted, then reached for his cask and filled it with ale.

  “Are you… quite well, Master?” she asked. She felt better, more in control, but he looked flushed, as if he too had been affected by their time at the lake.