by Lexi Lane
“You did very well, Lucy, for being a virgin.” He reached down, tipping her face to his. “I suspect there’s been some explorations on your part? Spent some time finding out what makes you feel good?”
Lucy blushed furiously, turning her head away. Robert laughed.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your body is yours, to do with as you please. It’s no sin to give yourself pleasure.” He held her close for a moment, stroking her hair. He spoke, almost to himself.
“We’ll need to be married soon. For five shillings, we can be married at the church on the island where we’re going to make port. It will be quick, but it needs to happen before Lord Swanton’s demise is discovered. I’m not sure how long it will take, but it would be easier if you were married before it’s discovered he’s dead.”
The sound of his voice, the rocking of the ship, the release her body had experienced all conspired to take Lucy to the edge of sleep. She felt Robert pulling her close as she drifted off.
***
Epilogue - Three months later.
Bright moonlight spilled over the polished wood of the bedroom floor, the curtains at the open door billowing into the room on the warm night breeze.
“Oh, god, Lucy!” Robert’s voice was low, rough with passion. “Ah…fuck…” his words were lost in incoherent cries as he thrust himself into Lucy’s soft mouth, his fingers wound through her auburn hair. He pulled his hard cock from her mouth, Lucy’s hands instantly flying up to grab his thick shaft, stroking his wet cock, holding the head against her lips, her tongue darting out, teasing the slit at the end.
Still holding his cock, reached up, stroking his balls. With a loud cry, Robert shot a creamy stream over Lucy’s face. She opened her mouth, holding his cock to catch the continuing spurts. Robert’s hips flexed forward, his body jerking as he continued crying out, spraying his hot load into Lucy’s mouth.
Lucy looked up at Robert, still holding his cock, licking the last dribbles from the end. She held his softening cock against her face, rubbing in slowly over her cheek.
“And, sir, was that to your liking?” She looked up at Robert.
“If you’re asking my cock, the answer is the same as mine. Yes. It was very much to my liking.” Robert reached down, pulling Lucy up from the floor, pressing her naked body against his.
“And you’re very much to my liking, Mrs. Swanton. I like seeing you on your knees, with those big eyes looking up at me, the moonlight shining in them. You make me hot and hard and then you take me into your mouth, willingly, and do things I’d never dreamed of. You’ve done things to me no woman ever has.”
Robert kissed her roughly, running his hands down her arms. He broke their kiss, looking down at her, his breath ragged. In one motion, he picked her up, carrying her to the four-poster bed. He placed her down gently, lying beside her.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Mrs. Swanton, starting at the top of your head, working my way down until I reach your toes.”
He bent down, kissing along the edge of her hairline, moving over her face, down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses.
Sliding down in the bed, he gently cupped her breast, holding it go his lips, kissing the soft skin. Lucy inhaled, arching her back against him. Robert pulled her hard nipple into his mouth, moaning against her skin as he sucked at her. Lucy wound her fingers into his dark hair, holding him tightly to her.
Robert finally broke away, Lucy sighing beneath him. He ran a line of kisses down her stomach, running his tongue briefly around the edge of her navel. She giggled, tugging at his hair, drawing her knees up.
“Robert! Stop. You know I’m ticklish.” Robert looked up from his labors, smiling.
“Sorry, love.” He bent his head, sliding his tongue down past her navel. He pushed Lucy’s legs apart, kissing the inside of each thigh. He gently spread the edge of her pussy, licking and nibbling, working his tongue into her cunt.
“Robert…please.” Lucy was rolling her hips, tugging at Robert’s hair. Robert resisted her urging, continued probing her with his tongue, thrusting it into her over and over. Lucy was squirming beneath his mouth, hands clutching the sheets.
“Robert!” Lucy tried to sit up. “Please Robert!”
Finally lifting his head, Robert rested his head on his hand.
“Yes, love?” Robert looked up at Lucy. “Can I help you?”
“You devil! You know exactly what I’m asking for. But you keep denying me!” Lucy was laughing. Robert smiled up at her.
“Oh, yes. I remember. There was something you did like for me to do. Seems to me there’s a certain spot you enjoy having tickled. And you’d like me to tickle that spot, yes?”
Lucy swatted at his head. “Yes, Mr. Swanton. Do you want me to beg?”
“Oh! Well, yes, I haven’t made you beg for anything for a long, long time. I think you should beg, Mrs. Swanton. What do you want me to do?”
Lucy grew serious, her voice low. “I want you to lick my clit, Robert, to run your tongue over that spot, over and over, and make me come. How’s that?” She smiled down at him.
“Poorly. We’ll work on your begging skills another time. But I hate to see a woman in need. I’ll do what I can.”
Robert lowered his head, finding her clit. He flicked it briefly with his tongue, Lucy’s body twitching at the contact. She moaned softly, winding her fingers through his hair.
“Oh, yes. Robert…oh, yes.” Lucy relaxed back on the bed, closing her eyes.
Robert worked at Lucy’s clit for many moments, licking and sucking, pulling gently with his teeth. Lucy was moaning softly, clutching the sheets, twisting her head from side to side. Robert brought her to the edge over and over, expertly teasing her, driving her wild. When she was gasping, her body tensed and quivering, he pulled her clit into his mount, sucking roughly.
Lucy was arched up against him, her hips rising off the bed, crying out loudly as she came. Robert kept his mouth against her, licking her as her orgasm continued, as she bucked and rocked beneath him.
She finally pushed his head away, falling back on the bed, gasping, her face flushed, a smile on her lips. Robert looked up at his wife.
“So, Mrs. Swanton, how was that? Complaints, compliments, anything you’d like me to improve on for next time?”
“Just one thing,” she gasped. “Lucy. I think you can call me Lucy next time.”
Viking Invasion: Reluctant Virgin Sex Slaves © 2013, Lexi Lane
Alek Lindqvist stood in the bow of his longship, watching the still water slicing cleanly away from the narrow prow of his vessel. He was on his way to collect a debt, and one he was looking forward to claiming. It was a girl, a virgin, and she would soon be his.
As the leader of his village, Alek had his choice of women to bed, and did frequently, both to their immense satisfaction and his, but he had yet to marry. He wasn’t ready for that much stability, although a male heir would eventually be necessary. Even though he was chief of his village, at 22, he was not ready to settle down with just one woman.
Every village they plundered along these distant shores gave him the chance to claim the spoils, one of which was taking his pleasure with the captured women brought back to his village. But the village of Guild held a special prize, the young daughter of their chieftain, and he desired her more than anything he’d ever desired in his life.
The steady rowing of his crew had brought them to the shores of this small island fishing village, within half a day’s journey south from his own village. As they rounded the headland, Alek could see the stone huts of Guild clustered near the docks and straggling up a hill toward a small stone castle perched in the heather above the bay. Several small fishing boats were tied up at the docks, the men working on them now stopping to watch the approaching Viking longship.
“Fine day for a raid, Alek.” Alek’s younger brother Eric had materialized at his side. They were so much alike in looks it was like looking at himself in the waters of a still pond, except for the differenc
e in hair. They carried the same facial features; high cheekbones, long straight nose, wide full mouth, clear deep blue eyes. Both were well over six feet, broad shouldered, narrow hipped, with massive thighs. But where Alek was flaxen-haired, the sunlight sending gold sparks from his hair, Eric’s were copper. They caught the sun now, amber and cinnamon mixing with the red.
“Yes, it is, brother. And a fine day to collect on my debt.” Alek turned back to watch the shore. They were nearing the docks; his men were shipping their oars. Eric gave him a roguish smile.
“And will you be sharing that bounty, brother? If you’re lacking in the necessary equipment, I’ve got a longer sword than yours.”
Alek snorted. “That’s not what I hear from the village girls. Your sword may be longer…than my knife…but there are rumors you don’t know what to do with it yet. You need practice.” Alek ducked as Eric took a playful swing at his brother’s head.
“Enough now. We’re here, we need to be on guard. We’ve come to take what is our due.” Men scurried about, tossing ropes, yelling back and forth as the ship slid alongside the dock, the smaller fishing boats bobbing and rocking in the wake of the vessel as it was secured.
A small party of village men had come down the hill from the castle, led by the chieftain of the village, Drest Strome. Alek could see the dull glint of iron weapons at his side and among the men who walked behind him, but he did not see the girl among the group. He sighed; he had hoped this could be accomplished quickly, but if the Picts wanted bloodshed, he would be happy to oblige.
Alek instinctively touched the handle of his knife; he felt Eric do the same. Both wore their longswords in scabbards across their backs and Eric carried his shield.
Jumping down to the dock, Alek drew himself up to his full height, towering over the fishermen on the dock. His steely gaze swept over them and most looked down or moved as far away as they could. He heard the thumps of many feet behind as his men disembarked. Eric was at his left shoulder instantly, whispering in his ear.
“Well, brother, does it look like it’s going to be a simple thing to collect, this debt of yours?” Alek ignored him, stepping forward to greet the chieftain.
“Alek Lindqvist, welcome to our village.” While the chieftain’s words were cordial, there was no smile to match. Alek noticed the tension in the man’s face, at the corners of his mouth and in his eyes. And he also saw the same tension reflected in the faces of the men standing in a tight group behind their chieftain.
“Drest Strome, you know why I am here. Let’s not make this harder than it need be. I am collecting on a debt and I do not see that promise being honored.” Alek’s hand rested on his knife, fingers caressing the familiar feel of iron, cool to his touch.
“We’re not withholding, Lindqvist, only asking you to consider a different form of payment.” Strome stepped aside, revealing a small, plain child of no more than twelve or thirteen, not even really discernible as “boy” or “girl.” The child walked forward slowly, head bowed, and knelt down before Alek.
Alek looked from the child to Strome in anger. “You think me a fool, Strome? This is not the agreed upon payment. Would you have me not kill this child, then I suggest it be removed from my sight immediately and the agreed upon payment produced.” Alek drew his knife, standing over the small form.
“Magda.” Strome spoke quietly and the child rose and fled, small bare feet flying over the stony ground.
“She is my daughter as well. I was hoping…” Strome waved his hand absently in the direction of the child, who had disappeared into a nearby hut.
“Strome, you swore loyalty to me and to my king. You have not kept that oath; you have had visitors to Guild who are my sworn enemies. And now you attempt to trick me with…that…babe. I’ll not have it and I’ll not have you thinking you can get away with this.”
Alek pulled his sword from his scabbard with one swift motion and before Strome could react, Alek ran the double-edged blade through the man’s stomach. The man doubled forward, clutching at the blade. Alek planted his foot on Strome’s shoulder, pushed the man away and pulled his sword free. Strome fell heavily onto his back on the stone path, his hands splayed across his stomach, dark blood flowing between his fingers onto the gray stones beneath him.
After a moment of stunned shock, the villagers behind Strome’s fallen body drew an assortment of swords and knives, apparently ready to fight but hesitant to charge. Alek felt Eric on his left, sword in hand, teeth bared in a grimace, growling deep in his throat. And then Alek heard the beautiful singing sound of many longswords being unsheathed, as the men standing behind him prepared for their leader’s command. In a voice that echoed off the heathered hills, Alek gave his command.
“Find the girl! Kill everyone! Burn the village!” With that, the Vikings spread like the blood flowing from Strome’s body, overtaking the ill-prepared fishermen, cutting them down where they stood.
The village was routed and looted quickly. Men lay dead and dying on the stony ground, women’s shrieks and cries echoing between the burning huts. Alek made directly for the small castle, quickly dispatching the inhabitants, searching rooms, overturning furniture, setting the wall tapestries on fire as the rest of the villagers fled before him. But he did not find the girl.
Alek emerged into the outer courtyard, breathing hard, scowling at the controlled chaos in the village below. Eric was walking up the path toward him, a streak of blood drying on one cheek, his blue eyes dancing with the heat of the moment.
“Eric, find the girl. She’s not in the castle.”
Eric turned and ran back down the path, shouting to a few Vikings routing the last of the villagers from a large hut. Flames licked the thatches of several buildings. Eric and the others made a quick search of the rest of the village.
Alek heard a high pitched scream followed by cursing from Eric. He watched as Eric emerged from a small stone hut, dragging a protesting girl behind him: Maya Strome, the reason for this raid.
Alek’s breath caught in his throat. He’d forgotten how beautiful Maya Strome was. The oath that Drest Strome had broken had been made almost a year before; either his memory of her had dimmed or she’d grown even more beautiful during that time.
She stood silently before him, her chest heaving with exertion. She tossed her long tangled blonde hair back from her face, her piercing green eyes blazing fury. The force of her beauty, even disheveled and spitting curses, had an immediate physical impact on Alek. He felt a warmth beneath his over-shirt, the first flames of desire kindled deep in his stomach as his cock stirred to life. Everyone knew why he’d chosen Maya, and everyone, including Maya, knew the outcome of this transaction.
“Swine! Filth!” She pulled against Eric’s grasp, her body tensing. Eric held her easily as she struggled in his grip.
Alek took a step forward, lifting Maya’s chin. “Watch your tongue, girl. Show some respect.” He leaned down, kissing her roughly, sliding his tongue over her soft lips, held firmly closed against him.
“You’re mine now.”
As he turned to walk away, she spat at his back. He turned to her.
“Woman, I could leave you here with your kin, if you like.” Alek pulled his short knife from his belt, holding it against her neck.
With surprising calm, Maya spoke. “You will not. You want me too much. I know this…you know this. You won’t kill me.” Her green eyes blazed at Alek. “You want me too much.”
Alek threw his head back, roaring with laughter. He replaced his knife in its sheath. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you, girl.”
With one quick motion Alek grabbed the neckline of Maya’s dress in both hands, tearing the fabric down the center. The tattered garment fell open, hanging from her arms, leaving her naked, the afternoon sunlight shining on the round globes of her breasts, down her flat stomach to the patch of darker blonde hair at the apex of her slender thighs.
A small crowd of Vikings had gathered, eyes crawling hungrily over the lithe body, each
imagining their own cocks thrusting into her virgin body, lying between those soft thighs, or holding that fine ass in their hands as they took her from behind, each imagining taking pleasure with her in their own way. But they knew she belonged to Alek and all they could do was look.
“You’re mine, yes, and come to think of it, you’re mine on one condition.” He thrust his hand between her legs, as she squirmed and kicked out at him. Alek moved back.
“Eric, Lars, hold her. I don’t want to damage my prize.”
Eric pulled Maya against his body in a bear hug, her arms pinned to her side, lifting her clear of the ground. The man called Lars moved forward, grabbing her kicking legs, holding them apart.
Alek stepped back toward Maya, slowly running his hand between her legs, the tip of one finger disappearing. She shuddered violently, arms and legs straining against her captors. Alek held his finger there a moment, then pulled his hand away. He slid his finger briefly into his mouth.
“She’s intact. And very sweet.” He took her chin between his fingers, looking down into her eyes. “Very sweet, girl. And soon you’ll be relieved of the burden of being a virgin.”
He caught his brother’s eye. “Take her to the ship. Tie her up well. I don’t want her throwing herself into the sea during the trip home.”
Alek gave a shout, and rest of his men gathered at the docks, some carrying loot from the village.
“Burn the boats and then cast off. We’re headed home.”
***
Maya struggled against the ties that held her wrists and ankles, but they were bound too tightly. She knew she was the trophy of this raid; her father had told her she was the payment for breaking his oath to Lindqvist. And for that, she hated her father, and she certainly hated Lindqvist.
She was lying in the stern of the boat, the men rowing stretched out in front of her. The red-haired bastard had thrown a blanket over her body, stopping first to grope her breasts, tweaking her nipples between his fingers.
