Nordic Bound

by Henry Morgan

  Yet again the bottle was passed. Justin grimaced. He was at that stage of knowing he had drunk too much, but he was too far gone to do anything about it.

  ‘What is so bad about falling in love?’

  Justin slumped down on the ledge. If it wasn’t for the bite of the snow on his cheek and the cold vodka Catherine poured over him he would have gratefully fallen into a sleep.

  ‘Come on,’ she said through a concerned smile. ‘We must go.’

  Somehow she managed to get herself and Justin safely along the ledge and back to the car park. Her friends were still there, although some had left and others arrived. She shouted to a young man she knew called Mikhail, and pointed to his scooter. Despite only getting there a few minutes earlier he agreed to take the two of them back to her apartment. Mikhail and Catherine were old friends, and they giggled as they wedged the drunken Justin between them and set off.

  It was a matter of a few hundred yards before the scooter pulled up outside a small tobacconist in a grubby area of the city. Mikhail helped Catherine unload her new friend and offered to help her take him inside. She declined, thanked him for his help and guided Justin to the steps that led down to her basement room, and by the time she had opened the door he was beginning to come round. The smell of freshly brewed coffee a few minutes later completed his revival, and he sat nursing a large mug in front of an ancient gas fire.

  ‘I can’t remember how I got here,’ he mumbled.

  ‘You don’t want to know.’ She offered him a thick slice of malted loaf, which he waved away. She persisted, shaking the heavy bread in front of his face. ‘It will soak up the vodka. You will thank me in the morning.’ She went to turn down the fire, but Justin waved his hand pleadingly.

  ‘Please, I’m just warming up.’ She left it alone and he added, ‘I thought you said the snow wouldn’t make me cold.’

  ‘Wet,’ Catherine corrected. ‘I said it would not make you wet.’

  ‘Whatever. I know my fingers haven’t dropped off because they’re starting to tingle, but my toes…’ he stamped his feet.

  Catherine had already removed her coat, and she took off the black polo-necked jumper too. The sight warmed Justin’s mind but his fingers cried out for something more tangible, and as if in answer to his unspoken request she sat down in front of him and began undoing his shoes. In her position Justin could see up her small skirt, which had slipped up almost to her waist, and the delicate mound he’d seen in her panties back at the club was even more visible now.

  ‘Ouch!’ She had squeezed his toes hard. ‘Not so rough, they really hurt.’

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she challenged.

  ‘N-nothing,’ he stammered. ‘The fire.’

  ‘You were looking between my legs, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted like a scolded boy. ‘You look so nice I couldn’t stop myself… sorry.’

  ‘Is that what you did to these women?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Looked at them when you wanted to?’

  ‘I only took part in it all once – well, the female side. I told you, I betrayed David. Then Sabrina, that’s the girl who was with us for training, she took over everything.’

  Catherine lifted Justin’s cold feet and placed then under her armpits. Her movements forced him back in the chair and he relaxed as her warmth transferred itself to his body. ‘She became the trainer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of men?’ Catherine’s eyes widened and her breasts lifted with each breath.

  ‘Yes. Men were brought to us just like the women were. Sabrina turned them into submissive slaves for their mistresses. They came and went, but she would never let David go. He was her first and she hated him, but she loved him too.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  Justin placed his feet on the floor and inside Catherine’s legs, and then he leant forward until his face was near hers ‘She couldn’t bear the thought of being controlled, but she craved the physical side of things. She became addicted to being spanked, and worse. She demanded beatings that were so hard you would think they’d harm her. She knew she was out of control and that’s why she hated David so much. If I hadn’t helped her escape then her training would have been completed and she would have been happy. As it is, she is neither dominant nor submissive. She’s in limbo.’

  ‘And you must find David in order for this woman to keep control of the only man who could control her?’

  ‘That’s about it. We were bringing David and a girl to Russia, but he escaped the night we delivered her.’

  ‘And no one in your country asked questions about him, where he had gone?’

  ‘He was very secretive because of what he was doing. No one even knew he existed. But he’s a clever man. He had lived in the mountains of Pakistan and he learned how to survive. That’s why we couldn’t find him until now.’ He turned his gaze to the fire, squinting into the orange glow. ‘Now I don’t want to catch him,’ he added quietly, almost to himself.

  ‘But this woman, she forces you?’ Catherine persisted.

  ‘Yes, I love her. Or I used to. Love, lust, I’ve confused the two. I just find myself doing whatever she wants.’

  ‘You are confused, I think, because the two of you have upset the balance. You are a man and she is a woman, but you have both crossed over. All this anger, it is just a distraction from the real problems. Leave this David – let him be.’ She took the coffee mug and placed it on the floor. ‘You must be a man again.’

  Justin smiled weakly. ‘I think I’ve forgotten how.’

  Catherine stood up. ‘I think maybe you have,’ she whispered seductively, and then reached back and released her bra. ‘I think, as you are a guest in my country, I should do some training of my own.’ Her skirt slipped softly to the floor and she kicked it away with her leather-clad foot. Justin had realised earlier that Catherine had little if any inhibitions, even so, he felt unprepared for her bold display. She remained motionless, illuminated only by the gas flames that flickered between the broken pieces of the firebrick. ‘You must be a man again. You must take a woman like a man should, with a hard penis that must be satisfied.’

  Justin certainly had a hard penis all right, but he remained rooted to his chair, unsure of what to do. Had it really been so long since he took the initiative? Catherine didn’t move and the tension grew, but at last his courage returned, slowly. ‘Take down your knickers,’ he said.

  Catherine hooked her thumbs into the flimsy black panties and, without bending her knees, pushed them down to her ankles, and when she straightened up Justin drank in her nakedness, just a sip at first, a taster, a reminder of how it first was when he met David; how Sabrina had been bent over, displayed and shaved.

  ‘Step out of them.’ His voice was firmer and her action obedient. ‘Stand up straight and put your arms by your sides.’ Obedient again. Justin’s confidence was beginning its long crawl back, and carried with it the adrenalin surge he had not felt for some time. It made him anxious and seemed to push him into rushing events. But this time Justin would not be rushed; would not be cajoled or ordered. This time he was in charge. He had forgotten how good that felt.

  ‘Step back from the fire,’ he said firmly. She did as he said, moving her body in order for him to inspect her in the glow. ‘Turn around,’ he ordered.

  She did as he said. Her back was flawless and her skin like alabaster. Above the moons of her bottom she curved gently inwards before her back flared to support her proud shoulders.

  ‘How old are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Twenty-four.’ She looked younger.

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

  ‘Yes. Dimitri. He is away with his ship.’

  ‘Does he mind it if you bring men to your apartment?’

  ‘He is my boyfriend. He does not own me.’

  ‘B
end forward, at the waist. Don’t bend your legs.’

  Catherine reached down and took hold of her ankles for support. Justin sat forward in his chair and watched as her movements pushed her bottom towards his face. The light from the fire illuminated the valley of her sex, and its iridescent glow complimented the colour of her unfolding flower. Above her slightly parted petals the dark bud of her bottom puckered sweetly. To Justin it was the greatest dragon of all; frightening, exciting, all consuming. He stood behind her and placed his hands on her hips, and her bottom pressed back, confirming her desire to be penetrated. She said nothing; the only sound in the room was the insistent hiss of the gas fire. It whispered to Justin to mount her, it said to make love to her, told him to pierce her vagina, demanded that he impale her, screamed for him to fuck her.

  He remembered nothing else until his cock was spent. His sole intention had been fulfilled. Catherine had toppled forward onto an old chair, her face pressed into the cushion, her bottom held out in submission. Her cries of pleasure had not registered with Justin, and the frantic movements of her hips went unnoticed as he thrust and pumped his way to an all-embracing climax. Now that his sperm was deposited inside her sheath he noticed that she too had travelled with him. Her sex milked his throbbing cock and she was babbling in her own language. The words required no translation; they were universal, the language of sex.

  His cock deflated slowly and Catherine waited patiently for his withdrawal. He did not rush. Instead he enjoyed the feeling of her tightening muscles dismissing his now timid member. It had lost its earlier arrogance if not its confidence. Justin smiled at its final sloppy departure and Catherine returned his affection. When he was free from their coupling he dropped exhausted back into his chair while Catherine remained motionless to enjoy the ebbing moments of her orgasm.

  When Justin opened his eyes Catherine was sitting at his feet in front of the fire. She had turned the heat full on and was bathed in a bright orange light. In her hand was a cigarette, and apart from her long boots, she was still naked.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked.

  Justin smiled and although he rarely smoked, he leaned forward and took the cigarette from between her fingers. He pulled on it and the smoke smoothed his heartbeat to a gentle relaxed rhythm. ‘I’m just fine.’ He took another tote and handed it back. Catherine steadied herself with a hand behind her bottom and threw back her head. Her movement pulled her breasts upwards, making them stand proud and jaunty.

  As Justin studied her figure she exhaled a great cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. It relaxed her too, and her knees parted, encouraging Justin to inspect her. A string of sperm hung from her glistening vulva and when she moved she expelled another. He leant down and gently patted her opening with the tip of his finger. She was soft and warm and incredibly wet. His finger made little sloppy tapping noises, the sound of which made her smile – a knowing, naughty smile. He liked that.

  Catherine finished her cigarette and sat at his feet. She rested her head on his knee and the two stared silently into the fire. After a moment or two Justin felt compelled to speak. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly, and ran his fingers through her hair. Her answer was to smile gently and to nuzzle her head into his lap.

  ‘That made me feel really good,’ he told her. ‘Not the sex… well yes, of course the sex. But I mean the way you gave yourself to me. It did wonders for my confidence.’

  ‘I think you have forgotten that you are a man.’

  Justin looked deeper into the fire, past the flames and into the pit from whence they came. He saw himself, naked and hiding behind a rock. Sabrina was calling him out, taunting him. A whip cracked over his head and he was forced into the open, where he cowered and covered his penis with his hands. The whip cracked again and this time wrapped itself around his arm. Sabrina yanked it. The force pulled his arm away from his body and his penis was exposed. Its appearance was met with laughter and derision. He was ashamed and tried to hide but the whip bit again, wrapping its tail around his other arm. In his lap Catherine’s tongue snaked around his penis. Sabrina pulled once more, but now his arm gained strength and began to swell.

  Catherine’s tongue lapped, encouraging him further. Justin grabbed the whip and tugged. Sabrina tugged back and Justin hesitated, his grip began to slip and he grew afraid. Catherine cupped his balls and massaged them, gently pumping his courage to the surface. His cock grew large and his courage returned, creeping higher and higher, preparing to explode in a magnificent display of maleness. It became unstoppable, undeniable, and in one mighty gesture Justin tore the whip from Sabrina’s hand, sending it twirling and twisting and spilling over and over into the air.

  Chapter 5

  The Piroshka sailed silently and unannounced into the harbour of Kirkwall. It was four-thirty in the morning but the sun had already broken above the rocks that separated Shapinsay Sound from Wide Firth. When the boat bumped lightly into the row of tyres that lined the harbour walls like some symmetrical Loch Ness monster a middle-aged man called out for the rope. Justin threw it with a cry of ahoy and the man dropped the looped hemp around a cast iron spigot reserved for visiting boats.

  When the boat was secured the man jumped onboard. He was tall, and had a weather-beaten face that revealed he spent much of his time outdoors. He shook hands with Justin and turned to Sabrina. She was dressed in warm woollens covered with a waterproofed oilskin.

  ‘Right on time,’ he said to them both. ‘Any problems?’

  ‘None,’ said Sabrina. ‘We’re just tourists, Carl. Sailing the islands. A couple of eco-tourists looking for whales. Have you seen the harbourmaster?’

  ‘It’s all cleared. I paid the dues for a couple of days to give you a chance to rest up.’

  ‘We won’t have time for that,’ said Sabrina. She opened the cabin door and entered, indicating for them to follow. When they joined her in the warm interior she instructed Justin to get breakfast underway.

  ‘So,’ she said, nursing a mug of coffee. ‘Where do we do it – here?’

  ‘No, not here,’ Carl replied. ‘We’ll go straight to my island. I can inspect the merchandise on the way.’

  After a breakfast of bacon and eggs the three of them set out for Stronsay Firth, about ten or fifteen miles to the north.

  ‘We’ll need diesel,’ said Justin. ‘Can that be arranged?’

  Carl sniggered derisively. ‘It’s the Orkneys, Justin, not Outer Mongolia. We even have it in pumps, just like a real garage.’

  Justin blushed. ‘I didn’t mean to imply anything,’ he blurted, feeling stupid. ‘I just thought you might have to order it. You know, I thought it might take twenty-four hours, or something.’

  ‘Not with the number of boats in this part of the world. We’ve got plenty of diesel – diesel and fish. There’s only so much interest in diesel and fish. That’s why you’re here.’

  Carl stood up and shook his empty coffee mug. ‘On the stove,’ said Sabrina. ‘I take it you have the money.’

  Carl smiled and his face folded along craggy lines. ‘Not on my person – just in case.’

  ‘Do I detect a trace of suspicion?’

  The islander sat back down and sipped his steaming drink. ‘It wouldn’t do to be afloat in these treacherous waters with fifteen grand now, would it? What if I were to have an accident and go visiting a few whales myself?’

  Sabrina laughed and went over to a row of keys swinging on hooks by the door. ‘I can see your point.’ Despite the difference in their years she was not intimidated by Carl, or by the scenario in which they were players. She was confident beyond her years; the time she had spent putting David to stud had seen to that. She chose a key and threw it to Justin. ‘Bring her up so Carl can see what he’s getting for his money.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Carl, quietly rubbing his hands together. ‘I always enjoy market day.’

  Justin disappeared into t
he hold of the boat where a cabin had been made to house the two captives. They were kept together, naked of course, for company. It was the only concession made to them.

  ‘How old is she?’ asked Carl.

  Sabrina was now reclining in her sweater and slacks and looked every bit the nonchalant businesswoman discussing a deal. ‘She’s nineteen.’

  The door opened and Justin marched the naked girl into the lounge cabin. Carl scanned her body in an instant, gauging her health and considering the merits of his prospective purchase.

  ‘Bring David up as well,’ Sabrina commanded. ‘I want him to see this.’

  ‘David?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Carl, David is the reason we can’t stop too long.’

  Carl became agitated. ‘But you said nothing about another party. Who is he?’

  ‘Relax,’ yawned Sabrina. ‘He’s just more merchandise we’ve still got to unload.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Sabrina waved her hand towards the girl as if reminding Carl why they were there. ‘We don’t need to talk about David,’ she said. ‘This is why we’re here.’

  The girl stared intently at the deck until Justin laid the whip across the backs of her legs, whereupon she immediately dropped to her knees and took up the posture she had been taught during the journey; legs tucked underneath her, hands on her knees, back straight and eyes to the front. She also ensured that her long blonde hair was tucked behind her ears; there was to be no escape for her blushes behind her locks.

  ‘I suppose,’ continued Carl, ‘it’s too much to expect that she’s unsullied.’

  ‘Too much for sure,’ Sabrina answered. ‘But you can see she is a very good specimen. More coffee?’ He held out his mug and Sabrina refilled it. ‘Is she for you?’

  ‘Well,’ he pondered, ‘it’s difficult to say.’

  Sabrina poured coffee for herself and sat back down. ‘That’s intriguing,’ she said calmly. ‘If not for you, then who?’

  Carl’s eyes were fixed on the girl’s breasts. She was breathing heavily but appeared quite relaxed. Her heavy breasts lifted and fell as if in tune with the waves beneath the boat, and the suggestive movement stirred strong feelings in his groin.