by Jane Price
“I am sorry for what happened in your village and your home.” He continued to swing his arms somewhat erratically as he spoke, but Angela was impressed by how eloquent of a speaker he was. His accent was heavy and it was obvious he was struggling, but even though she was clearly some sort of slave, she appreciated him trying.
“If there is anything that will make your stay with us easier, please tell me.” He motioned towards the exit of the tent and by proxy the men that sat around the fire. “My men will not harm you, and if you would like, none will speak to you.” Angela looked at him dumbfounded and he smiled at her, his hands clasped behind his back now waiting for a response.
“I-I-” Angela stammered out. “I want to go home, my-” the man held up his hands to stop her and walked across the tent, kneeling in front of her. Angela admired the other tattoos that spanned his across his chest and shoulders. He was still damp from washing off the blood and mud and his muscles looked tense, but controlled. As if at many moment he could strike with the speed of a falcon, but was still calm enough to read the situation.
“There is nothing to go back to.” His piercing eyes met hers and although she wanted nothing more than to cry, she sat silently. The man took this as a sign that she had accepted this as a final answer and stood, brushing his knees off from the dirt that was on the ground. He began to walk back towards the exit, but Angela called out to him, causing him to hesitate.
“I don’t even know your name.” The man slowly turned, becoming a silhouette in the way the light from the exit illuminated him.
“You may call me Sigurd.” With that, he turned and exited, the flap closing behind him. Angela listened as his footsteps faded away and heard the men around the fire explode into song as he reached them. She covered herself in the blankets and cried, until she fell asleep.
******
Angela lost track of the days and how far they had ended up moving around. It seemed that every few days Sigurd would take her out of her makeshift abode and they would stand together and watch as a few of his men dismantled the shanty tent that she stayed in. They would load everything into a cart they must have stolen from another local village and the whole camp would move along to another town and raid it. Each time they would bring back more people and more treasure. The treasure always ranged from small trinkets that the Vikings found interesting or gold.
However, about a week into this trip she noticed that Sigurd began to spend more time with her. They wouldn’t speak necessarily, but he would sit and watch her. Every town they raided Sigurd brought Angela a book back and she would read it to him, his eyes focused on her lips as they moved, forming the words that he barely understood. She would glance up every few words and watch him. He never looked away and he clearly wasn’t ashamed of staring. Angela enjoyed that in a way, a man who didn’t seem to fear her.
She wasn’t heartless though and every night as she felt herself drifting to sleep she would think of Matthew and how, even though he was gone, she was happy with how they had left things. For weeks they had started to fall into a loveless groove, but they left off in a place that felt like them.
But, the days turned to weeks and as they ventured along the coastline Angela couldn’t help but feel that she had better start to make herself in expendable. Angela had seen Sigurd examining the other women that they had taken in as prisoners and she didn’t want to lose her place of authority.
The other Vikings weren’t always as kind and understanding as Sigurd was. They would stare at the other prisoners and she saw one man, with a face only a mother could love, take one woman from behind while the others slept, her mouth gagged with a rag so she wouldn’t wake anyone else up. She had thought to tell Sigurd, but didn’t want to upset him or the others. So, one evening around the time that Sigurd was likely to come make his visit, Angela stripped down to nothing and slipped into bed.
The leaves broke and crinkled under Sigurd’s feet as he drew close and Angela could feel the air in her lungs escape as the tent flap opened. Sigurd was dressed in a white shirt that was stained slightly with dirt and sweat. His hair was bound tightly in a braid that laid flat against his back. His trousers were tight and in the flickering of the candlelight she was sure that she saw the outline of his cock. Something came over her and called to him from the bed.
“The sides of your head could use a touch up,” she motioned towards a stool that sat in the corner. “Bring that over and sit. Let me tidy it up for you.” Sigurd’s hands reached up to the shaved sides of his head and she could hear his hands rubbing over the stubble length hair. He shrugged, picked up the stool, and carried it across the room, setting it down next to the bed. He sat down in the stool and with a flick of his wrist produced a long, sharp blade from his belt. Angela delicately took the knife out of his hand and raised up out of the bed.
Sigurd’s back was turned towards her and as she stood, the sheets and furs fell from her body. Her skin shone in the flickering light and she fixed her hair so that the long curls hung over her back, not obstructing her breasts. Angela leaned in and began to run the blade across his scalp, the small hairs falling to the floor.
She continued and leaned forward, pressing her naked body into his back. She felt his body relax against her skin and felt her own nipples begin to perk. Her tits had calmed the beast that was Sigurd. However, as soon as her nipples hardened. Sigurd immediately tensed back up.
He reached up and grabbed Angela’s wrist with one hand, removing the knife with the other. He had still not turned around, but slowly his neck and head swiveled. Angela watched as shadows danced across his face in the changing light, his eyes locking with hers. She nodded slightly and Sigurd’s eyes broke away from hers, tracing the outline of her body downward.
The piercing blue diamonds rested on her breasts and he swallowed deeply. He raised up out of the stool and soon towered over Angela who sat on the edge of the bed. Angela’s gaze darted to floor, but his hand reached out and delicately lifted her chin so that she was looking up into his eyes once again.
“Is this what you want?” Angela looked up and found that she too took a large swallow. She had never been asked that before. She had always found that being surprised by the act of sex made it more intimate and passionate. But this Viking man who slaughtered hundreds of people was asking her what she wanted. Unable to speak, her mouth suddenly dry, she nodded. With one hand on her chin, he used the other to place the knife on the table beside the bed, he then unfastened his pants.
Angela watched as he allowed his pants to fall to the floor and was met with his dick. It laid flat against his leg like his braid and she looked up at him waiting for the next move. Gently, Sigurd guided her head forward towards it. She reached out and with one hand on his leg to balance herself and the other around the shaft of his cock, she began to stroke it to life. It didn’t take long and as soon as he was hard she began to kiss the head. Her hand pulled back the foreskin and she teased him by flicking her tongue at the base of the head.
After a few moments Sigurd was clearly done with the teasing and guided her once again to take him inside her. Angela opened her mouth as wide as she could and allowed Sigurd to gently glide inside her mouth. With her tongue sticking out his dick slid in with ease, her saliva lubricating it more with every thrust. With his free hand Sigurd gathered her hair together and pulled it back so that none fell into her face and he tugged on it slightly, pulling her head back.
She moaned as he did this, the force he was using was strong, but contained as if he had more that he could give, but he was holding back, waiting to see how she would respond. So, as he pulled she moaned louder, giving him the cues he would need to know that she wanted more. He began to thrust faster and she tasted his cum a little bit as it leaked out into her mouth. She pulled away and worked the tip again, his dick still hard, his legs shaking.
Sigurd took her hair in both hands and pulled her off the bed and onto the floor. Angela followed obediently as he did this. He didn’t take
her far, but rather bent her over the end of the cot. He lifted her up slightly with ease so that she was lying face down on the makeshift bed.
Sigurd forced her face into the blankets and pulled her ass into the air. Angela found herself face to face with a grey wolf, her ass being groped by Sigurd’s massive hands. She waited for his dick to enter her, sure that it was what Sigurd had in mind, but let out a long moan as she was greeted by his lips instead.
His beard touched her first, lightly tickling her inner thighs causing her to jump. But then she is kissed delicately on the lips of her pussy. Sigurd kissed her as her body quivered, goosebumps sweeping across her arms and legs. She waited for a moment and then felt her body begin to convulse, his tongue lapped at her pussy as her hands curled up and grabbed at the blankets. Sigurd’s tongue danced across her pussy and entered her, spreading her open. He pulled away a few times and admired it, using his hands to spread her ass apart so that he could see it better. He was thirsty and the only thing that could quench his thirst was her.
Angela let herself go as a wave of pleasure crashed over her body, causing her to go limp. Sigurd felt this and stood up, wiping his beard with a sheet that had been pulled from the bed. She looked over her shoulder at him as he removed his shirt and admired the tattoos once again. He reached forward and tangled his fingers up in her hair pulling back hard. Angela moaned loudly as he did this and then screamed his name as his cock slid inside her. Sigurd began slowly, allowing her body to get accustomed to his manhood. She gritted her teeth for the first few thrusts, but after the first few, she then moaned.
Sigurd placed one foot up on the cot next to her and shifted his stance so that he was penetrating her from almost above. The tip of his dick rubbed fully along her G spot causing more goosebumps and shutters to render her immobile. With his freehand Sigurd leaned forward and grasped at her tits, forcing his hand under her. She struggled to allow him easier access, but she didn’t want to move out of this position as it was the most intense, and longest lasting, orgasm she had ever had.
Sigurd began to thrust harder at this point and he tugged her hair back with more force. He abandoned her tit though and reached forward. He grabbed her neck so that as he pulled her hair she was simultaneously being choked. Angela felt her body beginning to shake again, another wave of ecstasy bound to render her useless. Sigurd’s thrusts slowed, but became longer and harder until he thrusted one last time, blasting himself inside her. Angela felt herself filling with his essence and allowed herself to slump down into the blankets as he pulled out.
Moving away from the bed, Sigurd reached for the pitcher of water and cups that were sitting beside the cot. Angela could barely think straight, but gladly took the cup of water that was handed to her. They both sat in silence for a few moments as they drank their water.
Angela’s mind raced to Matthew who was the only man she had ever been with. Their love was undeniable, but the passion and raw sexual energy that Sigurd put off was impossible to ignore. Sigurd watched her face as she thought, trying to rationalize that it wasn’t cheating because he was dead.
The Viking man stood, understanding now the expression on her face as one of loss. Leaning down he kissed her gently on the forehead and dressed quickly, finishing his water and placing the cup back on the table. He nodded to her and without needing to say anything, Angela knew that he would be right outside if she needed him. She nodded in return and he dipped under the flap in the door and she listened as the leaves crunched beneath his feet.
Just then there was a slight commotion in the distance and Angela heard a number of the men, including Sigurd, run in the direction of the noise. Angela stood and dressed herself and began to walk towards the exit to see what the noise had been, but a familiar voice whispered from the far side of the tent.
“Angela, I’m here to take you home.” Angela froze at the sound of Matthew’s voice. It had been so long since she had heard it, or heard the voice of anyone besides the Vikings. She shifted her weight towards Matthew but hesitated. She stood, caught between her two decisions. After thinking for moment she took a deep breath, and decided.
THE END
Highlander’s Conquest
Clara was many things. For one, she was the most beautiful of all the women that had ever been born into her clan. She had a shock of raven black hair and emerald eyes that could soften even the hardest of highland barbarians. She spun tales and sung songs at all of the gatherings, and was pined after by nearly every man, married or not. But, above all else, she was the daughter of her clan’s chief.
She knew from a young age that this would hold a number of responsibilities, namely that she would be married off to either maintain peace or to end war. However, that was not her dream. Her dream was that one day she would meet a man that she could choose for herself. A man whose shoulders seemed liked they could hold the weight of the world, but had hands gentle enough to embrace and maintain the life that lived on it.
That was not in her stars though, as the only men that were ever brought before her and her father were men whose beards seemed to hold remnants of every meal that they had for the last year with breath so strong that the ale actually improved it. Each and every one of them stared at her with ravenous attention. Their eyes seemed to peer through her dress to her young, supple skin. Her breasts were like mountains they all wanted to climb and claim as their own.
Her father was a good, fair man and noticed that in these men, and while he knew that there were politics involved he also never wanted his daughter to become a sexual prize for one of these boorish men. So, for each and every man that stepped forward and spoke of plans to unite their clans but would not show his daughter respect, he would deny their deal. She was not as innocent as her father would imagine though.
Years before there had been a travelling trader that came through their land. He had long brown hair and his face was covered with stubble that was soft, not rough, to the touch. He spoke with a slight accent from a land she had never been and upon witnessing her beauty he gave her a gift. A golden necklace with a precious stone that hung from it. She gave him a gift in return. One that she still dreamt of and longed to recreate.
She had told the man to meet her in the nearby woods, a spot she frequented so it would not seem strange for her to wander in that direction, at nightfall. He did as he was told and was rewarded handsomely. As soon as she saw him she began to undress, her breasts exposed to the moonlight. He arrived and immediately began helping her finish, tearing off her clothes as quickly as he could. His hands were rough and calloused, but she didn’t mind as they navigated their way over her body. He reached down and grabbed her ass, his fingers slid between her butt cheeks and playfully toyed with her asshole.
She deftly unfastened his pants and pulled out his manhood, already hard. Clara stroked it gingerly as the man groaned softly. She bent over at the waist, his hands still grabbed at her ass, and she began to lick his cock. He moaned and slapped her ass, causing her to jump slightly. With a short giggle she continued, the dick slid in and out of her mouth, her black hair shaking with each thrust.
The man stopped focusing on her butt and reached down, holding her hair behind her head as she worked. With one hand under throat he began to thrust now, his dick sliding further and further down her throat. Clara changed positions and kneeled on the mossy ground, moaning gently as he continued to thrust.
After a moment or two he pulled out. Clara let out a small gasp and wiped away some spittle from her chin as the man removed his pants completely and motioned for her to lay down. She did as she was told and laid on her back, her legs open, eager with anticipation.
The man slid between her legs and shoved himself inside her. She let out a scream, but quickly covered her mouth to muffle it. The traveler did not seem phased though and began to rhythmically thrust his hips into her. She began to moan loudly, her pussy nearly dripping at this point. Her legs were wrapped around his waist and her arms clutched at the back of his shir
t as he pounded faster and more aggressively.
Clara let out a gasp with every thrust and could feel her skin tingle with the impending orgasm. With a collective shudder they both began to slow down, Clara pulled the man in close and they kissed, his beard brushed her face delicately. He pulled his dick out slowly and stood up, helping Clara to her feet. They dressed in silence and returned to her village, where she once again became the virgin bride-to-be.
So, after a day of sitting on the throne with her father, the eyes of countless drunk Scots having nearly burned through to her undergarments, she decided to take a walk to find someplace quiet to dream of the man again. She had always loved nature and felt that it also loved her in return. There were countless times that young deer or wild foxes would stop and stand in near admiration and respect for her. A number of times she was lucky enough to get close enough to touch them, their fur was nearly as soft and luscious as her own hair.
