Page 25

" N o, I am not unwell. The Jarl told me to remain here until he returns." Mairead managed a tremulous smile for Aigneis when the woman lifted the curtain and appeared in the bedchamber.

"I see."

"I wonder, might I beg your help?" Mairead hugged the furs up to her chin, her bedraggled hair tumbling over her shoulders.

"Of course," replied Aigneis.

"Do you have a comb I might borrow? And... could you ensure that, when Gunnar returns, Donald is not within earshot. I am to be spanked, you see, and I fear I might cry out."

"Why?"

"Why...?"

"The spanking? Why?"

"Because I slept elsewhere. He came to seek me out in the night and brought me back here."

"I told you what his wishes were."

"I know, and you were right." Her voice trembled, just a little, but enough to alert the other woman.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes, a little," Mairead acknowledged, though not so much so as she would have been had this been her first encounter with Gunnar’s discipline.

Aigneis laid a soothing hand on Mairead's shoulder. "You have no need to be. He will not harm you. But you are right about the boy. There will be noise and he may not understand."

"And Tyra? Would you take care of her, too? I have just fed her."

"Aye. Tyra too. Meanwhile, I shall bring you food. I believe you will need it."

Gunnar returned just as Mairead finished her breakfast of porridge and honey. Donald perched on the edge of the bed, complaining about being confined to the longhouse for six more entire days.

"Seven days," corrected Gunnar as he entered. "Yesterday did not count."

"Yes, Jarl," acknowledged the boy, his face sullen but resigned. "Seven days."

"And you may start by collecting firewood." Aigneis called to Donald from the outer hall. "Come, be quick about it before the rain starts. You may bring your sister too and she can keep me company here by the fire while I spin."

Mairead helped Donald to cradle Tyra in his arms, then sent the boy off to deposit his burden with Aigneis.

Gunnar lowered the curtain behind the boy and Mairead appreciated the small degree of seclusion it offered.

She lowered her eyes, seized by a sudden and unexpected clenching within her lower abdomen.

She wore nothing beneath the sark, and already her inner thighs were damp.

Had this Viking been correct in his outrageous suggestion? Did she actually enjoy a spanking?

She never had before, though in truth an angry backhanded slap across her face, a blow hard enough to send her slamming against the wall of their cottage and leave her lip bleeding bore no resemblance to the erotic sting of Gunnar's palm on her buttocks. Or she thought not, probably.

Would a spanking hurt as much as his belt had? Did he perhaps intend to use his belt again? He had not said, she simply assumed he would--

"Lie across my lap and lift up your sark."

He interrupted her musings with his curt instruction. Gunnar had seated himself on the edge of the bed, where just a few moments ago Donald had sat. The Viking regarded her over his shoulder, his eyes as dark as she had ever seen them and his expression stern.

She had questions, her head brimmed with them, but she supposed all would be answered soon enough. He kept his belt on, which was a relief she supposed. Mairead slipped from the bed and came around to stand before him.

"Shall I take this off?" She plucked at the fabric at the front of her undershirt.

"No. I want you to get in position then raise the sark for me. You will get yourself ready, bare your bottom for me to spank."

Oh, sweet Jesu. Something coiled and tingled between her legs, and she sensed a fluttering within which she could not quite name but she knew her most private places were dampening at his words.

It would have been difficult to remove her clothing for him, but she had done it once and could manage again.

This different approach of his was more intense, more humiliating.

She was to aid in her own punishment by arranging herself just so.

"Mairead, do not keep me waiting."

"No, Jarl." She almost flung herself across his thighs, her head dangling down by his boot and her hair sweeping the floor.

She dreaded what she must do next but wanted to get it over with so she reached back to grab the hem of her linen shirt and hastily pulled it up to her waist, then tucked the bulk of the material under her stomach to ensure it remained in place.

She was horribly embarrassed, prayed that no one would see fit to open the curtain and see her thus.

Had Aigneis managed to get Donald out of the longhouse in time?

"What are you thinking?" His tone was soft, and she took courage from that.

"I am afraid someone will hear, or come in."

"They might, but there is nothing you can do about any of that now. None of what is to happen to you is under your control so you might as well let it go. Relax, if you can, and surrender."

"I do not mean to fight you, Jarl. Or to struggle."

"I know that." He laid one warm, solid palm on her bottom and rubbed a large circle around her left cheek. "I was thinking more of what is happening in your head. You need only to feel this, not think overmuch about it."

"I... I will try, Jarl." Her voice fell to a breathy whisper. Her bottom was still tender from yesterday and as he pressed her delicate skin those sensations returned. How much more punishment could she take?

"You know why this is happening." It was a statement, not a question.

"I disobeyed you."

"Yes, though I now rather think you misunderstood my instruction rather than deliberately disobeyed. You should have checked, asked me to clarify."

"I will, Jarl. Next time."

"I shall make sure of it. So, are you ready?"

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, I am ready."

The first volley of spanks were light, teasing almost. Gunnar rained slaps down on both her buttocks, covering the sensitive globes and causing her to clench and writhe on his lap, but not to cry out.

It was painful, but not overly so and there was pleasure in it too, especially when he paused to caress her smarting skin.

Now she moaned, but in startled delight rather than pain.

"You like that?"

She nodded, but then realised he may not have seen her. "Yes, Jarl."

"Will you spread your legs for me?"

"Of course." On one level, she had no choice, he would make her do as he wanted though he did phrase the command most politely.

But on another this was exactly what she desired, what she had hoped for.

Punishment, submission, sensuality – these were a heady mix and she no longer knew quite how to separate them, or even if she wished to. So she parted her thighs and lay still.

"So pretty, and so wet." He slid his hand between her thighs and stroked her soaking folds. Mairead tensed under the sudden wave of lust which seemed to engulf her. "Did I hurt you?" His voice was soft now, and achingly seductive.

"No, it was ... more pleasant than I remembered."

"I see. And this?" Now he toyed with the pleasure nub he had awakened yesterday. Mairead stuffed her fist in her mouth in an attempt not to squeal out loud.

"Answer me. Is this nice."

"Mmmmm."

Her muffled response clearly did not suffice. He dropped two hard slaps, one on each buttock. "I expect you to talk to me, to answer if I ask you a question. If you do not understand what I want of you, you may tell me that since I know our tongue is still new to you."

"It is very nice, Jarl." She blurted the reply out fast, fearing another onslaught of slaps and craving them at the same time.

"And this?" Now he circled her entrance with his finger tip.

"That too, Jarl. It feels so good..."

"This?" His finger entered her, just to the first knuckle she thought. "Any pain?"

"No, it feels wonderful. Perhaps you might... I mean, maybe a little more?"

"Can I trust you to tell me if I hurt you?"

"You have hurt me. You are spanking me, Jarl. It is meant to hurt, is it not?"

"The spanking, yes. Not this." He swirled his finger between the swollen, sensitive lips. "You only gave birth a month ago."

"I am healed, truly I am. The birth was easy, and... oh! Ooooh." She let out a sob as he slid his whole finger into her.

"Tell me, Mairead. Is this painful?"

"No. No, it is ... wonderful. Please do not stop."

"Greedy wench. You will take your spanking; then, if I am satisfied you have learnt better manners, I will give you what you desire."

"Please..."

She sighed as he withdrew his finger, then squealed when he resumed the spanking.

This time he was not playing, not teasing her with gentle taps.

He dropped one slap after another, alternating between her buttocks and even covering the backs of her thighs.

The strokes where her thighs met the lower curves of her buttocks hurt the most and she could not stifle her anguished cries as the pain built, bloomed, burst across her tender flesh.

"Gunnar, master, please. Please, I..."

He stopped frequently to rub her inflamed bottom, as though to work the pain right into her body. But it felt exquisite too, sensual and seductive as he caressed and soothed her, waiting until her cries subsided before picking up the spanking again.

"I am sorry. I will obey you, I swear I will. I never meant... Oh. Aaagh!" She begged, pleaded, sobbed against his shins but Gunnar did not let up. Neither did he pause to stroke and soothe any more. Her punishment was unrelenting and Mairead began to wonder if she truly could endure this.

And suddenly, he stopped. He rested his palm on her blazing, inflamed buttock and pressed gently. "What do you have to say to me, thrall?"

Mairead did not hesitate, she knew what was required and could not get her words out fast enough. Her lack of familiarity with the Norse tongue did not hamper her as she begged for forgiveness.

"I will sleep in your bed, always, and I will obey you. I promise. I am sorry. I thought... I should have asked you, I know that now."