Page 12

CHAPTER 12

M ary

The sounds of splashing and female voices grew louder, and then the corridor opened up into a large, circular chamber dominated by a steaming pool of water. The air was thick with moisture, carrying the scent of herbs and salt.

My fellow bed thralls were already in the water, their naked bodies glistening in the flickering torchlight. I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks as I took in the scene before me. The pool was larger than I had expected, carved directly into the stone floor and filled with steaming water that gave off a faint herbal scent. Other pools, baths, and sinks lay around the central lagoon, some of them steaming and others apparently cool, or empty.

Around the walls of the cavern, I could see the same kind of ornate carvings that seemed to run throughout the underground complex: the gods above, and the men crouched over prostrate naked women, enjoying their possessions in poses that made me blush even harder.

As Mor Astrid urged me forward, I caught sight of Camille, her dark hair slicked back from her face as she scrubbed at her arms with a rough-looking cloth. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I saw a paradoxical mixture of defiance and resignation in her gaze. Amélie was nearby, her pale skin flushed pink from the heat of the water. She seemed lost in thought, mechanically washing herself as if on autopilot. Sophie stood waist-deep in the water, her blonde hair piled atop her head as she massaged some kind of oil into her skin.

“In you go,” Mor Astrid said, giving me a gentle but firm push toward the edge of the pool. “Make sure to wash thoroughly. Your masters expect cleanliness from their thralls.”

I hesitated for just a moment, my last shred of modesty making me want to cover myself. But a sharp look from Mor Astrid had me quickly stepping into the water. The heat enveloped me, soothing my aching muscles and washing away the evidence of the night’s activities. I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief as I sank deeper into the pool.

“Here,” Sophie said quietly, holding out a small pottery jar. “It’s a special soap. Use it everywhere.”

I took the jar with a murmured thank you, dipping my fingers into the creamy substance inside. It smelled of lavender and other fragrant plants, earthier and more primal. As I began to lather it over my skin, I was surprised by how silky it felt, almost as if it were melting into my pores.

“Make sure you get every crevice,” Mor Astrid called out, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “Your masters will inspect you thoroughly this evening.”

I felt my face flame at her words, remembering Sven’s large hands exploring every inch of my body. Unbidden, a shiver of arousal ran through me, and I ducked my head under the water to hide my reaction.

When I surfaced, gasping slightly, I found Camille had moved closer to me. Her dark eyes were intense as she leaned in to whisper, “We need to talk. All of us. But not here, not now. Just… be prepared.”

I nodded slightly to acknowledge Camille’s whispered words, my mind racing. What could she be planning? Before I could dwell on it further, Mor Astrid’s stern voice cut through my thoughts.

“Girls, hark closely now,” she commanded. “It is time you learned to think properly about your conjugal duties. Sit, and soak, and learn.”

Two feet or so below the surface, the makers of the bath had carved a broad step, that I understood, as I watched my new ‘sisters’ settle onto it, worked also as a seat. I followed suit, all of us turning toward the lined, serious face of Mor Astrid. I felt my cheeks grow hot as she began to speak, her words graphic and uncompromising.

“You should understand by this point that your bodies belong to your masters,” she said, her eyes moving from girl to girl. “But I am also certain that you have not fully understood, at the level that you must, if you are to serve the Sons of Odin as they deserve. Every hole, every curve, every inch of skin is theirs to use as they see fit. You must make up your mind to learn your place ever more completely. You must resolve to take pleasure in their pleasure, to crave their touch and their command.”

I squirmed uncomfortably, acutely aware of my nakedness and the lingering ache between my legs—how the soothing, warm water seemed to increase the reawakened need down there. Mor Astrid continued, her words growing even more explicit.

“Your fisse ,” she said, using the crude Norse term that made me blush even harder, “is the sacred vessel of your master’s seed. You will keep it clean, smooth, and ready for his use at all times. When he enters you, you will welcome him with eager wetness, no matter how sore or tired you may be.”

I heard Amélie whimper softly beside me, and I reached out to squeeze her hand under the water. Mor Astrid’s gaze fixed on her, her expression stern, but not unkind.

“And your r?vhul ,” she continued, making me gasp at the very sound, knowing somehow how obscene it was, “is a special gift to your master. It will hurt at first, yes, but you will learn to find pleasure in the pain, in the utter submission of offering up your most private place for his use.”

I felt my face burning, remembering the intense sensations of Sven claiming my bottom the night before. To my dismay, I felt a twinge of arousal at the memory, my body responding even as my mind recoiled.

“Your mouth, of course, is your Herra ’s upon his command. You will kneel and you will receive his upstanding pik there. You have not, though, understood the further meaning of the act. The next time your master fucks your lovely face, think on how he has taken your voice away, and turned your lips into a second fisse for his use.”

I swallowed hard as her penetrating gaze went around us again. The sheer ambiguity of my thoughts and feelings, along with the warm steam, made me feel slightly dizzy.

“Now,” she said, clapping her hands sharply. “It’s time for you girls to prepare yourselves properly for your warriors’ use. You will work in pairs.”

I looked around nervously, unsure of what to do. To my relief, Sophie moved closer to me, giving me a small, reassuring smile.

“Sophie,” Mor Astrid called, “with Amélie. Yvette with Fleur.”

I saw the two girls whose names I hadn’t yet known move toward each other, Yvette with short-cropped dark hair and Fleur with auburn.

“Mary and Camille,” our mistress said, “you are together as the bed thralls of our Overherra and his shield-brother.”

I felt my face flame anew as Mor Astrid gestured to a row of shelves along the wall. There, I saw an array of items that made my stomach churn with apprehension—above all the rubber enema bulbs and shallow enameled metal basins.

“Now, girls,” Mor Astrid said, her voice firm, “you will cleanse one another thoroughly. Use the enema bulbs and basins you see there. The floor sinks are for disposing of the waste.”

I looked at Camille, seeing my own shock and reluctance mirrored in her dark eyes. We hesitated, neither of us moving toward the shelves, even as the four other bed thralls had stepped out of the pool to comply.

Mor Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “Do not test my patience. This is not a request.”

Still, we remained frozen in place. I couldn’t bring myself even to think about it, let alone to move to do something so intimate, so humiliating, to another person—far less to allow it to be done to me.

“Very well,” Mor Astrid said, her voice cold. “If you insist on defiance, you will face the consequences.”

She barked out orders to the other girls, who moved with a dismaying efficiency that belied the distress evident on their faces. Before I could fully process what was happening, hands gripped my arms with an unexpected strength, as if Mor Astrid’s threats had frightened my ‘sisters’ into forcefulness.

Sophie and Amélie pulled me out of the water. They forced me to my knees at the edge of the pool. I felt myself being bent forward, my bottom raised high and exposed. To my left, I saw Camille being positioned similarly by Yvette and Fleur.

“It is customary that the most spirited girls go to the Overherra and his shield-brother, but it is also customary that they be thoroughly broken to their masters’ hands,” Mor Astrid said coldly. “Since you refuse to learn willingly, perhaps pain will be a better teacher.”

I heard the whistle of the leather strap cutting through the air a split second before white-hot pain exploded across my bottom. I cried out, my body jerking against the hands that held me in place.

The strap fell again and again, alternating between Camille and me. Each lash sent shockwaves of agony through my body, the sting amplified by my wet skin. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed, all thoughts of dignity or resistance driven from my mind by the relentless punishment.

“Please,” I finally choked out between sobs. “Please, I’ll obey. I’ll do it.”

Beside me, I heard Camille’s voice, thick with tears but still somehow defiant. “Yes, we will comply. Just… just stop.”

The whipping ceased, and I sagged against the cool stone, my bottom feeling as though it were on fire. Mor Astrid’s voice cut through the haze of pain.

“Stand up, both of you. Go to the shelves and gather what you need. You will clean each other out, thoroughly and without complaint. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mor Astrid,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying.

As we shakily got to our feet, I caught Camille’s eye. The fire of rebellion still smoldered there, but it was tempered now by resignation. We both knew that further resistance would only draw more punishment.

With trembling hands, I filled the enema bulb with warm water from one of the smaller pools. Camille knelt before me, her whipped bottom raised and exposed. I hesitated, my face burning with shame.

“Go on,” Mor Astrid commanded. “You must learn to help your sisters be pleasing to their masters, as they will help you be the kneppet?j your Herra merits.”

“ Kneppet?j , Mor? ” Sophie asked, ever the eager pupil it seemed.

“Yes, girl,” the crone replied. “It is perhaps a bit vulgar, but it is highly accurate nonetheless. It means piece for fucking —or perhaps, fuck toy .”

I couldn’t suppress a little whimper at the wave of shame that traveled through my body to hear the older woman’s mature voice say such things about my new life. I turned my burning face toward my even more embarrassing task, and saw Camille’s pussy and anus revealed and offered.

Taking a deep breath, I pressed the tip of the rubber nozzle against the tiny pink opening of Camille’s anus, and pushed it in as gently as I could. She tensed at the contact, a small whimper escaping her lips. Slowly, I squeezed the bulb, watching as the water disappeared into her body. Camille gasped, her fingers gripping the edge of the pool.

“That’s it,” Mor Astrid encouraged. “Fill her completely.”

I continued until the bulb was empty, then carefully withdrew it. Camille’s body shuddered, and I could see her struggling to hold the liquid inside. Mor Astrid directed her to one of the floor sinks, where she released the water with a sob of humiliation.

We repeated the process several times, until the water ran clear. By the third round, I was horrified to realize that my body was responding to the intimate act. A familiar warmth pooled between my thighs, and I shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the growing arousal.

When it was my turn, Camille’s touch was surprisingly gentle. As the warm water filled me in a way I’d never imagined, I couldn’t hold back a moan. The fullness, the vulnerability, the sheer intimacy of the act brought on an impossibly complicated multiplicity of sensation, emotion, and thought. When I finally released the water, I felt a confusing mixture of relief and shame.

“Very good,” Mor Astrid said, her tone softening slightly. “Now, it’s time to prepare your fisser for your masters’ pleasure.”

She gestured to the shelf, where several razors lay. My eyes widened as I remembered what Sven had told me—the reminder a bare pussy would provide of my submission to him.

I watched with a mixture of fascination and apprehension as Mor Astrid instructed Amélie and Sophie to demonstrate the shaving ritual. Amélie stepped into the pool, her pale skin glistening with droplets of water. She bent over, placing her face on a folded towel at the edge of the pool, her bottom raised high in the air.

Sophie knelt behind her, razor in hand. Mor Astrid’s voice was calm and clinical as she guided Sophie through the process. “Start at the top of her mound,” she instructed. “Use gentle, downward strokes. Be careful around the labia—they’re very sensitive.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away as Sophie began to shave Amélie’s pussy. The soft scraping sound of the razor against skin seemed impossibly loud in the steamy chamber. Amélie whimpered softly as the blade glided over her most intimate areas, removing every trace of hair.

“Now for the bottom,” Mor Astrid continued. “Amélie, reach back and spread those little cheeks. Sophie, you must remove every hair from the cleft of her backside.”

I felt my face grow hot as Amélie complied, exposing her most private place. The razor moved carefully between her buttocks, and I saw Amélie’s fingers tremble as she held the tiny globes open.

“Very good,” Mor Astrid nodded approvingly. “Now rinse her clean and apply the soothing oil.”

As Sophie finished, Mor Astrid turned to the rest of us. “Your turn, girls. Get to work.”

With trembling hands, I picked up a razor and moved behind Camille. She was already in position, her dark hair falling forward to obscure her face. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

As I began to shave Camille’s mound, I was struck by how intimate this act was. My fingers brushed against her soft skin as I stretched it taut for the razor. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the cleanliness of her skin mingled with the muskier, headier scent of her vagina.

To my horror, I felt the too-familiar warmth building between my own thighs once again. How could this be arousing? And yet, as I carefully removed every trace of hair from Camille’s pussy, I couldn’t deny the effect it was having on me.

When it came time to shave between her buttocks, I hesitated.

“Go on,” Camille whispered, her voice barely audible. “Let’s just get this over with.”

She reached back and spread her punished cheeks, exposing the tiny hole I knew her master had opened last night, just as Sven had opened mine. The razor trembled slightly in my hand as I worked, hyperaware of every tiny movement, every soft gasp from Camille.

As I finished and began to apply the soothing oil, I noticed that Camille’s pussy glistened with more than just water. A peek at her face revealed flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. It seemed I wasn’t the only one affected by this strange ritual.

I had barely finished applying the soothing oil to Camille’s freshly shaved skin when Mor Astrid’s voice rang out again.

“Well done, girls,” she said, her tone surprisingly warm. “You’ve shown great improvement in your obedience. Now, it’s time for your reward.”

I looked up in confusion, meeting Camille’s equally perplexed gaze. Reward? After all we had just endured?

“Lie down on your towels,” Mor Astrid instructed. “Head to tail, in pairs.”

Hesitantly, we complied. I found myself lying next to Camille, her feet near my head and vice versa. The plush towel beneath me was a stark contrast to the hard stone floor, and I couldn’t help but sigh at the small comfort it provided.

“Now,” Mor Astrid continued, her voice taking on an almost mischievous tone, “you will kiss each other’s fisse . Use your tongues to bring pleasure to your sisters, just as you will use them to please your masters.”

My eyes widened in shock. Surely she couldn’t mean… But as I looked around, I saw the other girls already moving into position, their faces flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

“Go on,” Mor Astrid urged. “You may not stop until you’ve all found your release.”

With trembling hands, I reached out to part Camille’s thighs. Her newly bare pussy glistened before me, pink and perfect. I felt her warm breath on my own sex and shivered involuntarily.

My whole body seemed to blush, but somehow I knew that even the lingering soreness from the crone’s strap only represented a flimsy excuse. I wanted to do this for Camille—and, even more, I wanted her to do it for me.

Slowly, hesitantly, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Camille’s outer lips. She gasped, her hips jerking slightly at the contact. Emboldened by her reaction, I let my tongue dart out, tasting another girl for the first time.

The flavor was intoxicating—musky and sweet, with a hint of the herbal soap and the soothing oil we’d used earlier. I found myself lapping at her folds with increasing enthusiasm, driven by an instinctive desire to please.

Suddenly, I felt Camille’s mouth on me, her tongue exploring my most intimate places. I moaned against her pussy, the vibrations causing her to whimper in response. It was a feedback loop of pleasure, each of us spurred on by the other’s reactions.

Around us, I could hear the sounds of the other girls engaged in similar activities. Soft moans and whimpers filled the air, together with the occasional gasp or cry of pleasure. The steam from the bath seemed to intensify everything, creating a dreamlike atmosphere that made it all feel somehow unreal.

I lost myself in the sensations, my world narrowing to the taste of Camille on my tongue and the exquisite feeling of her mouth on my sex. My hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against her face as I sought more friction.

To my shock and a bit to my dismay, I felt my climax building rapidly. The dual sensations of pleasuring Camille and being pleasured by her were overwhelming. My legs began to tremble as the pressure built, a familiar tightening in my lower belly signaling my impending release.

I redoubled my efforts on Camille’s pussy, determined to bring her over the edge with me. My tongue found her clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bud as I slipped two fingers inside her. She cried out against my folds, her hips bucking wildly.

“That’s it, girls.” Mor Astrid’s voice cut through the haze of arousal. “Let go. Show your sisters how beautifully you can come.”

Her words seemed to break the last of my restraint. With a muffled cry, I tumbled over the edge into ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me as I shuddered against Camille’s mouth. Almost immediately, I felt her tense and then cry out, her inner walls clenching around my fingers as she found her own release.

As the aftershocks rolled through me, I became aware of the sounds of the other girls reaching their peaks. Soft cries and whimpers filled the steamy air.

Slowly, reluctantly, I disentangled myself from Camille. As I sat up, I caught sight of Mor Astrid watching us with an approving smile.

I felt my face burn with shame and lingering arousal. How could I have enjoyed that so much? How could I be filled with such pride at Mor Astrid’s praise? And yet, I couldn’t deny the warm glow of satisfaction that spread through my body.

“Now,” Mor Astrid continued, clapping her hands sharply. “It’s time for your first classroom lesson. Dry yourselves and follow me.”