Page 5

CHAPTER 5

M ary

Three more times I heard the ritual repeated, each man proclaiming ownership of his chosen thrall. The girls’ responses blurred together, a chorus of need and surrender in rapid French. With each defloration, the cavern filled again with cries of pain and pleasure. The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

My entire body trembled as I waited for my turn, Sven’s fingers never ceasing their torturous dance on my most sensitive flesh. I was so wet now that I could feel my arousal dripping down my inner thighs. My nipples ached, rubbed raw against the bench.

Then I heard Erik’s voice, strong and clear. “I, Erik, claim this thrall, Camille, as my own. She belongs to me, body and soul.”

There was a moment of tense silence. I strained to turn my head, catching a glimpse of Camille’s face. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes blazing with defiance. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought she might refuse.

But then Camille spoke, her voice low and husky. “ J’ai besoin de vous servir, ma?tre Erik. Je m’engage à vous faire plaisir avec mon corps. Je suis à vous pour m’utiliser comme vous le voulez. ”

I didn’t need Sven’s translation to understand the meaning behind her words. Camille’s tone dripped with need, with surrender. A shudder ran through me as I realized how close I was to uttering those same words.

Erik’s grunt of satisfaction was followed by Camille’s sharp cry. I heard the wet sound of his cock entering her, claiming her. Camille’s defiant facade crumbled as Erik began to thrust. Her cries of pleasure echoed off the cavern walls, together with the obscene, rhythmic sounds of energetic fucking.

My head spun, overwhelmed by the sounds and scents of sex all around me. I was trembling uncontrollably now, my hips pressing back desperately against Sven’s hand. I felt like I might combust if he didn’t claim me soon.

As if reading my thoughts, Sven’s fingers withdrew from my aching pussy. I whimpered at the loss, but then I felt him move behind me. His large hands gripped my hips, lifting them slightly. I let out a soft cry as I felt the head of his cock pressed against my entrance, hot and insistent.

“I, Sven Hallstrom,” his voice boomed out, filling the cavern, “claim this thrall, Mary, as my own. She belongs to me, body and soul.”

My heart raced. This was it. The moment of truth. I knew what I had to say, what I desperately wanted to say. But the words caught in my throat, choking me with their enormity.

“Speak, lille en ,” Sven growled, his cock pressing more firmly against me. “Confess your need. Tell me how desperately you need to serve your master.”

I bit my lip, shame and arousal warring within me. But the emptiness of my aching pussy, the need to have it filled at last, took away my ability to resist.

“I… I need to serve you, Herra ,” I whimpered, the words spilling out of me. “Please… I need you to use me, to… to fuck me.” My face burned as I said the crude word, but Sven’s approving rumble sent a shiver of pleasure through me. When he spoke, though, his voice was still stern.

“You are an intelligent girl, Mary,” he said, his hand gripping my back with a little warning squeeze. “Make the pledge you heard your sisters make.”

My tummy flipped, and a little sob emerged from my throat.

“I… I pledge… to give you pleasure with my body, and…” I couldn’t believe the words that came from my mouth, but I also couldn’t deny how my body demanded they be said, “…and I belong to you, to use as you wish.”

Sven’s grip on my hips tightened, and I felt the head of his manhood, soft but somehow hard, too, press more insistently against the virgin opening. I held my breath, my entire body taut with anticipation and fear. Then, with a powerful thrust, he surged forward.

I screamed as he tore through the barrier of my hymen, my maidenhead, my maidenhood, a searing pain radiating from my core. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I buried my face against my bound arms, trying to muffle my cries. Sven was huge, stretching me beyond anything I had ever imagined. I felt impossibly full, split open on his massive cock.

“That’s it, lille en ,” Sven growled, his voice thick with lust. “Take your master’s pik . This sweet little fisse belongs to me now.”

He began to move, withdrawing slightly before slamming back in. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through my body. The initial agony began to fade, replaced by a burning stretch that walked the knife’s edge between discomfort and ecstasy.

Around me, I could hear the other girls crying out as their own masters continued their rough claiming. The cavern echoed with the lewd sounds of fucking: creaking wood, grunts and moans of pleasure. I caught snippets of French—pleas for more, cries of “ oui, ma?tre! ”, desperate whimpers of need.

Sven’s pace quickened, his hips snapping against my upturned bottom with bruising force. The bench creaked beneath us, the ancient wood protesting the vigorous use. My body rocked with each powerful thrust, my breasts dragging painfully against the rough planks.

As Sven rode me hard, seeking his pleasure, my senses seemed to heighten. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the cavern walls, and suddenly I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. The stone was covered in intricate carvings—runes and symbols etched deep into the rock face.

My eyes widened as I took in the images surrounding us. There were scenes of epic battles, longships crashing through stormy seas, and fierce warriors brandishing axes and swords. Interspersed among the martial imagery were more intimate scenes—men taking women in various positions, some tender, others rough.

I blinked rapidly, wondering if I had begun to hallucinate. Was there something in the smoke from the torches? The carvings seemed to move and shift in the flickering light, coming alive before my eyes. I could almost hear the clash of steel, the roar of the ocean, the cries of pleasure from the carved figures.

One image in particular caught my attention—a young woman bent over a rowing bench, her face a mask of ecstasy as a powerful warrior claimed her from behind. With a jolt, I realized the woman had long, flowing hair that looked startlingly red in the torchlight. Was I seeing myself?

Sven’s hand suddenly tangled in my own hair. The flash of arousal from the little act of mastery brought on a sudden orgasm of a kind I’d never imagined. I reared back and screamed in helpless ecstasy and I realized that despite the shame of it I, Mary, was the one bound to the bench with her new Herra ’s cock in her no-longer-virgin fisse . A Viking warrior was using me for his lustful enjoyment—like the girl in the image, long ages after… more than a millennium since the Northmen had terrorized my Irish ancestors.

The images of Odin and Thor, of Viking raids and voyages, seemed to take me to another world, though. As Sven’s powerful thrusts rocked my body, I noticed a carving high up, of Odin on his fabulous six-legged horse Sleipnir. The thought of my Herra riding me seemed to become much more than a metaphor… I was traveling through the heavens above a snow-covered land, above seas full of ice floes.

I saw my master’s ships, their dragon-headed prows cutting through the heavy swells. Fierce warriors with braided beards and gleaming axes leapt from the ships onto foreign shores. Villages burned, people fled screaming, and amidst the chaos, from high above, I saw women carried off—some fighting, others going willingly into the arms of their captors.

The bench creaked under me with each of Sven’s powerful thrusts. The ancient wood groaned in protest, the sound echoing off the cavern walls. I could hear similar creaks and groans from the other benches, a cacophony of straining wood that blended with the cries of pleasure and discomfort from the other couplings.

To my right, I heard Camille’s voice rise in a keening wail of ecstasy. The defiant girl seemed to have fully surrendered to the pleasure Erik gave her. Farther away, Amélie’s sobs had given way to breathy moans and pleas for more.

My own cries joined the chorus as Sven’s cock hit a spot deep inside me that made me feel my body might come apart. The pain of my defloration had faded, replaced by surges of pleasure unlike anything I had ever experienced. My hips moved of their own accord, pressing back to meet each of Sven’s thrusts.

Suddenly, Sven’s voice boomed out, giving another command in that Northern language, this time somehow both lilting and guttural. I could hardly understand what was happening. The other men responded, their voices a chorus of agreement.

I felt Sven’s cock withdraw from me, leaving me feeling achingly empty. I whimpered in confusion and loss, trying to crane my neck to see what was happening. I could see nothing, though, bound in place to the bench as I was.

I heard movement around me, the sound of bodies shifting position. The other girls made noises of surprise and dismay, echoing my own confusion. What was happening? Why had Sven stopped?

Then I felt a large hand on my bottom, and I knew with certainty that it wasn’t Sven’s. My body tensed, a fresh wave of fear washing over me. Whose hand was this? What was going to happen to me?

Sven’s voice cut through my rising panic. He spoke in French, his words clear and commanding. “As Vikings, we are generous with our warrior brothers. We will each know the pleasure of all our thralls before the night is through.”

My eyes widened in shock as I processed his words. Did he mean…? Surely not…

But then I heard Sven issue another command, and my face burned as I realized how quickly I had begun to learn his tongue. “ Kneppe! ”

Fuck. Sven had just told his ‘brothers’ to fuck. Oh, no…

I gasped as I felt a new cock thrust inside me, thicker than Sven’s but not quite as long. My body tensed at the unfamiliar intrusion, but the wetness Sven had created allowed this new man to slide in smoothly.

“I am Erik, Sven’s shield-brother,” a deep voice murmured in my ear, his accent even thicker than Sven’s. “Your little fisse is almost as sweet as my Camille’s.”

His words sent a shiver through me—both from the crudeness and the realization that this man had just been inside Camille. Now he was fucking me, using my body for his pleasure because my own master was so generous. I should have felt violated, should have protested. Instead, I found myself pressing back against him, seeking more.

As Erik began to move inside me, the strange visions returned. I was no longer bound to a bench in an underground cavern. Instead, for a moment I seemed caught in the branches of a vast tree, and then a rushing wind seemed to blow me farther, farther, until I found myself on another longship, the salt spray stinging my face as we crashed through the ocean swells. The wooden deck rocked beneath me, matching the rhythm of Erik’s thrusts.

I could see other ships around us, their own dragons’ heads slicing through the choppy sea. Warriors lined the rails, their beards whipping in the wind, axes and swords glinting in the pale northern sun. Among them, I saw the women again—some cowering in fear, others standing proudly beside their captors.

The scene shifted, and suddenly I was in a great hall. Fires roared in massive hearths, casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. I saw myself there, dressed in a simple linen shift, moving among the feasting warriors. My arms were laden with platters of meat and horns of ale. As I bent to serve a group of men, I felt rough hands grab my hips.

In an instant, my shift was pushed up, and I was bent over the table. Plates and cups clattered to the floor as a burly warrior thrust into me from behind. The other men cheered and laughed, calling out lewd encouragement. To my shame, I heard my own voice joining their cries, begging for more.

The fantasy blurred and shifted again. Now I was in a small hut, lying on a bed of furs. A group of women surrounded me, their hands gentle as they bathed my swollen belly with warm cloths. I looked down in wonder at my rounded stomach, feeling the strong kicks of the child growing within me. A warrior’s child. My master’s heir.