Page 8

CHAPTER 8

M ary

As if his words had broken some final barrier, I felt a tide of surrender wash over me. My body relaxed, yielding completely to Sven’s probing caress. Next to me, I heard Camille let out a muffled moan, as if she had tried as hard as she could to resist the pleasure, and had finally failed.

“Let go, Camille, you naughty girl. Pee over my hand to show your submission, or I’ll whip your bottom for you,” Erik growled, close enough for me to hear the shameful command.

My face burned with secondhand embarrassment. Camille’s response came immediately, her voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and fear.

“ Non! Jamais! I won’t do it, you can’t make me!” she cried out. But beneath her words, I detected a note of desperate arousal that made my own body clench in response.

Erik’s low chuckle sent shivers down my spine. “Oh, ma petite rebelle ,” he purred, his accent thick with amusement and lust. “You will learn.”

The sharp crack of a whip cut through the air, followed by Camille’s agonized scream. I flinched at the sound, my body tensing in sympathetic pain. Another lash fell, and another. Camille’s cries grew more frantic with each strike, a stream of French pleas and curses pouring from her lips.

“Please, ma?tre !” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “I can’t… I won’t…”

But even as she protested, I could hear the change in her tone. The defiance was crumbling, replaced by a desperate need to submit, to please. I knew that feeling all too well now, the conflicting desires warring within her just as they had within me.

“Let go, Camille,” Erik commanded, his voice a low growl. “Show me your submission.”

There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by Camille’s ragged breathing. Then I heard it—the soft patter of liquid hitting skin, followed by Erik’s grunt of approval.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Now, let’s see how well you respond to reward.”

Camille’s gasp of shock quickly turned into a moan of pleasure. I could imagine Erik’s large hand cupping the little fisse he had opened on his hardness, his fingers expertly stroking and teasing as she continued to relieve herself. The wet sounds of his ministrations filled the air, mingling with Camille’s increasingly desperate whimpers.

“Oh… oh, God,” she panted, her voice thick with shame and arousal. “Please… I can’t… it’s too…”

But Erik was relentless. “You can, and you will,” he growled. “Come for me, lille en . Show everyone how much you love being my dirty little slut.”

Camille’s cries reached a fever pitch, her body clearly teetering on the edge of release. I felt my own arousal building in response, my hips grinding shamelessly against the bench beneath me.

With a final, keening wail, Camille came. Her screams of ecstasy echoed off the stone walls, sending shockwaves of secondhand pleasure through my body. I could hear the wet sounds of Erik’s fingers working her through her orgasm, prolonging her pleasure until her cries turned to whimpers.

The cavern filled with a cacophony of sounds—the sharp crack of whips, the desperate cries of the other girls, and the low grunts of the men as they doled out punishment and pleasure in what seemed equal measure. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations, but it only seemed to heighten my other senses.

The wooden bench beneath me creaked and groaned with each movement, and suddenly I felt as though we truly were at sea. In my mind’s eye, I could see the waves around us and ahead of us, feel the salt spray stinging my skin as we sailed into the unknown. The rocking motion seemed to intensify, and I found myself swaying with it, my body moving of its own accord.

I became acutely aware of every point of contact between my skin and the rough wood. The grain pressed patterns into my flesh, marking me as surely as any brand. My nipples, already tender and swollen, scraped against the bench with each roll of my hips, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through my body.

Sven’s hand never left my pussy, his fingers working me with maddening skill. I felt myself growing wetter by the moment, my arousal mixing with the remnants of my earlier shame. The scent of sex and sweat hung heavy in the air, mingling with the imagined brine of a stormy sea.

Through the haze of sensation, I vaguely registered that Sven was moving. His touch remained constant between my thighs, but I could sense him circling around the bench. My breath caught in my throat as I realized he was coming to stand in front of me.

I wanted desperately to open my eyes, to see what he was doing, but fear kept them tightly shut. What if I saw something I couldn’t unsee? What if looking made this all too real?

But even with my eyes closed, I could feel Sven’s presence looming over me. The heat of his body radiated against my face, and I caught the musky scent of his skin—clean from the bath, but with an underlying note of pure masculinity that made my insides clench with need.

His free hand came to rest on the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. The gentle pressure was at odds with the continued assault of his other hand between my legs. I whimpered, torn between pressing back against his skilled fingers and leaning into the comforting touch on my scalp.

“Open your eyes, Mary,” Sven commanded, his voice low and husky. “Look upon your master.”

I trembled, caught between obedience and terror. What would I see when I opened my eyes? The kind professor I had admired from afar? Or the Viking warrior who had claimed my body so thoroughly?

As I hesitated, the sounds of the cavern seemed to swell around me. I could hear Camille’s muffled sobs as Erik continued to work her body, pushing her toward another peak. Amélie moaned as Henrik evidently alternated lashes with the probing of thick, but deft warrior fingers.

Slowly, hesitantly, I opened my eyes. My gaze traveled up Sven’s powerful legs, over his muscular torso, until finally meeting his steel-blue eyes. The intensity of his stare made me shiver, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through me.

But it was what stood proudly between us that truly captured my attention. Sven’s cock jutted out mere inches from my face, thick and hard, the head glistening with a bead of moisture. I gasped, my eyes widening at the sight. Even after feeling him inside me, seeing his manhood up close was overwhelming.

“This is your new deity, Mary,” Sven said, his voice low and commanding. “You will worship it with your mouth, your hands, your entire being.”

I whimpered, unable to tear my gaze away from his impressive length. Part of me recoiled at the idea, at the sheer blasphemy of his words. But another part, a part that seemed to be growing stronger with each passing moment, longed to obey.

Sven’s hand tightened in my hair, tilting my head back slightly. “Open your mouth, lille en ,” he ordered. “Show your master how eager you are to please him.”

I shook my head, a sudden surge of defiance rising within me. Camille’s earlier resistance echoed in my mind, inspiring me to make one last stand against the madness that surrounded us. “No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I won’t… I can’t…”

Sven’s eyes flashed dangerously, his grip in my hair tightening. “You dare defy me, lille en ?” he growled menacingly.

Before I could respond, his hand left my pussy. I had only a moment to register the loss before a searing pain exploded across my bottom. Sven had produced a whip from somewhere, and now it cracked against my exposed flesh with brutal efficiency.

I cried out, my body jerking against my bonds. The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced before—a fiery line of agony that seemed to sear itself into my very soul. Tears sprang to my eyes as Sven brought the whip down again and again, each lash sending shockwaves of pain through my body.

Through the haze of my own suffering, I became aware of new sounds from nearby. Camille’s defiant sobs had transformed into something else entirely. I heard the wet sounds of sex, mingled with muffled moans of pleasure.

“That’s it, ma petite rebelle ,” Erik’s voice rang out, thick with satisfaction. “Take your master’s cock. Just like that.”

I turned my head slightly, straining to see through my tears. To my shock, I saw Camille with her mouth wrapped around Erik’s enormous member, her cheeks hollowed as she sucked him desperately. Erik’s arm stretched over her back, and his hand moved rhythmically between her legs, working her pussy with skilled fingers as she pleasured him orally.

The sight sent a jolt of confused arousal through me, mingling with the pain of my whipping in a way that made my head spin. Camille’s eyes were closed in ecstasy, her body trembling as Erik brought her closer and closer to the edge.

With a muffled cry, Camille’s body went rigid. I watched in awe as she orgasmed again, her climax washing over her in visible surges. Erik grunted his approval, his hips thrusting faster as he fucked her mouth through her climax.

The whipping suddenly stopped, and I became acutely aware of my own ragged breathing. My bottom felt as though it were on fire, each slight movement sending fresh sparks of pain through me. And yet, to my shame, I could feel how wet I had become, my arousal coating my inner thighs.

Sven’s hand returned to my hair, yanking my head back to face him once more. His cock loomed before me, somehow even larger and more intimidating than before. “Open. Your. Mouth.” he commanded, each word dripping with authority.

This time, I didn’t hesitate. My lips parted. I opened my mouth, my tongue darting out to tentatively taste the tip of Sven’s cock. The salty flavor exploded across my taste buds, reminding me of the sea air I’d only imagined earlier. As I took him deeper into my mouth, I couldn’t help but think of the source of the Vikings’ power: their dominance of the waves, their dragon ships carrying fierce warriors to distant shores. Surely they had tasted of the sea too, those ancient conquerors. Surely they had demanded this same act of worship from the women they claimed.

Sven’s groan of pleasure sent a shiver down my spine. His hand in my hair loosened, becoming almost gentle as he guided me. “That’s it, lille en ,” he murmured. “Show me you can obey me properly.”

I worked my lips, suckling desperately as I tried to take more of him. The pain in my bottom seemed to fade, replaced by a burning need to prove myself, to earn his approval. My tongue swirled around his shaft, tracing the thick vein that ran along its length.

To my relief—and, dismayingly, a little to my disappointment—Sven set aside the whip. His now-free hand returned to my pussy, fingers dancing over my swollen folds. I moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him hiss in pleasure.

“Good girl,” Sven praised, his voice husky with arousal. “Worship your master’s cock. Show proper respect for the instrument of your pleasure and pain.”

His words sent a jolt of confused arousal through me. The never-ending round of questions returned: How could I feel this way? How could I want this so badly? And yet, I couldn’t deny the wetness between my legs, the way my body responded to his touch and his commands.

Sven’s fingers found my clit, circling it with maddening precision. I whimpered, my hips bucking against my bonds. The dual sensations of his cock in my mouth and his fingers on my most sensitive spot were overwhelming.

Suddenly, Sven withdrew from my mouth. I gasped for air, my lips feeling swollen and tender. Before I could catch my breath, he spoke again, his tone commanding.

“Now, lille en , you will learn to properly worship all of me,” he said. “You will lick the stones that hold your Herra ’s seed. Devote yourself to your master’s pleasure.”