a Wicked Conquest

by Valerie Saxon

  ‘You may not be released. ‘Tis far too soon.’ The other figures nodded and mumbled their agreement.

  ‘Then I refuse to stand for any of it,’ she said, utterly fed up of the whole business.

  He took a deep breath, and sounding almost regretful said, ‘Then your husband will be informed of your immoral behaviour.’

  ‘No!’ That was the last thing she wanted. If Sigurd were made aware of her actions he would flay her within an inch of her life. She stared at the black figures, at the burning torches. Why hadn’t she run from the fire-hall when she had the chance? Why hadn’t she left them to their heady pleasure instead of watching them?

  He laughed mirthlessly. ‘You thought you could satisfy your more basic instincts without paying a price. That is not possible. Come, Rowena, you must make a choice.’

  ‘Choice?’ she asked caustically. ‘I have none. You all know what would happen if Sigurd were to find out. No, I elect to be punished by the group.’

  The spokesman nodded his acceptance and she wondered again who he was. She could feel his eyes roving over her helpless form. Was he imagining himself on top of her, rolling on the temple floor, his robes picking up pieces of straw and dirt while he fumbled beneath his robes for his male member?

  The itch began between her legs, that wretched itch that made her out of control as she searched for ways to appease it. But it did her little good, those dark eyes still raking her and she was able to do nothing.

  But her weakness didn’t last. Stiffening her back she glared at him. She would face up to her punishment. Do what they wanted. He stared back and she was frustrated by not knowing who he was. She had seen no one in Sigurd’s hall anywhere near his size. He was far taller than any of the others, his voice and manner full of authority. Being tied up and so helpless while he stood towering over her made her so hot for him, it was impossible to ignore.

  ‘When is my punishment to begin?’ she demanded.

  ‘I can see that your body is excited by the prospect,’ he drawled. ‘See how your breasts peak, how your belly rises and falls as your vulva contracts.’ She blushed. How dare he?

  The group began to whisper, but the man put up a hand and they were instantly silenced. ‘You will have your first taste of discipline this night.’

  Rowena started. ‘First?’

  ‘Of course. Your sin was a major one. Your discipline must be harsh.’

  She closed her eyes; she was so weary. Mayhap it was a nightmare she was unable to awake from, but the flaming torches proved it was all too real. She just had to face facts and hope she was up to whatever it was they intended for her.

  ‘Open your eyes, Rowena,’ he instructed. ‘We want you fully aware of what is happening to you.’

  ‘I do realise that,’ she snapped irritably, and his answer was to bring the torch so close she thought her shift would catch alight.

  ‘You are completely at our mercy,’ he warned. ‘To compound your errors would be extremely foolish.’

  How could she feel so sexy at a time like this? But she knew why; he had such an air or superiority, such strength about him he was irresistible.

  The figures resumed their whispering, eerie, sibilant whispers that resounded around the temple. Then they began to chant. A clap of thunder roared in the heavens, followed by a jagged fork of lightning that did nothing to sway the group from their plan, even though it left Rowena feeling even more shaken than before.

  The chanting ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and the circle parted. Out of the darkness came another robed figure, carrying some sort of container. As it came closer she realised it was a wooden bucket. Without any preamble the contents were thrown over her, and her breath was taken away as icy water soaked her. She was left shivering, her shift clinging even more obscenely than before.

  The circle began to move, and she tried to contain her fear as they formed a line that silently approached like a huge snake. Was each one going to take her right there in the temple? The thought terrified her, her trembling intensified.

  The first figure stopped, holding a torch so that she was completely visible, her shift hugging each curve, each valley, making her look far more vulnerable than if she’d been completely naked. The eyes moved over her in fascination, following every form-fitting path of the material. The figure didn’t touch her. It didn’t have to; the eyes mauled her as thoroughly as any touch.

  Rowena’s trembling body heated, but not with shame. She was reacting to the people just as disgracefully as she had earlier when she watched them fornicate in the fire-hall.

  The leader was watching her too, watching her closely, taking in every traitorous nuance of her flesh, just as the figure in front of her seemed eager to commit every last detail of her form to memory.

  The first of the group stood aside, the movement obviously a silent command for the line to move forward. The next hooded figure did more than look; it touched her hair, smoothing the silky strands as if in wonder. The fingers began to massage her scalp, and from the faceless hood came a lilting sound, almost like a lullaby.

  Rowena whimpered as she was completely captivated by the weird but enjoyable actions. And she was mistaken about the strange song sounding like a lullaby; it was far too sensual for that. The hands moved from her scalp and began outlining her lips, forcing fingers into her mouth, gliding over her teeth and gums, her palate, making her mouth tingle with the same need as her sex.

  The line moved on again. The next person reached out and pressed her stomach, kneaded until her thighs parted hopefully and her clitoris swelled insistently. Her breasts and nipples were prodded and pinched so hard she cried out, but the pleasurable pain flooded her wet furrow. A hand dug into the shadow between her thighs and knuckles rubbed her sex.

  She cried out with pleasure, her musky waters flowing onto the Norwegian’s skin. Then to Rowena’s misery the delightful stimulation ceased, and knuckles were thrust inside her mouth so she could taste her own salty dew. She was on fire, burning and shaking with need. She struggled to break free of her bonds, longing to stick her own fingers in her aching sex, bring herself to orgasm. But the rope bound her too firmly to the post.

  And still they came; fingers and mouths pinching and licking, sucking and biting, tempting and testing her to distraction, so she was a mass of unfulfilled flesh.

  The last and final member of the group, the leader, stepped forward and, although the enveloping robes were sexless, there was no mistaking his maleness. The powerful shoulders belonged to no female.

  He stood there for a few moments, his eyes glinting, and she felt as though the little will she had left was being drawn from her and into those hypnotic orbs. His face moved closer still and she was able to smell his clean male scent, that set up a primeval urge so strong it seemed to drum right through her. Before he so much as touched her it was as though his fist was deep inside her, wrenching her insides out, dissolving her bones.

  When his hands slid teasingly over her curves he pushed his body against her, grinding back and forth until she thought she would die if he didn’t remove his robe and possess her.

  Inflamed to breaking point she tried to block her feelings; think of the things Gunnhild told her about life in the shieling. But it was so difficult when he was doing everything he could to excite her. ‘Stop it, you fiend, leave me alone,’ she begged.

  The deep voice was like honey when he whispered, ‘What is it you really want, Rowena?’

  ‘You know exactly what I want.’

  ‘Tell me, Rowena. Spell it out for me.’

  He wanted her to beg, to forget her dignity and plead with him to make love to her. But there was no way she would. ‘Go to hell!’ she spat.

  ‘Why are you so afraid of admitting your desires?’ he goaded.

  There it was again, that teasing tone. He was still expecting her to give in. She had been weak in the shi
eling when unable to turn away from the orgy, she would not let herself down again.

  Seconds passed. The pain of her bonds was nothing to the agony of wanting him. When he bent forward and skimmed her lips with his own it was like the touch of a butterfly’s wing, but nonetheless, so intoxicating her legs seemed to turn to water.

  He took a step back in order to study her. Seeing her eyes glaze over he repeated his action. But this time it started slowly, softly and more firmly, the pressure building until the kiss took her over. She had only ever dreamed of being kissed like that, had never experienced it until now. It left her totally disorientated, hanging from her bonds like a bundle of rags.

  The possibility of him untying her and laying her on the temple floor, so he could assuage the agonising hunger in her, was foremost in her mind. And it was the most thrilling scenario she had ever imagined. Her heart began to palpitate, her pulses to race. Every part of her was ready to dissolve into him, to become one with the masterful, hooded figure.

  She closed her eyes during the kiss, and when he removed his lips her lashes slowly fluttered open to find he was no longer there. She felt drugged and totally surprised to see no one left in the temple. During the kiss they had all filed off leaving her with the leader, and now even he was gone.

  Rowena waited, her breath catching in her throat when she realised this was her punishment. He had taken her to the edge of paradise and, just when she had sight of the portal opening to welcome her inside, it was slammed shut in her face.

  Her head dropped and tears rolled down her cheeks, her flesh in a delirium of need. She had never felt like this before, could never feel worse. Wouldn’t someone take pity and release her from her torment?

  As though hearing her inner voice, two figures moved into the circle of light radiated from the candles on the altar, and she sighed with relief. He had come back for her. But she soon saw by the slightness of their build she was to be disappointed. Even so, if they released her she would search Algitha out and let her comfort her.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she sighed when they came nearer. ‘I knew you wouldn’t leave me here too long.’

  She wasn’t sure they understood her language until one said gruffly, ‘You accepted your punishment and there can be no going back.’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t expect to be left here,’ she sobbed. ‘Do anything you like, but for pity sake don’t leave me here.’

  They ignored her, but the one who seemed to understand English held his torch over her. The other one, the silent one, reached deep into a linen bag and brought out what looked like a piece of jewellery that glinted in the dull light. Then, taking the material of her shift, he ripped it from neck to hem and cradled one of her breasts in his palm. She inhaled swiftly at the glorious contact.

  She wondered if they were going to tease her some more, or if the sight of her near-naked body had brought them slinking back to take their pleasure of her, despite the brave words. Shame and anger warred with her body’s desperate needs.

  Her breast bloomed in his hand and she tried to brace herself against her natural sensuality. But her mouth slackened and her breath quickened. When he clipped the piece of jewellery to her nipple she gasped, the pain making her eyes water. She glanced down at the cruel metal as it dug into her delicate flesh. So they hadn’t finished with her after all. They had come back to torture her some more with their fiendish tricks.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, they were so hateful. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sigurd had arranged all this. The leader told her she was being tested in the fire-hall, and it would be just the kind of prank he would pull, leaving her naked and helpless in front of his people. She gasped and her self-pity dissolved, for the strangest thing happened, a divine signal was darted to her pleasure centre.

  ‘That is good, yes?’ the one who spoke English asked, and she imagined him smiling beneath his hood, watching her nipples bud and blush as the strange object held her in its embrace.

  Rowena closed her eyes against the flickering torch, against their smug eyes. But she was unable to shut out the pain as he clamped some more gold to her other nipple. It was so uncomfortable she gritted her teeth to stop herself from crying out in agony. Then to her dismay the same thing happened, the gold bit into the roseate tip, bringing her other breast alive to its clawing, hedonistic effect.

  The one holding the torch gave it over to his partner, and taking the bag also reached inside and brought out more sparkling metal.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘Give you more stimulation until your beautiful body is begging to be relieved.’

  Rowena almost laughed, her vagina wet from the pressure of the strange jewellery and the men’s eager eyes. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ she lied, her denial useless.

  They smiled, their breathing uneven at the sight of her naked beauty. One parted her legs and insinuating fingers into her furrow.

  ‘All right, you’ve proved your point,’ she said raggedly. ‘Now let me go.’

  The one who spoke her tongue shook his head and slid his fingers into her wetness again, more firmly this time, and tears of delight filmed her eyes. ‘You are wet,’ he observed smugly, speaking in Norse to his partner, who made an excited hoot and laughed.

  The front of their robes tented and she rolled her head back against the post. When would it end? ‘Does my husband know of the liberties you take with his wife?’ she demanded.

  ‘I am sure he’d be more interested in what we had to say,’ he reminded her nastily.

  She was about to reply when the quiet man caught his friend’s elbow and said something urgently, nodding to the shadows. His partner hurriedly knelt at her feet, then to her consternation he took one of her vaginal lips and attached a piece of jewellery to it. She gave a cry as even more pain surged through her body. How much degradation was she supposed to suffer?

  ‘Don’t,’ she begged. ‘No more, I can’t…’ She paused; as with the nipple jewellery the pain became secondary and she was becoming completely in tune with the new sensations. Nevertheless, she was unprepared when he attached yet another, leaving both lips of her vagina clenched tightly in gold teeth. She writhed against the pole as the pressure did its work.

  ‘Is the task completed?’

  The husky voice came from the edge of the light, and the men immediately nodded and said something in Norwegian. Rowena thought they sounded rather guilty.

  They were dismissed, and she was just able to make out the tall figure of the leader as he emerged from the shadows. She wondered if he’d been there all along, watching her. ‘And you call me a voyeur,’ she said derisively.

  Keeping his distance he asked, ‘Do you want something?’

  Rowena laughed mirthlessly. ‘What could I possibly want trussed up like an animal?’ He stayed where he was and she laughed again. ‘Are you afraid of getting too close in case you’re tempted to finish what you started earlier?’

  ‘You are even more beautiful in anger, Rowena. And yes, I’m very tempted. I don’t think there is a man alive who wouldn’t be. I’m only human, after all. But we must abide by the rules and tonight is not the time for you and I.’

  The pleasurable pains of her restraints were driving her to despair. She gave a deep sigh of frustration. ‘So, you admit your weakness for me.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then prove it.’ She hoped that if he got closer the sparks she knew flew both ways when they kissed would rekindle and burst into flame.

  ‘You are the wife of the chieftain,’ he reminded her solemnly.

  ‘We both know Sigurd has little regard for me. He even sleeps elsewhere.’

  ‘I know.’

  She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘He’s probably with other women as we speak. No doubt my husband has many mistresses.’

  ‘Does it worry you, Rowena?’

  Hi
s question was unexpected, but she was honest with him. ‘I care nothing for Sigurd. He has treated me with disrespect since the hour of our marriage.’

  He moved to her, and lifting his robe to his waist she saw he was completely naked beneath and his stiff member was superb. She began to tremble; the overwhelming maleness of him drowning her saturated senses. They were skin to skin, his magnificent arousal pressing against her stomach. She imagined it nestling inside her, imagined him moving until it slid easily in and out, setting up a rhythm that was satisfactory to them both.

  ‘Is this proof enough?’ he asked as pre-come started to weep from the eye of his penis.

  Rowena sighed. ‘It would feel so much better inside me.’ She spoke her thoughts aloud, determined to capture the enigma of a man, make him hers.

  ‘All in good time.’

  The dark hairs of his chest tickled her breasts, rubbed against her nipple jewellery, causing it to hurt and make her tingle with lust. His thick weapon stood proudly and she almost screamed her frustration. ‘How can you stand so calmly with your cock straining when we both know you want me? It would be so easy to slip between my legs. I could wrap them around your waist and we could make wonderful love.’

  ‘That is not about to happen.’

  ‘Then untie me,’ she snapped. ‘This rope is chaffing my skin.’

  ‘Pain is good discipline,’ he retorted. ‘And I don’t need to bury myself inside you when I can obtain relief like this…’

  He rubbed his cock up and down her stomach and she thought she would go insane with desire. It felt so good as it glided against her. He was taunting her and she was completely at his mercy.

  ‘You’re not really enjoying yourself, are you?’ she challenged, her head resting wearily against the wooden pole, her hips moving with him, trying to bring her sex closer to his erection.

  He chuckled. ‘Oh, but I am. The thought of seeding all over you is a great turn on.’

  ‘I hate you.’