by Desconhecido
She couldn’t resist. “I don’t need free hands for that!” She grinned widely, showing off her white teeth in the faint light of the moon.
He grinned but sat up and undid her hands, then gently rubbed her wrists. “There, happy now?” He smiled gently and brought one to his mouth. She resisted a moment but his raised brow reminded her of her promise. He kissed her wrist, the palm, then kissed the tip of each finger so lightly she almost couldn’t feel it. When he let it go she reached for his pants again but he stopped her. He pulled off his tunic and lay back.
“Try starting higher up,” he suggested with a sigh. He’d really hoped to bring her some pleasure but she seemed determined not to accept it.
She ran her fingers through his chest hair. When she found a nipple and circled it he sighed and closed his eyes to enjoy it. She teased it harder and his breath caught and then sighed out in a soft moan of pleasure. She found the other one. He arched slightly into her hand as she used the palm to raise the nipple and caress it. His breath quickened and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his cock jump slightly under his clothes. She moved back to the first nipple, watching to see if she could make his cock jump again. I can! She remembered she’d always liked the feeling of power it gave her, knowing she could control a man’s body so well. She bent down and kissed, then sucked his hard man nipple. He stifled another moan of pleasure. His hand strayed to her neck and then breast. It froze her cold inside. She gently moved his hand, kissing up the inside as she stretched it over his head.
He felt her tension and let her move him where she wanted. Gods it feels good while she does it! Her lips trailed lower and then stopped as she finally got his pants undone. She pulled the string on his undergarment and pulled both open as far as she could. She slid her hand inside. He gasped and clutched at his cloak as her soft hand tickled down the length of his cock then firmly stroked back up. She surrounded the head with her hand and he let out a soft moan. She swallowed and licked her lips to moisten them so she’d be ready to take him in. Her hand continued to stroke him, tease the head.
Hopefully it won’t take him too long. She leaned down and pressed a kiss on the broad head. Then gently licked up the pre-cum welling out. The salty taste of his arousal sent a surge of need to her own sex.
“Oh, gods, much as I’d like that, this will do fine and hurt you less. Gods, woman, you have good hands.” He breathed out softly between sighs and moans of pleasure. Her hand closed over the head and she bent and sucked in a nipple. He gasped and writhed slightly. She found his favorite spots and gave them extra attention. His cock grew harder and he tensed almost there. She stopped and watched with some satisfaction as he squirmed slightly, wanting. His chest heaved and he rolled his head away from her, exposing his neck. She remembered something he’d said. Where’s that spot? She leaned over and lightly nipped his neck. He yelped slightly in surprise. She froze. Will he beat me? Did I guess wrong? His hand closed on hers and urged her to stroke him more.
“Harder,” he gasped out. She leaned down and took a good hold of his shoulder at the base of his neck. He stifled a yelp and groan as his cock throbbed his pleasure. Her hand closed on the head of his cock and caressed it with a twisting motion, her fingers reaching under the rim. He writhed and moaned. She felt him swell with readiness. She let go with her teeth and moved over more on his neck. She bit again but not as hard, instead she sucked it as well. He couldn’t hold back his cry of pleasure as his body arched then contorted into ecstasy, his seed pumping into her hand and across his soft belly hair. She caressed the head of his cock and he jerked and moaned. She chose another spot to bite and he moaned and twitched, his cock pulsing with pleasure every time. Her sex clenched with growing desire. He grabbed her hand to make her stop.
“Enough! Oh gods, wild one! You don’t disappoint.” He held her hand and lay breathing hard a moment.
She pulled to get her hand back, it was covered with his slime and she wanted to wipe it off. On him, preferably. And then put some distance between them until she could forget how her body responded to his.
He held on. “Easy.” He scraped his seed off her hand with his. “Pull your skirt up,” he ordered as he wiped up more of his seed from his belly.
She stared at him in confusion.
“Now,” he insisted firmly. She lay back and pulled it up. A cold hand squeezed her gut. What does he want? Does he mean to enter me after all? But why is he wiping up all his man milk?
“A little more and pull your undergarment down just a bit,” he instructed her as he rolled to sitting and leaned toward her. She looked at him like he’d lost his mind, then it dawned on her.
“You want to wipe your…your slime on me!” Her voice got more angry as she spoke.
“I could shove my pisser up you and try to grunt like a pig if you'd prefer,” he teased lightly. “As you said, I have to leave my seed in you to claim you proper.”
She sighed and lay back, giving him easy access. It seemed like such a simple request, thoughtful even because it wouldn’t hurt. But she still felt humiliated and just a bit dirty. For a moment, she thought it might have been better if he’d just taken her, then his fingers touched her bruised and torn labia. She stifled a yelp when he probed just a bit inside.
Fridgeir watched her closely as he spread his seed inside her. He really wanted to know how much she hurt. His heart sank, too much. He wiped his finger off on her as gently as he could then pulled her undergarment back up. He couldn’t miss the tension it caused in her.
“Wait here.” He left and returned before she really grasped what he was doing. She suppressed the urge to smash his face and run—her sister depended on her. He held a water bag.
“Here, let me help you wash up.” He offered the bag so she could rinse.
She sat up, surprised again. Are all Northmen crazy? He can’t seem to decide if he wants to treat me like a slave or a bedmate. She held her hands out past his cloak and he rinsed them. He offered her the bag so she could hold it for him.
He smiled brightly at her. A thousand things he wanted to say ran through his mind but he couldn’t figure out how to say them, or even if he should. He brushed her hair back gently again, let his hand rest briefly on her neck. His thumb caressed her cheek.
She felt confused again. Now he looked like a man who'd just made love to a woman, not forced her to jerk him off! Does he expect me to feel that way, too? Northmen! She dropped her gaze, hoping he wouldn’t see the confusion and anger.
He chuckled. “Think I’m crazy? Yeah, we get that a lot from new slaves.” He paused and raised her chin so she’d look at him. “I know that must have seemed a little weird. But now Floki can’t say I haven’t claimed you proper.”
“So what? Now I’m officially your plaything! And other men have to ask before throwing me down. I’m so excited.” Some of her humiliation came through in her voice.
“Eireann, I know you have no reason to trust me or believe me, but I don’t want you just for a night, or a week or even a month. You’re mine, all mine and as long as you are, no other man can have you. I don’t want to share you.”
“So you get to force yourself on me night after night—such an improvement!”
“No, that’s not what I want. I want to share bed sports, share the pleasures men and women can give each other. Gods, I don’t want to hold you down and relieve myself on you.” He stroked her cheek softly. “I want you to enjoy it too. I’m looking for a bedmate, not a toy to sport with and toss away.”
She snorted “Right. And why would you care what I want or enjoy? Why me?” She finally asked the question that had been eating at her from the beginning.
Fridgeir smiled wickedly. “Aside from the reputation your kin have for being good in bed, you’ve got a lot of guts and spunk. Should make me some strong sons.”
She stared at him, almost in shock. “What makes you think I’ll give you any demon whelps!”
He laughed wickedly. “Sooner or later, that’s what happe
ns when a man leaves his seed in a woman. And eventually, I’ll be doing it the old-fashioned way.” He raised a brow in challenge and cocked his head.
She glared angrily at him but couldn’t argue the point. She dropped her head to stare at her hands. The thought she could carry his whelp didn’t please her at all.
“Come, time for sleep.” He stood and offered her his hand to get up.
They walked back to the others. He insisted on tying her hands and chaining her to the post again. She carefully curled up around a soundly sleeping Saibh. Fridgeir turned his back to her and she heard his breath steady into sleep. Too many confused thoughts and emotions whirled through her mind. It makes no sense to me—none at all! She refused to admit to herself that her response to his touch confused her the most. It didn't matter, as long as Saibh was safe. She kept telling herself that as she finally drifted off to sleep again.
Chapter 6
Day 3, foggy morning
The damp cold of a misty grey dawn woke her with a shiver. An eerie otherworldly feel covered the camp like the mist rising off the sea. It hung heavy in the air, deadening all sound save the muted wash of waves on the shore. She watched shapes moving around she knew had to be the Northmen, but just a few feet away they were only vague shapes moving silently in the grey. Saibh stirred, as did most of the men around her. Seeing Eireann awake, they all seemed compelled to grin and wink with sly, lustful looks. Were they all awake when… No—more than likely one or two have told the others. She sighed and careful not to wake Fridgeir, urged Saibh to rise. The girl shifted into sitting almost as far away as her chains would let her. Trail bread and cheese were being passed around and the sisters took their share, sitting close for warmth.
Fridgeir sat up and mocked a shiver. “Gods, it’s a rude thing to wake to a cold back, woman.” Men chuckled.
“If you just want a warm back, get a dog,” she shot back.
He grinned and took some bread and cheese, eating heartily and looking her over with obvious appreciation. Muffled remarks and sniggers accompanied the sly looks from those she could see through the fog.
“Guess she didn’t bite it off when you made good your claim?” Giermund asked with mock seriousness.
“I wouldn’t be so sure—I heard at least one yelp,” Arinbjorn added with a evil grin.
“You know how your shield partner is, I’m sure it just warmed him up good,” Eirik teased.
Fridgeir just smiled and finished eating as if he’d heard it all before.
The anger that seemed to dog her all the time now rose hot. It was bad enough having to jerk him off, but do they have to joke about it? She thought about making a caustic rejoinder but remembered last night—that had just egged them on. She followed Fridgeir’s lead and stayed quiet.
Why does their teasing anger me so much? It’s not like I’ve ever been shy about my sex life. Her clan encouraged young people to experiment, as long as the girl didn’t get pregnant. And sexual banter commonly floated around the communal meal at night—although a bit less crude and personal than these Northmen engaged in. With a slight shock she realized that among her people, she more often than not was teased for her boldness in bed, much like Fridgeir. Under other circumstances, she might have considered him for a bedmate. Under other circumstances. She stifled a sigh of regret. Saibh seemed to sense her sister’s mood and set her small hand on Eireann’s. Eireann turned her hand over and held her sister’s in a firm grip. Together, we’ll find a way.
Fridgeir stood and stretched. “Ready for a short walk?” he asked with wicked grin and wink as if he meant for other reasons than a chance to relieve themselves.
She raked him over with her stare. “Again? Worse than a stag in rut.”
Men guffawed and Fridgeir looked her over again with lust in his eye. He held out his hand to help her up. She sighed as if taxed by an imbecile and held up her bound hands, still chained too short for her to stand. Fridgeir flashed her a grin and undid the chain at the iron ring. Arinbjorn took her sister’s chain and they made their way through the fog into the edge of the woods. The eerie feel increased as they went farther in. The air hung damp and heavy around them, stifling some sounds while others seemed to echo from a long way away. They went behind the usual clump of bushy growth.
Eireann felt a surge of anger when she saw a shape looming out of the fog. Can’t they give us a moment’s privacy? A heartbeat later she realized it wasn’t a man she recognized. Another seemed to appear from nowhere and grabbed Saibh.
Eireann screamed, “Let her go! Filthy dog-humping demon spawn!” The first leaped at her and got the heels of her bound hands in his filthy face.
“Eireann?”
Fridgeir’s worried voice reached her but she was too busy trying to fend off the stinking, ragged man trying to grab her. Someone grabbed her from behind, hand over her mouth, and started dragging her into the woods. These aren’t Northmen! She bit—hard! The man swore in a language she didn’t recognize, but he didn’t let go. Noise from the camp reached her. Moments later she realized they were under attack by wild-eyed, painted and half-naked men even worse smelling than the raiders! She struggled harder. The man holding her made a strangled noise and dropped to the ground, twitching as Fridgeir’s bloody seax slid back out of his neck. Fridgeir had already jumped at the next one, ready to strike.
Eireann looked wildly around in the fog but couldn’t find her sister.
“Saibh!” she screamed—but no answer came from the woods. A man shape loomed out of the fog behind Fridgeir’s back. She grabbed the chain dangling from her bound hands and swung it at him like a whip. It connected with a satisfy thunk across his back. It staggered him enough that Fridgeir had time to whirl and slash his gut open. Another grabbed Fridgeir from behind, ready to cut his throat, but instead crashed back hard onto the ground with Fridgeir on top of him. His seax thrust over his shoulder and deep into his attacker’s face. Screaming, the man dropped his knife and clutched at his face. As soon as Fridgeir moved he made a run for the woods and died on Arinbjorn’s seax. The gutted man still staggered for the safety of the trees, his hands holding his middle, but ran instead into Eirik’s sword. He gurgled, spitting up blood as he fell and died. Still more loomed out of the mist. A rap on her head would have sent her to the ground had another attacker not also grabbed her around the middle and hefted her over his shoulder. Her head cleared enough to realize she hung down his back. She twisted, trying to get to any exposed part she could bite or claw. Her untied legs flailed against him but he must have done this before because he just grunted and kept going at a pretty good pace. She twisted the other way and managed to hook her bound hands on a branch. It nearly ripped her arms out of their sockets but it also staggered him backward. He yanked but she was firmly stuck. He had to drop her. Still hanging from the branch she managed a few good kicks. Another shape jumped between them with a thrust that sent the ragged man peddling back to avoid being skewered.
“Behind us and down!” Fridgeir ordered without pause in his attack. She managed to get herself undone and hunkered down. More wild, painted men gathered and Fridgeir and Arinbjorn were hard-pressed to defend her. One got behind them. Eireann grabbed a branch from the ground and rammed it into the man’s gut. It rocked him back with a grunt—onto Eirik’s sword. Eireann paled as blue eyes backed by red fire stared into hers. Berserker! Eirik’s a berserker! Mother of demons, he could kill all of us if he loses control!
He winked at her and leaped into the fray. Painted men died as the three took up places around her. She watched, trying to stay out from under their feet. Fridgeir hissed in pain as the tip of a crude spear grazed his cheek. Had he more room to move without stepping on her, he’d have avoided it altogether. A whistling war cry sounded from not far away. Eirik answered and Northmen poured out of the fog. The remaining painted men scattered into the woods with angry Northmen on their tails. The three men stood a moment, but no other foes appeared. Eirik whistled again and his men returned.
&n
bsp; “Hairless dog men!” Cedric swore. “Vanished into this mist like dead men’s shades!’
Fridgeir stooped to clean his long knife on a corpse’s clothes.
Eirik bent to examine the dead man more closely. “Gods! Painted forest men! Look at him!”
Crudely tanned leather and hair-covered hide formed a rough cuirass and leggings. Underneath the leggings he wore only a leather strip to protect his manhood. His naked but painted buttocks hung out in the open. His weapons consisted of an old and much worn iron-tipped spear, a stone axe and a knife. He smelled liked he’d never bathed in his life—of animal dung and rancid fat, and clay matted his wild hair and beard. Swirling designs painted with red and white clay, charcoal and other crude paints covered his face and bare arms.
Eireann’s voice interrupted his examination of the body as she called wildly. “Saibh! Saibh!” Panic filled her. They had her sister! And she’d gotten so turned around in the fog she had no idea which way they’d gone. She picked a direction she thought might be right and started off. “Saibh!” Strong arms grabbed her from behind. She fought, trying to claw the arm, too low for her to bite. But tough wool covered his arm.
“Eireann! Stop! It’s Fridgeir.” He held her carefully but firmly.
“They took her!” she hissed back, still struggling.
“I know. And we’ll find her. But not by charging in to the fog without thought.” He spoke quietly and firmly.
The confidence in his voice helped settle her panic. She stopped struggling. “All right—where do we start?”
“You start by getting back to camp,” Fridgeir said firmly. “Stay there and wait with the others. Those hairless mongrels might come back and I need you safe.” He pushed her toward a shape in the fog. A man she’d seen but didn’t know took her arm. She started to struggle against his hold.
Fridgeir spoke harshly and glared at her. “You behave and we protect your sister. That’s the deal, slave. Now do what you’re told!”