Her Rogue Viking

by Ashe Barker

  Ulfric completed the task, tugging the bandage tight since that would offer more support. He tied it off then glanced up at his captive’s face. Fiona lay still, her eyes closed, though she opened them as though aware of his perusal. Her irises were a stormy grey, dark, rich with some sort of heady allure. He was sure she did not intend to beckon him with her gaze, but that was the effect even so. She made no further attempt to conceal her nudity from him, seemingly content to allow him to look at her as he pleased. As she should.

  Turning to face her fully, Ulfric gently parted her legs, pushing her ankles wide. Her expression remained serene. She wanted this. Him.

  He glimpsed the damp sheen of her sex peeking from between her spread thighs, already wet for him though she had hardly the barest notion of what that meant. She had been startled, astonished, by her response in his bed the previous night but he intended to continue her enlightenment here and now.

  Ulfric stroked his hands up her inner calves to her knees, then pressed to widen her legs even more. She bent her knees obligingly and allowed him to push her thighs apart, revealing her dark pink lower lips, now gleaming with her arousal. The tip of her clitty was just visible, peeking out from within its hood as though begging for his attention. He would not disappoint.

  “Put your hands behind your head, and keep them there. It will be as though I bound them again.”

  “There is no need to tie me to your bed, Viking. Even if my ankle would hold me, I do not think I would desire to leave just yet.”

  “I am delighted to hear that, but there are many reasons a man may choose to tie a wench to his bed. You will do as I say.”

  It was a command, though gently made, and she obeyed him. Her features remained tranquil, even as the new posture caused her to arch her back and lift her breasts up for him to admire. Surely she did not do this innocently? She must realise how her acquiescence, her obedience, her lush availability affected him? She was young, yes, but not a child. And she had been betrothed to the thrall who had looked as though he might tear Ulfric’s head from his shoulders given the slightest opportunity. He did not have a look of a man who would leave his beautiful bride-to-be in ignorance of her sensual charms. Ulfric’s cock lurched to full attention as his captive writhed before him on the furs.

  “How old are you, Fiona?”

  She opened her eyes fully to regard him. “Nineteen summers, Viking. And you?”

  He grinned at her forthright question. “I shall not see my thirtieth summer again, wench. Tell me, how long were you betrothed to your fierce Celtic warrior?”

  Her expression hardened, and he at once regretted his words.

  “Do not mock Taranc. He is a fine man and… and I love him dearly.”

  By Odin’s fucking balls. This he did not need.

  “You are no longer his.” The statement came out as more of a growl.

  Fiona made to scramble away. “I was never his. He is a good and gentle person, he would never…”

  “Do not move.” His command was harsh, but effective. She paused, bristling with resentment as she lay, splayed before him. Ulfric cursed again under his breath, though his anger was directed at himself and his stupid remark. He had behaved like a jealous lad when he knew full well the thrall presented no threat to him or to his plans for this captive. He was a fool, but he was not about to let that ruin his plans for this little Celt’s deflowering.

  “I apologise. I was tactless, but meant no offence, to you or this… Taranc?” It was a name unfamiliar to him.

  She gave a wary nod.

  “So, you will oblige me by returning your hands to the position I instructed you to maintain, and settling back down to listen to me.”

  Her beautiful eyes flashed, their colour reminiscent of the ocean in the throes of a storm, but she obeyed him.

  Ulfric had intended to weave a web of sensuality around her and draw her in slowly, but now changed his strategy. Instead he would go for a quick overwhelming of her senses. Despite his apology—which was a rare enough occurrence he would concede—she was angry still. He felt it, and would channel that passion. His hands still rested on the insides of her knees, but he held her slate-grey gaze as he drew his palms up her inner thighs.

  Her eyes widened, darkened. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. He allowed his own lip to quirk as he retraced his path back to caress her knees. The next time he slid his hands up he hovered close to that delightful hollow where her thighs and pussy met, his fingers just brushing the soft curls that nestled there.

  “Viking…” Her voice was a low groan, breathy and laboured.

  “Celt?” he responded, “what do you want?”

  She rolled her head from side to side, though she never moved her hands from the position he had ordered. “I do not know. I have not the words…”

  “Do you want me to pleasure you, as I did last night?”

  She flattened her lips and pressed them together, then nodded hard.

  “I shall, if you ask me.”

  “Please…”

  “Please what, little Celt? What do you want from me?”

  Long moments passed, which Ulfric punctuated by tracing the tips of his thumbs around the edge of her outer lips. He would not hurry her now. There was no need.

  “Pleasure,” she whispered. “I want you to give me pleasure.”

  “And I want to taste you.”

  “T-taste…?”

  “Mmm, like this.” Before she could utter so much as a squeak of surprise he had parted her pussy lips with his thumbs, then dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue along her slit.

  Fiona’s hips jerked upwards but he had wrapped his fingers around her luscious bottom and held her against his mouth as he repeated the action. She writhed in earnest as he pressed harder, thrashing about under him. He slid the tip of his tongue into her sweet entrance, tasting the juices there before continuing on to wrap his lips around her clit. He drew the swollen bud into his mouth and applied just a little suction to make her gasp.

  He released her clit and returned his attention to her pussy, the entrance spread wide by his gentle fingers. He licked and lapped, plunged his tongue as deep inside her as he was able, then traced the outer edges of her soft folds as she went wild beneath him. She was close, he knew, when he lifted his head to meet her gaze.

  “Is this the sort of pleasure you had in mind, little Celt?”

  “Yes,” she croaked. “Exactly that.”

  “More, then?”

  She nodded, her agreement near frantic now. “More, yes. Much more.”

  He returned to his task, suckling on her clit as he eased first one, then two fingers inside her. She was a virgin, he knew, and he might break her flimsy barrier this way, which would ease matters for her later. If she were to ask him…

  He curled his fingers within her, searching for that spot that would… yes! There, he had it. Fiona let out a keening cry as her slick, hot walls convulsed around his digits.

  Ulfric rubbed. He suckled, he flicked the tip of her swollen nub with his tongue, and he drove his fingers deeper yet as she cried out in her pleasure. He knew the exact moment when sensation overwhelmed her. Fiona bucked and moaned, her features contorting in ecstasy as her body shuddered in his hands.

  When she stilled, at last, he lifted his head and withdrew his fingers, though not fully. He continued to stroke them in and out of her quivering entrance, just the tips, just enough to acquaint her with the sensation and tease her to crave more.

  “Viking, I… I…”

  He kissed her inner thigh, then pressed his open mouth against her smooth flesh.

  “Do not stop. I want… more.”

  “There is more, but you must ask for it.”

  “I know,” she groaned, her voice tortured now. “I know what you want me to say.”

  “This is about what you want. If you desire it, then say it. Ask me for what you need.”

  “I need you to fuck me.” It seemed that she spat the words at him
, as though desperate to force the monstrous expression past her reluctant lips. He cared not for the niceties, it was sufficient that she had uttered the request. Now, he would be delighted to comply with her heartfelt plea.

  Chapter Seven

  She had sworn that she would not weaken, had promised herself to be strong, resolute. She had meant to remain loyal to Taranc and to her people, so cruelly mistreated. Murdered, robbed, taken into slavery—how could she submit to the man who led the attack on her home and family? How would she live with herself after?

  And yet, how would she bear it if she did not surrender?

  Taranc had been her rock, her friend, her beloved companion since they were children, but never, not once in all of those years, did he stir a desire remotely resembling this fire that the Viking ignited at her very core. Every muscle ached for him, every bone in her body was brittle, fragile, as though she might shatter into a thousand pieces from the inexorable tension he wound within her. This Viking might be her enemy, though she was less and less sure of that as he warmed and soothed her, as he bound her throbbing ankle and ordered servants to run around and see to her comfort.

  Yet Taranc and others from her village were probably even now in chains within that building constructed specially to house the thralls, and soon they would be forced into hard labour by these vile, barbaric Norsemen.

  And knowing that, knowing all of that and loathing the circumstances in which she found herself, she had still begged the Viking to fuck her. And she would do so again, should he show the slightest inclination not to grant her request.

  Fiona did not believe such extremes would be called for as her Viking shed the rest of his clothing before her admiring gaze. In moments he was naked as she, his huge cock jutting before him as he approached to bring one knee onto the sleeping platform beside where she lay. Fiona could not take her eyes off his massive erection, and had he not commanded her to link her hands behind her head and remain so she might have dared to reach out and touch him. Instead, she licked her lips, which elicited a lewd grin from Ulfric.

  “You wish to taste me, as I savoured you?”

  What? No! The very notion…

  But her mouth watered, her tongue swiped hungrily across her lower lip, her teeth ground together, and Fiona whispered words almost as shocking as those that had already spilled from her mouth. “Yes. May I?”

  “Sit up.” He helped her to perch on the edge of the bed and stood before her. “Open.” He tapped her mouth with his fingers.

  “May I put my hands down? I… I should like to touch, if that is permitted…”

  “You may,” he acceded, “but open first.”

  So she did. Fiona lowered her hands to rest them on his sculpted hips then parted her lips to accept the crown of his cock as Ulfric fed it to her. She had no idea what to do once she had the slick roundness within her mouth, so she settled for running her tongue along the underside. It was smooth, like marble, and almost as solid. And there was a taste, a distinct tang. It was… not unpleasant. She wrapped her tongue around the head and licked, at the same time curling her fingers into a fist around the base of his shaft. Ulfric groaned, and, fearful, Fiona rolled her eyes up to meet his.

  But her Viking was smiling. He narrowed his eyes, and he nodded. Just once, but it was enough. Her confidence grew as Fiona bent her head and started to move back and forth, taking just a fraction more of him into her mouth with each stroke. Her head was bobbing, her jaw straining to open wider, to take more. She wanted more. She wanted it all.

  The head of Ulfric’s cock nudged the back of her throat and Fiona gagged. She shifted her position so that the angle was changed and she could direct him into the inner pocket of her cheek. He stroked her hair as though to reassure her that this was acceptable, that she was doing well.

  After all, she was to be his bed-slave. She would require these skills she was only now acquiring.

  Fiona wrapped her fingers, both hands, around the wide column at the base of his cock and rubbed up and down. She managed to find a rhythm with the movements of her head, her lips and tongue, and for his part Ulfric appeared content. He twisted hanks of her hair between his fingers and she was well aware that he could have forced more of his erection into her mouth, beyond the limits she was unwittingly setting for him. But he did not. He held her head firm and steady, but did not force the pace or drive his cock deeper.

  Suddenly and without warning he pulled free. Fiona gazed up at him, wide-eyed. He had seemed to like her ministrations, yet—

  “Now. I have to fuck you now.”

  She could only nod, though she had but the vaguest notion how such a feat was to be accomplished. Fiona had heard talk, of course, but never the details…

  In contrast to her own inept uncertainties, Ulfric knew exactly what he was about. He pressed her shoulders back against the bed and with his hands behind her knees now he raised and parted her legs. Her core still throbbed from her release of but a few minutes ago, and Fiona wondered if he might repeat that delightful interlude now.

  That notion was dispelled when he moved forward to kneel between her thighs and the crown of his cock nudged her slick entrance.

  She knew a moment’s panic. “Wait, I am not sure…”

  He paused, raised his eyebrows to regard her.

  “No?” His expression tightened, he looked… pained.

  “No. Yes. I mean yes, but I am not certain that we shall be… a good fit.”

  “We will be a perfect fit. You have my word on that, little Celt.”

  “Oh. I see…”

  She did not see, not yet, but she had to know. Curiosity and arousal merged with anxiety. Fiona was nervous, a little frightened in truth, but not so much so that she would fumble or let slip this experience. She was to be a bed-slave to this beautiful Viking poised above her; that much was beyond her control. Suddenly the first part of that description, at least, seemed considerably more attractive.

  He pushed, and her body parted to accept him. The wide head of Ulfric’s cock breached her entrance and Fiona gasped. It was tight, she was stretching, pushed to her very limits and beyond. This was impossible, too much, too… too…

  “Oh! Aagh!” She screamed as a sudden pain tore through her, then she went still. She could not move, dare not for fear something else might rip. He had hurt her, done her some injury despite his promises, his pledge that she would not be harmed.

  Fiona lay rigid, her breath ragged, her heart pounding. Ulfric, too, remained motionless though he seemed not to share her distress. She should ask him to please stop. To just withdraw and let her be. She might yet recover if he would only—

  “Has the discomfort passed, wench?”

  “What?”

  “Has the pain stopped? It should be but fleeting.”

  Fleeting? What was he babbling about? Of course it had not stopped…

  Except, it had. She lay still and mentally revisited the site of her earlier agony to find nothing but a dull ache, and that was fast diminishing. She tried an experimental shift of her hips, and discovered only a lingering soreness, a soreness that was not exactly unpleasant.

  “Oh, that is odd…”

  “Odd? Perhaps. I would call it fucking wonderful. You are so tight, so… hot.”

  “It is you who is too large. I told you we would be a bad fit.”

  “Look at me, wench. Keep your eyes on mine and do not look away.” He withdrew, his actions unhurried and deliberate, until just the head remained within her entrance. Then he drove his cock slowly back, all the time holding her astonished gaze. “So, do you still believe we are a bad fit?”

  The friction was incredible, the sensation quite indescribable as his cock filled her and caressed her inner walls. She had loved the feel of his fingers inside her, but they were nothing in comparison to this. Her back arched through no volition of hers and she reached for his shoulders as though to steady herself.

  He continued to hold her gaze as he did it again. And again. By the
fourth time he plunged his cock into her slick core, Fiona was beyond coherent thought.

  Ulfric broke eye contact to lean down and lay his mouth across hers. The kiss was tender, his tongue dipping between her lips as his cock had done just moments earlier. Fiona’s response was instinctive and unstudied. Her tongue danced with his as she wriggled her hips in a circular motion. She was seeking something she could not name, but knew it had to do with the intensity of sensation where his body now connected with hers, invaded hers. They were joined, yet she still craved that elusive ‘more.’

  Ulfric broke the kiss and leaned to one side, his weight on his left elbow as his right hand snaked between their bodies. He found that special pleasure spot he had rubbed so mercilessly earlier, rubbed, licked, sucked. And he took it between his finger and thumb now and he squeezed. Even as Fiona opened her mouth to scream he drew back and thrust his cock forward again, filling her entirely. The scream died in her throat as her release consumed her. Fiona could but cling to him as her body shook and convulsed, as waves of pleasure churned through her, as lights brighter than the summer sun exploded behind her closed eyelids.

  Ulfric continued to drive his cock deep and never let up the work of his busy, skilled fingers until the final shimmer and shudder died away. Then he lowered himself over her so that she almost bore his weight, though not quite, and he buried his face in the hollow of her neck.

  “Ah, little Celt, you do enchant me.” Then he rammed his cock into her hard, and held still as deep shivers racked his own chiselled torso. He muttered something in his Nordic tongue just moments before her channel was filled with a surge of wet heat.