To Serve and Submit

by Susan Wright

  After he was done shopping, Gudren took me to a large inn on one end of the harbor, a place I had seen before but never imagined I would enter. He fed me a rich stew in a terra-cotta bowl and offered to let me wash in the basin in his room. I quickly cleansed myself, expecting him to return at any moment.

  I purposely did not dress again, to show him my readiness. I would do anything to please him.

  But when Gudren entered and we were finally alone, he merely smiled to see me in the flesh. He didn’t take me as my master would have. Instead, Gudren sat on the large bed draped in red curtains, his arms crossed expectantly, more amused than not by his smile. “I can see you have something in mind.”

  For a moment, I was unsure. Then I remembered my training, which Lexander had always said would carry me through. I sank down into gesig, with my head bowed in surrender. Then I moved slowly through the poses Helanas had taught us. Rosarin and I had learned how to make a dance of our poses, echoing each other’s bending and pointing, raising our nethersides to be viewed. It was not as pretty when I was alone, but I threw my heart into it, making each movement graceful and alluring.

  In the end, I remained in a standing pose, one leg bent, my hip thrusting to one side, emphasizing the curves of my body and my arms reaching out to him. There was a long moment, then Gudren languidly applauded. He didn’t take his eyes off me, but he remained where he was.

  So I went over and knelt at his feet. I untied the laces of his boots and pulled them off. I knew he was looking down at my bare back, gleaming in the candlelight. Then I untied his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  He reclined back on the bed, putting one hand behind his head. He still made no effort to touch me though I was leaning over him. So I let my breasts graze his chest as I moved down to his pants. They were tied front and back, standard sailing gear. My hands moved slower as I pulled the tie loose. He was breathing hard now, watching my every move.

  I tugged on the heavy leather pants, and he lifted his hips so I could take them down. His body was nearly as smooth as Lexander’s, with fine silky hair in the hollow of his chest and dusting his groin. Still he didn’t try to touch me.

  So I leaned over him, barely letting my nipples graze his skin. His eyes closed briefly as his tarse stirred, growing turgid.

  Moving languidly, I skimmed his body with light fingertips from his head down his chest and stomach, then along each leg to the base of his feet. I kept stroking him, slowly and delicately, letting my nails scrape him only when he became flushed and his body began to twist. I tantalized him, setting his entire body alight with sensation.

  When I finally neared his tarse, blowing gently as I rubbed my cheek against him, he let out a moan. As I continued brushing against him, his hands clenched in the bedclothes as his hips bucked, as if he longed to grab hold of me but didn’t want me to stop. I was breathing faster now, too, caught up in his response.

  When I thought we would both explode from this simple touch, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He growled, “Mount me, now!” as his hands pulled my hips to his, my legs straddling either side.

  I sank onto him and I finally let go. His hands moved me up and down. I rocked hard until I fell forward, resting on his chest as he thrust into me. My mouth was on his neck, breathing the manly scent of him, as he moaned in release.

  I lay on top of him as he held me there, luxuriating in satisfaction. He stroked me absently, smoothing the moisture on my skin. Then he rolled me over so I was tucked under the blanket with him. I fell asleep contented.

  I never took money from Gudren. Not that night or the two that followed as I stayed with him at the inn, following him during the day as he went about his business. He fed me well and even purchased my first long dress for me to wear when he tired of seeing my suede pants. He told me about his family, the Sigurdssons, who owned a trading fleet that operated out of Djarney. He traveled up and down the coast as far south as the citrus fields and all the way back to the kingdoms of the Auldland. I asked many questions and delighted in his adventurous tales.

  The day he told me he was returning to his estate in Djarney, the northernmost island of Viinland, I cried. I couldn’t help it. Tears coursed down my cheeks at the thought of being alone again, starving and chased from one filthy hole to another.

  “You’ll come with me,” Gudren declared. I flung my arms around him, knowing I had accomplished what I had set out to do. Gudren was a good man, I knew that now even without the olfs’ approval. He treated me well, and though I was supposed to go to Tillfallvik, I had failed to reach it from Brianda. I could very well die here if Gudren deserted me. My only way out of Brianda was with Gudren.

  So as I boarded Gudren’s longship for the journey, I stared at the town that had nearly defeated me. Gudren allowed me to sit with him under the fringed canopy on a cushioned bench. His men covertly examined me, sitting so demurely in my full cotton skirt that was dyed lavender like my favorite flower in the fens.

  Then once again I was on the open sea, leaving Fjardemano behind. I concentrated on the rolling waves and soon I was linked with the sea spirits, wallowing in their never-ending motion, twisting and turning. Gudren didn’t expect much from me, so he let me sit there in a daze, telling the spirits of my escape from Vidaris and suffering in Brianda. In turn they showed me Lexander on the dock; I was not sure if he had just returned from a voyage or was readying to depart Vidaris.

  In this way, the day passed quickly. I had mead to drink when I was thirsty, plenty to eat, and Gudren’s warmth to lean against when the wind picked up.

  But the sight of land ahead broke me from my trance. It was a gentle rise of tree-covered hills with a flat shoreline. The boat sailed into a deep bay with knolls on either side and a channel of water ahead. It went on for some time, and I was surprised when the channel opened up into the ocean again.

  The oarsmen rowed into a perfectly calm bay within the channel, surrounded on every side by gentle hills reflecting in the waters. Trees flowed along the inclines and dotted the broad lawns. White-painted buildings perched here and there, taking advantage of the beautiful views.

  We sailed around a wooded headland, and there were busy docks with knaars and longships moored. More boats were anchored out in the bay. Warehouses waited to receive goods, reminding me of Brianda. But there was no town, only a scattering of serviceable buildings and paddocks.

  “This is the Sigurdssons estate,” Gudren proudly declared.

  “ ’Tis beautiful,” I said honestly. I knew there would be olfs on this land.

  When we docked, Gudren lifted me from the boat though I could have leaped out on my own. “Carry that,” he ordered, thrusting the ice-bear fur into my arms. Except for his traveling case, he left everything else in the longship for his men to deal with.

  He led me through the warehouses and sheds, up a road to the estate proper. Each building we passed was much larger than it looked from the water. The walls were made of clapboards laid one on top of the other, and the peaked roofs were covered in overlapping shingles.

  When Gudren finally led me inside one, I discovered the floors were also wooden. Brass lamps hung from the rafters of the large open room. A good fire burned in the hearth, but there was no kitchen to speak of, merely a kettle for water and a basket of red apples on a table. A rack along one wall was hung with wool that had been dyed bright shades of green, yellow, and blue. I went to touch the soft strands in admiration. A long table was littered with objects, to which Gudren added his cloak and pigskin traveling case.

  Gudren urged me to be silent as we climbed up the steps to a loft. It was completely enclosed for privacy. A busty woman turned from tying on her cap at the mirror. “Is that you, Gudren?” she exclaimed, rushing to hug him. “They didn’t ring the bell! When did you return?”

  “I wanted to surprise you, my darling,” Gudren exclaimed. “Did you think I wouldn’t come to see you first?”

  I smiled at the joy in their reunion. Obviously this wa
s Gudren’s wife. She beamed at him, her round cheeks and dimpled chin making her look younger than her years.

  Gudren laid a passionate kiss on her lips, and I was heartened to see how aggressive he could be. When he bedded me, he was always quiescent, expecting me to please him. It little mattered to him if I took pleasure myself.

  “I’ve some gifts for you, Alga,” Gudren assured her, holding her tight. He gestured toward me.

  Alga’s eyes went round. “What have you done, you beastly man?”

  “Show her,” Gudren urged me.

  I remembered the ice-bear fur in my arms, and I struggled to untie it under their amused eyes. I flung it out on the ground, letting the white fur glow in the lamplight. My fingers sank into it to show how deep it was.

  “Ohh . . .” Alga moaned.

  Gudren helped her sit down on the plush fur. She stroked it, lying down luxuriantly. “Gorgeous!” She looked up at me slyly. “And her?”

  “For you, as well, my lovely.” Gudren kneeled down on the fur, his hands at her waist. “Do you approve?”

  She examined me from her recumbent pose. “You must approve,” she teased, “or you would never have brought her here.”

  Gudren laughed again. He ordered me, “Marja, give pleasure to my wife as you have with me.”

  I was surprised, though I shouldn’t have been. I smiled shyly down at Alga. “I do as I’m told, freya.”

  She stretched her arms out, rolling slightly toward me. “Then I suppose you should get on with it.”

  I knelt down beside Alga and leaned over to give her a soft kiss. Lexander had taught us that the lips were the gateway to pleasure. I suspected it was so with her. Alga responded with warmth tinged with a pleasant wonder at her husband’s gift. I could tell I was not the first woman he had brought home to his bride.

  I lightly pulled the satin tie that held her robe closed. It opened and her abundant breasts spilled out. I undid the one at her waist and the robe parted over her curved belly. Her waist was small and her hips widely flaring, with thighs like pillows. I was used to my slave-mates, who were tall and lean; even Helanas had no extra flesh on her strong body. But touching Alga was like sinking into a feather bed. She was so white and soft that I hardly knew where she ended and the silky bear fur began.

  Gudren undressed, then came over to remove my clothes. I let him strip me while I concentrated on Alga, stroking and kissing her from her forehead down to her toes. She responded quite differently than Gudren—wiggling, gasping, and moving under every feather touch. I teased her, knowing exactly what she needed from the way she moved. It was an effortless joy to stroke her to ecstasy.

  The house olfs joined us, whirling around in pleasure. They apparently enjoyed a lot of vicarious delight here. Gudren and Alga had no inhibitions or hesitation in being intimate with me. Gudren lay on his side, watching me touch his wife, pleased at her rapid breath and arcing back. His own passion was clear as he stroked himself.

  Then Alga let out a guttural cry. “I can’t stand it anymore!” With that, she grabbed Gudren and rolled on top of him. “I must have you now.”

  It was my turn to lie beside them, my arousal building as Alga rode Gudren. She took him fiercely, and I saw that was the way Gudren liked it. He kissed her breasts, his hands at her hips, stroking her generous thighs. She moved like a woman possessed, drawing him deep inside of her.

  I touched myself, feeling the dampness between my legs. They climaxed together, Gudren allowing himself release only when Alga began to cry out.

  When they collapsed, I lay back and smiled at them both. I had not climaxed, but that was not unusual when I bedded Gudren.

  But Alga turned to me while she was still breathing hard. “Now for you.”

  “I am very happy,” I told her honestly.

  “Yes, but I’m not satisfied yet,” she retorted.

  Alga straddled my hips much as she had done with Gudren. I was a tall, well-made girl, but Alga held me down easily. She rubbed her groin into mine, slowly bumping me. Her fingers pulled on my nipples, twisting and turning them until the rush of blood made me gasp out loud. Gudren grabbed my wrists and held them over my head, a sly grin on his face.

  As Alga humped me, she panted into my face, “You’ll come when I tell you to.”

  I almost swooned right there. The tugging on my breasts, Gudren’s hands holding me down, the rhythmic grinding, her breathy order . . .

  But Alga was not done, so I struggled to hold back. I wanted to please her . . .

  When she felt me slip and start to tense my body, peaking despite my best intentions, she bent down and whispered, “Now.”

  I needed nothing more than that. I let everything float away as I wallowed in ecstasy. Gudren kissed Alga over me, his tongue deep in her mouth. All I knew was that it felt better than anything had in a very long while.

  The three of us dozed off lying on the bear fur, with Alga cradled in the middle.

  Nine

  I soon learned that Gudren and Alga were not a solitary couple like Lexander and Helanas. The Sigurdssons were an extensive family, with cousins, second cousins, great-aunts, babies of all sizes, and a matriarch who ruled over everyone with an iron fist. This grandmother was statuesque though she was at least six decades old. Her bright yellow hair rivaled that of her daughters and granddaughters. The clan intermarried, as I discovered when Alga laughingly referred to Gudren as kusin.

  Every meal in the communal hall was like a fete, with laughter and noise at its highest pitch. They gathered twice a day to feast together. The family houses and servants’ halls were scattered through the hills, connected by well-maintained roads. The barracks for the oarsmen were down by the commercial port, out of sight from the rest of the estate. As I explored farther afield, enjoying the freedom Alga gave me, I was surprised to find there were barely enough gardens and groves to provide fresh vegetables and fruit for the family, servants, and slaves. In truth, nearly all of their food came from trade.

  I became Alga’s companion, more a pet than a maid. I slept on a mat in their room, and I helped Alga dress and bathe. I was not truly a slave, but I was not paid a wage like a servant. I watched how the others treated me to learn my status, yet it remained unclear. Servants did as I asked only if I was passing on orders from Gudren or Alga, yet I was free to call them both by their first names while the others used freyr and freya.

  Their kin mostly ignored me except when I was pleasuring them. I was passed among them, and sometimes when I was caught running an errand for Alga, they indulged themselves with me right there, taking advantage of bushes and lean-tos where we were partially hidden. It was exciting, their heightened sense of urgency and the chance that someone would catch us in the act.

  I continued to please Alga and Gudren together and separately. Gudren was usually passive, allowing me to explore his body to discover the means to tantalize him. Sometimes Alga joined me in stroking him, quickly picking up on my trained techniques, such as fotternoje, the art of tantalizing the feet with both mouth and hands. He moaned as we each sucked his toes, his entire body tensing in passion.

  I most enjoyed pleasuring Alga. Her soft, curvy body was extraordinary. I could sink into her milky white breasts or cushion my head on her belly, breathing her lush womanly scent. Usually she was the aggressor with me, making me climax again and again as if I were a new toy to be endlessly played with. She never said a harsh word to me, so I relaxed under her hand and trusted her.

  As for my other duties, Alga quickly found I was useless when it came to helping her sew, knit, or weave, so I was mostly relegated to fetching and carrying things. No one expected me to scrub the floor or tend the garden. I had nothing to do many days but watch the olfs play. They were everywhere, going about their games unseen by everyone in the family except the youngest. I played with the children on the estate a great deal, I must confess, enjoying their purity of sight. I understood why the olfs in Brianda could sense Gudren’s rich heritage. It made me realize what
Vidaris could have been, a hum of activity and amusement for the olfs, if only Helanas had not blighted the land with her malevolence, allowing evil spirits to gather.

  It was easy and pleasant living in the Sigurdssons’ estate, but I was always thinking of Lexander. One morning, as Alga embroidered yellow daisies on a pretty round collar, I tried to explain to her. “I was on my way to Tillfallvik that day when Gudren found me.”

  She looked down at me, sitting on the floor brushing her favorite dog to remove its heavy winter coat. “Gudren thinks you’ve run away from your master.”

  There it was again—I couldn’t tell them I was a pleasure slave, so how could I explain about Lexander? I could hardly form my words around a lie, I felt such trust and affection for them.

  Seeing me hesitate, Alga leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t think I blame you, Marja. I know about men. I’m sure if you of all people suffered enough to rebel, it must have been severe indeed. You can confide in me.”

  “I’ve always been obedient” was all I could say about that. She pursed her lips in disappointment when I didn’t spill out a gory tale of my slavery. But I had an idea of how to explain. “ ’Tis love that calls me to Tillfallvik. I must go there or I’ll miss my beloved. He gave me the coins to sail there, but I was robbed most cruelly or I would be with him now.”

  Alga considered me anew. Her round, red-cheeked face was serious. “You are so young to know anything of love, Marja.”

  “Many girls my age marry.”

  “Yes, but love takes time. Has your father countenanced this marriage?”

  Again, I would have to be evasive. “My da gave me to him.”

  Her brows went up very high. “So you are married already?”

  “No.”

  She shook her head at that, uneasy at the gaps in my story. What father would give his daughter to a man yet let her remain unmarried? What man would leave his naïve lover in the rough port town of Brianda, expecting her to follow him across the sea? I sat there, awkwardly silent with too much to tell. One thing I had learned was that these Sigurdssons were shrewd at obtaining what they wanted. If my desire conflicted with theirs, I knew who would win. My only real safety lay in concealment, a lesson well learned from the olfs.