Cum For The Viking

by Wade, Virginia

  “Wait here.”

  He returned a moment later carrying a stack of wood, which he dropped into a sunken pit in the middle of the space. Something sparked then, and the wood ignited, burning brightly. The Viking removed his helmet, revealing thick blonde hair. This was followed by his shield and chainmail. He wore a tunic and shirt with loose fitting braes. I eyed him warily, wondering when he would force himself on me. He poured fluid into a wooden cup and downed the contents in one gulp. Repeating the procedure, he approached me.

  “Drink.” I took the offering and quaffed it without hesitation, the delicious mead sliding down my throat and warming my empty belly. “Good?” I nodded. His smile was disarming. “You’re hungry. Wait here. If you leave, my men will show you no mercy.” He stalked from the tent.

  I sat and listened to the sounds of arguing and laughing nearby. Swords clashed, followed by shouts of victory. The invaders were relieving boredom and tension by engaging in boisterous play. Bram returned, carrying a large ceramic bowl. My mouth watered instantly, my tummy rumbling at the smell of meat. There were two succulent looking lamb shanks resting on a bed of cabbage. He knelt before me, placing the food at my feet, and, as I grabbed a shank, he removed my cloak, exposing a simple gray dress, hidden behind a woolen tunic.

  I ate ravenously, the food utterly delicious, while the Viking worked to remove my clothing, lifting the tunic off and discarding it on a blanket. My shoes and woolly socks were next, followed by my dress, which revealed the first of two long gowns, with tight fitting sleeves. He grasped an arm, trying to remove a gown, while I struggled to eat, tearing away at the meat, which came off the bone easily. My interest in food far outweighed the fact that a stranger was divesting me of my clothing, one piece at a time. I wasn’t going to make it easy for him, and I continued to eat, while he struggled to get the second gown off, his face tightening with irritation.

  “Put that down for a moment!” His braes bulged in the crotch area. I continued to eat, tearing off another chunk and chewing determinedly. He lifted me to my knees. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

  “Two days ago.”

  He sighed. “Raise your arms.” I did so, refusing to let go of the lamb. He pulled the garment over my head, exposing me entirely to his lustful gaze. My breasts, no longer hidden beneath countless layers of clothing, appeared gloriously full and firm. I had never shown them to anyone other than my mother, and, judging from the Viking’s reaction, he seemed surprised and slightly stunned by their appearance. “Praise the Gods,” he murmured. “You’ve been blessed by Freya herself.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. My focus was on eating, and my teeth ripped off a delicious strip of meat. I eyed the Viking, as he began to remove his shirt and trousers, exposing heavily tattooed arms and a muscled chest, coated in a smattering of nearly white hair. Never having seen a man naked before, this was a forbidden treat, and I stared as his pants lowered, revealing a stiff looking cock. The object between his legs had my undivided attention. I’d even stopped chewing for the moment, to ogle the strange looking protrusion, which rested upon curly blonde hair.

  “Never seen one before, have you?” I shook my head, meeting his gaze. “You’re going to get to know this one very well.”

  I swallowed the food in my mouth, ripping off another piece of meat. All that was left now was bone. I grasped a handful of cabbage and brought it to my mouth, chewing indelicately. My dedication to the meal seemed to amuse the Viking. He poured mead and handed me a cup, which I took gratefully and downed within a second.

  “Good Lord, woman! You were ravenous.”

  I belched loudly, surprising myself, yet not caring in the least. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. There was food all over my face. My lack of manners and decorum were a non-issue, because I could have cared less. This might be my last meal on earth, and I was determined to enjoy it. He poured water into a small wooden bowl and dunked a cloth, ringing it out. His thighs touched mine; his legs were three times as big, if not more. I wiped my face and hands clean, lethargy beginning to seep into my bones, producing a lengthy yawn. I’d spent days in the cave not being able to sleep on the cold stone floor. The pelt felt wonderfully soft, cushioned by sand beneath. The warmth of the mead spread through my body, leaving me satiated and content. My immediate needs had been met, and, as I lay on the pelt, I grasped a blanket, bringing it to me. Turning on my side, I closed my eyes.

  I felt the Viking’s hands on me, touching my arm. If he wanted to rape me, I would not be able to stop him. He had given me shelter, food, and drink. Now all I wanted was sleep. His fingers touched my face gently. Then he murmured something in a language I didn’t understand. He shifted, drawing me into his arms, the warmth of his body pressed against me. He smelled of horse and leather, a musky combination that sent pleasurable tingles down my spine. As I drifted into the void of unconsciousness, all I could think of was that I liked this man.

  Chapter Three

  The squawking of seagulls brought me out of a sound sleep, the chill of morning forcing me to burrow into something warm. A strange hardness pressed against my tummy, wetting me. It was marvelous to wake not feeling exhausted or starving. I remembered the Viking who had found me in the woods, and I knew that I would know him intimately. If the feel of his cock was any indication, he had been awake and waiting for me to stir.

  Soft lips touched my neck, sending delicious shivers down my spine, and a muscled arm drew me in. The low and seductive sound of a manly growl filled the tent, a harbinger of sinful things to come. I found myself on my back, the stranger’s kisses landing on my neck, sucking and gently biting my flesh. I threaded my fingers through his long, thick hair, enjoying the luxurious sensation. If this was what being raped and brutalized felt like, he could do it to me often. He kissed me then, his tongue entering my mouth. His lengthy form was over me, his cock pressing into my wetness, while he kissed me nearly senseless. I should have been ashamed to find pleasure with a heathen, but my response was a direct result of his skill at seduction.

  “Ooohh…” I moaned helplessly, as his hand pressed into my tummy, massaging its way lower. I had lost control, my hips bucking upwards, trying to rub against him. My fingers gripped the muscles in his shoulders. “Oh, no…”

  “Yes,” he murmured.

  Pleasurable tingles erupted, which centered in my belly and fanned out to every part of my body. He stroked my nub, wetting himself in my arousal. I tossed my head back, overwhelmed, because the sensations were rapturous and sinful. His fingers drove between the swollen lips, spearing me with their thickness. A sudden, inexplicable burst of pain registered, and I gasped.

  “Ouch!”

  He froze, his face in my neck, his breathing labored. “You’re virgin.”

  “Yes.” He moved within me slowly, but it hurt, so I clamped my legs together, trying to force him out. “Ouch.” He exhaled his frustration and closed his mouth around a nipple, which he suckled. I tried to dislodge his hand, but he insisted on driving in further, adding to the sensation of pain. “Oh, stop!” His thumb moved over my clit, rubbing me to pleasure, yet again, but the intrusion continued to sting with discomfort. “Please stop.”

  He withdrew and sucked his finger into his mouth. “I taste blood.”

  I didn’t want to look at him out of embarrassment. I could feel the skin on my chest flushing. He grasped my breasts, pressing them together and laving them one at a time. His attention turned towards my tummy and lower, where his mouth lingered over me. It was mortifying, because he was so close to an unmentionable place.

  “Oh, no, you mustn’t.” But it was too late, as he licked my clit, leaving a path of wetness. The feelings this provoked had me biting my lip to keep from moaning. He slid over my silken nub, wetting me with saliva, while pleasuring me intimately. My fingers threaded through his hair. “Ooohh…” This assault continued for long, spellbinding minutes, the attention relaxing me thoroughly, leaving me trembling and weak. H
is tongue plunged, spearing and wiggling deeply. Whatever discomfort I had felt was gone, and now only delicious sensations lingered. I tingled everywhere, my stomach shuddering with mini convulsions. The release was building, gathering up the energy to overwhelm me completely. “Oh, Bram!” His mouth pushed me over the edge. I thrust my hips up, wetting his face, while shuddering helplessly. “Ooohhh…Viking!” I collapsed on the pelt, my heart pounding in my chest, as waves of bliss crashed and receded. He kissed me, pillaging my mouth. I could smell myself on him, and it was oddly arousing. His cock pressed against me, urgent and demanding. I wrapped my hand around the throbbing object, feeling wetness.

  “Put it in your mouth,” he groaned.

  That thought was alarming, but a part of me wanted to know what it tasted like. His tongue had been inside of me, after all, intimate and probing. He fell onto his back, his phallus thrusting into the air. My thumb moved over the rounded tip, rubbing away a bead of moisture, but only more appeared. I flung hair over my shoulder, scooting closer, eyeing the lengthy object with interest. The sounds outside the tent revealed a camp coming alive: sporadic male shouts; iron clashing and horses neighing, but none of it mattered because I was about to have my first real taste of the opposite sex. I licked him, surprised by how salty he was.

  “That’s it…” He smelled musky, yet sweet, his aroma teasing me, compelling me to take even more in my mouth. His fingers drove through the strands of my hair, holding me in place. “More. Eat me, Lora.”

  He groaned, as I closed my lips around him. It was a thrill, affecting another person in this manner; he was in complete and rapturous pleasure. Now I knew what my mother had done with the men from the village when they had come to call in the middle of the night. I understood why she had enjoyed it so much. Being this close to another person, naked and aroused, was infinitely more satisfying than self-pleasure. We had been taught to fear the raiders from the North, who were rumored to be not only brutal thieves, but cannibals as well. This Viking had shown me nothing but mercy and kindness, and, to thank him, I sucked him whole, swallowing his juices.

  “Ooohhh…”

  He pressed me to him, the length prodding the back of my throat, choking me. I gagged repeatedly, but this pleased him, because his groans filled the tent. Things seemed to be escalating, the pressure he applied on my scalp increasing. His tummy rippled with hidden muscles, his thighs shaking ever so slightly. Over and over I sucked and gagged, trying to take as much of him as I could.

  “Já, Lora! Aaachh…”

  A burst of warm liquid suddenly erupted in my mouth, and I pulled away, as it shot into the air. Several creamy streams jetted, landing on his belly. He’d closed his eyes; his blonde lashes falling over his cheeks. A pungent, salty taste lingered on my tongue. I snuggled next to him, and he put his arm around me. We’d hardly had the time to recover, when someone appeared at the opening of the tent. The sound of Old Norse shattered the silence.

  Bram squeezed me. “I’ve work to do, my English angel.” He stood, naked and proud, the expanse of his muscled chest impressively chiseled. I watched him bathe quickly with a cloth dipped in water. “You mustn’t leave this tent.” He stared at me. “Do you understand?” I nodded. “I’ll have food sent to you.” His shirt went over his head, and then he stepped into his braes, pulling them up and hiding his cock. He truly was a magnificent specimen, interlaced with muscles, his shoulders bulging. It was a shame to hide a body like that behind a cloak, which he tied around his neck. He wasn’t dressed for battle today, but he did carry a formidable looking sword. He glanced at me briefly and stepped from the tent, leaving me alone in an enemy camp.

  Food arrived within minutes, and I ate heartily, delicious chunks of meat in a tasty sauce. I washed with the same cloth Bram had used and made myself presentable. Then I spent the day tidying up the tent, sleeping, and working to untangle my hair. By the time he returned, the sun had set, and a cacophony of noises registered. Men had returned from a day of pillaging.

  “So you didn’t run after all?” He smiled, his cheeks ruddy from the cold.

  “No.”

  “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “I can’t be naked all day. It’s freezing.”

  Food arrived, brought in by a boy. He was fair-haired and curious, eyeing me with interest. “Leave it now, Gretter.” The boy hadn’t understood what he said, so Bram repeated himself in Old Norse. The youngster inclined his head respectfully and darted from the tent. “Come sit; eat.”

  I scooted next to the Viking, helping myself to a portion of fish. There was a type of bread, which was delicious, and boiled carrots. I glanced at Bram, curious about why his people had invaded us. “How long will you be here?”

  “Long enough to finish the job.”

  “What job?”

  “We seek gold and silver and jewels.”

  “Where do you find those?”

  “Mostly in the monasteries and churches.”

  My heart sank. “You’ve looted the churches?” He grinned, confirming my thoughts. “But…that’s sacrilegious.”

  He shrugged. “What use has a man of God with such material encumbrances? Shouldn’t he be praying for our sins instead of hoarding gold?”

  “They do pray for us. They help us.”

  “How?”

  “They…they help the poor. They care for the sick. They offer sanctuary to refugees and serfs.” He seemed unimpressed with my examples.

  “They only help themselves. Have you any idea how much gold we found today?” He grinned. “I’m rich. I’ll be able to pay my debts.”

  “Excellent. Then I’ve come at the right time,” said a deep, melodic voice. I gasped at the intrusion; a man dressed entirely in black had entered our tent. His cloak was made of mink, and it was soft and warm looking. “How are you, Bram?” His gaze rested upon me. “Ah, the comforts of home. A beautiful woman to warm your bed. It would’ve surprised me, if you’d been alone.”

  The Viking’s expression changed dramatically, displeasure marring his features. “Matheus Hrolf.” The tone in his voice was flat. “What an unexpected surprise. What brings you here?” He muttered, “How did you find me?”

  “I’ve known for some time about this raid. It was no secret.”

  The stranger sat on a pelt, crossing his long legs before him. His looks were as dark as Bram’s were pale; brown eyes, thick, russet hair, and the hints of a beard graced his handsome face. His nails were clean, gold and gems flashing from several rings on his fingers. He wore a heavy gold necklace, with a large ruby pendant. There was something about his look that sent tingles into my tummy. He was clearly a man of great wealth, but I didn’t sense cruelty in him, only his interest. I had his undivided attention.

  “She’s lovely.”

  Bram glanced at me. “She is, isn’t she? I found her hiding in the forest.”

  “And now she warms your bed.”

  “Indeed she does, but that’s not why you came here.”

  “I’d be remiss not to monitor my investments.”

  “No. You’ve come for payment.”

  He smiled, flashing impossibly white teeth. “That too.”

  “The raid has only just begun.”

  Matheus waved a hand. “Don’t trouble yourself. This is a gentle reminder of your obligations.”

  “How could I forget them?” griped Bram. “I feel the noose around my neck every day, you Danish bastard.”

  “You mustn’t be sore. You gambled with my money and lost. Someone always pays the price.” His dark gaze lingered on me, and I shivered, my tummy turning over in silken knots.

  Bram noticed his interest. “I’ve a business proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

  “I’ve never shied away from a venture.”

  The Viking’s eyes were on me, and I got the distinct impression that I was going to be a part of his “business proposition”. “This lovely English lass is Lora. She’s shunned by the villagers. They think she’s a w
itch. How much would a virgin be worth?”

  “A virgin?” he laughed. “She’s been in your company. I doubt she’s pure.”

  “She is.”

  The stranger appraised me. “She’s pretty to be sure, but your debts far outweigh a lovely girl.”

  “Consider it a down payment.”

  “You must think me a fool. I could leave this tent and find a woman in five minutes.”

  “Not one this beautiful. Take your dress off, Lora. Show him what you’re hiding.”

  I bristled, feeling violated and disgusted and used like chattel. I wasn’t this Viking’s property. “I will not.”

  Bram’s brows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”

  I drew away from him, my hand closing on a knife. “I’m not your property.”

  Matheus Hrolf’s expression revealed his amusement, dark eyes flashing. “I’d say you’ve lost your touch with women, Bram. This one isn’t as docile as you thought.”

  He scowled, looking displeased. “Take the damn dress off!” I was seeing an entirely new and unpleasant side to my gentle lover, who had been sweet and patient with me. Now that I could be used as a commodity, his attitude had changed dramatically. This left a bitter taste in my mouth. He lunged forward. “Must I rip the clothing from your back, woman?” I took that opportunity to strike him with the knife, catching his hand, which bled instantly. “You little bitch!” His fingers wrapped around my wrist, shaking the knife free. He dragged me to him, growling his displeasure. “I should teach you a lesson, you won’t soon forget.”

  I struggled, squirming, trying to free myself from his steely grasp. “No! Viking scum!”

  “You seemed to enjoy me enough this morning!” The sound of material ripping was alarming, my tunic shredding in his hands. This was followed by my dress, which he hadn’t damaged as badly. I had underthings on, two layers of gowns, which were the only barrier to being exposed entirely.