The Viking's Conquest

by Felicity Brandon

  “Yes,” I moan. “Yes, devour me.”

  I hear him chuckle darkly before I feel the weight of him pressing against my inner thighs and moving my legs more widely apart. The heat of his mouth approaches and lands on my wet folds, dipping south to find my pulsing nub, desperate for him. I groan at the fleeting, yet very welcome contact before he moves, dragging his strong tongue up and between my lips. I recall how amazing his mouth had felt between my legs the day before, but after my recent behaviour I hadn’t dared to dream I would experience it again today! His ministrations leave me breathless, providing just enough stimulation to have me panting over the bed dressings. He laps at my folds over and over again, pressing my sex outward with his large palms as they dig into my punished behind. On the one hand I feel more exposed and vulnerable than ever—held down and bent over his bedstead—knowing I am quite literally at his mercy and yet, on the other hand I feel thoroughly worshipped and adored. To know that he seeks only to thrill me and give me this pleasure is almost as gratifying as his masterful cock had been just moments before.

  With each swipe of his tongue, I am brought closer to the precipice. I bury my face into the cool soft furnishings, willing him to continue and allow this release. I imagine him there, crouching at the end of his bed whilst he pleasures me and the thought is almost enough to take me there alone. His mouth drops lower, concentrating on my throbbing and excited bud. Anders lifts my left leg, raising it high and then delivering it safely over the edge of the wooden bedstead. With my one leg elevated, he now has the perfect angle to find and pleasure the centre of my desire, and soon I feel his tongue lapping at it over and over. I gasp out loud, arching my back and raising my head from the bed, stretched out like a wild animal.

  His face moves away and for a second I want to cry out in frustration, but it is soon replaced with his left hand, which cups my sex and rubs my excited bud gently. In a moment of boldness, I push back against his hand, demanding the exquisite contact. It’s then that I feel his other hand. The fingers begin between my sodden folds, dipping into me and extracting my own moisture, before working north over my flaming behind to find my puckered entrance. Here they pause and then slowly, one of his wet fingers begins to circle it and then gently press inside. My body freezes at the intrusion, all of my muscles tensing to halt the pursuit of his finger.

  “Oh!” I exclaim out of instinct.

  “Hush, my captive,” he purrs from behind me. “I am going to know every part of you this night. Relax now and let me in.”

  I settle myself back onto the covers and try to breathe, taking deliberately long breaths in and out. Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine Anders again and this time what he must look like whilst he plays with my virgin hole. With each new breath I feel my muscles relax and gradually he resumes his exploration, using my own arousal to push a little deeper into me. I marvel in silence at the fullness I feel with only one of his digits in place, wondering how I will cope with his erection if one finger feels so enormous. Something about the debauchery of the act enthrals me, and soon enough his rhythm is driving me back toward the pleasure I seek.

  The whole time his other hand works its magic on my brimming sex, massaging my bud over and over. I push down onto his fingers below me and then rise again to meet the finger in my behind. Writhing against his hands this way, I push myself closer to an unparalleled climax. I am lost to him—lost utterly to the sensations that are overloading both my body and my mind. How is Anders—a man who has taken me against my will and punished me in public for his own satisfaction—able to deliver me so much ecstasy? I rise up the bed again, using my arms to take my weight as I arch myself against him. My pinned breasts ache beautifully at the movement and reinforce the quandary to me: why am I so aroused by this Viking? A man who has literally invaded both my lands and my body and now threatens to take control of my mind as well…

  As I muse on my own desire, I feel Anders add a second lubricated digit to my behind. I wince at the initial feeling, but soon reconcile myself to the increased fullness, pushing back onto both fingers like some moaning, wanton banshee.

  “I want you to climax for me, my captive!” I hear his voice behind me, cutting through the palpable energy in the room. “Climax now, whilst your ass is filled with me and your bosom is decorated for me. Grind yourself against me!”

  My head swoons at his words, loving the dominance he shows even now, at this most critical of moments. Small throaty sounds come from me as I do as he commands, gyrating my soaked folds onto his palm and then snapping my hips back to meet his other fingers. With each thrust the digits are driven further into my virgin territory and I relish how naughty the whole experience feels. I was certain that princesses of the realm were not supposed to enjoy such lewd acts, and yet here I am—squirming uncontrollably and satisfying myself to order, whilst I am sodomised by the invader’s fingers. The thought of my own depravity is just enough to tip me over the precipice and my tightly wound body detonates over him like a heavenly explosion. I feel my womb contracting as new arousal gushes from me, drenching his hand in my excitement. Sensing my climax, he leaves my bud and curls his fingers north into my wetness. As I ride the wave of my pleasure, the fingers of both of his hands fill my holes and fuck me, penetrating me in a relentless frenzy. I clench around him, face flat on the bed, unable to halt the momentum as it takes me. I remain this way, suspended in time between pleasure and reality for some time.

  “You are so beautiful,” he muses from behind me as I gradually regain my faculties. I revel in his words, feeling the warmth of them washing over me much like the wave of my climax had done.

  Slowly he withdraws his fingers from me. I feel him moving the moisture from his left hand to my newly plundered behind.

  “Thank you for the show, my sweeting,” he says softly. “Now it’s time that I take you and make you mine once and for all.”

  I twist my body to see him, taking in his striking physical form from beneath the canopy. At some point he had de-robed himself and now he stands completely naked with his cock stretching out proudly in front of him. I open my mouth to speak, but find no words for whatever I am feeling. He smiles, perhaps understanding my mental state and moves forward to me. He slaps my ass playfully as he mounts the bed besides me, sending a spike of pain through the area.

  “Onto the bed properly now,” he orders carnally.

  I scurry to obey, dragging my right leg up to join my left and then moving further up the covers.

  “As you were,” he commands, moving back between my legs. “Face down and keep that behind in the air.”

  I press my face flat as instructed and feel the movement behind me as Anders positions himself. Again he takes moisture from my drenched sex, pressing into my quivering folds and dragging his fingers north to my rectum. I contort my body to see him adding wetness to his rock-hard length, running the moisture up and down his erection behind me. I watch, barely able to breathe as he crouches at my rear, ready to couple with me in the most intimate way. His left arm takes his weight by the side of my body as he mounts me.

  “Are you ready to be fucked again, my captive?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Surrender

  His words hang in the air, but I cannot answer them. I feel the crown of his length at my virgin entrance and suddenly its arrival there has become the centre of my entire world. With his right hand he holds himself there, gently pushing at me, before adding a measure of force and slowly penetrating my ass. A small yelp leaves my lips at the new intrusion as I feel myself stretching to accommodate his crown. He feels absolutely massive as he spikes me there. The pain of his intrusion fills my head and for a moment I panic.

  “My Lofðungr!” I say breathlessly. “You are too large!”

  I try to shift my weight, but find I am completely pinioned by his body and that my squirming serves only to aid his pursuit as I feel him push ever deeper into me.

  “Hush, Aurelie,” he says calmly as he shifts his weight. His right arm a
ppears on the bed next to me and reaches for my face as he soothes me. “You have nothing to fear—just breathe and relax, feel me inside you. Feel me as I possess every last inch of you.”

  I stop fighting at his words and do as he says, drawing in as much air into my body as I can as he strokes the side of my face with his thumb. The breathing helps me to relax and with each deep breath I seem abler to take him inside me. Once I am calm, he resumes his slow penetration, pushing just an inch or so at a time before pausing to reassure me.

  “You feel so divine, my captive,” he purrs and I can hear the desire laced in his voice. “Can you feel me, my sweeting? Can you feel me fucking your ass?”

  What a ridiculous question, I think to myself… how could I possibly feel anything else at this moment? I take another breath before answering him, kissing the thumb that has fallen to my mouth.

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  He presses into me some more and I moan out loud, feeling the depth of his possession. I am, it seems, utterly unable to internalise the intensity of the feeling it brings. I have no idea how deep inside me he is, but it feels as though I am being pinioned to the bed by his cock alone. He reaches over me, cocooning his torso over my body and pressing his heat against my frame. His head falls to my neck and he kisses me as he speaks.

  “I have you now, Aurelie. You are mine.”

  “Yes,” I moan sensually. “Make me yours; claim me, fuck me!”

  He holds me there tightly for a long moment. I feel his cock twitching inside my behind and it’s the oddest and most intense experience. In return my own muscles clench for him, my folds apparently jealous of the attention my other hole is now receiving. I feel his balls pressing up against them, tantalising them and then slowly Anders withdraws.

  “Tell me again what you want, my sweeting—speak it now!”

  “I want you to make me yours,” I pant. “Fuck my ass!”

  Needing no further invitation, he withdraws from me almost completely before pushing in again. His movements are harder this time and more deliberate. I grunt at the action, feeling myself filled up in just a few seconds and marvelling at how good it feels to be this violated and vulnerable. At his third stroke I feel his testicles banging against my wetness and I moan out loud. The intrusion has become exquisite; all initial pain is forgotten and now the feeling of absolute surrender overwhelms me as I give myself up to him—completely.

  Anders picks up the pace and begins to screw me faster, grinding himself into my dark hole over and over again. I lie there, absorbing the sensations, my face a sweaty mess against the bed as I feel him taking me. I can see the tension in his body from the muscles of his arms and I know how badly he must be due his own release. He groans over me, raising his torso from my back and pressing his length even deeper into my behind.

  “No man shall ever know you this way, Aurelie,” he shouts into the air. “No man except me, do you understand?”

  I can hear the intensity in his voice and I know he must be close to reaching his own summit. “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I agree, allowing my words to mirror my physical submission. “No other man will ever know me this way.”

  Thoughts of Magnus race through my mind fleetingly and I wonder if this is what has motivated Anders to speak. I push the negativity away, accepting that Anders had been right—my spankings have liberated me from any wrongdoing and this final act of lovemaking will enshrine his dominance over me once and for all. My thoughts are interrupted by Anders who moves unexpectedly backward, shifting his weight back to his heels and taking me with him. I find myself on my knees in front of him, his left arm snaking around to my breasts as he continues to pound me from behind. The change of tack surprises me and the new position feels somehow even more intense.

  His left hand claws at my right breast, catching the metal still attached to it and sending a thrill through me as the pain registers. His thrusts are fast and shallow as he leans into me, planting hot kisses at the nape of my neck.

  “I love fucking you, Aurelie,” he growls into my right ear before he takes the lobe in between his teeth and nips at it gently.

  I gasp, reaching around to grab at his hair with my hand. It’s the first time I have been in a position to touch him, but he permits it, biting down at my nape as his body tightens around me. I feel his cock burying itself into me, and then just as I am sure I can take no more of this sensual overload, Anders explodes inside of me. The force of his climax shakes us both. He loses his balance for a moment and sends us both crashing forward onto the bed. Still clenching around Anders’ convulsing organ, I land back on my face, my right arm pressing down into the covers. He raises himself a few inches from the bed and my body, allowing me some room to expand my chest and breathe. I twist my head right and see his body still twitching and shuddering from the intensity of his release, yet his arms remain strong and easily hold his body weight. Slowly he lowers himself back over me. I feel the length of his hair brushing over the skin of my back and then his face comes into view over my right shoulder. He looks happier and more relaxed then I have ever known him as those blue orbs assess my face.

  “Now you are mine, my captive,” he whispers, smiling at me.

  I am transfixed by the look in his eye that has captured me entirely. They have become pools with such depth that I can see a multitude of emotions in them. The calm, strategic leader of the north who has thoroughly enjoyed my surrender smiles back at me. Beyond him there is another man—a private side of Anders—and one that requires a little more tenderness with his possession. He blinks at me, clearly unable to decipher my expression and after a moment a low laugh leaves his lips.

  “It has been paradise possessing your body, Aurelie and yet I fear it will take more time to truly claim your mind?”

  I return his smile and offer a small nod. “Perhaps, my Lofðungr,” I reply. “Although you have come closer than any man previously.”

  His smile widens at my words as he finally uncouples from me, stretching out on the bed next to my body. He opens his arms in an embrace and I respond by rolling toward him and snuggling against the soft hair of his chest. For the first time in some weeks I feel contented and safe. It surprises me once again that the man who has orchestrated the events that caused much of my anxiety has come to be the one who is able to make me feel this way. I reach my right arm around his torso, tracing a line over his nakedness. I find a number of scars on my travels, some well healed and others that look relatively fresh, and I wonder what trauma Anders has seen during battle. My mind immediately moves to my father and my brothers, and particularly to Bowen. I take a deep breath, and try to conceal the concern that rises in me at the thought of my brother.

  “What is it, my sweeting?” asks Anders, sensing the tension in my body. He rolls away from me slightly and props himself up on his right shoulder to properly assess me.

  “It is nothing, my Lofðungr,” I sigh in response.

  In a flash Anders’ face is less than an inch from my own. I gasp at the sudden proximity, reflexively trying to push back away from him, but his left arm holds me firm. His eyes drill into me, oozing disappointment at my reply.

  “Aurelie.” His tone is curt. “I have just spent the last hour ensuring you have been well punished and then truly worshipped. I have broken you down and put you back together; I have mastered and loved you—and all for the purpose of bringing us this closeness, this openness. Please do me the courtesy of your honesty now and in all things forthwith. So I ask you once more, what is it that troubles your mind? The truth, if you will?”

  I blanch at his words, crestfallen that I have been able to frustrate him so soon after our coupling. I lower my eyes, unable to bare the intensity of them any longer and consider how I should reply. Can I really be truthful and tell him that it is the fate of my own kin that weighs heavily on my mind? After all, it may be his very orders that may have led to their destruction. My stomach twists at the thought of Bowen hurt, or worse, fallen and an unexpected well of tears
emerge from my eyes.

  I risk a glance at the man next to me, still holding me in place. Anders’ eyes are expectant. I realise with resignation that I have little choice but to be honest with him.

  “Forgive me,” I whimper. “I am thinking of my father, the King of Donrose, and of the fate of my two brothers.”

  He visibly relaxes at my words and draws me closer, back into his embrace, before kissing my forehead.

  “Of course,” he sighs. “Naturally their well-being merits your concern.”

  He pauses for a moment, pulling me tight beside him. My pinned nipples are crushed against his strong chest and a small spike of new arousal awakens in me.

  “I will ask my captains as to their situations. I am certain I can find news for you in a few days.”

  I cannot quite believe what I am hearing. Anders is not only calm at my admission, but appears to be sympathetic to my worries.

  “Oh, thank you!” I sob into his chest, as the anxiety in me finally bubbles over. “I will be so grateful, my Lofðungr.”

  He holds me there for a little while, permitting the tears to fall and then, when they have concluded he moves me away and pushes me gently onto the bed. The inflamed skin of my behind rubs against the soft bedding and I wince inwardly. He moves over my body in silence, pushing my thighs apart as he climbs between them and leaning against his left arm, his right smooths out the unruly strands of hair at my face.

  “You will be grateful, my captive.”

  His voice has taken on that darker, more dangerous tone again. I clench the tender muscles between my legs at the sound of it.

  “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I whisper.

  “And what else will you be?”

  His face is now directly above me and his blond hair falls like a curtain over my own. I blink up at him, now suddenly so foreboding when just a moment before he had brought me comfort and protection.

  “I—I do not know how to answer,” I stutter, feeling more than a little foolish.