The Viking's Conquest

by Felicity Brandon

“Ah, yes!” he exclaims. “Fabulous! Now ride yourself up, down and against me.”

  Trusting his guidance, I begin to move, pressing my hips forward as I reach the base of his hardness and then raising myself up again. I do not allow him to be free of my body and instead come crashing back down onto him. My sex hits the bottom of his length and the friction I find there sends a wave of new arousal coursing through me. I groan, throwing my weight forward to increase the feeling. I land on my hands, which are on either side of his shoulders and press my breasts against his naked chest as I use my hips and thighs to slide up and down his manhood.

  I lose myself here, relishing both the pleasure and the closeness to Anders. Feeling his hands in my hair as I fuck him produces low groans from my mouth. I tilt my head up to see him and find him once again staring back at me.

  “Yes…” he says softly, “fuck me, my captive.”

  I blink down at him, unable to respond as the burgeoning desire in me swells. He pulls me to him, using his hands to compel me down toward his lips. I find them waiting for me and I do not hesitate as I press mine against them. He remains passive, permitting me the initiative and for the first time I truly kiss him, dragging my tongue around his lower lip and dipping gently into his hot mouth. When he is satisfied he draws me away, smiling.

  “Now back up tall, Aurelie,” he orders carnally. “Put your hands behind your back as though your wrists are bound again and ride me hard.”

  He uses his enormous body weight to push me backward and I find myself back on my knees again, my legs outstretched over his thighs. I link my fingers together behind my back and try to catch my breath, but it’s hopeless. Feeling his passion throbbing inside me is singly the most erotic thing I have ever experienced and I cannot hope to contain the way it makes me feel. I begin to move up and down, using only my thighs for strength and direction. With my arms held tightly behind my back, it’s easy to imagine them being bound this way, and the idea makes me even more aroused.

  “Faster, my captive,” he gasps breathlessly. “Ride me harder and faster.”

  I respond with everything I have, bouncing up and down on his length and feeling my aching bosom springing ahead of me. Watching them as though in a trance, Anders grabs hold of both breasts, tugging hard on my excited nipples and pulling them toward him. The added impetus of this stimulation is staggering and as I ride him I feel my pleasure nearing its peak. Sensing my climax is near and approaching his own, Anders begins to move with me, thrusting deep and hard against me as I simultaneously move up and down him. He yanks hard at my nipples, sending fresh waves of desire spiking through me and I yell out some indecipherable noise, urging him on. I am so close—so very close and his forcing me to lean forward this way only adds to the friction that is silently going to make me detonate.

  At his next thrust I lose it, peaking into a soul-shattering climax that threatens to splinter the whole of my reality. I feel all of my muscles contracting at once as he spears me again and I clench around his length as it falls and rises into my wetness. Leaning over him, I groan, but hold my hands still at the small of my back as commanded. His hard, insistent thrusts continue as the pleasure pulses through me in long, tightening waves, until he too finds his summit and explodes inside of me. I gaze into his face, etched in ecstatic torment and watch as the pleasure overwhelms him. Resting against the soft hair of his chest, I catch my breath as his body calms. Eventually he raises his head to look at me and I respond in turn. Our eyes lock as he pulls me down for a kiss. This time he sets the pace and I open gladly for him, feeling his tongue dominate my mouth as his cock spasms inside my wetness.

  As the kiss concludes, he takes hold of my shoulders and rolls me lithely onto my back. Now on top of me, he resumes our coupling by gently thrusting into me once more. My tender bottom screams in protest as it rubs over the covers, but pinioned under his weight and with my arms trapped behind my back, I can do little to resist him. Furthermore, I find that I no longer want to. I am so unbelievably wet and aroused for Anders and seem to have been from the first few hours of meeting him. Whether he is punishing, humiliating, or rewarding me, my body seems to respond only in positives, offering him my submission gladly in exchange for this intimacy.

  He pauses and gazes down at me intently. “Good morning, my sweeting,” he says tenderly.

  A surge of unexpected emotion fills me as I watch him. I realise that in this moment I could very well fall in love with this man. For everything he has done and taken from me, he has also shown me this new, undiscovered side of myself and offered me a life of service and pleasure by his side. I push the thought away as his blue eyes observe me.

  “Good morning, my Lofðungr,” I whisper.

  “Isn’t this a nicer way to start the new day?” he muses over me. “You serve me and then pleasure us both?”

  As he speaks he begins to move inside me once again. I gasp at how hard he still is and how wet I have become.

  “Yes,” I agree, thinking on my morning yesterday when Magnus had so enjoyed tormenting me. “This is much better.”

  He offers me a chaste kiss, brushing his lips over mine before drawing backward and finally withdrawing from my body. I watch as he moves off the bed, leaving me here feeling both comforted and lost at the same time. He strides away, grabbing a pair of trousers from the nearby table and pulling them on over his nakedness. Watching his bare behind disappear under his clothing, I mentally hold on to the image of its perfect form.

  “There is business to attend to, my captive,” he says, securing his trousers. “An important deed that we must attend to.”

  I twist my body at these words, that old knot of tension tightening in my belly. I wonder to what business he refers, but say nothing on the subject. He smiles knowingly as he closes the distance between us and leans over my exposed body.

  “Once all is dealt with, we shall both bathe, and I will order us a feast to celebrate you truly being mine.”

  His eyes light up like a child’s at the idea and I too welcome the notion, my hunger having not been fully sated for some days.

  “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I murmur.

  “Rise now,” he commands casually as he saunters away toward the entrance to his quarters. “We must away soon.”

  I move from the bed, sliding to the floor and padding over to join him. He regards me, tilting his head to one side as I approach. A small smile forms on his full lips as he speaks.

  “Perhaps we do need to clean you up before the duties of the day!” he laughs, clearly amused by the state I am in.

  I press my lips together in a hard line, wanting desperately to rebuff him but knowing the spanking that will earn me. He halts his laughter, seeing my irritation and opens his arms to me.

  “Come now, Aurelie. I mention it only in jest—you are still my beautiful Donrose captive.”

  I shudder reflexively at his apt description, but move toward him nonetheless.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Gifts from Anders

  The next hours pass in a blur. Fresh water and fruit are brought to Anders’ quarters by a girl I do not recognise. I sit by his feet at the fire whilst he again offers me a goblet of water and some slices of the juicy flesh. Made to crawl to the bathing area, I am cleansed under his steely supervision and then lifted from the tub by Anders’ strong arms, which seek to dry me with the fur of some unknown animal. Sometime later I find myself back in his chambers. I remain passive, feeling almost surreal as I watch the activity around me. Servants run in and out, past the heavy drapes that separate his privacy from the court. They bring clothing and messages from the prince’s many envoys and soldiers. During this time, I lay in a dreamlike state by the fire, my skin warming against its burgeoning flames. My mind wanders, considering my position here with Anders and recalling the promise I had made to Bowen. I scrutinise my actions, wondering if I am to blame for my fate: could I have done more to protect Donrose? Should I have resisted the invaders, whatever my personal passions?

  My
eyes look past the hive of activity in the room, searching the canvas walls and the fine-looking garments being laid out for Anders. I eye the place where I’d been forced to kneel on my first evening, whilst he had summoned Brigida to his bed. I flush at the memory, recalling how reddened my behind had been from my very first spanking. To the right three women appear and strip the bedding from the large, canopied bed. I colour a little further as I imagine the combination of my desire and Anders’ seed that has soiled those sheets. Anders is dressed by two male attendants, and still I remain pensive, reflecting on my brother. What would he think of his little sister now if he could see me here, naked and full of lust for her captor? I feel certain that he would be disappointed and the knowledge resonates, making me gloomy as the bustle around me continues.

  At length I am approached by a short-haired female servant, wearing a long cream tunic. I raise my eyes to look at her and recognise her as one of Anders’ attendants from the feast yesterday. Jealousy surfaces in me and the strength of the emotion takes me by surprise.

  She holds out some fabric in her hands. “You are to wear this,” she says, speaking at me, rather than to me.

  I barely acknowledge her, instead my gaze returning to the dancing flames to my left. Out of the corner of my eye I see her turn to Anders, her arms outstretched, clearly vexed at my response. I stifle a laugh at her reaction, but force myself to meet his eye.

  “Leave it on the rug,” he orders, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. Disgruntled by his tone, she pouts and bobs her head to one side as though she cannot believe Anders has sided with his foreign captive. Her flaxen hair falls around her face, hiding her growing indignation and she practically throws the garment in my lap before turning and fleeing from the scene.

  Anders, now fully dressed in clean trousers and tunic, eyes me from the bed, one eyebrow already raised at my performance.

  “You were rather rude to my servant, Aurelie…”

  His tone is hard, but the smile on his face gives away his true feelings on the subject.

  “Apologies, my Lofðungr,” I mumble in response.

  He rises from the bed, immediately gaining my full attention. “I chose this dress for you personally,” he says as he approaches. “So please stand and wear it for me.”

  I take the material in my hands, running it between my forefinger and thumb. It feels like a coarse lace, but appears to be lined on the other side with a softer fabric. I make it to my feet just as he reaches the fire. Taking the dress from me, he holds it up high above the flames and allows it to fall until it reaches the rug by my feet. For a moment I am awed. It is a thing of great beauty, each section made into intricate-looking flowers and it would surely have taken some time and skill to create. More than this though, I am stunned that after all of my ordeals yesterday, he desires for me to wear anything at all.

  “Th-thank you,” I stutter at the sight of the dress.

  He smiles again, gesturing for me to move forward. I do so, bending to collect the hem and pulling the fabric apart and over my head. Anders aids its transition and takes a small step back to admire me as the outfit settles over my skin. Wearing a full-length ensemble after days of having nothing but my own my nakedness to protect me feels incredibly strange. I look down at myself, seeing the long lace sleeves wrapping around my arms and the low drop of the dress, barely covering my breasts. He moves toward me again, sweeping my hair to one side and producing from his pocket my black leather collar, which had been removed as I bathed earlier. A look passes between us as we both acknowledge the accessory. I say nothing, wisely remaining mute on the subject and accepting the adornment that pleases him so much.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in over my body and kissing the top of my damp hair. “Yesterday you were punished and suffered at my command. Today my people will see your beauty for themselves and will come to accept you as my concubine.”

  I process his words as he towers over me. A concubine? Surely that is just a pretty word for a slave of sexual purpose? My mind shudders at the label and yet unbelievably my thighs dampen at the prospect.

  “There is one more thing,” he says, pausing to examine my features. The tone in his voice has shifted somehow, awakening the butterflies in my stomach. “I have a possession that once belonged to you. Since we have now reached an accord, it feels wrong to conceal it from you any further.”

  He strides away to the table behind us, leaving me to puzzle at his words before returning with a sword resting flat across his palms. I survey it with interest, my eyes dragging over the long blade. As he approaches I recognise the shape of the encrusted handle. My belly twists, stirring that customary anxiety in me. If I didn’t know better, I would swear on the gods that the sword was Aurora, the weapon which Bowen had bestowed upon me. The look of the thing in this foreign environment startles me. The sword that my brother had sacrificed for my protection now lies here with me—both of us the possession of Anders of Norse.

  “It is your sword, my sweeting?” Anders’ voice slices through my thoughts.

  “Yes…” I begin, although the remaining words fail to find me.

  “Then it should rightly be returned to you, Aurelie,” he says, moving toward me again. “Once this raid is done I shall bring you north to my homelands, and perhaps you will get to wield your weapon once more?” He eyes me intently, his gaze drilling into my flushed skin. “In the meantime, know that I will keep it safe for you, Aurelie—just as I shall keep you safe.”

  His fists close around Aurora and for a long moment there is silence. The air around us feels thick with unspoken emotion. Slowly I pull my gaze from Anders to Aurora, and watch as he turns, striding back to the table. He returns to my side with a new length of rope, which he secures to the small loop worked into the leather at my throat. Our eyes lock as he completes the task and my nipples contract under the intensity of the look I find there. It’s as though a shroud has fallen over me. All thoughts of my kin cease and my mind quiets at once, focusing only on my submission to Anders. I swallow hard as I acknowledge the feeling; yes, he wants to command me, but more than that, I want to submit to him.

  He takes the end of the rope, tightening it in his hand and forcing me to take a step toward him. The sudden motion causes my breasts to tremble beneath the confines of the dress and noticing this, Anders uses his other hand to cup my left mound. He presses his large palm into my nipple, teasing its already excited bud into a length between his fingers. I gasp out loud, now visibly excited at his intensity and approach.

  “Later,” he says softly. “After the ceremony, I will have you, my captive.”

  His eyes sear into me, liquefying the energy in my body into a single pulse between my legs. In spite of everything, despite my abduction and captivity and all of the degrading things he has compelled me to do, I am fixated by Anders. His eyes are hypnotic, coercing me to do his bidding and knowing somehow that I will adore every moment of his base attentions.

  Without another word, he turns, leading me by the rope as he walks away. After everything that has happened in the last hours, I fully expect a command to crawl, but by some miracle he says nothing on the subject. As he leads me across the throne room and out into the light, a bud of pride begins to bloom in me. He has chosen this exquisite dress for me to wear and now he’s permitting me to walk! It seems almost astounding to me, as though it’s more than I have deserved somehow; a ridiculous notion when you consider my position.

  We pass into the bustling camp, men and women falling to their knees at the sight of their prince. I scuttle behind him, my feet managing the earth underfoot with ease compared to the previous day. With my limbs unrestrained I view the rope between us with obscure vanity. I want to shout to the women eyeing me with suspicion: “I belong to Anders; he has chosen me!” Pushing the emotion down into a wry smile, I follow behind him. We are not moving at a fast pace and yet I feel my breathing becoming more erratic, his dominance over me causing yet more arousal. Once more my
mind reels at the effect Anders has over me: how can Aurelie of Donrose want to be led around like this? How can I enjoy it? And yet I knew beyond any doubt that I do.

  We walk a few moments, Anders pausing to speak to various ushers and servants. Whilst he does, I wait dutifully behind him, feeling the eyes of almost everyone around me burning into my skin. Our path takes us along the camp and I realise with growing embarrassment that this is the same direction I was paraded along just yesterday. My mind whirls at the notion that most of these people have probably seen me bound and naked. As we walk I swallow my pride, accepting that if I belong to Anders then whatever he wills is what I must do. I consider my punishment the night before, the agony and the ecstasy of my submission to him, and how it had felt as he slid himself into me. He had made me his again and now that’s exactly how I intend to stay.

  Eventually, Anders leads me to the wooden platform that had previously hosted the feast. Now empty apart from a solitary high-backed chair and small table, the ghosts of that event are still present to me. Seating himself on the throne in the middle of the elevated area, he motions for me to come to his side, drawing the rope toward his body.

  “Sit by me, Aurelie,” he says in a low voice.

  I fall to my knees to the right of the chair, resting my legs to one side. Guards move in behind us, securing their prince and ahead the crowds begin to build. Eager, expectant faces look up at Anders and all the time, I can feel the leather at my neck, pulled slightly by the taut rope between us. Settling into my place, I am grateful for the length of the dress. The material reaches my ankles and provides a level of warmth, security, and dignity that had previously been denied to me.

  Two women approach with large platters of food. I see the cooked meats and breads as they pass and my belly reminds me just how long it has been since I last ate a reasonable meal. The platters are positioned on a table to the left of Anders and he thanks the women as they turn to leave. As he reaches to his left to choose some food, more servants appear with large pitchers. I imagine the rich wine they contain and am suddenly desperate for something to quench my thirst.