Serving My Viking Masters: Complete Series

by Serena Starling

Allowed no reprieve, I whimpered as King Mogr and Rafn approached. They turned me over so I now lay on my belly, gasping for air. Mogr graciously motioned for his man to claim the position between my legs.

  “Thank you, my King,” Rafn panted, kicking my ankles apart so I was high on my toes, spread wide. He grasped my buttocks firmly to keep me still as my tender flesh was pierced once again. I cried out against his rough advance, but the wetness of my folds betrayed my desire. My body throbbed for more as Mogr grasped me by the hair.

  “Such a sweet little mouth you have, Kira,” he murmured. “Is it as sweet as your other holes, I wonder?”

  He pushed himself past my lips before I could respond. The king sheathed himself deep in my mouth with a satisfied groan and began to move. Unlike the princes, Mogr and Rafn pummeled me at different paces; Rafn hard and punishing, Mogr savoring me more slowly with long, deep thrusts. As Rafn continued to ram me from behind, Mogr drew his manhood from my mouth to trace my lips with it, then pushed himself inside once again.

  Another imminent release was building in my belly. I squirmed, feeling my womanhood grow hot under Rafn’s unrelenting attentions. The quivering began deep in my core, and I finally surrendered to the undeniable pleasure of the moment. I cried out around Mogr’s manhood as my body was overcome with wave after wave of sweet release.

  The internal muscles of my womanhood clamped down hard around Rafn’s thick member, causing him to grow rock hard as he shouted out and buried himself deep, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of my buttocks with his own release. King Mogr increased his own pace, grasping both sides of my head as he rocked his hips harder, nearly choking me with his efforts, then he too shot his load deep. I sputtered as the hot juices hit the back of my throat, swallowing the king’s salty seed as he finally pulled away.

  The men laughed as I sagged in relief, my hair nearly touching the floor. A hand came down hard upon my buttocks in a resounding smack, but I barely flinched. “Thank you for this boon, my King,” Rafn said appreciatively. “This girl has the sweetest flesh I’ve ever known. I would pay well to sample her charms again.”

  “Agreed,” Otr nodded. “All the men will. Your empty chest will soon be full, sire.”

  I drew in a deep, shuddering sigh as I lay on the table, sore and well used, as drained as I’d ever felt in my life. No wonder the slave Hilde had said the king needed me to eat well to keep my strength up, if this was to be my fate every moon I was delivered to Romheim.

  I slept fitfully that night, jerking awake every time I drifted off. Exhausted body and soul, I craved the oblivion of sleep but had no desire to awaken with the hands of strangers upon my flesh again. To keep my despair at bay, I focused my thoughts on my beloved Drengr, imagining him working on his sister’s farmstead. I saw him in my mind’s eye, hammering a fence post into the ground, the muscles of his broad chest and arms rippling as he worked. My musings changed, turning to the farmstead he labored upon being ours as husband as wife, not his sister’s.

  I imagined standing in the doorway of our steading as I watched him work, my body growing hot. His big forearm swiped a strand of sweaty hair from his face, and he glanced up to meet my gaze. A smile played across his delectable mouth, causing my heart to beat faster—

  Suddenly the door was thrown open and I sat up in bed with a start. The thrall Hilde entered, carrying the folded parcel of my clothing. “You are to dress now and return to Vikenmar,” she said briskly as she shut the door behind her.

  Shivering, I left the warmth of the bed to cross the room, my body raw and sore, muscles tight. I drew the shift and gown over my head, then pulled on my stockings and shoes. Loud voices carried to my ears through the heavy door, and I stilled to listen. It sounded like the Romheim princes arguing with their father.

  My heart dropped. I knew not what they argued about, but it did not bode well for me on the return trip to Vikenmar. I’d resigned myself to them taking their pleasure with me again as they’d done on the journey to their kingdom, but their anger would make them rougher in their attentions. My body was sore enough already.

  I followed Hilde from the bedchamber, eyes lowered in my usual submissive posture, through the hall toward the angry voices.

  “This is not what we agreed upon, father,” Vakr said heatedly. “We were to accompany the thrall to and from Vikenmar—”

  “Barek bade me come for her,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled. “I am but following my king’s orders.”

  My surprised gaze flew to meet that of Drengr, standing large and imposing near King Mogr and the Romheim princes. His presence flooded my body with relief, and it was all I could do to keep myself from running over to him.

  Mogr studied me, his intense eyes scraping over my form from head to toe. I prayed he wouldn’t sense the connection between me and the warrior who stood in his hall. He finally turned away. “The day is done, Vakr,” he said to his son, who continued to glare menacingly at Drengr. “Kira is to return to Vikenmar. Why does it matter if she returns with you or with Barek’s man here?”

  Vakr sputtered in anger, started to speak, then thought better of it. Clearly furious at being denied another go at me in the woods, he couldn’t admit it without bringing his father’s wrath upon him.

  “Because it isn’t what we agreed upon,” Erik replied for his brother. Although his voice was calmer, his eyes were just as furious as those of Vakr. “And how do we know this man here won’t take advantage of Kira on the journey?”

  Drengr turned to Erik, towering over him, his flinty gaze taking stock of the pampered prince. Drengr’s long, silent assessment made it abundantly clear he found the young man lacking. “My king trusts me as much as your king trusts you,” he said bluntly. “She will be as safe in my hands as she would be in your own.”

  Erik’s face grew red with fury. Like his brother, he opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Both princes turned and stormed from the room.

  Drengr was silent for most of the return trek to Vikenmar. He’d brought the same steed I’d ridden before on the journey to his sister’s steading. How different things had been between us then, such a short time ago. The stolen moments of happiness we’d shared seemed but a dream. I rode behind him now, watching his hair blow across his broad back as the horses took us ever closer to home.

  I longed to call out for him. To tell Drengr I loved him still, and wanted nothing more than to be his wife. My musings of the night before still strong in my mind, I thought of us together at my imaginary farmstead, a golden-haired child at my feet raising chubby arms up for Drengr.

  The nagging suspicion that I might even now be with child returned. How I wished the babe were his.

  A sudden and strong wave of nausea overtook me, a dizzy sensation not unlike sea sickness. I hadn’t broken my fast this morning, and my empty stomach lurched as my mouth filled with saliva. I realized with horror that I was going to be sick.

  “I must stop,” I cried out. Reining my horse to a quick halt, I clambered down without waiting for Drengr to help me. The sickness rose in my throat before I had time to scramble for cover. Drengr dismounted in time to see me heaving by the horse’s flank.

  Mortification wracked me as I sobbed, struggling to still my traitorous belly. I leaned into my steed for support, as well as to hide my scarlet face from Drengr. The smell of damp horseflesh nearly sent me heaving again.

  “Come here, Kira.” He took my arm and led me to a shady grove of trees, bidding me to sit. I leaned back against a tree trunk as the perspiration cooled on my cheeks. Silently, Drengr held out a flask of water.

  I accepted it gratefully, gulping until he stilled my hand. “Slowly,” he warned. “Or you’ll be sick again.”

  Drengr returned to his horse to retrieve his satchel. He sat across from me, rummaged inside to pull out a small loaf of bread, then broke it in half and handed me a large chunk. “Have you eaten this morn?”

  “No,” I admitted, tearing into the bread.

  H
e watched me eat for a moment, then finally spoke. “You are with child.” A statement, not a question.

  I stopped chewing and met his gaze, unable to respond.

  “Is it mine?”

  I allowed my eyes to travel over Drengr’s face, memorizing its rugged beauty, knowing I might never get another chance to so openly rest my gaze upon the fierce warrior. Once I told him what I must, he may very well be done with me. But wouldn’t that be for the best?

  I swallowed the bread. “It is Barek’s child,” I whispered.

  There was no way to be completely sure, of course. The unfortunate incident in the bath house involving three of Barek’s men left me filled with uncertainty. But to let Drengr think he might possibly be the father would be cruel. If I were with child, my master Barek had fathered it.

  Drengr’s expression hardened as he stared at me for what felt like an eternity. I cringed, waiting for him to break the silence. To tell me he hated me; that he was through with me. But he said neither.

  He stood, extending a hand to help me rise. My own hand was swallowed up by his large, calloused palm, eliciting sweet memories of those strong hands on other parts of my body. “Tell Barek your news upon our return.” Drengr’s stony expression revealed nothing. “Our king will be overjoyed.”

  I entered the dark hall alone as Drengr took the horses to the barn. The torches along the walls had gone out, and the fire at the massive hearth was nothing more than coals. I blinked, struggling to see in the dim light. Barek sat alone in his carved chair, with no company other than the cask of ale beside him. The empty hall was filled with the stagnant odor of stale food and drink from the previous night. I longed to throw open all the doors and let the fresh air wash over it all.

  I approached Barek cautiously, standing before him with my head lowered and hands clasped in front of me. I felt his gaze upon me, but he said nothing. The sound of him refilling his cup of ale filled my ears, then a long drink, followed by a belch. His now empty cup clattered against the oaken arm of his chair.

  “Have you bathed?” he demanded.

  “No, my King,” I whispered.

  “From now on, you must bathe before you return to me. I won’t have the scent of another man upon you.”

  “Yes, my King.”

  As the moments dragged on, I shifted with uncertainty. Was I to leave?

  “Kira.” Barek’s voice was rough with emotion. “Did Mogr…treat you well?”

  I knew I should simply tell him yes, Mogr hadn’t hurt me. It was true enough; Mogr and his men had been more gentle with me than Barek typically was. But the humiliating memory of being ravished by Mogr in the great hall with his men to watch could not be suppressed. The empty chest—the bride price exchanged for the two dead princesses of Vikenmar—that Mogr meant to fill by selling my flesh to any man who would pay for the privilege, loomed large in my mind.

  I drew in a shuddering breath, trying not to cry, but a small sob escaped anyway. Tears trickled down my cheeks as I struggled to calm my emotions. My tears had never swayed Barek before. But now he leaned forward in his chair in alarm.

  “Why do you cry? Did he hurt you?”

  I shook my head, wiping my tears away as I swallowed back my sobs. “No…no, my King,” I reassured him brokenly. I couldn’t allow Barek to become so angry he would revoke the agreement with Mogr, an act that would certainly elicit retribution from the bold king. My obedience to the bargain they’d struck was vital to keeping the peace between the two kingdoms. I couldn’t risk putting the people I’d grown to love— Drengr, Asta, and little Thora—in jeopardy.

  I remembered what Drengr had said in the forest earlier. Praying for courage, I continued. “I believe I carry your child.”

  I’d spoken in a whisper, but my words seemed to echo in the room. For a long moment, Barek said nothing, staring down at me as I cowered before him.

  “Look at me, Kira.”

  I allowed my miserable gaze to meet his. Barek’s sharp blue gaze pierced me, as though assessing the truth of my claim. Two spots of color had bloomed on the ashen skin above his beard, and his words came out in a harsh whisper. “You are certain?”

  Fear made my knees go weak. What if my suspicions weren’t true? “I…I do not know the certainty of such things, my King,” I stammered. “I was but a maiden when I met you. But I believe a babe grows inside me—”

  He stood abruptly, knocking over the empty cup of ale. “Asta!” he shouted, the sound of his voice echoing through the hall. The silence that followed made him grow impatient. “Asta!” he bellowed even louder.

  The woman emerged from the back of the house, her lovely face tired and pinched. It seemed no one had slept well the previous night. Her reddened eyes landed on me in alarm as she hastened toward us. “What is the matter?”

  “Confirm that Kira is with child.” At the woman’s faltering gasp, Barek strode through the hall to leave us. He turned back to Asta with stony resolve. “And ensure the stench of Mogr is washed from her body. I will not have my child subjected to such filth.”

  I did not see Barek the remainder of the day. Asta questioned me gently as to why I believed I carried a child, and my answers were enough to satisfy her of the truth of my claim. She had a bath prepared for me, then sat beside me as I soaked away the last vestiges of what had transpired at Romheim. She didn’t inquire about my stay at the house of Mogr, and I didn’t offer to tell her.

  The warm water filled my body with lassitude, and several times I found myself nearly nodding off. Asta’s gaze was sad as she helped me rinse the soap from my hair.

  “Rest now, Kira,” Asta said, as I dried myself to dress in the clean clothes she’d brought for me.

  “Where is Barek?” I asked. Asta had left me alone in the bath briefly to let him know I was indeed with child. I still wasn’t certain of how he felt about the news. What would he do?

  Asta wouldn’t meet my gaze. “It is of no concern. Sleep now, and he will speak with you later.”

  Despite my growing alarm, exhaustion got the better of me and I did sleep until late that evening. Alone in Barek’s big bed, I stretched languidly as I took in my familiar surroundings. Warm and snug in the furs and pillows, I had no desire to rise. But as the delicious scent of roasting meat reached my nostrils, my stomach growled in response.

  I rose reluctantly, checked my appearance in the looking glass, then combed and braided my hair. After finding my shoes, I emerged from the bedchamber and headed for the kitchen. The clatter of numerous voices was audible from the great hall.

  A child’s squeal stopped me in my tracks, and a moment later Thora’s arms were around me in a tight hug. “Is it true, Kira?” she whispered excitedly. “Is it true you carry my brother in your belly?”

  I smiled down at the sweet face I’d grown to love. “Yes, I believe so, Thora. But it may be a girl, you know.”

  “No,” Thora responded with certainty. “Father says it’s a boy. He told Tannr he would finally have a son that could make him proud. Everyone laughed.”

  A sense of dread prickled the hairs on the back of my neck as Thora eagerly pulled me by the hand toward the sound of people. The room was as full as it had been when Barek and his men had returned from their successful raid, an air of excitement and celebration permeating the great hall once again. As Barek noticed me standing with Thora, he rose to his feet with a hand outstretched toward me.

  “Here she is! The mother of my child.” He turned with a knowing wink in the direction of his son and heir, Tannr. “And quite possibly the mother of the future king of Vikenmar.”

  Tannr’s face grew scarlet as the room erupted with laughter. His father shook his head as the youthful prince scowled into his mug of ale. “Ahh, boy, do you not know a jest when you hear one?” Barek admonished, eliciting another round of laughter from the drunken guests.

  Barek beckoned me to come forward. I complied, cringing as he waived Tannr from the seat beside him to offer it to me. Tannr stalked off in fury as
I sat at the high table with my master. A slave hastened to remove Tannr’s platter of food and cup of ale, replacing it with fresh food and drink.

  “Hear me, good people of Vikenmar,” Barek boomed. “Listen well. The woman you see before you is no longer a thrall. As of this night, I free her from her servitude to me. Kira, a free woman, is now my consort. As the mother of my future children, she will be treated with the respect such a position deserves.”

  Shouts and stomps filled the hall, so loud I wanted to cover my ears. My mind reeled from the unexpected knowledge that I was now a free woman. Although Asta had hinted early on that Barek might free me if I became with child, I’d assumed he would wait until further along in my confinement, when my condition would be more obvious. Why had he made his announcement so soon?

  Barek raised his hand to quiet the room. “My consort will no longer be subjected to the attentions of King Mogr,” he proclaimed. “I will allow him to choose any of my thralls to take Kira’s place, but from this moment on, she is free from this obligation. I will deliver the news to him myself in the morn.”

  I could not contain my gasp of surprise. My heart hammered in my chest as I shot a faltering nod in Barek’s direction, still not quite able to bring myself to allow direct eye contact with him.

  Was Drengr in the room of people below? I longed to meet his gaze and see for myself if this was what he’d wanted to happen when he instructed me today to tell Barek of the child. Foolish man. Hadn’t he realized the news would keep me safe, but potentially put the people of Vikenmar in jeopardy?

  Barek beamed at me, squeezing my hand under the table, and I pushed aside my worry to force a smile.

  The next day was rather uneventful as Barek, Tannr, and a band of warriors departed at dawn to deliver the news to Mogr. Drengr remained behind to guard Vikenmar—and me—a fact which I was informed of by Barek before he left, but never saw for myself. My beloved Northman kept his distance, even though Barek’s absence assured safety if Drengr indeed decided to seek me out. But it seemed Drengr had finally lost interest in me upon the news that I carried the king’s babe in my womb. I told myself it was for the best Drengr had moved on, but nothing could take away the sting of this truth.