Nordic Bound

by Henry Morgan

  ‘It is written,’ started Father MacKay, ‘in Timothy. Let a woman learn in quietness and in all subjection. It is her fate to be brought here, her destiny to remain subject and it is our duty to maintain this island in fear of our Lord.’

  Sabrina cast a concerned look at Justin, who returned it. Neither of them had expected divine reconciliation for their actions, but that was what Father MacKay was attempting. No doubt, thought Sabrina, Father MacKay had checked out the girl’s body and was justifying his right to take it.

  ‘What of the girl, Father?’ asked Fraser. ‘Has she no rights?’

  Father Mackay gripped the top of her head and brought her to her feet. ‘It is in the Book – in Timothy. Do not suffer a woman to teach nor to exercise authority over man, but to be in quietness. These are the laws of God, not of man.’ His hand moved down and covered her belly. ‘She is as ripe for picking as the apples from Eden. She shall, as Timothy says, be preserved in childbearing.’ The hand fell further to her vagina and he massaged her vigorously. ‘Let us keep this girl. She has been brought here for a reason. Let us keep her naked, for He has said that women must adorn themselves with modesty and discretion, not with plaited hair and gold or pearls.’

  The mood of the group had changed. Everyone was now nodding in agreement. Some had risen from their seats and were gathering around her. The Father lifted his smock and presented his penis to the girl’s face. ‘She is subject to our will in the name of our Lord. We must save the island for Him.’ His speech over, the Father took the girl’s head in his hands and forced her mouth over his cock.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ said Douglas. ‘Father MacKay has shown us the way. There can be no turning back now.’ As Sabrina pulled Carl to one side and asked about the money, Douglas was fumbling behind the girl. His hips were already beginning to thrust despite his heavy cock slapping the girl’s thighs and missing her sex. Finally his wayward prick connected and was pushed fully home to a yelp of discomfort from the surrounded girl. It was truly too late to turn back now. As each islander took his turn Sabrina and Justin counted their money. Everything was in order.

  ‘May I keep the holdall?’ she asked. ‘It makes carrying it easier.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ said Carl. ‘Are you staying for a while?’

  Sabrina motioned for Justin to unchain David. ‘We must be going,’ she answered, amid the sounds of the islanders’ first attempts to enjoy Helen. ‘We’ve got another delivery to make… in Russia.’

  ‘You’d better get a hat then,’ Carl called after them, and as the door closed with a heavy thud he added, ‘it’s fucking cold in Russia.’

  An icy blast of air brought David out of his dream-tormented sleep. It seemed to him that not a night went past when he wasn’t forced to relive his ordeal at the hands of Sabrina and his onetime friend, Justin. The girls knew how the dreams afflicted him. He would sometimes wake them from their sleep when he cried out or writhed through some unconscious private agony. Mishka had seen the nightmare start and she had gone to the sled to fetch some caribou steaks, cheese and milk for breakfast. She knew he would be tired from a restless night and she wanted to please him.

  ‘Close that door,’ said David, more in a grumble than an order.

  ‘Sorry,’ Mishka offered. ‘I have food.’ She held up three frozen lumps of caribou flesh for his approval. David gave a half-hearted nod and she dropped his slab onto the stove, which Teena had just finished stoking. The meat bounced like a stone, and then began to sizzle viciously as the hot metal seared it.

  While his meat cooked the girls defrosted their pieces near the stove, finishing the process by sucking and, when it was soft enough, finally chewing it. To help moisten the flesh further they drank caribou milk with it. Like all Arctic mammals a caribou produces very rich milk, almost all cream. The blood mingled with the pure white fluid, curdling it and turning it a beautiful pink colour. David couldn’t help but make the connection between the colour in their mouths and the pink slice of their pudenda, and the image developing in his mind did much to compensate for a poor night’s sleep.

  ‘Vodka,’ he demanded.

  Teena left the slab of meat dangling from the corner of her mouth as she fetched his bone cup and filled it with his morning shot of liquid fire. He necked it down in one sour-faced swallow; it was hotter than the fire in the stove and it lifted him out of his seat.

  He stabbed his knife into his steak and flipped it over. ‘Vodka,’ he said again. His cup was refilled, but this time he sipped from it and stood thoughtfully cooking his breakfast. Last night’s tormentors had faded into sepia, then to grey, and by the time Mishka began caressing his morning erection they had dissolved into history, although he was only too aware that history had a habit of repeating itself.

  He tested the steak with the point of his knife and satisfied himself that it was done to his liking; blood seeped from the small slit he had made. In a restaurant it would be regarded as rare; to the girls it was a cremation.

  David returned to the captain’s desk and ate his breakfast, while between his legs Mishka continued to massage his swollen cock. When he had taken possession of the girls, one of the first things he taught them was to service the erection he invariably woke up with every morning. Mishka and Teena took it in turns to suck his prick, partly to please him and partly to ensure he was slippery enough to enter the other one. It was a mutually beneficial system for the sisters; if either didn’t ensure he was nice and wet then she would find a dry cock tugging and pulling at her vagina the next morning. For that reason the girl doing the sucking always did her best, and the effort was never lost on David.

  Mishka was especially diligent this morning. She wanted to make up for his poor night and this was the only way she knew, though she was also sure it was the best method. The way his hips jerked involuntarily whenever her tongue tripped delicately over his bollocks and touched his anus was confirmation of her belief.

  David motioned for Teena to get herself ready. The girl stripped obediently and placed herself over the captains desk, where she rested on her elbows and pushed out her young, tight but regularly abused bottom. She was only a few inches from David, sitting in the captain’s chair. He took out his pipe and half filled it with loki. When the smoke filled his lungs he felt at peace with himself and relaxed back to enjoy Mishka’s mouth and the rounded curves of Teena’s bottom. He appreciated how her nakedness was enhanced by the silver torcs around her arms and calves, and how the amber bulb on her head strap imbued her with an almost ancient sexuality. Her proud body provided them with the one undisputable link with the past – the overwhelming need to fuck.

  With Murmansk just a few hours away, breakfast over and the girls obviously anxious to please, David was warming to the day. He pushed back into the chair and pulled on the loki. It was almost as good as the sight of Teena’s creamy white arse and that dark waiting furrow. Today, he had decided, was going to be good.

  His cock was thick and swollen and Mishka took it out of her mouth to show him. As she did so Teena wiggled her bottom expectantly, but David was not to be hurried. Mishka seemed a little confused that he hadn’t plunged his turgid prick into her sister’s waiting sex, but she hurriedly reinstalled the veined member upon her tongue when David motioned for her to do so.

  David tugged a few more times on the arctic tobacco, and each time the vapours reined back his straining sperm, preventing their escape and stopping his orgasm. He was having a lazy morning. Today he would not fuck the young Lapp. Mishka would do the work with those pouting lips, and he would simply deposit his package inside her welcoming, accommodating, perfectly open sister.

  The moment was not far away. Even a sharp and deep tug on the loki could not prevent his boiling seed from ascending his cock, so he pulled Mishka off and plunged into Teena, firing almost immediately.

  David’s sled was making slow progress through the fresh powdery snow, but after s
uch a good morning it had little chance of dampening his spirits. He saw the fact that it had stopped snowing some time during the night as a further example of how well the day would unfold. The girls clung eagerly to him and the sun was shining, an incandescent medallion around the neck of fortune.

  Chapter 6

  Like it always does when you don’t want it to, the door of Sabrina’s room at the Hotel Romanov shut with a resounding clunk. The noise disturbed but didn’t waken Sabrina, but Justin stubbing his foot on the dressing table and knocking over bottles of cosmetics did.

  ‘W-what time is it?’ she demanded wearily.

  Justin peered unsuccessfully at his watch. The copious amount of vodka he’d drunk last night was obviously blocking his eyes as well. ‘It’s morning,’ was all he managed to grunt.

  Sabrina pulled back the sheets and padded through to the bathroom. ‘Where were you when I got back?’ she asked, between brushing her teeth and splashing her face with water.

  ‘I went out.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘No, with a friend.’

  ‘What, you just happened to meet an old acquaintance in the middle of Murmansk? Were they shopping, visiting a long lost aunty?’

  Justin knew where this was going. ‘Just a friend,’ he replied, hoping she would let the matter drop. She wouldn’t.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Catherine.’

  ‘So I take it Catherine is not a man then.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And I take it you’ve slept with her.’

  Justin nodded, so Sabrina added, ‘Take your trousers down and drop your pants.’

  Justin wanted to say no and he tried to find the reserve to say that enough was enough, that he wasn’t going to let her bully him any more, but his resolve failed him and he released the button on his trousers and let them fall to the floor.

  ‘And those,’ she barked, pointing to his underpants. ‘I don’t want to look at them. Not after what you’ve been doing. They’re dirty.’

  Justin finally defended himself. ‘It was wonderful. It wasn’t dirty.’

  She ignored his retort and padded across the bedroom to the whip she kept in the corner. Justin’s eyes followed her flawless brown skin and he was unable to prevent himself marvelling at her tight bottom. The firm flesh didn’t wobble as many women’s did, but remained solid with each step. Sabrina picked up the whip and held it almost lazily. ‘Everything you do without my permission is dirty.’ She raised the tip of it and lightly tapped between his legs, causing him to rise up on his toes. ‘Did she laugh at this?’ she mocked.

  Justin reacted with thinly disguised anger. ‘No, she didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Probably too embarrassed,’ Sabrina goaded. She knew what she was doing. Her own sexual encounter with Vasili had left her aroused and eager for her own release, and in order to obtain it she needed Justin to be angry, or he would hold back in the power of his strokes.

  She flopped on the bed in front of him. ‘How could you possibly satisfy a woman with that tiny prick?’ she continued. ‘Did she feel sorry for it, all small and pathetic?’

  While Justin stood on tiptoe accepting Sabrina’s verbal abuse she pressed the tip of the whip into his balls, and looked at them pitifully. ‘They look like little dates, don’t you think?’ Justin didn’t answer. ‘Not like Vasili’s, my Russian captain. His were the size of duck eggs, smooth and full of sperm.’ She reclined back on the bed to rest on one elbow, all the time tapping his balls with the thin tip of the whip. Her actions were light but they conveyed menace; every three or four taps was followed by a sharper, heavier hit that sent waves of panic to knot his stomach.

  ‘You see, I wasn’t alone either,’ she went on. ‘But I had a real man service me, not a limp-dicked no-balls kid like you.’ She held the whip against his thigh and motioned for him to turn around.

  When he was facing away from her she began examining his bottom with the end of the whip. ‘No, no,’ she said dismissively. ‘That’s a girl’s bottom. Vasili has powerful thighs and his arse is like iron. That must be why he could thrust into me so hard, don’t you think? Yes, that’s why he’s a man and you are, well, what are you?’

  He remained silent until she dragged the whip viciously across his bottom.

  ‘I asked you a question,’ she persisted. ‘Why is it a real man can fuck me so hard that I scream with every push, every slap of his balls against my bottom, but you, you don’t even get a sniff of my cunt? Why is that, Justin? Why is it I don’t let you fuck me?’ She wasn’t waiting for an answer. ‘Why is it you are only useful for licking spunk from me?’

  She made Justin turn back around before she positioned herself at the foot of the bed with him directly behind her, then she laid the whip on the sheets so that it ran from the foot to the head of the bed. ‘Vasili sent you a little present,’ she tormented. ‘Can you see it?’ She stretched out her hands to grab the frame of the bed and bent forward at the waist. Justin didn’t want to play her games, but some irresistible force to peer at her drew him.

  ‘Can you see, little-dick boy? Shall I open up a little bit so you can see better, see what Vasili did to me down there, see what he left for you?’ Sabrina spread her legs to their supple extent. ‘I was naughty too. He made me do all sorts of rude things. I’m sorry I can’t show you the sperm he put in my mouth, but he made me swallow it. Can you see what he left for you down there, though?’

  Justin nodded, and through a dry throat managed a strangled reply. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would you have liked to have put that there instead of a hard, solid soldier?’ The thick slick of a man’s issue was clearly evident, and the smell of recent sex pervaded the room, helped by the heat her excited sex was generating. ‘Do you think you’ll ever be allowed to put your little thingy in there? Shall I ask Vasili if he’ll let you? Maybe after he’s finished and has no more use for me, perhaps then he might let you. Shall I ask him for you? I don’t think you’re brave enough to ask him, are you? He is big, that must be why his cock’s so thick. What do you think? Would it be nice to put your little cock in there?’

  She wiggled her bottom and Justin’s mind went into overload. The words, her body, her spoiled sex, they were all forming into one huge, boiling sexual stew. She was playing him, teasing him, taunting him. ‘Is it better than Catherine’s cunt? I bet all the Russian boys use her. That’s why you could have her, because everybody has her. I know you would like to have me, wouldn’t you? Well I’m not letting you, Justin. I don’t care how naughty I am and I don’t care what you do.’

  As she was finishing her sentence Justin reached down and under her belly. It brushed against her mound and she felt it. He was searching for the whip, but to Sabrina he was seeking the long dark shaft of her lover. He picked it up and slowly withdrew it from beneath her. The finger-thick shaft entered her cleft and he drew it back like a violin bow, and Sabrina shuddered as the tip finally slipped against her pouting pudenda and left her. It would not be long now.

  ‘It’s my tight little pouch you want, isn’t it?’ she hissed, pushing him ever closer to breaking. ‘It has always been my pussy, no one else’s. You just can’t stand it, can you? You can’t take it; you can’t have me like all those others have. Like Vasili did last night. Pumping my tight little cunt while you diddled with that whore. What are you going to do, piss-dick? You can’t have me, you don’t know how. All you can do is lick it up, lick it up from the others because you can’t give it to me like they can.’

  The whip came down with a slashing whoosh that reverberated around the room and faded behind Sabrina’s screams; screams that went on and on as Justin’s eyes dimmed behind a red cloud of anger and frustration. If he couldn’t take her physically he would punish her for the humiliation she put him through. He would thrash her for every prick she had sat on, every prick she had sucked, and every man who had the power to take w
hat he felt incapable of taking.

  As his hand moved in a frenzy of thrashing Sabrina created her own sexual world where men would take and women were taken, over and over, again and again. Tied to posts, stripped and humiliated, beaten into sexual submission. When she blacked out under the tremendous weight of Justin’s strokes she had no idea that the man she had created and forced into inadequacy in her bed was fucking her harder than any stiff-cocked, muscle-bound Neanderthal she had brought home with which to humiliate him.

  The coffee at Kafe Panoramic was good, but it did nothing to shake off Justin’s guilt and frustration. Sabrina had all but castrated him, and for over a year she had barred him from any meaningful sex with her. He was allowed to stimulate her in any way she saw fit, but ultimately it stopped before penetration. That’s why he had taken her when she blacked out; he simply didn’t have the courage to take her any other way.

  Justin remembered their early days and the intense feelings, sexual and otherwise, which they used to inspire in each other. Then, as the number of girls they trained at David’s house in Cornwall grew, she became cold towards him. It was like she couldn’t differentiate between him and one of the trainees. Despite the humiliation she put him through, Justin could not pull away from her. Physically she was perfect and he was sure, deep down, that if he remained loyal to her she would see him for the true friend, and hopefully lover, that he was. Life could then return to the way it used to be.

  The waitress brought them dishes of severyanka, which looked unappetising but tasted very good. The chowder removed not only the cold but also the sadness pervading Justin’s mind. It turned his thoughts to Catherine and the wonderful night of lovemaking they had enjoyed together. She had been so understanding and giving, and in a way it restored his faith in life and relationships. Whoever Catherine’s sailor boyfriend was, he was a lucky man. Last night he had opened up to her and told her everything; of how he sometimes hated Sabrina and wished he could just call off this whole adventure to get David back to England, and now, in the cold, or rather freezing light of day, his life didn’t seem so bad. Looking out of the Kafe window to the snow blanketed countryside and the lights that blinked in Murmansk, even during the day, he wondered how it could be anything but good. He was sure too, that one day soon Sabrina would realise his love for her and would reciprocate.