Cum For The Viking 4 (The Sins of the Virgins)

by Wade, Virginia

  Cum For The Viking 4

  The Sins of the Virgins

  By Virginia Wade

  Copyright © 2012 Virginia Wade

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published by I Love Stacy

  Kindle Edition

  Virginia Wade

  http://virginia-wade-erotica.com

  http://twitter.com/VirginiaErotica

  Email:

  virginia@virginia-wade-erotica.com

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  Chapter One

  Our father had just courageously rescued my sister Emma and I from the Vikings. He had come to the house that had once belonged to my family and demanded our release. Finn Vapnfjord had been more than happy to see us off. I should be relieved to be free of the sexual servitude I had endured…but…I had hated the way Finn had bid us farewell, if you could even call it that. This man had taken my virginity, and he hadn’t uttered one kind word in parting. He’d enjoyed our company for days, but something had changed, and he had grown irritated and jaded. I would never admit it openly, but I had enjoyed the Viking lord immensely. My behavior had been…sinful. How would I ever atone for these misdeeds?

  As Emma and I climbed into the wagon, I stared at what had once been my home, a two-storied, half-timbered manor house with a tile roof. I had lived here since my birth, and I wondered if I would ever return. The abode had once been filled with brightly woven tapestries, my mother’s favorite furniture, and memories of happy times. Now it was infested with fair-haired scoundrels, who used my bed for intercourse, while hosting drunken brawls every night, filled with naked women. I closed my eyes seeing various acts of depravity, most of which I had been a part of. My memories taunted me.

  You liked Finn, Charlotte. You enjoyed everything he did to you.

  Shush!

  You’ll miss his touch…his cock…

  OH! Be quiet!

  “Girls, are you hurt?” asked father. His brows were drawn together in concern. “Did they harm you in any way?”

  I glanced at my sister, and we communicated without speaking, silently agreeing not to mention our ravishment. “They didn’t hurt us,” I said. “We’re fine.”

  His look was doubtful, but he kept these thoughts to himself. “You seem hale and well-fed. I suppose that’s something.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Emma. It had begun to rain, forcing us under the cloth of the cart, while father rode on horseback.

  “To the monastery. Your mother is more than anxious for your return. She’s been beside herself with worry.”

  “Has anything been done to rid England of the Vikings?” asked Emma.

  “A plan is in the works to rouse the men from the shire. We shall not go down in defeat. You and your sister needn’t worry about a thing now. You’ll be safe with Friar Peck and his monks.”

  “Thank the Lord,” muttered Emma, crossing herself.

  As the wagon heaved and jerked over the rutted road, I thought of all that had happened to me since the beginning of the invasion. It had only been a few days, yet it felt like weeks. My sister and I had lost our virginity to Finn and his friend, Thorod, who had used us most crudely. I’d enjoyed being naked with Finn, in his arms, and having his lips on my neck and mouth. Never in my life had I experienced such wanton pleasure. A strange feeling of melancholy now left me unhappy and bitter. I would never speak of what had happened, especially not to my mother. Emma and I would have to keep this secret.

  We traveled for hours in the rain; the dampness sent a chill through me, yet the memories of being in Finn’s bed brought heated shame to my cheeks. He had been kind and attentive at first, but he seemed to tire of us, choosing to brood and drink rather than slake his lust. I had enjoyed him far too much…even feeling tenderness towards the Viking Lord, which was disgraceful. If anyone were to find out about my indiscretions, I would be ruined. The only recourse was to pray steadfastly and ask God for forgiveness, which was exactly what I planned on doing once we reached our safe haven.

  My sister peeked out of the covering. “Look at all of them.”

  We passed dozens of peasants and farmers fleeing the invasion, heading further inland. They pulled carts, and some had mules carrying their possessions, leaving the land that had been their home. Oh, the injustice of this invasion! It boiled my blood with anger.

  Our father’s look was stern. “Once the Vikings are driven out, they’ll come back. It shall all be ours again.”

  It would be another hour before the enormous stone structure of the monastery came into view with its towering cathedral and manicured gardens. My sister and I were handed down in the courtyard, facing a set of stone steps that led to heavily carved wooden doors. The rain had ceased for the moment; the damp aroma of sodden earth invaded my senses.

  “My darlings!” My mother had burst through the door; her eyes were bright with happiness. “I was so worried!” She drew us into her arms. “I prayed night and day that you were safe and unharmed. I worried endlessly that something untoward had happened to you.”

  I glanced at Emma. She silently warned me to tread carefully on this subject. “We’re fine, mother. We were treated…well.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  Father smiled affably. “We have our girls back, Lucinda. They’re as fit as can be expected. Now we’re in need of rest and refreshment.”

  “Yes, of course. Come inside. Everything is ready.”

  The entryway was cavernous, made of grey stone, and it provided little warmth, as there was a pronounced draft. “Where is everyone?” I asked. Torches flickered on either side, giving off light.

  “They’re in prayer,” said mother. “The monks will retire afterwards. We won’t see them again until morning.”

  “Come this way.” Father led us down a hallway. “We’re in close quarters, but you’ll find it comfortable.” He flung open a door. “There we are.”

  A cheerful fire blazed, while a small table held simple fare, lumps of rough-looking bread and a plate of roasted chicken. There was pitcher of mead with pewter cups and a candle.

  “Please,” entreated my mother. “Sit and eat. It’s not much, but it’ll fill your belly.”

  My sister and I shared the meal with our father, who took the lion’s share of the food. After we had dined, we washed in a bowl of frigid water and settled on thick pallets filled with straw. Our mother approached and kissed our foreheads.

  “We’re so blessed to be together again.” She held my hand. “You’re a brave girl, Charlotte. I was so worried about you, and you, Emma.” She took my sister’s hand. “I can only imagine what agonies you’ve had to suffer.”

  “What happened here?” I had to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “You were invaded as well.”

  “We hid while the monastery was sacked. They killed several monks and stole gold and relics.” Her features hardened. “The heathens took advantage of our meekness, which I believe was the wrong approach. We should’ve taken up arms and fought them. They think us weak, but the tide will turn. This has gone on long enough. The nobles will raise an army. We’ll need a mighty one to defeat the Vikings.”

  I squeezed her hand. “That
day will come.”

  “Does our house still stand?”

  Emma nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, but it’s occupied by a Viking Lord named Finn Vapnfjord and—”

  “All our things have been carted off, but the house is in good condition.” I gave Emma a look. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss Lord Vapnfjord. There was a special place in hell for the seducers of innocents, wasn’t there?

  “There, there,” mother comforted. “Go to sleep, and get some rest. Those horrible Vikings. Once we’ve been looted, they’ll go elsewhere.” She tucked the blanket under my chin. “Good night, my darlings.”

  “Good night, mother.”

  In the morning, I ventured into the church where I prayed for hours, trying to rid myself of all my transgressions. Images flashed through my mind of naked flesh, legs entwined, and lovers grasping, kissing, and engaging in the lust of the ages. It was appalling to think about these things in such a holy place. It was safer to dwell on memories of my husband, Lord Rupert Colby. He had been on a pilgrimage ever since I could remember. We had never consummated our union, and there were rumors that he had perished on his quest. I remembered a dark-haired youngster with thin limbs and a gaunt face. In the years since I had last seen him, I had given up any hope that he would return to me. After the wedding, I had received two letters from him, but nothing since.

  My days were filled with prayer and good works, helping my mother and sister care for the poor, who pounded on the doors at all hours. We fed them and gave them sanctuary; some were wounded, and several had died from their injuries. The Vikings had brutalized young women and discarded them. I compared their treatment to my own, feeling enormous guilt, knowing that my sister and I had found pleasure at the hands of the brigands. I gladly hid beneath my veil, wearing it at all times, while clinging to the idea of modesty, and praying that one day I would feel like my old, virtuous self again.

  We were without servants; therefore, we attended one another, arranging our hair and washing our clothing, just as the monks laundered their robes in large vats of boiling water. One day, Gertrude, my former maid appeared, frazzled and out of breath. My mother had found her at the door.

  “Oh, my dears!”

  “Tell us the news! What happens in our house?”

  “Let me sit first.” She sat heavily on a rickety stool. “I’ve unhappy tidings. Such sad things.”

  “Did they burn it to the ground?”

  “No, Milady. The house stands tall and proud. What happens within is another matter. The Viking Lord, Finn Vapnfjord has taken up residence with that Green witch!”

  “Which one?” Mother’s look had soured.

  “Lora Green.”

  Hearing this sent my spirits plummeting. I harbored a secret yearning for Finn. My mind replayed all the pleasurable things he had done to me, over and over, especially when I was in bed, before sleeping. I would recall every kiss, every touch, and the glory of being naked next to a young, virile man. Had the universe ever created a greater pleasure? Surely not.

  “There are sordid affairs going on at night,” commented Gertrude, as if she had read my mind. “I’ll not say aloud what happens, but the men are a depraved lot. Their appetites for mead and women are inexhaustible.”

  My mother pursed her lips. “Once the king sends his men, the Vikings will leave. I’ll not lose my home to a Green whore.”

  “No, indeed, Milady. That would be a travesty.”

  “To think a witch sleeps in my bed. I shall burn it with the rest of the furniture and start afresh.”

  The urge to flee gripped me. I didn’t want to hear another word, feeling miserable and jealous. “I need air. I’ll be in the garden.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Emma and I wandered through the great hallway and out a side door, following a gravel path towards the edge of the property. The crispness of autumn froze my face, but I welcomed the freshness. The monastery stank of incense, pungent and bitter, the smell clinging to my clothing and hair.

  “I hate the Green women,” griped Emma. “If they weren’t witches, every man in town would be clinging to their skirts. Must they be so beautiful?”

  “You sound jealous.” I sat on a low wall, glancing out at the grayish blue of the ocean.

  “It bothers you that she’s with Finn now.”

  “Hardly.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re fond of him.” She leaned closer. “I was fond of Thorod. We were treated well by them, up until the end.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re bitter.”

  “The way we left…after everything we’d done.” I fought back tears. “I can’t believe he was so cold.”

  “They’re soulless Vikings, Charlotte. What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We bored him. He’d had his fill of drink and women. He was happy to see us go.”

  “Why does he have Lora now?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a bastard. Let’s leave it at that.” Her expression sharpened. “Look! I see ships.”

  I followed the line of her finger towards the horizon, which was spotted with tiny red sails. My heart picked up a beat or two, as a sense of foreboding registered. “Oh, no. Not more Vikings!”

  Chapter Two

  “Haven’t we suffered enough?”

  “They’ve sacked the monastery already,” said Emma. “I doubt they’d come here again.”

  “Good God! There are so many.” The specks were growing in size; as they continued inland, the ships were in a long line. A bell began to chime in the tower. “The monks have seen them.”

  “They’ll be here within the hour. What shall we do?”

  “Nothing.” I picked at a thread off my tunic. “There’s nothing to be done about it.” A sense of helpless indifference came over me.

  “Ouf! I hate this. What more could they possibly want?”

  “Our souls perhaps.”

  The curved, dragon-shaped prows sliced through the water, dark and predatory, rivaling any sea monster from Greek mythology. There had to be hundreds of ships, each holding a crew of fifty, not counting another thirty warriors. The number of Vikings approaching was staggering. I felt a prick of doubt, suddenly unsure if we would be safe here after all.

  “Girls!” shouted a monk. “Come inside at once!”

  We hastened to do his bidding, joining our parents for the remainder of the afternoon. The feeling of impending doom lingered, as the fire crackled invitingly. By evening, our father was called away, after having been given a secret dispatch sent via messenger. Plans were in the works to amass an army to fight the invaders.

  My mother was beside herself. “You can’t leave, Oscar! Are you insane?”

  “You’ll be safe here, my dear. It cannot be helped. I’m needed.” He laced his boots quickly. “Keep to these walls, and no harm shall come to you.”

  “That’s hardly a comfort.”

  “I’m sorry, my love.” He looked remorseful, yet there was a determined glimmer in his eye. “Hide in the cellar, if you must. There’s a secret room down there. It’s been prepared for you, when you deem it necessary.”

  She hugged him. “I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand it!”

  He shook her. “Get yourself together, Lucinda. We shall overcome this. Reinforcements will arrive shortly. It’s not as bleak as you think.”

  Emma stared at the floor; her shoulders had dropped. Her demeanor mirrored how I felt, but father needed our support. “Then we shall wish you felicity in this endeavor,” I said. “I shall pray for our countrymen and ask God to give them the courage they need to fight the heathens.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte.”

  “But, really,” implored mother. “Is it truly necessary that you go? Can’t you send someone else?”

  “I’ll be back soon. Keep yourselves warm and fed.” He flung his cloak over his shoulders. “We shall be victorious.” He sheathed his sword, and then he wa
s gone, leaving us staring after him.

  I held out my hand. “Come pray with me, mother. It’ll bring you peace.”

  “Not now. I’m going to the cloister garden. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

  We spent the night together, reading from the Bible and listening to the evening Vespers, as the monks recited their prayers before bedtime. Later, I struggled to sleep, fearing for my father, who was out amongst his men, forming an army to rescue our seaside town in the province of Dorset.

  The next morning, there was no sign of him, and disturbing news arrived, from peasants, who had been forced to flee because of the renewed fighting in the area. They said that a great Viking king had arrived with nearly a thousand men. My mother had collapsed hearing the news, taking to her pallet and hiding beneath a woolen blanket. My sister and I waited for our father, but he never returned, and, as the sun went down, the ground trembled with the sound of approaching horses.

  “What on earth is that?” Mother glanced out the window.

  Someone pounded on the door. “Get below!” cried a monk. “Hide! They come!”

  Mother swayed on her feet. “This cannot be borne! How much more are we to endure?”

  “Take your things, quick!” shouted Emma. “There isn’t any time.” She threw items onto a blanket, including clothing, socks, and toiletries. Then she tied the end, creating a heavy-looking haversack. “I’ll be back.” She rushed from the room.

  “Quick, mother! Pack your things.” She seemed somehow disconnected and confused. This second invasion might have finally pushed her to the limits of what she could endure. “Mother! Make hast!”

  “Yes, dear.” Her tone sounded flat.

  We packed quickly, rushing from the room and down steps that led to a wooden bookcase, which had separated from the wall. My sister was in a tiny room, having lit a candle. Her things were on a thin pallet. There was no fire, which was a hardship, because it was colder than the floor above.