House of Freya: A Viking Lore Erotic Tale (Viking Lore Erotic Tales Book 1)

by Gwynn Jones

  Sigrun would have preferred not to wait, but she had to admit that a certain languor had stolen into her limbs. The smell of crisp apples and spice seemed to cling to her, and the warmth of the room had so relaxed her that she felt disinclined to argue. Food and rest sounded good. She followed the attendants up the stairs and down another hallway to a set of doors painted with red roses, and they opened them onto what could only be described as a delightfully inviting set of rooms.

  The central chamber held a large, round table and heavy, cushioned chairs. A light pattern of roses and scrolls, in reds and pale blues, was stenciled on the walls. The red chair cushions and thick, white fur rugs on the floor were sumptuous and welcoming. A fire burned cheerfully in a hearth. On the same wall as the hearth, an arched doorway led into a smaller, tiled room that held a large bathtub. On the opposite wall, a larger arch led into a bedroom with possibly the biggest bed Sigrun had ever seen.

  The table held a pitcher, a goblet, and a bowl of fruit. One of the attendants — Lars, she believed — stepped forward, filled the goblet, and offered it to her.

  "Warm spiced wine. Please have a drink while we prepare a bath, after which we will bring a proper meal for you."

  Hrolf offered a chair, and Sigrun sank gladly into the soft cushions, taking a sip from her goblet. The wine was very good. It tasted amazingly good. It glided down her throat and sent waves of warmth from her cheeks all the way to her toes.

  Lars busied himself in the bathroom, and Sigrun could see clouds of steam rising from the tub. She caught the scent of spices again, mixed, she thought, with the smell of roses. She took another sip of wine. Hrolf knelt before her and asked if he might help her with her boots. She nodded lazily, and he set to work deftly unlacing ties and loosening buckles. He handled them with care, running his fingers over the unique dragonskin leather with a sort of admiration verging on reverence. She found herself admiring the gentle firmness of his grip on her calf as he slid the boot shaft down and pulled it from her foot.

  Lars emerged from the bathroom. "My lady, your bath is ready."

  Sigrun was so comfortable in her seat, she was reluctant to rouse herself from it, but the thought of sinking into a hot bath after her long journey won her over. She stood up and began unfastening her various belts and cuffs.

  "Please, our mistress Freya commands that we tend to her guests' every need. We are here to serve you. Let us do that for you."

  The demure earnestness in her attendants' eyes convinced Sigrun that they genuinely meant to serve her. She was also no stranger to submitting, whether one wanted to or not, to the rules of one's host. At least this time she was a willing guest. And since she had sought this place out, she knew that she should accept whatever was offered to her, until she had good reason to do otherwise. She nodded and gave herself up to the able hands of Hrolf and Lars.

  Able hands indeed. Somehow in the process of unfastening armbands and unhooking clasps, they simultaneously rubbed her shoulders and massaged her neck. They handled the layers of her attire with the greatest of care and expertise. Soon the stiff protective pieces had been carefully collected and set aside, and they were peeling the soft, supple tunic and leggings from her tired limbs. With nothing but her thin undergarments remaining, they ushered her toward the bath.

  The smell of the perfumed water was nearly as intoxicating as the wine. Hrolf had brought her goblet along, and she took another sip. The taste and the smell combined in a delicious swirl that seemed to wrap itself in coils around and through her head. She sighed contentedly, though whether it was over the wine, or the feel of Lars's hands sliding her camisole off her shoulders, she wasn't sure. Lars and Hrolf had possibly the smoothest hands she had ever felt. Their hands were like velvet. Or cats' paws. She glanced at Hrolf's face. His eyes seemed to be glowing. They slid her out of her remaining clothes and helped her into the bath.

  The hot water felt exquisite. The weariness seemed to melt away; her entire body felt liquid, and as she soaked, it felt replenished and fortified. Lars tended to her hair, loosening her braids and brushing it smooth. The feel of the brush and his fingers running through her hair sent tingles across her scalp. Hrolf kept her glass at the ready. She felt remarkably relaxed and yet surprisingly alert. But her thoughts were entirely focused on the pleasure of these ministrations. Even when she tried to bring her thoughts around to Freya, her questions and concerns about the goddess slipped away.

  The water was only just beginning to cool when Lars, finished with her hair, brought a large towel, and Hrolf offered a hand to help her out. Enveloping her in its plush softness, they led her to sit in a cushioned chair opposite the tub. Lars knelt before her, producing a bottle of oil. He took her foot in his hand and drizzled a trail of oil from her ankle to her toes. It was warm and grew warmer as he set to work massaging it into her skin. Hrolf stood behind her, twisting her hair into fresh coils and piling them onto her head, baring her neck. He slid the towel down off her shoulders and gently began his own application of oil to her neck and back.

  Lars massaged one foot and then the other. His hands moved up to her ankles and calves. She stretched out one leg to allow him better access to her knee and thigh. Hrolf slid his hands down her arms and back up to her shoulders. Sigrun let her eyes drift shut and lost herself in the feeling of their soft, smooth hands and the warm oil on her skin. Hrolf's reach plunged down her sides to her waist. Lars caressed her upper thighs. Hrolf's hand circled her breast, and she realized that she was purring in response. And so were they.

  "The goddess has commanded us to give you pleasure," Hrolf murmured in her ear. "The House of Freya requires it."

  "Well," Sigrun sighed, "if it's a necessity..."

  Lars slid his hand from her thigh to her sex, so wet already that his fingers slipped between her lips with ease. He hooked his hand inside, massaging with his fingers, while with his thumb he rubbed circles around her clitoris. Hrolf cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples. She dropped her head back and arched her shoulders, tipping her pelvis to press against Lars's hand and tilting her breasts to receive Hrolf's caresses. It was dizzying to receive so much simultaneous attention. He pinched her nipples, twisting them slightly and sending a wave of pleasure rippling over the circles already radiating out from her clit and her pulsing cunt. Lars pressed harder, worked at her sweet spots until her sighs became ahs and ohs and gasps. Filling her with his hand, he focused his attention on her clit, bending his mouth to her, licking and sucking, bringing her closer and closer to climax. Sigrun's breath was coming fast and ragged now. The thought flickered through her mind that the two men were sure to cause her sensory overload, but they were working in perfect synchronicity, playing her body like an instrument, playing her to perfection.

  Sigrun came with a great, crackling orgasm that sent sparks shooting through her. It felt like her hair was standing on end. But before she'd even finished, as she buckled from the release, Hrolf lifted her from the chair. Lars stood up at the same time, still holding her. At what point had he removed his shirt? His chest glistened, smooth and bare and golden. Her towel had long since dropped away, and now as Hrolf lifted her into Lars's arms, she felt the charge of flesh against flesh. The fingers that had just serviced her so soundly made way for a stiff, well-sized cock that had also somehow freed itself from Lars's clothing while Sigrun had been distracted by her pleasures. These men were good.

  Her orgasm was still pulsing through her, was barely on its way to subsiding, when she slid, hot and wet, onto Lars's shaft and came all over again. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, and he held her by the hips, pulling her down against him. He hardly needed to thrust; the feel of him inside her was enough to send her charged body into waves of orgasm. Hrolf, having pushed the chair aside, now stood directly behind her, lifting and rocking her against Lars. He slid a hand, slick with oil, up her inner thigh and over her ass, running his fingers between her cheeks, spreading them, fingering her hole. Now she felt the head of his prick rubbing and press
ing against her, pushing to gain entry.

  She welcomed it. Shifting slightly, still grinding against Lars, she tilted to receive Hrolf's offering. As another orgasm surged through her, he slid inside, and she took him completely. Now Lars held her so that Hrolf could bury the full length of his cock in her ass, and with both men filling her, orgasms pulsing through her from both sides, she thought she might simply explode. It felt like flames were licking the sides of her face. Lars held steady, his thick cock sheathed to the hilt in her burning cunt, while Hrolf fucked her ass, dipping in and out, slowly, teasingly. She quivered, strained to meet him as Lars held her transfixed, moaning when he pulled out and then gasping as he plunged back in again. Then Hrolf took hold, his rock-hard shaft embedded firm and deep, while Lars pounded her, fast and hard, finally tearing a screaming orgasm out of her. Sparks danced before her eyes. The blast radiated through her lovers, too, and both Hrolf and Lars cried out together in climax, pulling out and spraying her with creamy fountains of cum.

  Fortunately, Sigrun noticed once her senses returned, fresh basins of water stood warming by the fire. Lars and Hrolf soon had her sponged off and clean again, wrapped now in a long, soft, billowing robe. They left her alone to explore the facilities and tend to her personal needs while they fetched her dinner. She thought she ought to feel completely exhausted from this vigorous encounter on top of the day's exertions, and yet she marveled at how refreshed she felt, instead. Her senses were crackling. She didn't linger in the bathroom for very long, but when she emerged she found the table set with steaming dishes of food, and Hrolf and Lars nowhere to be seen. They must have left again as soon as they had delivered her dinner. She smiled. Good men.

  She sank into a chair and, feeling very hungry all of a sudden, turned her attention to the food.

  Sated, comfortable, sipping another glass of wine and still sunk deep in the cushioned chair, Sigrun pondered her situation. Surely Freya would not have given her attendants such directives, to pleasure Sigrun so thoroughly, if she weren't interested in helping her. Freya had said that she could feel Sigun's power. So surely she understood the nature of it, too? Why else would Sigrun have come to the goddess of love? But perhaps Lars and Hrolf had simply been following the house rules. Sigrun glanced down at her fingers, the blue flames flickering around the tips. Well, however much help Freya ultimately offered her, she would take her opportunities to learn more on her own, wherever she could find them.

  A knock at the door startled Sigrun from her musings.

  "Yes? Come in." She stood up, shaking her fingers to disperse the flames.

  "My lady?" Her boar-shifter escort, the one who had allowed her to ride on his back, stood at the door. "I apologize for the intrusion. Lady Freya asked me to deliver your sword to you. She thought you would feel more comfortable knowing where it was and having it in your keeping." He held out her sword, cloak, and helmet, everything she had left behind when she went to meet Freya, neatly stacked in a bundle. She had not realized how much she was missing her sword until she felt the flood of relief at being reunited with it.

  "Oh, wonderful! Thank you. I am glad to have it back. Not that I didn't trust you to watch it for me," she added hastily.

  He smiled. "I understand. I would have felt the same."

  "Please," she said, realizing that he was still standing in the doorway, "please come in. And let me take those things off your hands." She took the bundle from him and set her gear down on a bench beside the doorway into the bedroom. She turned back and looked at him.

  He was standing closer to the table now, quietly, respectfully, like he was waiting for her to dismiss him. Or, the thought flickered through her head, waiting for her to issue some other command? She was struck again by the image of him in boar form, that huge, powerful, dangerous beast that she'd met out on the icy wastes. She could see glimmers of the boar in the man's burly chest, his thick, broad shoulders and muscular warrior's legs. He had a handsome face. Chiseled, but amiable. Intelligent eyes. The short beard amplified a strong jawline, where a longer beard would have obscured it. She imagined how those whiskers would feel rasping against her skin. A shiver ran through her at the thought of his mouth on her breast.

  Was it the wine going to her head? How could she possibly want more after her bathtime ministrations from Hrolf and Lars? But she couldn't deny it. And this man was different. They were smooth. He was rough, strong. She remembered the feel of him beneath her when he had been a boar and she was riding on his back. Those powerful muscles rippling against her. She felt the desire stirring inside her. It was like something beyond her control, something that came from deep within but also somewhere else entirely.

  She realized that he was staring at her. Or maybe at something just past her, or above her.

  "You — you're glowing. Like a halo. Around your head. And your fingers. They appear to be on fire."

  Sigrun glanced down at her hand. The blue flames had returned. She shook her fingers, but the flames only flared higher. She could feel the heat — crisp, crackling, her special icy-electric heat — flickering around her face.

  "Oh — it's nothing."

  "It hardly looks like nothing. This is why you came? Why the goddess has such an interest in you? What manner of being are you? Goddess? Giantess?"

  "I'm not entirely sure."

  "Frostdaughter she called you, when she directed me to bring your sword. And the sword! I've seen few like it. Amazing. And you. Your skin so pale, your hair so white, your eyes — you remind me of ice and snow and sky. Those flames — are they hot? Or cold?"

  "Both, I think. And neither."

  "May I... May I feel them?"

  "Yes. You may."

  He remained standing where he was. She stepped toward him, stretched out her hand. It was glowing even brighter, tiny silver sparks dancing in the blue flames. The desire was growing, too. She wanted this man, wanted to feel him, all of him.

  She touched his cheek. He drew in his breath at the feel of her glowing fingers, the tiny sparks that flew up at the point of contact, but he did not flinch. She traced a line along his jaw and down his neck, pausing with her fingers resting lightly just above the collar of his tunic.

  "How does it feel?"

  "I... it feels..." His voice was low, husky, and he seemed to be searching for words. "Strange. Hot. Cold. Both. I feel it everywhere, inside and out. Like you're reaching into me and spreading through me."

  "Should I stop?"

  "No."

  She dipped her other hand beneath his tunic, running her fingers up his bare midriff and over the hard, rippling muscles of his abdomen. Pushing the fabric up, she exposed his stomach and chest. She could feel her own nipples stiffening at the sight of his, small and erect on a gorgeous broad chest. He gasped when she bent her head and took one between her lips, nipping lightly and teasing it with her tongue.

  He had been standing still, but now his hands went to her waist, holding on to her, pulling her closer. She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him on the mouth. Sparks crackled between them. He leaned in to her, kissing back, pulling her against him. She could feel his erection, huge and hard, straining beneath his pants. Then it was a flurry of movements, pulling off his clothes, stumbling together towards the bed, tumbling onto it, still kissing.

  Sigrun's robe fell open, revealing her full, pert breasts and sleek form.

  "Oh, goddess!" he sighed, slipping one hand beneath her back and cupping a breast with the other while he kissed her neck. She arched against him, groaning at the scratch of his rough beard against her soft skin. She loved the feel of his bristles. She reached down to grab his cock, throbbingly stiff, and a small shower of sparks fell from her hand. She rubbed her palm over the head, lubricating it with the slippery drops of pre-cum welling up from it like tears. He moaned as she ran her hand up and down the shaft before guiding it to meet her, and then, as she pressed the head of his cock against her wet, slick lips, he gasped out an oath. She could tell tha
t he was desperate to sink that thick, stiff rod deep inside her. His body was taut, coiled and ready to strike. But he held back, held himself at the threshold of her sweet, hot cunt, waiting, she realized, for her to give him permission.

  "Fuck me," she whispered, "now."

  He plunged in, fast and deep. He felt so good, she cried out, a gasp of delight. She grabbed him by the hips, grinding against him, wanting every last inch. He was good, and strong, and sure in his fucking, and every stroke raised her to new heights of bliss. But she wanted more. She just knew she did. The feel of his beard against her throat reminded her of the bristly hide she had laid her cheek against, riding on his back. Her thoughts strayed to the figures carved on Freya's doors.

  He pulled up slightly, pulled back, and pulled her up with him, so that he was on his knees and she was straddling his lap.

  "My lady, your fire is burning so hot, I feel it coursing through me and don't know how long I can last." He pressed his lips to her neck in a long kiss, and Sigrun realized that sparks were playing across her skin and leaping between them. "Tell me what you want, so I can best serve you."

  She kissed him on the mouth, hands holding his head so that blue flames ran from her fingers through his hair. What did she want? She knew, but should she ask? Shift, she wanted to say, shift for me.

  A shudder suddenly ran through his body. He pulled back from her kiss, eyes wide. The hair on his head was standing up, bristling, his beard thickening. His shoulders bowed and broadened. He pulled out, pulling away from Sigrun, and she slid back onto the bed, watching him transform before her. Not completely into a boar. No, something like the figure on the door, something in between. Hair bristled down his back. His chest was huge, his muscular arms and legs even more thickly muscled. His heavy prick had swollen to a tremendous size. His hairy face remained otherwise human, aside from two tusks jutting from his mouth. There was confusion in his eyes. She jumped up and grabbed him by the tusks, pulling him back onto the bed.