In Thrall (3 page)

As a woman came by with food for the chieftain, placing it on a low table, Leif suddenly turned his attention to Zahira. He looked up at her, grinned, and took hold of her with both arms. She yelped in surprise as he easily lifted her, pulling her down to sit on his lap.

The blush immediately returned to her face as he looked at her, so close. She felt like a child's doll sitting there, both of her legs hanging between his. And she could smell him – he smelled clean, with a trace of smoke and salt.

“Hmm,” he said, speaking to her now, “this clothing does not suit your beauty. I will have to see if I can find something better.” His eyes trailed up and down over her body. She wanted to shield herself. Her arms were bare, her feet uncovered. The neckline of the dress was very low. And of course, everyone could see her face. She felt as though she may as well be naked.

He reached over and took hold of a wooden plate, balancing it on the arm of his throne, and took a small piece of meat. To her surprise, he then offered it to her, holding it in his fingers, in front of her face. She reached a hand up to take it, and he shook his head, pulling the food back. Then he moved it toward her mouth.

She opened her lips, too hungry to object at being fed like a pet. The meat was tender and rare, and as she chewed it was as though her stomach awoke, demanding more.

He fed her meat and bread and then let her drink from his drinking horn. It was the same bitter and sweet liquid she had tasted on the ship, and when she grimaced slightly he laughed.

“Mead,” he explained. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, My Lord.” The liquid was pleasant, if strong and unfamiliar, and it warmed her. As well, it seemed to be quite filling.

He chuckled at this, and drank deeply from the same horn. His body moved under her as he leaned to the side and handed his platter to a passing serving girl. She felt his hand on the small of her back. When he sat back, he placed one big hand on Zahira's thigh.

She jerked involuntarily, surprised, and he laughed and squeezed her leg. She felt a strange shock like a thrill run through her at his touch, and she bit her lip, trembling. His fingers caressed her thigh as he looked at her.

“Come on now,” He said, with a teasing grin. “Don't act as though you don't like it.” And he pushed his heavy hand up higher, the cloth of her dress sliding up with it.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she panicked. Was he going to do something to her in front of all these men? “Please, My Lord, I-”

He laughed, and with his encircling arm, pulled her close. He pressed his lips hard against hers.

He tasted sweet like mead, and his lips were soft. She tried to pull away, but he held her tight, and as she opened her lips to protest, his tongue forced his way between into her mouth.

His tongue claimed her mouth, caressing hers, and she found herself responding, her own tongue tentatively searching. She raised a hand in an attempt to push him away, but instead she just left it there, resting on his hard chest. She had never felt anything like this, and the sudden pleasure that shocked through her body surprised and shamed her.

As he drew back, he grew more gentle, sucking on her lower lip. Her lips hung open as she caught her breath. Her body felt as though it was on fire – her nipples hardened and sensitive under the rough cloth, and a warmth and wetness growing in her sex.

“See?” He murmured, his voice low. There was hunger in his eyes. He stroked her thigh again, pushing her skirt higher. “You like it.”

“My Lord please,” she replied, searching for words, her traitorous body still ringing with pleasure. “I am a virgin.”

He raised both eyebrows, looking astonished. His hand stilled on her leg. “What? I thought you were one of Masad's concubines.”

“No, My Lord. I was untouched. I... I was to be sent to the Master, but...” she trailed off, swallowing hard.

Something darkened in Leif's eyes. “Ah.” He said, looking at her as though seeing her for the first time. “This is good to know.” He looked at her hungrily. “Hmm... Perhaps I will take my time with you after all. I will have you sent to my chambers tonight.”

Tears welled in Zahira's eyes, but she said nothing. What choice did she have?

“But...” she murmured, “your wife.” Did the Northmen have multiple wives or concubines?

“My wife?” He looked shocked for a moment, then puzzled.

“That woman, the one who dresses like a man.”

Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed his roaring laugh. “That is my sister, Freja. Harald's mother.” He smiled. “She was once a warrior, but now she stays home with the other women.”

“A warrior?” Zahira repeated dumbly, for the moment forgetting her fear.

“Yes, and a fine one! But I need her at home now, to run the place while I am away.” His arm tightened around her, curling around her waist as he reached for his drinking horn. “No, I have no wife.” He took a long drink, and grew quiet.

The girl looked out over the hall, at the men. Many of them were still drinking, some sleeping face-down on the table. She saw one molest a servant woman as she walked past. She didn't seem to mind – swatting his hand away but then allowing him to pull her close and put his hands up under her skirts. As she watched, the woman straddled the man at the table and they began furiously copulating.

Zahira wondered what it was like, to have such a huge man filling you – to rut like an animal in the middle of a crowd. A perverse thrill ran through her, and she wrenched her eyes away, embarrassed.

Leif laughed. “Jealous?” He asked, with his teasing smile. He lifted his hand from her leg and caressed her hair, running his fingers down the strands that fell beside her face. “Don't worry, my pet. You will have your turn soon enough.”

….

She waited, pacing, in Leif's bedchamber. Hilde had been summoned to take her there, had lit a fire in the hearth and locked the door when she'd left.

The room was large and relatively cozy, with a bear-skin rug spread out on the floor and a huge feather-bed covered with furs. Tapestries hung on one wall, and weapons on another. She briefly entertained the idea of trying to take a sword down and using it against Leif, but decided that would be a good way of getting herself killed.

Zahira was nervous, her heart fluttering and her hands shaking. She dreaded the moment when he would walk through the door, and what he might do to her. But after an hour of pacing she sat on a cushioned bench. And after an hour more she began to get drowsy.

She rose, and went to the bed, pressing her hand into the mattress. It was soft and dense. Weary, she climbed up onto the bed and covered herself with the soft gray furs. She watched the fire for a while as her eyes grew heavy.

She awoke to the slam of the door. It might have been several hours or only minutes, she couldn't tell. Trying to rouse herself, she sat up sleepily, pulling the fur around her. She could see Leif standing in the doorway, untying his fur leggings and removing his boots.

“Why are you in my bed, slave?” He asked, his voice deep and warning.

She blinked, trying to clear her head. “I... I'm sorry, My Lord. I was tired.”

“Get up.” He ordered. He took off his cloak and threw it on the floor, approaching the bed.

“I'm sorry,” she repeated, flustered, as she got out of bed.

He grabbed her wrist, and she whimpered, frightened, as he sat down on the mattress and pulled her toward him. He looked stern, and hungry.

“You do not sleep in my bed unless I ask you to,” he growled in a low voice. “Understand?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

He roughly grabbed her then, and bent her over his knee. He pushed her down with ease, so that her body was prone over his lap, her head hanging down.

“What-” She began, panicked. Then she felt his rough hand slide up her leg, under her skirt.

She had told herself over and over not to resist, to just give him what he wanted. She had prepared herself for it while pacing his room. Or, she thought she had. Now, with his hands on her and her body helplessly laying over him, her instinct took over and she began to struggle.

“You have to learn your place.” He growled. His hand continued its journey up her thigh. Then he lifted her skirt, throwing it over her back and exposing her backside.

“No!” She wailed, and kicked hard, trying to get free of his hands. She flailed her arms, trying to find purchase.

He made an angry sound, and grabbed her wrists in one hand, crushing them together as he effortlessly held her arms still, right above her head. His other hand suddenly left her thigh, and then there was a shock of pain and a loud SLAP as his palm came down hard on her bare ass.

Zahira cried out, her body jerking. Tears sprung to her eyes. The skin of her backside began to sting and burn, heat rising in the area.

“I'm sorry!” She cried.

He put his hand back on her, and she flinched, but he just cupped the cheek of her ass, and slowly massaged it. As he firmly kneaded, the sting started to subside.

“You may have been some pretty, pampered ornament in your previous life,” Leif said mildly, “But you are my thrall now. You will learn your place.”

She bit her trembling lip, and tried to concentrate on anything but the distracting feeling of his hand massaging and caressing her ass.

Suddenly, he took his hand away, and it fell on her again, with the same SLAP and shock of pain.

“Answer me!” He shouted.

“Yes, My Lord!” She gasped. “I will try to please you. I'm sorry!” She squeezed her thighs together, writhing in pain and anguish.

“Good...” He said, and began massaging her again. He kneaded the burning flesh, and stroked it gently, until most of the pain had receded.

Zahira closed her eyes, anticipating another slap. Suddenly, she could feel him pressing underneath her. She knew what it was - his manhood was hard and pushing up into her belly. She shivered, a curious bolt of excitement coursing through her. He was
enjoying
this
.
He wanted
her.

Her breath was coming in short gasps, her body tingling with energy and alertness. She felt his hand move lower, and squeeze between her thighs.

She didn't dare protest or even make a sound, as he forced her legs slightly apart and ran a finger down between them. She could feel the wetness between her legs as he traced it lightly. She tried to squeeze her thighs around his hand, to stop him, but he continued as though he hadn't even noticed, his strong fingers invading her, touching where no man had ever touched.

“Mmmm...” He purred. “It seems you like me after all, no matter what you pretend.” His finger trailed along her slit, sampling her juices. 
Suddenly he delved a finger inside her folds, and found her center of pleasure.

She gasped as he mercilessly rubbed her there, little waves of pleasure coursing through her with every circle of his fingers. It was intense - so much more intense than when she had tried it alone at night, and somehow the fact that she was helplessly slung over his lap and completely at his mercy made it all the more thrilling.

He stopped, trailing his finger back along her slit, then she felt it at her entrance. Without preamble he thrust one long finger inside her, slipping easily into her wetness. She moaned, not entirely out of protest, and she heard him chuckle quietly. Slowly he began to move in and out, his hand pressed firmly against her as his finger stroked her inner walls.

"Mmm... tight." He murmured.

Zahira squirmed as he continued to thrust into her, picking up speed. She felt his erection straining against her stomach, and she thought she heard an intake of breath when she moved against it.

Suddenly he withdrew his finger, and returned to rubbing her clit. The intense pleasure returned, immediately taking over her. She moaned loudly, helplessly. She knew she was close. Silently, she willed herself not to climax. She didn't want to give that up to him. But he continued relentlessly manipulating her body - circling and rubbing her clit then pumping his finger inside her.

"No," she breathed, on the edge.

Leif bent over her, talking close. "Oh yes," he said. "You're going to come for me now, my pet. And what's more... you're going to beg for it."

A new, unfamiliar anger surged through her, and she bucked and struggled against his strong hands. His grip on her wrists tightened and he laughed aloud.

"Don't make me punish you again!" He chided. Then he added a second finger, and thrust both roughly inside her tight cunt.

Zahira cried out - half sobbing, half moaning in hated pleasure. His fingers delved and pumped inside her, and she felt herself clench around him.

"Ahh," Leif purred. "I could do this all night."

"Please-" the word burst unbidden from her lips.

"Hmm?"

She wanted it to end. She hated herself for enjoying it as much as she was. Her body had betrayed her - was craving release at the hands of this barbarian.

"Please, let me..." She gasped.

Leif slowed his actions inside her, and she moaned and writhed again.

"Is that how you ask for permission from your Master?"