VIKING THRALL (Historical Romance, Medieval, Viking) (4 page)

Seven

              Esme was feeling decidedly drowsy after the hot bath and strong wine. Never mind that her day had begun being tossed about in a storm, dragged across an unknown countryside and then spanked like a child. She was tired. Almost too tired to keep her wits about her.

              But she must.

              The Viking sat in a large chair by the fire and patted his lap. He looked like a King. He was probably considered to be that among his people. She chewed her lip, unsure what to do.

              "Come thrall. I would begin."

              "Begin what?"

              "Begin our bargain. Remember, you agreed to be obedient."

              She had agreed. That was before she realized that she truly had no choice in the matter. But if he was going to keep his word, she would keep hers.

              "You'll keep your promise?"

              She hated the weak and hopeful sound on her voice. She sounded like a child, whining for a treat. But in truth she knew that she herself
was
the treat, as much as she would that it not be so!

              "I said I would and I meant it! Now come."

              Esme jumped at the harsh tone and scurried forward. She must be brave. She must…

              He patted his large thigh again and she sat on it, even though it made her backside ache.

              "Does it pain you?"

              She nodded.

              "Aye, a little."

              "Lean against me then. 'Twill help."

              She let him guide her upper body so that she leaned against him, her head resting on his thick shoulder. It would have a made a fine pillow, if he were her husband or brother or father. But as it was, she found herself unable to relax against him completely.

              "You must learn to be at ease with me Esme. If you are to please me."

              She pulled her head back to look at him.

              "But what if I can't? Will you let me go?"

              His pale eyes shone down at her in the firelight. His hand stroked her face reverently. For a moment she almost thought-

              "Nay. That I will never do."

              He was firm and decisive in his response. She knew that he meant it. He would not release her. She felt utterly defeated in that moment, dropping her head in despair.

              He lowered his head, whispering in a teasing manner.

              "Most often a slave who displeases her master is punished or sold off at a low price, showing her lack of value."

              Esme stiffed up. She did not want to belong to anyone! But this Viking had his good points at least. He was handsome, aye, but it was more than that. She sensed that he did not want to harm her.

              But he did want to bed her.

              She sighed.

              How long could she fight him? Already she was loosing her strength of will. And the long slow strokes along her back were starting to relax her at last.

              "I'm afraid that I will not please you. Then you will sell me off. Perhaps you should just do that now."

              He laughed and continued touching her with the softest touch.

              "You will please me. See? You already are."

              "What does this have to do with serving you?"

              He adjusted her on his lap so that she came into contact with his shaft. It was hard as a rock and pressing against her with a smoldering heat that should have singed her, but didn't. She gasped and tried to pull away but he held her firm.

              "Now we will begin your first lesson in pleasing me thrall."

              "But you said you wouldn't force me!"

              "And I won't. Ere long you will beg me to take you."

              She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and waited, fear bringing her body to life.

              "Will you torture me then?"

              He leaned down and nipped her ear before whispering low.

              "Aye… a most gentle torture…"             

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              Magnus went slowly, holding himself back. There was no need to rush into this. Any endeavor worth taking on was worth doing well.

              Very very well.

              He eased the kirtle down over Esme's shoulders, wincing at the redness the rough cloth had caused. He would give her something else to sleep in. Or even better, insist that she sleep in the nude.

              That was a far better plan in truth.

              Then he stopped thinking altogether. Her beautiful breasts sprang free of their confines and rose proudly under his gaze. Esme let out a fearful whimper but he ignored her, letting his hands make free with her bountiful curves.

              "By Odin you have a fine pair of teats!"

              She was breathing heavily, making those magnificent breasts rise and fall in front of his hungry eyes. But he didn't pounce on her as he wanted to. Nay, he took his time, tracing the edges of her breasts with his finger tips, brushing over the nipples with the back of his hands until they sprung forth, sharp and sweet and delightfully pink.

              He wanted to taste them!

              But not yet. She had calmed under his touch so he continued his soft easy fondling. Time passed. His erection strained against his hose. And in time, Esme began to move.

              Not to escape him, nay, these were the restless movements of a woman who wanted to rut.

              Her body had betrayed her.

              Of course, she didn't know it yet.

              He smirked and wet his finger tips in his mouth. Then he rolled her nipples between them. Esme gasped and arched her back slightly.

              "Hmmmfffff…  I will taste you now sweeting."

              She was panting as he lowered his head to her bosom, slaving her breasts with his tongue. She tasted sweet and fresh as he knew she would. He eased her thighs apart and lifted her skirts, stroking just above her knees as he worked her breasts with his lips and tongue.

              She's frozen when he lifted her skirts but slowly she began to unthaw, shifting in his arms as he toyed with her. His hands slid up, lightly touching her thighs, higher and higher. But never quite touching where he wanted to, where he'd wager, she wanted him to touch too.

              He knew she'd be tight and sweet and pure. He knew she'd feel like Valhalla on his fingertips, tongue and prick. But he'd wait until he was sure she'd shout out in pleasure. He'd wait until she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

              Then he'd take her to bed and keep her there, until he was satisfied.

              It should only take a dozen or so times at most.

              He brushed his hand against her sex, lifting his head to stare down at her. Her eyes were closed as she leaned back against his arm. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth open slightly. She looked glorious.

              She looked ready.

              Gently he began exploring her sex. She was even softer than he'd imagined. He lifted her dress up higher, baring her to his gaze. The sight of her soft pink petals nearly drove him over the edge. He dragged his finger up and down the line where her lips met, then up and over to the delicate nub above them. She gasped and rocked her hips against his hand. He chuckled, longing to taste her. But he held back, knowing that might break the spell she was under.

              He used his thumb to stroke her sensitive pearl while his index finger pushed inside her.

              By Odin she was tight! She was slick with dew. She did want him! She did!

              He pressed his finger in and out of her while working his thumb on her most sensitive spot. He hoped to open her enough so that it would not hurt when he speared her with his shaft. He eased another finger inside her and she whimpered.

              There was no hope for it. He would tear her asunder the first time he took her. Unless, he practiced this slow, maddening torture for a month!

              At the very least  he would bring her pleasure first. And he would make her say that she wanted him. Any moment now…

              Esme shuddered in his grasp, her walls undulating against his finger.

              Would that it were his cock!

              "Oh!"

              She tossed and turned in his arms. Clearly she was not yet finished. So he continued, pushing her further and further up the mountain of pleasure they had build together.

              At last she started to shake uncontrollably, suddenly falling limp in his arms.

              Now, now he would have his pleasure of her.

              He lifted her gently and carried her to the bed.

              Magnus reached down to pull his clothes off when he heard the delicate snore.

              His thrall was asleep.

Nine

              Esme woke up feeling wonderful. Her body was sore but rested as she stretched in the unfamiliar, large bed. She opened her eyes, realizing almost instantly that she was not in her home.

              Nay, she was in
his
home.

              Magnus, the leader of the Viking hoard.

              She swallowed nervously. She was undressed, as naked as the day she was born. The last thing she remembered was the extraordinary pleasure he'd given her with his hands and lips. Her cheeked burned with embarrassment. And yet, he'd kept his word.

              He had not ravaged her.

              She looked around the room, seeing that she was alone.

              It was already late in the day judging from the light.

              Yet the Viking had let her sleep.

              She slid from underneath the furs covering the sleeping platform and looked around for her dress. The room was empty. The rough dress was gone.

              "Looking for something?"

              Esme gasped and pulled one of the furs in front of her bare body.

              Magnus was standing in the wide doorway staring at her. He walked forward, holding out a folded crimson cloth.

              "Here."

              She reached out for it, her eyes wide. It was a soft wool dress. This fine fabric would not irritate her skin, that much was certain.

              "I- thank you."

              He grunted and turned away.

              "Come. Tis time for the mid day meal and I would have you serve me."

              "Aye- yes, m'lord."

              "My lord? I like that. But you may call me Magnus."

              He pulled the curtain aside and looked back at her with a smirk.

              "You pleased me well last night thrall. The dress is your reward."

              Her cheeks filled with heat as she lifted the dress over her head hastily. She smoothed it down over her curves where it skimmed her body, neither too loose nor too tight. She'd never had anything so fine in her life. Esme was confused though. How had she pleased him? Twas he who had pleased her in fact!

              Oh! Did he mean that the way she had shivered in his arms?

              She found her old boots by the fireplace. She slipped them on, hoping no one would notice the worn shoes peeking out from under the hem of such a pretty dress. Then she stepped out from behind the curtain.

              The main hall was smokey and bright. Men and women were drinking and laughing while a group of men played drums and chanted. There was something about the music that created a strange urgency in the air.

              An excitement.

              Magnus sat at the center of a long table, crowded with warriors. No women sat there, and all the other men who were not from the raiding party were consigned to the outer edges of the room with the females.

              "Here, thrall. You will sit beside me and feed me."

              He pulled her onto the bench and leaned down close, whispering in her ear.

              "And
I
will feed
you
."

              She glanced around in embarrassment. The men were watching her, but not in a disrespectful manner. In fact, many wore friendly grins.

              She nodded to the one Magnus called Olric. The man seemed to be his second in command. Esme wondered if he would order her around as well.

              Perhaps they all would.

              "Now, I will cut the meat since I do not yet trust you with a knife. After that you will feed me the most tender pieces."

              Esme glanced at him. Magnus was grinning broadly, as if he knew his command would irk her. The man was being an oaf plain and simple.

              He cut the meat and gestured to the trencher. She looked around.

              "What am I supposed to feed you with if not a knife?"

              He pushed her hair away from her ear and nuzzled her, making her jump. Warmth spread through her body from the sensation of his warm breath against her neck.

              "Your fingers of course."

              Esme resisted the urge to curse. He was just using this as another opportunity to prove his mastery over her. As if he had to. He'd already won.

              Mayhap he did not know it yet, but she did. She knew it in her bones. This was one battle she would not win.

              Still, she would not go down without a fight. Her pride demanded it.

              Esme selected a piece of meat and offered it to him.

              "Needs more sauce thrall."

              She scooped up the drippings and held it up. Magnus grabbed her hand and did something that shocked her to her core. He started licked and sucking the food from her fingers in a most obscene way!

              Shivers went through her body as he stared at her working the tips of her fingers well after the food was gone.

              She knew what he was thinking of.

              He was thinking of her breasts and how he'd suckled them last night.

              And now
she
was thinking of it too...

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              Magnus was savoring the sight and taste of his thrall. As much as he enjoyed the flush staining her cheeks, tasting her fingers was not his true goal. She looked so pretty in her new red dress it made his heart sing. And yet, he wanted to get her out of it.

              He'd never seen anyone fairer, on either side of the sea.

              "If we were alone thrall, I'd be licking more than your fingers."

              She yanked her hand back.

              "Praise the old ones that we are not!"

              He grabbed her and yanked her up against him. Esme let out a surprised squeak.

              "Perhaps I will not want to wait until we are alone. After all, I can do what I please with you. Isn't that right?"

              "Please- don't!"

             
"Isn't that right?"

              "Aye."

              He brushed his hand over her hair.

              "Fear not thrall. I plan to keep your delectable treasures to myself."

              He saw gratitude in her eyes and realized he wanted to kiss her then and there. He frowned. He must not show weakness to his slave or his men. She was his to enjoy, that was all.

              "Another bite thrall. And pour me some wine. You may share my cup."

              "Aye Magnus."

              He was suspicious whenever his recalcitrant thrall was too agreeable. But he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was coming around to his way of thinking at last.

              Perhaps she finally understood that she must do whatever she could in her power to please him.

              Her life depended on it.

              She poured some wine and offered it to him. He noticed the fear in her eyes. He had convinced her then.

              'Twas good.

              For some strange reason though, Magnus didn't like it. Didn't she know he would never truly harm her? She was too fair, too delicate, too desirable. He would protect her from all harm, all the while keeping her for himself and himself alone.

              He felt a strong urge to set her at ease. But that would not gain him what he wanted. Not quickly anyway.

              Magnus frowned, downing his wine. For the first time in his life, he was unsure how to proceed. His inclination was to take what he wanted of her, innocent or no. But his second instinct was to treasure and pamper her.

              The whole thing was absurd. One did not pamper a thrall. Not in the world as he knew it.

              Then again, Esme was no ordinary thrall…

              "Come slave. I command you to sit in my lap."

              She looked horrified as he pulled her against his chest. His manhood was already stirring from their food play. Now he had a real reason to be aroused. Her plump bottom pressed against him. Her sweet smell enveloped him. Her round breasts and pretty face were on display in close proximity.

              He could not resist the urge to tease her a bit more.

              "Here, have some wine. I know how agreeable it makes you…"

              She stiffened up, holding the wine in front of her. He nudged her and she sipped it daintily, making him laugh. He'd laughed more around his new thrall than he had in a year.

              Nay,
two
years.

              He fed her a few bites and she fed him as he bid her. All around them the men fell to talking. Magnus let the sound wash over him. He felt oddly at peace.

              "Arne is skulking around our borders again."

              Arne was a young warrior from further up the coast who had split with his own family over some sort of blood feud. The arrogant young warrior and his followers had set up camp on their own. But it was a little too close for Magnus's liking.

              Magnus glanced at Harald, an oversized Viking with a large belly and booming voice. He waited for Olric to tell him that there was no cause for concern, but instead Olric was frowning.

              "Vidar, what do you think? You stayed behind with Sigrid during the last raid. Is there any danger?"

              Vidar was one of the few married warriors amongst them. His wife Sigrid had given birth just before they left on the last raid, making him the sensible choice to stay behind as protector over the settlement.

              "Aye. One of the boys who fishes along the shore was injured when Arne's men stole his nets. They made sport of the boy, breaking his arm in the process. Now he cannot fish and neither he nor his mother Alna can eat."

              Magnus frowned.

              "Why did  no one tell me of this? Send someone to them. Tell Alna she and her son may take their meals here until he is healed."

              "It will be done."

              Magnus nodded at Vidar, feeding his thrall another bite of food.

              "Tell me of your bairn Vidar."

              The man brightened.

              "A healthy girl Magnus. We named her Freya."

              "A good name. May the gods bless you with a son next."

              Vidar nodded, looking as though he were perfectly satisfied with a girl. 'Twas odd, but appeared to be true.

              "All this talk of children has whetted my appetite for… other things. Come thrall."

              He stood, taking Esme by the arm. The woman looked startled to say the least as the men laughed and cheered.

              'Twas a celebration after all.

              The perfect time for drink and rutting.

              He grabbed a flagon of wine on the way to his chamber, humming along with the drummers.              "Keep playing! It will be a fine tempo for pleasure!"

              The men laughed harder and he closed the curtain to his chamber behind him.