Page 2 of Her Viking Master

Instead of answering, Professor Hallstrom yanked me up by my arm. In one fluid motion, he sat down and pulled me across his lap. I found myself bent over his knees, my bottom raised vulnerably in the air. My skirt had ridden up, leaving me mortifyingly exposed in only my thin cotton panties.

“You need to learn your place,lille en,” he said, his accent thicker now, almost guttural. “Consider this a quick introduction to how the Vikings handled the girls they captured for use on the rowing benches.”

Before I could process his words, his hand came down hard on my upturned bottom. The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the quiet office. I yelped into the gag, more from surprise than pain. But then he struck again and again, each spank harder than the last.

The sting built rapidly, spreading across my buttocks and down my thighs. Tears pricked at my eyes, soaking into the fabric of the hood. I squirmed and bucked, trying to escape the relentless assault, but his other arm held me firmly in place.

“This is nothing compared to what those fierce Norsemen would have done,” Professor Hallstrom lectured, punctuating his words with stinging slaps. “They took what they wanted, claimed the spoils of their raids. Pretty little things like you were prizes to be won and enjoyed.”

To my horror, I felt myself growing wetter with each strike. The pain blurred into a hazy pleasure, igniting nerve endings I didn’t know I had. My hips began to move of their own accord, no longer trying to escape, but almost… seeking out his punishing hand.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Show me what kind of thrall you’re going to be.”

The spanking continued, each strike sending shockwaves of pain and shameful pleasure through my body. I lost track of time, rapt into a haze of sensation. My bottom burned, the sting spreading across my skin like wildfire. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the fabric of the hood as I screamed into the gag. The sounds were muffled, but the raw emotion behind them seemed all the greater because this man had stopped my voice.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, when the pain had overwhelmed any trace of arousal, Professor Hallstrom’s hand stilled. I lay there, panting and trembling, my body taut with anticipation. What would he do next?

I felt his fingers at the waistband of my panties, and a fresh thrill of panic washed over me. Surely he wouldn’t… Then I felt the cool air on my heated skin as he slowly, deliberately pulled them down. I squirmed, trying to press my thighs together, but his strong hands easily parted them.

“My, my,” he murmured, his voice rich with amusement and something darker, like hunger, that sent a shudder through me. “What do we have here?”

I felt his fingers ghost over my private lips. I felt my face turn red as a beet, and I had an absurd feeling of gratitude that he couldn’t see my blush. Despite my fear, despite the pain, my body responded traitorously to his touch. I was mortified to realize how wet I had become.

“Such a pretty littlefisse,” Professor Hallstrom continued, his fingers exploring with maddening slowness. “And look at this adorable red hair. It matches the pink of your hind cheeks perfectly.”

I whimpered into the gag, equal parts humiliation and arousal coursing through me. His fingers found my clit, circling it with expert precision, and I couldn’t help but buck against his hand.

“We’ll have to shave this, of course,” he said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather rather than the violation of my body. “It’s an important lesson in submission. To put your body under my command… before remolding you into what I desire.”

His words should have terrified me, should have made me fight harder. Instead, I felt a perverse thrill at the idea of being shaped by his will. What was wrong with me?

“You like this, don’t you,lille en?” Professor Hallstrom’s voice was knowing, almost smug. “I’d wager you play with yourself quite frequently. Is that right, Mary? Do you touch yourself in the shower, imagining scenarios like this?”

I shook my head frantically, denying it even as my hips betrayed me, grinding shamelessly against his hand. But he was right. Every morning in the shower, I would let my hands wander, imagining strong arms around me, a deep voice commanding me… I had never put a face to those fantasies before, and my mind resisted doing it even now, but his voice fit, to my dismay.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “A Celtic girl like you, forbidden by her upbringing to seek her own pleasure… I know the truth. You’re going to come for me now, so you can start to learn about your needs.”

CHAPTER2

Mary

His words cut through me like a knife, exposing truths I had tried hard to bury. As his fingers worked their magic on my pussy—myfisse, had he called it? It sounded so dirty in my mind’s ear—memories flooded back unbidden. Yes, with the steam rising around me, I touched myself every morning. The hot water cascading over my body became the caress of imaginary lovers. My fingers would circle my breasts, teasing my nipples to hardness before trailing lower, lower…

I always felt so guilty afterwards. My strict Irish Catholic upbringing warred with my body’s natural urges. I’d scrub myself furiously, as if I could wash away the shame along with the evidence of my arousal. But the next day, the cycle would begin anew.

Now, bent over Professor Hallstrom’s lap, I couldn’t deny the truth any longer. My body sang under his expert touch, responding in ways I had only dreamed of. His fingers danced over my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through me.

Then, to my shock and helpless delight, I felt him exploring lower. The pad of his thumb circled my anus, applying gentle but insistent pressure. I had never dared to touch myself there, even in my most fevered moments of self-exploration. The sensation seemed foreign, taboo, and utterly intoxicating.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my entire being. “Let go,lille en. Show me the wanton little slut hiding beneath that prim exterior.”

His crude words should have offended me, but instead they only stoked the fire building within my body. I ground shamelessly against his hand, chasing the pleasure that seemed just out of reach. The gag muffled my moans, but I could hear myself making desperate, needy sounds I had never imagined I was capable of.

The dual stimulation of his fingers on my clit and the teasing pressure against my anus quickly became too much to bear. The tension coiled tighter and tighter, like a spring wound to its breaking point. And then, with a particularly clever twist of his fingers, everything shattered.

The orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, more intense than anything I had ever experienced, alone in the shower. My body convulsed, muscles clenching and unclenching as surges of pleasure radiated outward from my core. I screamed into the gag, tears of ecstasy mingling with those of shame and confusion.

Through it all, Professor Hallstrom’s fingers never stopped their relentless assault. He worked me through the peak of my pleasure and beyond, until I was a trembling, oversensitive mess across his lap. Only then did his touch gentle, becoming almost soothing as he stroked my quivering flesh.

---