Page 37 of Her Viking Master

I sagged against the handlebars, my body trembling with exertion and unfulfilled desire. A sheen of sweat covered my body. The linen breast band felt clammy. I didn’t dare look up, afraid to meet the eyes of the Sons of Odin who had witnessed our trial.

Suddenly, though, they had come among us. I sensed the heat of their muscular bodies, and then I felt my master’s strong hands grip my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the bike. My legs trembled, weak from exertion and arousal, as he cradled me against his broad chest. The heat of his skin seared through the thin linen of his loincloth, and I couldn’t help but nuzzle closer, seeking his warmth and protection.

As Sven carried me across the room, I dared to glance around. The other girls were similarly held in the arms of their masters, their flushed faces a mixture of exhaustion, shame, and lingering desire. Camille’s eyes met mine briefly, a silent understanding passing between us. Whatever happened next, we were in this together.

My breath caught in my throat as I saw where Sven was taking me. The bride saddles stood in their semicircle, polished wood gleaming in the torchlight. Memories of the previous night flooded my mind—the feeling of being spread open, vulnerable, as Sven had claimed every part of me. I shivered, both from fear and anticipation.

Sven’s deep voice rumbled through his chest as he addressed us all. “Now, myvölur, you will face your final test,” he said. “Your obedience, your control, and your ability to please will determine your suitability for the coming mission.”

He lowered me onto the bride saddle, the smooth wood and the leather cool against my skin. I whimpered softly as he began to secure the straps, each one tightening around my limbs with deliberate care. My face burned as I discovered anew how exposed the posture left me, my legs spread wide and my bottom raised high.

“Remember,lille en,” Sven murmured, his fingers trailing along my spine, “this lovely body belongs to me now, to use and to share. Show me how well you’ve learned to submit.”

I nodded frantically, eager to please him despite the fear and uncertainty churning in my gut. Around me, I could hear the other girls being secured to their own saddles, the soft clinks of buckles and whispered instructions filling the air.

Once we were all strapped down, Sven spoke again, his voice carrying easily through the chamber. “You will be used in three ways,” he announced. “First, your mouths will pleasure us. Then, we will take yourfisse. Finally, yourrøvhulwill be ours once more.”

I felt a rush of heat flood my pussy at his words, my body responding eagerly even as my mind reeled. The night before, when my master had taken my anal virginity, had been intense enough. But this—to be used so thoroughly, in front of everyone—was almost too much to comprehend.

“Throughout it all,” Sven continued, “you will focus on giving pleasure and obeying our commands. Those who demonstrate the conduct we look for will be chosen for the mission. Let me emphasize that you do not know what that conduct is: there is no use in trying to perform better than the girl to your right or left. Your task is simply to submit to your master’spik.”

As I lay there, strapped to the bride saddle, my heart pounding in anticipation, a strange realization dawned on me. Those agonizing moments spent on the exercise bike had changed something within me. The helplessness I’d felt as my body so desperately sought release had awoken a newfound understanding of my submission to Sven, a power in pliancy that both exhilarated and terrified me.

The humiliation of being in such a vulnerable position should have caused me to recoil, but instead, I found myself craving his dominance more than ever before. My obedience to him had become a matter of both choice and compulsion, as if the very fibers of my being had been reshaped by the forces at work within this chamber.

“Look at you,lille en,” Sven purred in my ear, as if reading my thoughts. “Your blush betrays your arousal.” His warm hand caressed my flushed cheek before trailing down my neck, sending shivers down my spine. “This is what you were born for. To surrender yourself, body and soul, to the strength of your master.”

His words sent a shiver through me, but I didn’t deny their truth. Never before had I felt so alive, so attuned to my own desires and the power I held over my own submission. It was as if the bike’s relentless motion had unlocked something inside me—an understanding that submission could be its own form of defiance, a rebellion against the expectations and societal norms that had once confined me.

As Sven’s fingers traced along my collarbone and down between my bound breasts, I arched into his touch, offering myself up to him completely.

Sven’s lips brushed against my earlobe before he spoke his next words: “Show me how well you can serve your master.” The command traveled through me like a spark, igniting every nerve ending as it fueled my determination to please him. My mouth watered as I thought of the enormous manhood that lurked under his loincloth, tenting it out so far that it made me shiver.

MorAstrid settled into the ornate wooden chair in the center of our semicircle, her stern gaze sweeping over us as we lay bound and exposed on the bride saddles. The air was thick with tension and the musky scent of arousal as we awaited our masters’ pleasure.

Sven approached me, his massive frame looming above. With deliberate slowness, he unwrapped his loincloth, revealing the huge shaft that jutted from his lap. I had to swallow down my saliva now, my body thrumming with anticipation.

“Open,” he commanded softly.

I parted my lips eagerly, tilting my head back as far as the restraints would allow. Sven guided his cock to my mouth, the velvety head brushing against my lips before pressing inside. I moaned around him, reveling in his masculine taste and scent as he filled my mouth.

To my surprise, I found myself able to take him deeper than I had the night before, on the ritual voyage and by his hearth. Something about the exercise on the treadmill and the bike, perhaps, had given me more command over my bodily responses. I felt a surge of pride as I relaxed my throat and allowed him to slide further in.

Sven’s hand tangled in my hair, holding me steady as he began to thrust. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of yourHerra. That’s it. Take it, you littlekneppetøj.”

I focused on breathing through my nose, surrendering completely to his control. The sounds of the other girls pleasuring their masters filled the air—wet slurps, muffled moans, and grunted praises. But I was lost in my own world, existing only to please Sven.

As he fucked my face with increasing intensity, I felt myself slipping into an altered state of consciousness. The physical sensations—the stretch of my jaw, the fullness in my throat—seemed to fade into the background. In their place, a profound sense of connection bloomed within me.

Suddenly, I was no longer just Mary, bound to a bride saddle in an underground chamber. I was every woman who had ever submitted to a powerful man, a living conduit for an ancient and primal energy. Visions flashed before my mind’s eye—Viking shield-maidens kneeling before their jarls, Pictish princesses claimed by conquering warlords, Roman priestesses coupling with their gods in ecstatic rituals.

The boundaries of time and space seemed to blur. I could see the branches of Yggdrasil, the world tree, stretching out around me, much more clearly than I had the last time my master had used me. Each coupling in the room felt like a sacred act, a reaffirmation of the cosmic order Sven had spoken of.

My awareness expanded further, and I found myself traveling along those mystical branches. I caught glimpses of possible futures—myself in a sleek modern office, seducing a stern-faced man for vital information; crouching in a frozen wasteland, my body the key to unlocking ancient secrets; standing tall and proud beside Sven as we faced some great, world-ending danger.

CHAPTER19

Sven

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