Page 43 of Her Viking Master

Sven’s expression softened, and he reached out again to cup my cheek gently. “We will be following your progress as closely as possible,lille en. The moment we have what we need, or if you signal that you’re in danger, we’ll move in to extract you.”

I leaned into his touch, grateful for the warmth of his hand against my skin. I lost myself in the sensation until Erik’s voice brought me back to the immediate circumstances.

“It’s important to your mission that you arrive at Beaumont’s manor as a pair. He is known to have a fascination for girls who find solace in one another’s arms when disciplined strictly. We’ve already begun creating a data trail about you for the Guard to find. We’ll add an important element tomorrow. We’re going to make a video of the two of you being punished and then having sex with each other.”

“What?” Camille asked, her eyes wide as she gazed at her master, whose face had gone very serious. “Herra… we…”

“We didn’tdoanything,” I finished, looking my plea into Erik’s and then Sven’s eyes.

“I know,lille en,” Sven said, his eyes compassionate despite the firm set of his jaw. “But in this world your masters will often whip you simply because they enjoy it. That in itself is something you two must accustom yourselves to enduring—and, indeed, enjoying… or at least acting as if you enjoy it.”

CHAPTER22

Sven

As I held Mary in my arms that night, I did my best to soothe her anxieties. I held her sweet, nude body close, her soft curves pressed against my chest as we lay in the dimly lit bedchamber. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the stone walls, an intimate atmosphere that seemed to soften the gravity of the conversation in the situation room. I could feel the tension in her lithe body, though, the slight trembling that betrayed her anxiety through her brave facade.

“Shh,lille en,” I murmured, running my hand soothingly along her spine. “You’ve shown such strength today. I’m proud of you.”

Mary nestled closer, her breath warm against my skin as she spoke. “Herra,” she whispered, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, “do Camille and I really have to be whipped tomorrow?”

I sighed. I had known this question was coming and I wished I could spare her this particular trial. “Yes, Mary,” I replied gently but firmly. “It’s a necessary part of your cover, and also for your preparation for the mission.”

I felt her stiffen slightly in my arms. I rubbed her back gently, and continued. “But there’s something you should know about the discipline you’ll receive,” I said, a solemnity coming naturally into my voice. “Manyvölurhave found that the pain of the whip can actually provide helpful visions.”

Mary pulled back slightly, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity as she looked up at me. “Really?” she asked, a hint of wonder creeping into her voice.

I nodded, my fingers tracing idle patterns on her bare shoulder. “Indeed. The intense sensations can sometimes open pathways to Yggdrasil that are otherwise difficult to access. The pain becomes a bridge between worlds, allowing you to see things that might remain hidden in ordinary states of consciousness.”

I watched as Mary processed this information, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered the implications. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, “Herra… how many bed thralls have you sent on missions before?”

The question caught me off guard, and I found myself pausing before answering. Images flashed through my mind of other girls I had trained, other missions I had overseen. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders.

“You and Camille will be the fifth and sixth,” I finally admitted, my voice low. “It’s not something we do lightly, Mary. Only those with exceptional potential are chosen for field work.”

I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, quickly masked by determination. “What… what happened to the others?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I took a deep breath, knowing I owed her the truth. “Three returned successfully,” I said, my tone carefully neutral. “One… one did not.”

Mary’s sharp intake of breath told me she understood the implication. I tightened my arms around her, as if I could shield her from the dangers that lay ahead through sheer force of will.

“But you and Camille are different,” I continued, infusing my voice with confidence. “Especially you,lille en. I’ve never sent out avölvawith more natural talent.”

* * *

Mary

I felt my cheeks flush hot at Sven’s words of praise. My heart swelled with pride even as anxiety churned in my stomach. I was scared—terrified, really—of the whipping that awaited me tomorrow and the dangerous mission that lay ahead. Yet beneath that fear, a small part of me thrilled at the thought of proving myself worthy of Sven’s faith in me.

As I lay there in his strong arms, my mind raced in a dozen different directions at once. I found myself almost unable to think straight, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions and realizations crashing over me.

A sudden thought struck me—when Camille and I were out in the field on this mission, we might have a chance to escape. To run away from all of this and reclaim our old lives—even to report the crazy, kinky Sons of Odin to some set of authorities… maybe even to Selecta itself. The idea sent a jolt through me, a physical shiver that seemed to come from both excitement and dread. Sven’s arms tightened around me, and for an instant I wondered if he could read my mind, before I understood that my master meant not to imprison me, but to comfort me.

Even as I contemplated the possibility of freedom, though, I realized with a start that I didn’t want to leave. Somehow, in the span of just a few days, I had fallen desperately, hopelessly in love with Sven. The thought of never seeing him again, never feeling his touch or hearing his voice, made my chest ache with a pain far worse than any whip could inflict.

What had happened to me? I wondered if I had begun to go insane—if the ‘visions’ had actually come not from some Norse super-consciousness, but from induced lunacy. How could I have developed such intense feelings for my captor? How could I contemplate risking my life on a mission for an organization I barely understood? How could I believe that I’d been granted mystical access to the world tree?

Yet I couldn’t deny the way my body responded to Sven’s nearness, or the sense of purpose that filled me when I thought about using my strange, newfound abilities as avölvato… well, to save civilization, if my master were to be believed.

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