Page 51 of Her Viking Master

Sven’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “The girls resisted us a little at first,” he said, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “So we’re going to have to punish them now. Then we’ll make them show you what kind of girls they really are as they console each other after their whipping.”

CHAPTER26

Mary

The first crack of the leather strap against my bare bottom sent a jolt of white-hot pain through my entire body. I couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from my throat, echoing off the wooden walls of the stable. Before I could catch my breath, another blow landed on Camille’s backside, her cry of agony mingling with mine.

Sven alternated between us, the strap whistling through the air before connecting with our flesh. Each strike felt like a line of fire being drawn across my skin. I lost count of how many times the leather bit into me, my world narrowing to the rhythm of pain and the sound of our screams.

“Look at how their asses jiggle when you hit them,” Erik commented, his voice thick with cruel amusement. “Beaumont will love watching this video.”

“Indeed,” Sven replied, pausing in his assault. “And I’m sure their cunts are getting wet anyway. These little sluts can’t help but respond to a firm hand.”

I felt my face burn with shame at his words, knowing they were true. Despite the pain—no, worse, because of it—I could feel a telltale slickness between my thighs. My body’s response both horrified and aroused me further, creating a feedback loop of shame and desire that left me dizzy and confused.

“Get a close-up of their faces,” Sven instructed Erik. “Beaumont will want to see the tears.”

I heard Erik move closer, the camera whirring softly as he zoomed in. I tried to turn my face away, not wanting my humiliation captured on film, but Sven’s hand in my hair forced me to look directly into the lens. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my eyes burning from their salt.

“That’s it, little whore,” Sven murmured, his voice a mockery of gentleness. “Show Monsieur Beaumont how prettily you cry.”

Next to me, Camille let out a choked sob. I wanted desperately to comfort her, to reach out and hold her hand, but our bound position made that impossible. All I could do was endure alongside her, hoping perversely that our shared pain would create an embarrassing-but-real bond between us.

“Now,” Sven said, his tone shifting to something harder, more commanding, “spread your legs, both of you. Let’s show the camera how wet this is getting you.”

I hesitated, my thighs clenching together instinctively. The thought of exposing myself so fully, of having my arousal documented on film, made me want to curl up and disappear. But I knew disobedience would only lead to more pain.

Slowly, trembling, I forced my legs apart. The cool air of the stable brushed against my shaved pussy, making me acutely aware of how aroused I had become. Beside me, I heard Camille whimper as she did the same.

“Wider,” Sven demanded. “Show your master those sweet cunts he bought.”

I felt my face burn with humiliation as I obeyed, spreading my legs even wider, exposing myself fully to the camera’s unblinking eye. My muscles trembled from the strain of holding the position, adding to the ache that radiated from my thoroughly whipped bottom.

“Look at those little slits,” Sven said, his voice a mix of approval and cruel amusement. “So nice and smooth, not a hair in sight. Monsieur Beaumont will appreciate that, I’m sure.”

His words sent a new thrill of shame through me. I remembered the bath, just the day before;MorAstrid teaching us to shave each other… how exposed and vulnerable I had felt when Camille used the razor between my thighs and then between my bottom cheeks. All of it on full display, captured on video for a wealthy stranger’s viewing pleasure.

As Erik zoomed in for a close-up, I felt my pussy clench involuntarily, a surge of arousal coursing through me, defeating my best efforts to suppress it. A strangled cry escaped my lips, equal parts mortification and need.

“Did you see that, Erik?” Sven chuckled darkly. “The little slut just clenched her cunt for the camera. I think she likes being on display.”

“I saw it,” Erik replied, his voice thick with lust. “I got a good shot of it, too. Monsieur will like seeing how eager she is.”

I wanted to deny it, to protest that I wasn’t enjoying this humiliation. But the evidence of my arousal was undeniable, glistening on my inner thighs for all to see. Tears of shame streamed down my face as Erik captured my body’s betrayal.

After what felt like an eternity, Erik stepped back. I sagged in my restraints, relieved that this particular ordeal was over. But my relief was short-lived.

“I think they need a bit more discipline,” Sven said, flexing the leather strap between his hands. “After all, we want to make sure Monsieur gets his money’s worth.”

Before I could brace myself, the strap whistled through the air once more, connecting with the tender flesh where my bottom met my thighs. I screamed, the pain even more intense on this sensitive area. Beside me, Camille’s cries joined mine as Sven delivered a matching blow to her.

“You should give some attention to their tits,” Erik suggested, moving around to get a better angle with the camera. “Really make them bounce for Beaumont.”

Sven grunted in agreement, and I tensed in anticipation of the pain to come. The first strike across my breasts stole the breath from my lungs. It was a different kind of pain than the blows to my bottom and thighs—sharper, more focused. My nipples, already hard from a confusing mix of fear and arousal, seemed to tighten even further.

“Look at how responsive they are,” Sven commented. “When they have a real man’s cock in them they’ll go wild.”

He whipped us again, one stroke to the backs of each of our thighs.

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