Page 9 of Her Viking Master

My eyes widened as I took in the images surrounding us. There were scenes of epic battles, longships crashing through stormy seas, and fierce warriors brandishing axes and swords. Interspersed among the martial imagery were more intimate scenes—men taking women in various positions, some tender, others rough.

I blinked rapidly, wondering if I had begun to hallucinate. Was there something in the smoke from the torches? The carvings seemed to move and shift in the flickering light, coming alive before my eyes. I could almost hear the clash of steel, the roar of the ocean, the cries of pleasure from the carved figures.

One image in particular caught my attention—a young woman bent over a rowing bench, her face a mask of ecstasy as a powerful warrior claimed her from behind. With a jolt, I realized the woman had long, flowing hair that looked startlingly red in the torchlight. Was I seeing myself?

Sven’s hand suddenly tangled in my own hair. The flash of arousal from the little act of mastery brought on a sudden orgasm of a kind I’d never imagined. I reared back and screamed in helpless ecstasy and I realized that despite the shame of it I, Mary, was the one bound to the bench with her newHerra’s cock in her no-longer-virginfisse. A Viking warrior was using me for his lustful enjoyment—like the girl in the image, long ages after… more than a millennium since the Northmen had terrorized my Irish ancestors.

The images of Odin and Thor, of Viking raids and voyages, seemed to take me to another world, though. As Sven’s powerful thrusts rocked my body, I noticed a carving high up, of Odin on his fabulous six-legged horse Sleipnir. The thought of myHerrariding me seemed to become much more than a metaphor… I was traveling through the heavens above a snow-covered land, above seas full of ice floes.

I saw my master’s ships, their dragon-headed prows cutting through the heavy swells. Fierce warriors with braided beards and gleaming axes leapt from the ships onto foreign shores. Villages burned, people fled screaming, and amidst the chaos, from high above, I saw women carried off—some fighting, others going willingly into the arms of their captors.

The bench creaked under me with each of Sven’s powerful thrusts. The ancient wood groaned in protest, the sound echoing off the cavern walls. I could hear similar creaks and groans from the other benches, a cacophony of straining wood that blended with the cries of pleasure and discomfort from the other couplings.

To my right, I heard Camille’s voice rise in a keening wail of ecstasy. The defiant girl seemed to have fully surrendered to the pleasure Erik gave her. Farther away, Amélie’s sobs had given way to breathy moans and pleas for more.

My own cries joined the chorus as Sven’s cock hit a spot deep inside me that made me feel my body might come apart. The pain of my defloration had faded, replaced by surges of pleasure unlike anything I had ever experienced. My hips moved of their own accord, pressing back to meet each of Sven’s thrusts.

Suddenly, Sven’s voice boomed out, giving another command in that Northern language, this time somehow both lilting and guttural. I could hardly understand what was happening. The other men responded, their voices a chorus of agreement.

I felt Sven’s cock withdraw from me, leaving me feeling achingly empty. I whimpered in confusion and loss, trying to crane my neck to see what was happening. I could see nothing, though, bound in place to the bench as I was.

I heard movement around me, the sound of bodies shifting position. The other girls made noises of surprise and dismay, echoing my own confusion. What was happening? Why had Sven stopped?

Then I felt a large hand on my bottom, and I knew with certainty that it wasn’t Sven’s. My body tensed, a fresh wave of fear washing over me. Whose hand was this? What was going to happen to me?

Sven’s voice cut through my rising panic. He spoke in French, his words clear and commanding. “As Vikings, we are generous with our warrior brothers. We will each know the pleasure of all our thralls before the night is through.”

My eyes widened in shock as I processed his words. Did he mean…? Surely not…

But then I heard Sven issue another command, and my face burned as I realized how quickly I had begun to learn his tongue. “Kneppe!”

Fuck.Sven had just told his ‘brothers’ to fuck.Oh, no…

I gasped as I felt a new cock thrust inside me, thicker than Sven’s but not quite as long. My body tensed at the unfamiliar intrusion, but the wetness Sven had created allowed this new man to slide in smoothly.

“I am Erik, Sven’s shield-brother,” a deep voice murmured in my ear, his accent even thicker than Sven’s. “Your littlefisseis almost as sweet as my Camille’s.”

His words sent a shiver through me—both from the crudeness and the realization that this man had just been inside Camille. Now he was fucking me, using my body for his pleasure because my own master was so generous. I should have felt violated, should have protested. Instead, I found myself pressing back against him, seeking more.

As Erik began to move inside me, the strange visions returned. I was no longer bound to a bench in an underground cavern. Instead, for a moment I seemed caught in the branches of a vast tree, and then a rushing wind seemed to blow me farther, farther, until I found myself on another longship, the salt spray stinging my face as we crashed through the ocean swells. The wooden deck rocked beneath me, matching the rhythm of Erik’s thrusts.

I could see other ships around us, their own dragons’ heads slicing through the choppy sea. Warriors lined the rails, their beards whipping in the wind, axes and swords glinting in the pale northern sun. Among them, I saw the women again—some cowering in fear, others standing proudly beside their captors.

The scene shifted, and suddenly I was in a great hall. Fires roared in massive hearths, casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. I saw myself there, dressed in a simple linen shift, moving among the feasting warriors. My arms were laden with platters of meat and horns of ale. As I bent to serve a group of men, I felt rough hands grab my hips.

In an instant, my shift was pushed up, and I was bent over the table. Plates and cups clattered to the floor as a burly warrior thrust into me from behind. The other men cheered and laughed, calling out lewd encouragement. To my shame, I heard my own voice joining their cries, begging for more.

The fantasy blurred and shifted again. Now I was in a small hut, lying on a bed of furs. A group of women surrounded me, their hands gentle as they bathed my swollen belly with warm cloths. I looked down in wonder at my rounded stomach, feeling the strong kicks of the child growing within me. A warrior’s child. My master’s heir.

CHAPTER6

Mary

I heard Sven’s voice ring out again. Erik buried himself inside me with a final thrust, and then withdrew. It only seemed another moment before I had a different rigid penis, a third one, in my littlefisse. I could feel myself getting sore. I realized I wouldn’t walk comfortably when my master loosed my bonds and let me up from the bench where he had made a woman of me, but that idea only made me cry out anew, and come again, under Henrik’s huge manhood.

As the night wore on, my whole body began to ache from the relentless fucking. Each Viking warrior took his turn with me, using my ravaged body for his pleasure. The growing sense that Sven had been right about me, that somehow—alongside the abject humiliation it stirred in me—I needed this, warred against the shame of having lost my virginity in this shameful way.

Six men, well-endowed and brutal in their ‘lovemaking’—if I could even call it that. My professor, the forbidden fruit of my sophomore fantasies. Five of his hulking, rough friends, men I had never met. All of them turning the tender moment of my defloration into a forceful gangbang where I had just become a woman alongside five other girls. All of us made to pledge our complete sexual service to our terrifying, lustful masters. I should have felt used, violated, but instead, I found that part of me shamelessly reveled in the attention.

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