Page 20 of Last Thrall of Asgard

Some elves noticed. Some snickered, as if they had seen someone go through this before. Hopefully, only Freyr’s previous and hopeful lovers knew of my condition and not the whole village.

“Wh-where do we go now?” I asked.

“Somewhere more private, but we need the stroll to give what stretches within you time to reach its peak.”

It grew in me again once we reached the village’s edge, and my knees quaked. The device was the size of Thorsten now, and my cock was throbbing to have such girth within me without it moving. Its jostling was somehow worse than a hard fuck, and I looked down to see wetness bleeding through my tunic where my cock tip was leaking through the layers of fabric.

How much more will it grow? I wondered, for where we stood, the elevation dipped, and the path beyond wound down what would take many minutes to traverse to a large lake, far larger than the pool at the base of the Vanaheim waterfall.

Freyr urged me forward with an arm about my waist. Given my trembling gait, his presence beside me felt comforting. Peaceful, as the god of such things should feel.

“Do you have a home here?” I asked. “A hall? A throne to sit in and preside over court?”

“I do. I am taking you there.”

To the water? I didn’t see any buildings at its edge or anywhere in the landscape before us. I looked back, and to my lacking surprise, I saw Ravnur, still holding the reins of Gullinbursti, having followed us to the edge of town.

He and Freyr were close, enough so that Freyr accepted Ravnur’s informality and clearly thought of him as a friend. But not more, if Ravnur’s jealousy was anything to judge by. But if the reason was because Freyr only had eyes for his original love, why bed me?

“My lor—ah!”

The object grewagain, enough that I stumbled, but Freyr’s hold on me kept me upright. Had I known a cock this large? How close was this to the size it would become?

I pushed on, not letting Freyr’s grinning deter my steps. “M-my lord,” I tried again, “Ragnarök has passed, and you and much more have been restored. But how is it that you have your sword back with you? Was its loss not the reason you perished during Ragnarök, because it was given as the dowry for your Jotun wife?”

The floating sword might have kept Freyr alive during the ravages of battle, but because he had given it up, his fate was sealed.

The Jotun, Loki’s people, weren’t giants as I had heard some stories call them. Loki alone was proof of that, no larger than me. They were merely another tribe, like the Aesir and Vanir, hailing from the realm of Jotunheim. One of Freyr’s best-known stories involved a Jotun woman, Gerdr. Freyr fell in love with her the moment he saw her and her ethereal beauty. He had to have her as his wife and sent his servant, Skirnir, to present his proposal.

Gerdr turned him down. Skirnir proceeded to go from wooing and romantic promises on Freyr’s behalf, to threats and belittlement to ensure he didn’t disappoint his master. She accepted the proposal under duress, and the sword remained with her father as dowry.

I never liked that story, assuming Freyr couldn’t possibly have known how much his bride might loathe him due to Skirnir’s behavior, and knowing she could never have been happy when choice had been taken from her.

Her name literally meant “fenced-in”—trapped,imprisoned, like I’d felt all my life as a thrall.

“When a marriage ends,” Freyr said, posture stiff and voice cool and detached, “if a dowry was given that can be returned, it is. Simple as that.”

Then, after Ragnarök, she… “I am sorry. Truly, I—” I managed to cut off my next moan with a bite at my lip.

This newest stretch,thisgrowth, almost felt like too much, most certainly larger than anything I’d had in me before.

“M-my lord… may I ask whether you will tell me when the stretch is at its greatest?”

“I will tell you. But no, you are not close to the end yet.”

Fuck. My quaking legs moved forward only due to the momentum of Freyr.

We reached the water’s edge, and from a different pouch, Freyr pulled out a miniature boat. Skidbladnir.

He tossed the small ship into the air, and it flew toward the lake as if catching on the wind. As it floated, it began to unfold itself, each undone layer revealing a new ship, larger and more impressive in design, until it was so large and grand, it was like a great palace upon the lake, and a plank extended toward us so we might ascend to its deck.

Perhaps more than any other god, Freyr had so many treasures, had the most to be thankful for, and was one of the most beloved. Yet his sadness, which I had heard in his voice and seen in his green eyes, was understandable if it was from the loss of a love that meant more to him than his own life but had never been returned. I knew the story, knew Gerdr hadn’t wanted him, and yet…

The god of lovewithoutlove seemed wrong.

It was said Skidbladnir was large enough in its full form to hold all the Aesir. Freyr led me to the very back of the stern, where up a set of steps was all cushioned and covered in fabrics and furs to make a bed fit for an orgy.

As we climbed the last step to reach it, the object grew within me again, and my knees buckled. Only Freyr kept me upright and bore my weight, lifting me into his arms to carry me the rest of the way and laid me upon the bed. The movement sprung tears to my eyes with how large the device was now, just as he’d promised.

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