Page 13 of Last Thrall of Asgard

Didn’t I?

I licked my thumb and swiped it across his opening. Heimdall squirmed, rocking his ass closer to me. I wetted my thumb again and pressed it inside him. He rocked against that too.

“You like knowing what I am going to do to you, don’t you?Say it.”

“I do.” Heimdall tilted his head to look at me over the folds of his tunic. “Please, my lord, take me as you will.”

I aligned my cock and started to press its tip inside—

“Ah!” Heimdall shuddered and shook and…

Cameall over the furs beneath him.

I pulled my tip back out.

“Did you finish before me? Before I gave permission?” I curled my fingers around his neck from behind.

“Y-yes,” Heimdall admitted.

“Why? Because it felt so good that you couldn’t control yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Then you don’t deserve to come again, do you? But you do deserve to be punished.” My other hand swung up almost automatically, coming down to slap hard upon his backside.

“Ah!” Heimdall’s hips rolled in answer, and I peered beneath the arch of his ass to see more release dribble from his cock like an aftershock.

He liked that.

I slapped his ass again, and he gave an equally pleasured whine.

I slapped again,again, growing angrier with each fresh moan that left him, because it wasn’t giving me the satisfaction I craved.

“If you like this so much, then I will have to give you more, until itfeelslike punishment.” Until I feel something.

I did give him more, yet no amount of smacks upon that same right cheek seemed to deter him. He was only growing harder again, and I was still so hard too. I slid my cock between his cheeks, not to breach him yet, but to shallow fuck along his hole, while I smacked his ass again and again.

Heimdall’s hips would lower slightly, and I’d hoist them right back up. No friction or rutting into the bed for him. No relief.And no friendly stroke from me to relieve him either. That would sate me, wouldn’t it? His own hands were focused on holding him upright, and I reached around to feel how hard he was.

He was steel in my grasp, but I held his cock without stroking it.

“P-please…” Heimdall said, trying to pump into my hand.

I slapped his ass again.

“Ah!”

Until the cry that left him finally sounded pained.

My hand shook as I held it aloft, as I held myself still. His right cheek was as ruby red as dyed wool, and I felt a strange, almost bitter, almost mournful kinship with him. I rubbed over the mound I had abused and slowly realigned myself with his hole, no longer satisfied with slow or shallow.

Besides the earlier entrance of my tip, I had never speared anyone the way Thorsten speared me. I had rutted with other thralls, stroked my cock under watchful gazes while they stroked theirs, but most had grown out of friendly trysts and helping hands and sought out young women thralls instead. Or became toys for Thorsten’s mother. I had never enjoyed the embrace of a woman more than a man.

Now I was being allowed this sweet connection in a way I had never known, and as I sank within Heimdall, watchman of the gods, I did go slow. I had to. I needed to savor this depth, being so consumed by the tightness of his passage that I felt the thrill of being in the heavens for the first time.

Could I ever truly be free like I felt in this moment?

“Yes,” Heimdall said.

---