Page 58 of Her Rogue Viking

“Good. Are you happy with the fire or would you prefer to throw more wood on it before we start?”

With a gulp she picked up the largest of the logs heaped next to the fire pit and dropped it onto the glowing embers. Within seconds, flames licked around the edges of the knobbed bark and the firewood caught alight. For good measure, Fiona added a second log then stood back as the heat rose to warm her already heated cheeks.

“You will undress for me now.”

He spoke from behind her, his tone low and oddly seductive.

“You mean to do it here? Not in our chamber?”

“Yes, here. On this table.”

“On the table,” she squeaked, turning to face him. “You intend to fuck me on the table?”

“I might well do, yes. So, naked. Now.” His voice firmed, that stern timbre creeping in. She recognised that tone, the one that would tolerate no further questions, no more delays.

As quickly as her shaking fingers could accomplish the task Fiona released the shoulder pin that held her cloak in place, then pulled the pinafore she usually wore up and over her head. Her loose linen smock was all that remained, and her leather shoes. She kicked those off and nudged them under the table, then she tugged the smock down over one shoulder. It slithered to thefloor easily enough and she stepped from the pool of fabric to stand nude before him.

Ulfric’s eyes gleamed, the blue darkening to a midnight shade. As she watched, his cock swelled within his woollen trousers, tenting the garment. Fiona knew a moment’s triumph; she always loved the knowledge of how she affected him. Should she offer to kneel before him and suck his cock? That usually softened his mood somewhat.

Before she could make such a suggestion he tilted his head toward the table. “You will lie on the top, on your back, your arms above your head and your feet wide apart. Will you require help in climbing up?”

“N-no, I do not believe so.” She ignored the rope and the lamp, which he had moved down to one end, and scrambled up to sit on the table, her knees tucked up beneath her chin. She looked up at him, then slowly lay back and lifted her arms.

Ulfric did not speak to her. He selected the first of the lengths of rope and tied one end around her right wrist. Then he passed the rest under the table, and secured the other end to her left wrist. Fiona tried an experimental tug and found no give at all.

“Not too tight? I want you held still, but not uncomfortable.”

“I… I am fine, Viking. Thank you.”

“Good. Lift your hips.”

She obeyed, and was surprised when he rammed the rolled-up blanket under her bottom. She had assumed, foolishly, that he meant for her to have it as a pillow.

“Now you will bend your knees and spread them wide. Show me your delectable cunt, my little Celt.”

“Do you have to be quite so… explicit?” She obeyed his directions, despite her grumbling.

“I find it best. We will avoid any misunderstandings if I make my requirements quite clear to you.” He looped one end of the second piece of rope around her knee as he spoke and tied it ashe had her wrist. Fiona groaned as he tossed the rest beneath the table. She knew what came next. He smiled at her as he bent to pull the rope out at the other side. Her other knee was soon secured, her legs spread wide and her most private places laid open for his use.

She was scared suddenly, the unfamiliar hardness of the table against her back, her utter vulnerability at once apparent. “Please, do not hurt me. You have no need to hurt me, not like this…”

He moved to stand at the foot of the table and he regarded her from her wriggling toes to her clenching fingers. He took his time, raking his gaze up her body, pausing to properly peruse her exposed slit, the damp curls that shadowed her cunt, her flat belly, the lower curves of her breasts, her hard little nipples. At last he spoke.

“You are right. I have no need to hurt you. I believe I shall though, just a little.” He leaned over her to place his lips on her quivering belly. “Just enough.” He straightened. “But I would never harm you, you know this. Do you not?”

“I do know, but I cannot help it. You are scaring me.”

“Which is as it should be. However, I believe you will be less apprehensive if I explain what is to happen. Would you like that, do you think? Shall I tell you what I mean to do to you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He strolled around her to the head of the table where the lamp still stood, and the jug of unused cod liver oil. He picked up the lamp and used a taper from the fire pit to light it. The glow illuminated his features as he moved to stand in her eye line again.

“This lamp is full, yes? It burns bright. And hot, casting its light about the room.”

She nodded, her eyes wide. Surely he could not intend to burn her with it…

“If we do not refill it, how long, do you think, this lamp will burn before the light finally gutters out?”

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