Page 30 of Her Viking Lord
“Yes, what?”
I swallowed hard, the word sticking in my throat. “Yes, sir.”
His laugh was dark, pleased. “Sir. How polite. But that’s not what my fuck toys call me. What do they call me, Dmitri?”
“Master,” the bodyguard supplied.
“That’s right.” Horakovsky’s hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back to force me to look at him. “Say it.”
“Master,” I whispered, the word tasting like betrayal on my tongue. Not to Takken—never him—but to the man I truly belonged to. To myHerra, who had commanded me to submitto this brutality. But somehow I continued with the words Yggdrasil had given me. “Master… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… how you train your… your special girls. My husband—he… he disgusts me. I need a real man to show me my place.”
Without warning, Horakovsky’s grip shifted, forcing my face down to the cold marble floor. His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, making me arch my back, raising my bottom high in the air. The position left me completely open, my most intimate parts displayed like an offering.
“Pretty words… and look at that pretty cunt,” he murmured, and I felt his fingers trace along my slit. To my horror, I was already wet, my body responding to the degradation exactly as Aksel had trained it to. “So eager already.”
I cried out as his touch found my clit, the contact sending a jolt of unwanted pleasure through me. The shameful, forbidden need his cruelty evoked made me sob against the floor. My body knew how to submit, had been trained to crave exactly this kind of domination, even from a monster like him.
“Dmitri,” Horakovsky said calmly, his hand still holding me down. “Bring me the whip.”
Terror flooded through me at his words. I’d felt Aksel’s strap, knew the fire it could bring, but something about Horakovsky’s tone promised worse. Despite my fear—or perhaps because of it—I clenched hard, my inner walls contracting around nothing.
Horakovsky felt it. His laugh rumbled through the room. “The little slut is already squeezing for it. Desperate thing.”
I tried to push myself up, to twist away from his grip, but his hand was immovable between my shoulders. My struggles onlymade him press harder, grinding my face against the floor until I gasped for breath.
“Here, boss,” Dmitri’s voice came from somewhere behind me.
I couldn’t see what he’d brought, but I heard Horakovsky’s sound of approval. “Beautiful. Italian leather, perfectly balanced.” His free hand spread my legs wider, adjusting my position with clinical precision. “I can feel you fighting it, Lorna. The way your body wants to respond versus what your mind is screaming. You were right to fight—you should fight.”
His fingers ghosted over my exposed pussy again, barely a touch but enough to make me whimper. “Because my intention is to turn you into nothing more than a cunt, an anus, and a mouth for my use. That’s all you’ll be when I’m done with you.”
The first strike of the flogger landed directly on my pussy, the leather tails creating a sharp, stinging impact that made me scream. The pain was immediate and intense, unlike anything I’d experienced even with Aksel. This wasn’t training or discipline—this was pure cruelty.
“Such a terrible waste,” Horakovsky continued conversationally as he brought the whip down again. “You’re clearly very special. Intelligent, beautiful, politically connected. But I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is what’s between your legs.”
Another strike, this one catching me directly on my swollen clit. The pain built until I screamed.
“You should have obeyed immediately when you arrived,” Horakovsky said, his voice carrying a note of disappointment that somehow made everything worse. “Dmitri told you to remove your coat, and you hesitated. You’ll learn very quickly that fuck toys who fail to obey instantly pay a severe price.”
The flogger came down again and again, each strike aimed with terrible precision. I lost count after the seventh blow, my world narrowing to the agony between my legs. Tears streamed down my face, pooling on the marble beneath me.
“Please!” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “Please, no more!”
“No more?” Horakovsky paused, and I heard him step closer. “Very well. I’ll give you a choice, little cunt. Either I continue whipping this pretty pussy until you can’t wear panties for a week, or…” His hand gripped my hair again, yanking my head back. “Or you beg me to fuck your ass instead.”
My stomach clenched at his words. The memory of Aksel claiming me there just a day ago was still fresh, the lingering soreness a constant reminder of myHerra’s ownership. But beneath the terror and pain, something darker stirred. Some twisted part of me wanted to feel Horakovsky’s hardness there, not out of desire but as proof that even this monster could be manipulated by his base needs. If I could make him want me that badly, I could control him just enough to get what I needed.
But I had to play this perfectly. The vision from the world tree had been clear—appearing too willing would ruin everything.
“No,” I gasped, injecting as much horror into my voice as I could manage. “Not… not there. I’ve never… my husband never…”
The lie came easily, even as my body betrayed me with a fresh pulse of wetness.
“Never?” Horakovsky’s voice held dark amusement. “The prime minister never claimed his wife’s ass? How very civilized of him.” The flogger struck again, making me shriek. “But I’m not civilized, am I? I’m a barbarian, remember?”
Another strike, then another. Each blow sending shockwaves through my entire body.
“Please!” I screamed, my resistance crumbling exactly as I’d planned. “Please, anything else!”
