Page 15 of Her Viking Lord
Just once, I told myself, even as I began to circle that bundle of nerves with desperate urgency.Just to take the edge off.
But the moment I started, I couldn’t stop. My other hand braced against the shower wall as I worked myself frantically, chasing something I couldn’t name. The collar was gone, but somehow I could still feel those silver branches calling to me, could almost see the threads connecting everything if I just pushed a little harder, climbed a little higher?—
The bathroom door banged open.
“Lorna?” Takken’s voice cut through my haze like ice water.
I jerked my hand away, spinning to face the shower door, my heart hammering. Through the steamed glass I could see his silhouette in the doorway. The thought that he must know what he had caught me doing brought a thrill of shame, and a clench so hard I couldn’t keep from whimpering.
“I’m going out,” he said flatly, and I could hear the disgust in his voice. Not jealousy, not concern, just mild revulsion at his wife’sbase needs. “The Brenteuil meeting has been rescheduled. Don’t wait up.”
He left without another word, the apartment door slamming behind him moments later. I stood frozen under the spray, shame and frustrated need warring in my chest. I’d been so close to something, to understanding something important about the threads I’d seen in my visions.
I shut off the water with trembling hands and wrapped myself in a towel. As soon as I opened the shower door I heard the burner phone buzz from the bedroom. Shaking with fear now, I walked barefoot across the cold floor and into the deep pile of the bedroom carpet. When I retrieved the phone from its hiding place, I saw that the silver raven icon was glowing on the screen.
You’ve been a very disobedient bed thrall, Lorna. Touching yourself without permission is forbidden. You’ve earned severe punishment for this transgression.
My stomach dropped. MyHerraknew—of course. Of course he knew—he’d said he’d be watching always. And, unlike my husband, myHerracared.
Another message appeared:
Your punishment will be tripled if you haven’t shaved yourfisseandrøvhulcompletely bare within the next fifteen minutes. I want you smooth as silk for me.
Heat flooded my face. The frank way he commanded me to alter my most intimate areas made me feel exposed even throughthe screen. My fingers trembled as I typed:Please, I don’t understand. How can you?—
Put the phone down. Stand naked in front of your mirror. Hands behind your head. Now.
The command made me bite my lip and furrow my brow as I fought my body’s treasonous response to it. I set the phone on the dresser with shaking hands and let the towel drop to the floor. My reflection in the full-length mirror showed a woman with damp, tangled hair, skin still flushed from the shower and my shameful touching, welts from Aksel’s strap still visible across my bottom when I turned slightly.
I raised my arms and laced my fingers behind my head, the position making my breasts lift and my back arch. The posture displayed me completely, offered my body as if for inspection. I stared at the thatch of ash-blonde curls between my thighs, imagining how I would look once they were gone. Like a little girl, or worse like a woman who’d been stripped of even that small dignity, made smooth and bare for her master’s pleasure.
The thought had barely formed when agony exploded through my bottom. Not the now-familiar burn between my legs, but something far worse—it felt as if someone had shoved a red-hot poker directly up into my anus. The pain was so intense, so specifically located in that most private place, that I screamed and collapsed to my knees, then onto my side, both hands flying back to clutch at my bottom.
“Please!” I sobbed, rubbing desperately at the burning ring of muscle, trying to soothe the unbearable sensation. “Oh, God, please stop!”
The instant my hands made contact, the pain vanished as if it had never been. I lay gasping on the bedroom floor, tears streaming down my face, my whole body trembling from the shock of it. The message had been clear: that forbidden place, myrøvhulthat Aksel had promised to claim only when I’d earned it, could be punished just as easily as my pussy.
The phone buzzed from the dresser. Still shaking, I crawled over to retrieve it.
That was a warning. Yourrøvhulwill burn much worse if you haven’t shaved yourself bare in ten minutes. Your sweetfisseand the crack of yourrøv, smooth as silk. Then return here and resume this position.
I scrambled to my feet and ran to the bathroom, back into the shower, my hands reaching for the razor I used to shave my legs.
I’d never done this before. Even in university, when some girls had gone completely bare, I’d maintained my natural covering. It had seemed like a small rebellion against the pornographic expectations of modern men. Now, though, with myHerra’s command and the threat of that horrible burning in my bottom-hole hanging over me, I grabbed the shaving gel with trembling fingers. The cool foam hissed out into my palm, and I realized with a hot flush of embarrassment how awkwardly I’d have to position myself to reach everywhere he’d demanded.
I spread my legs wide, bowing them outward in an undignified stance that I knew must make me look like some kind of wanton creature. The position alone made my face burn with shame as I bent forward, stooping to see what I was doing. My breasts hung heavily as I worked the gel into a thick lather through mycurls, my fingers moving through the coarse hair that had always been there, that had always beenmine—almost the mark of my adulthood, my independence.
The intimacy of it made my breath catch. I was preparing myself for him, making myself bare in a way that felt more exposing than simply being naked. Each stroke of my fingers through the foam sent shivers through me, and to my horror, I felt myself growing wet again—not from the gel, but from arousal so intense it made my hands shake.
I picked up the razor with unsteady fingers and made the first stroke, watching the blonde curls fall away to reveal pale, sensitive skin beneath. The sight made something clench deep in my belly. With each careful stroke, I was transforming myself into what myHerrawanted—smooth, bare, available. The memory of that burning agony in my bottom-hole made me work faster, but also more carefully. I couldn’t risk cutting myself, couldn’t risk disappointing him.
The worst part was reaching between my bottom cheeks. I had to bend even further, one hand spreading myself open while the other carefully navigated the razor through that most private valley. The position was beyond humiliating—if anyone had walked in, they would have seen the prime minister’s wife contorted like a common whore, shaving her ass for a man who wasn’t her husband.
But even that thought sent a pulse of heat through me. The pain Aksel could inflict with that horrible device, the way he’d marked my bottom with his strap, the feeling of his thick cock stretching my pussy—it all meant something I was only beginning to understand. He owned me in a way Takken never had, never could. My body recognized its master even when my mind rebelled.
When I finished, I ran my fingers over the newly smooth skin, checking for any missed spots. The sensation was electric—every nerve ending seemed exposed, hypersensitive. Between my legs, I was slick with more than just water and leftover shaving gel. The folds of my pussy, now completely visible without their protective covering, felt swollen and obvious. I looked down at myself and gasped. Without the hair, I looked shockingly naked, almost obscene. My pussy lips were pink and slightly parted, glistening with unmistakable arousal.
I rinsed quickly, my hands trembling as I patted myself dry with a towel. Six minutes left. I hurried back to the bedroom, the feeling of the air against my newly bare pussy making me gasp. The sensation was delicate but also overwhelming—every movement reminded me of what I’d done, of how exposed I now was.
