Page 44 of Mastered By the Viking King

She juddered out a breath. Was it over? “I did not mean to displease you.”

“But you did.” He slipped his finger through the cleft of her buttocks to her lips.

She froze, her heart hammering, pulse wild in her ears.

“What is more,” he sought her entrance and eased in, “this spanking has made you wet.”

“What?” She tried to turn and look at him, but he held her pinned firmly. “I don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You are not taking this punishment seriously.” He withdrew his finger and resumed the spanking. Slaps rained down again, fast and furious.

“Ah! Please… oh, it hurts.” She writhed within his clasp. Surely, she didn’t deserve such harsh treatment. “It hurts… so much.”

“As it should.” The slaps moved to the top of her thighs, where her flesh met the roundness of her bottom.

The pain was acute. She couldn’t stand it. “No! No! Oh, my king.”

He stopped, and again felt between her legs. He pushed into her entrance roughly. “Wet and wanting,” he said gruffly. “And now wanting will be part of your punishment.”

He pumped in and out of her, sinking deep each time he filled her.

Tove groaned and closed her eyes. She was hot and quivering and having his fingers inside her gave her something else to think about. “Oh… oh… yes…”

“No! You will not have pleasure. You will crave it, but be denied it.” He withdrew.

Suddenly, she was being hauled upright. “You want my cock, but I am denying it, denying you.” He plonked her on the floor at the side of the bed and stood, his hands on his hips.

She squirmed, her bottom paining her.

“You will not get release. Do not even think about touching yourself.” He glared down at her.

“I won’t, my king.”

“Your stinging, red rump and your denied cunny is your punishment. Do not make me dole out more.”

“I won’t.” She locked her fingers and held them beneath her chin. “I promise I won’t. I am sorry.”

“Perhaps I am starting to believe that you are.” He picked up the box with the dragon clasp then strode to the curtain.

“Where are you going, Sire?”

“To drop this in the fjord. I should have done it before you ever arrived at Halsgrof.” He set his huge hand over her head and forced her to look at the floor. “Do not move. Stay there, looking down until I return and give you permission to do otherwise.”

“Aye, my king.” She held in a sniff and a sob. Had she ever felt so small?

Njal stormed from the room, anger and frustration bristling in every step.

The curtain snapped closed.

Tove allowed the tears to come then, until they sluiced down her face. She was so sorry that she’d upset her husband. But had her crime really deserved such a cruel spanking? Her bottom was on fire; she was hovering it above her heels as she sat there on her knees.

She cried and cried, dashing her hand over her cheeks. She should never have touched the dragon box. She should have left it where it lay when Knud and Frode knocked it to the floor. She’d been thoughtless and stupid.

Eventually her tears abated and a sense of disappointment with herself and her actions hung around her like a heavy cloak.

Outside, the townsfolk went about their business amid the din of shouting and haggling, the clomping of horses’ hooves, dogs barking. A horn sounded, signaling the arrival or departure of a longboat.

Tove didn’t feel part of that world. Curled up on the floor on a carpet of furs, she didn’t dare move. Her life as queen and wife to Njal put her in a different realm from everyone else. Yes, she could instruct and command, but she was also subject to her king.

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