Page 11 of Mastered By the Viking King

He pushed her to the bed and she landed on her belly. With a flick of his hand he dragged up her tunic to reveal her undergarments.

“Arne. No.” Gert wriggled and writhed but to no avail. If anything it rucked up her clothing more. “Please.”

Arne was too big and strong, and he set a huge hand in the small of her back and pinned her down. “Keep still, you are making my plans for your punishment worse, wife. Much worse.” He yanked at the material covering her round ass and pulled it down, exposing her pale buttocks.

Gert yelped and attempted to shield her ass with her hands.

He batted her attempts away, and delivered a hard swift slap to the center of her cheeks.

She yelped again and kicked up her heels.

This seemed to infuriate him more and he crouched over her, setting a rapid rhythm, layering up the spanks over both buttocks.

Tove watched as Wanda closed the door and retrieved the bowl. She’d never seen an argument with such heat, anger, and passion. It was as if they were in the room alone. Nothing else existed except the punishment Arne was determined to deliver.

The other girls continued with their preparations. Wanda stirred the broth again.

But Tove was mesmerized. Theslap, slapsound of flesh on flesh filled her ears. Gert’s desperate wriggling and her rippling, reddening ass cheeks was all she could look at.

Her own buttocks tingled and her nipples tightened. She gripped the broth tighter.

Arne reminded her of the giant brutes from her dreams. All muscle and fury, domination and grit. His narrowed eyes were alive with fire and he too was breathing fast.

On and on the spanking continued. Gert cried out and begged him to stop.

Her words fell on deaf ears.

When his attentions went to the backs of her thighs, her screeches became more high-pitched.

“You will not waste food again,” he bellowed. “Nor give it away.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears streaked down her face. “The wanderer was hungry!”

“Wanderers are not welcome here. On new order of King Njal.”

Suddenly Arne stopped spanking his wife and flipped her over.

She was naked from the waist down except for her boots. The patch of hair on her mound was dark, the skin of her thighs snow white.

He grunted and fiddled with his belt, quickly releasing it.

“Arne.” Gert stared up at him, her fists full of furs and her face wet and hot.

“You drive me to insanity, woman,” he said, releasing his cock.

Tove caught barely a glimpse of his member before he angled it at his wife’s spread sex and blasted in with the force of an ogre.

Gert cried out. Her back arched and her legs hooked up around his waist.

It had sounded to Tove like the action of taking her husband into her body pained her, but her reaction—clinging to him, pulling him closer—told her the opposite.

“Ah, sweet, wicked cunny,” Arne said, pushing his wife’s hair from her brow and staring into her eyes. “You anger and tempt me in equal measures.”

“Oh, Arne,” she gasped. “I am at your mercy. I am yours.”

“Aye, wife. You are.” He thrust his hips harder, pulling out, driving in.

The bed frame creaked. The screen fell a little bit more.

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