Page 9 of Her World In His Hands

Watching her husband and children pass away had taken its toll on her, and the pain of seeing their offspring and many times removed great grandchildren grow old and die, had been a deeply wounding cross to bear.

Sassa resolved never to marry again; yet forever proved to be a long and lonely road, and she’d succumbed to matrimony twice more. Her second husband, Douglas Mackintosh had been a mistake. A conceited man, he’d disappeared under mysterious circumstances after only two years of marriage, and despite enquiries she had never discovered what had happened to him. This episode had further convinced Sassa she should avoid marriage.

Her determination lasted until the sixteenth century, when she’d met the dashing Laird, Iain McAlexander, her third and final husband.

Sassa’s many times removed great granddaughter, Fiona, had married a Fraser who owned the manor house where Sassa now lived. She’d inherited the stone manor house, Ardmachree which had remained her home to this very day.

Long ago she’d ordered a secret strong room constructed under the cellars of the old house. There the trunk of gold and silver resided, in the ancient vault secured by lock and key. As with her previous husbands, Sassa had confessed her past history, and as with each of her previous husbands, Iain had only believed her tale once he’d witnessed the magical way the trunk remained full of coin no matter how often they removed money from the chest.

With modern beliefs denying the existence of the Gods, Sassa was sometimes hard pressed to believe in her own tale. When disbelief assailed her, she would take a flash light and descend the bowels of the house to look inside the magic trunk and relive her affair with Njord. Despite three loving marriages, the Viking God still held the key to her heart; all these centuries of pain and loss yet his betrayal cut her to the quick. At least she had solace from his unknowing gift, without that one precious thing she might have given up all hope of happiness.

For many, many years her dear friend from the deep had visited her. His presence became a danger to him after several sightings brought him notoriety, and he became known as the Loch Ness Monster; a title which Sassa abhored, it seemed such a cruel label for her gentle friend. She’d learned to commune with him telepathically on a basic level but with enough understanding so she’d been aware when his time had finally come. Luckily it was high summer, Sassa had been able to swim out into the icy waters of Loch to be with him as he breathed his last. It had been a bittersweet loss for her. Pleased that her ancient friend was finally laid to rest, and yet his parting made her more aware than ever of her own lonely vigil.

Her company had begun long ago when her husband Iain began exporting whiskey. Iain had named the business, Scottish Highlands Enterprises. Nowadays, the company was better known for her successful women’s makeup line known simply as S.H.E. The products were renown worldwide and Sassa no longer needed to delve into the perpetual supply of gold and silver within the trunk. Nowadays exchanging the treasure at her bank proved impossible, since the ancient coin would be difficult to explain, but thankfully her legitimate business ventures provided enough wealth for her charitable donations.

Sassa had acquired many homes around the world over her long life which she used to disappear to when people began to comment on her lack of aging. Establishing a legitimate business out of the country had worked well for her, giving her a reason to leave Scotland and stay away long enough for people who knew her to age and retire. Her staff would change, and she had the opportunity to return in the guise of her own granddaughter or as a niece, with the credentials which gave her sole control of the company. Sometimes Sassa altered her appearance, dyed her hair, wore glasses, changed her taste in clothes, and so far, this strategy had worked. It was always difficult for her when the time came to depart from her beloved Scotland and become a recluse, living for a number of years out of the country at one of her many remote luxurious hideaways. Thankfully she had another fifteen to twenty years this time around and she was thoroughly enjoying being back in the manor which was the only one of her properties which felt like home.

She hadn’t been back to Norway since the day she’d left to join Magnar here in the highlands all those many hundreds of years ago. Often, she’d find her thoughts drifting back to her time with Njord, she wondered if the Gods were still about? Had they needed the belief of mortals to maintain their existence? Certainly, there had been no sign of the Viking Gods since the Vikings had been absorbed into Scottish society.

Sassa’s husbands had on occasion taken her over their knee as men were want to do in past era’s but for the longest passage of time it had become politically incorrect to spank a woman and she’d missed the sensuality and excitement of being overpowered by a loving husband intent on correction. It seemed inexplicable to Sassa, that when she dreamed of spanking and sex, it was of Njord she dreamed and not her former husbands. Despite the many long years which had passed since she’d last seen him, it was Njord’s face she recalled clearly and not those of her three husbands who had long since faded in her memory.

In recent years consensual spanking had returned within BDSM clubs, many of which had opened up discreetly, making spanking tolerated by the more open minded. Her fallow years behind her, Sassa embraced the lifestyle and her latest venture had been to purchase just such a club in the countryside on the outskirts of Inverness. Situated within secluded grounds was a derelict castle which the previous owners had bankrupted themselves while renovating while turning it into a luxurious hotel and BDSM club. Sassa had acquired the business and finding another investor to be the face of the club, as well as her worldwide contact, began to discreetly advertise the newly named Castle Asgard among the kinky rich. It had quickly become a resounding success. With its four helipads and secluded location, the celebrities had flocked to experience something unique.

Sassa frequented the club herself using the anonymity she had set up for guests visiting the castle. All the hired dominants were given the names of Viking Gods, while the club submissives were called Thralls. The females were named for goddesses and males named for the Viking immortals who lacked God status. The Dungeon below the hotel was called Valhalla and the club safe word was Loki, which all Thralls and visiting submissives were told to use in order to stop a scene, Loki being the Viking God of mischief.

Since opening Castle Asgard, Sassa had found a real purpose to life. She also enjoyed exploring her own sexuality within the safe boundaries of the club. There were no emotional ties in which a relationship might embroil her. Inside the Valhalla dungeon she could let go of her daily life and release her inner submissive.

It had been surprisingly easy to hire staff for the dungeon; all the Dominants were exceptionally handsome men of muscle, every one of them an alpha male. Their professionalism and firm but fair attitude towards the Thralls soon had everyone eating out of their hands. Of course, some of the dominants were sterner than others, but they managed to keep the club running smoothly and professionally. The appointed club manager was named for Thor, and it was to him that Sassa intended to approach for a spanking. There was something about the man which reminded her strongly of Njord; his had been the only Gods name which she hadn’t allocated to anyone in the club.

Nowadays she regretted throwing the amber brooch he’d given her into the fjord. She would like to see him again, although it would reopen the scabs of her partially healed wounds. Even after hundreds of years she still mourned their parting of ways.

Her phone chirruped drawing her mind back to the present, it was a text message from Paige.

“Apparently the underbidder for Valhalla has been sniffing around the company asking a lot of questions about our new venture. I suggest we send out an email warning staff to be vigilant in order to forestall any bad press he/they might try to use to discredit the new business. The last thing celebrities will want is their names linked to bad press. I’ll ask Maurice to find out who the underbidder was. Nick Godden will be with you at noon, he’ll probably helicopter in.”

Sending a reply, she thanked Paige for making the necessary arrangements. The underbidder, whoever it was, must have been making quite a nuisance of themselves for her CEO to sit up and take notice. Maurice, head of their legal department, was excellent at finding and getting answers.

There was a brief knock at the door. She glanced up to see, Shona Murray, her housekeeper.

“Will you be wanting your supper in the dining room tonight?” she asked.

Sassa smiled. Most of the time she chose to eat her meals in the kitchen with her housekeeper, if she was at home, but Mrs. Murray didn’t approve and insisted on asking this same question every afternoon.

“Nay, I’ll not put you to the trouble, Shona. We’ll eat in the kitchen like we normally do, thank you,” she replied putting a gentle emphasis on the ‘normally’. The housekeeper gave a disdainful sniff and retreated, closing the door. Sassa shook her head ruefully. In all the years Shona had worked with her, she still made too much of a distinction between them. Sassa liked her and wished for a more relaxed friendship with her, rather than employer/staff stiffness that Shona Murray maintained.

She closed her laptop and left the room. There was time for a walk before the evening meal. Moving through the house towards the back, her dogs joined her. She had four, all rescued. Three Mongrels of various shapes and sizes and a retired greyhound called, Swift. Sassa liked rescuing animals and people, she had horses, ponies, goats, and cats, all saved by her over the years. There were numerous ex- battery hens and ducks scratching around the estate grounds.

Pulling on her sturdy walking shoes and weatherproof coat, she opened the backdoor and the dogs scooted around her legs and dashed out before her. Sassa grinned at their antics and followed them into the gardens. They trekked along a path that led them up and away from the loch, the footpath they took traversed her neighbor’s land. The house had stood vacant for over two years and she was still trying to decide whether or not to buy the place. She didn’t really need any more land, after all, the house on the estate was situated far from her own boundaries. Nevertheless, it might be good to protect herself even further from any prying neighbors. She set off in the direction of the house mulling her decision over.

Reaching the brow of the hill Sassa stopped to take in the view. Heather clad hills which sheltered red deer, stood beneath mountains still wearing caps of white, despite the fact it was nearing the end of May. Eagles had been known to soar in the skies above but she could see none on the wing today. Her gaze lowered to the squat stone manor house which nestled among the craggy rocks below. It was a sturdy yet attractive building with mullioned windows and a stone arched entrance way. Smoke drifted from the central chimney which was odd. Frowning she headed down the slope to investigate.

Leaving the dogs to forage in the overgrown gardens, she went to the main entrance and tried the door. It swung open and she stepped cautiously inside the hall. “Hello?” There was no reply. Stepping into the flag stoned passageway she moved slowly into the house drawn by the sight of mellow light spilling out from an open door where she knew the parlor lay. Peering into the room she saw the source of the light came from a glowing lamp set upon a side table. A log fire crackled merrily in the hearth of the large inglenook fireplace.

“I wondered how long it would be before you turned up, I’ve been waiting for you,” a deep voice rumbled from within a large winged back chair. Sassa froze with shock.It simply couldn’t be …

“Hello, Sassa.”

It was him, really and truly, Njord … but how?She stood rooted to the spot staring at him. He looked exactly the same as he had nearly a thousand years before, tall, broad chested and well-muscled. She had a hard time accepting what her eyes told her, that the man who stood before her was in fact, Njord.

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