Bitter is the Wind, page 16
Reaching up her arms to the winter lights, she whispered to them to give her strength to do what she must do.
Dance across the sky
Fiery red, green and ocean blue
Blood of ruby running free
Robe me in your light.
For I have need of you.
Golden veil and silver flush
Through all the colours hue
Beat and pulse across the sky
Robe me with your light
For I have need of you.
Their hum pulsed over her and strengthened her body and blood. Whatever it would take, he would be hers. She would not run.
As the lights faded, she looked towards the longhouse and trudged on.
At the heavy oak door, she could hear sounds of feasting. Was this a time for feasting? There was no one about. Everyone must be inside, out of the cold. Taking a deep breath, she pushed on the door and stepped inside. The cold rush of air made some turn to the door. She could feel their recognition as they watched her warily. No greeting or welcome. Once more in this place, she felt alone. She should have run and faded with the lights of the north instead of venturing here. But as her resolve was leaving her, the feasting people parted and Thorstein walked towards her.
He held out his hand. He knew how hard this would be for her. He knew that, by her being there, she was facing all her fears to commit to him. As she took his hand, he bent and kissed her. A muttering went about the people.
“Abria,” he said, softly. “You have come.”
“A promise given, is a promise fulfilled,” she said, quietly.
Clicking his fingers, he called a girl over to them. “Marit, take Abria. Clothe her in white linen and bring her back to me. And,” he added, “treat her kindly. She is your salvation.”
Abria looked at him, hiding her fears. He gave her a slight nod and she knew he understood.
The girl, Marit, led her away to a chamber hidden away from the big hall. Abria could tell she was nervous.
“Don’t be wary of me, Marit,” she said. “I am not a witch or sorcerer so you need not fear me.”
“You cursed a lot,” the girl said, nervously.
“I had nothing else,” Abria said, trying to explain. “I did not know how to fit in. How to be. The cursing was to protect me from Thorulf the Master. He treated me harshly and abused me.”
The girl nodded. “I understand. Is… is that why you killed him?”
Abria shook her head. “I killed him because he was about to kill his brother Thorstein, who is a greater man in every way than his brother. He could not die and his evil brother still walk this Earth.”
“You wear hunter’s clothes,” the girl dared to say.
Abria smiled, looking down at herself. “It’s a long story. But they are very warm and comfortable.”
The girl reached down to the bench and picked up a folded bundle. “Master Thorstein has said you are to wear this. He said you are to be his woman.” She handed it to Abria.
Abria let the folds fall loose and held her breath at the fine, soft, white robe in her hands. It was simple but clean and bright. “It’s beautiful,” she said, running it through her fingers.
“You must be special for him to take you for more than a bed slave,” Marit said, bravely. “Put it on and I’ll brush your hair for you.”
Abria smiled. It was good to have someone to talk to like this. Dropping her hunter’s furs on the bench, she quickly let the white robe fall over her body. She had not seen such fine cloth since her days at her father’s castle, in the days when she was a princess. Once her hair was brushed, she was ready.
“You look beautiful,” Marit said, admiringly. “Come. Let me take you to Master Thorstein.”
She grabbed Abria’s hand and led her out. The feel of her hand in that of another was almost shocking. It felt warm and caring. Maybe she would be accepted with time, after all.
In the big hall, Thorstein stood at the Master’s table. It had been raised so all could see it. He, too, was wearing a loose tunic. The fire was stoked high in the hearth and, with all the people gathered, the smoky air was hot. Abria looked around as Marit led her in. There had been feasting and drinking in that familiar place. The heavy scent of honeyed mead mingled with the smell of the burning oil lamps and sweating bodies.
Abria glanced at the place the slain Thorulf had fallen, hardly daring to look for his spilled blood soaked in the earth but all trace of it had been covered. He was already forgotten. Were they celebrating his killing at her hand or the coming rutting of her bottom by their new master?
In the flickering lights of the oil lamps and the leaping flames of the fire, her white robe glowed brightly. She thought of the northern lights, bathing her in their radiance. As Marit led her up to Thorstein, all eyes turned to her brightness. He took her by the hand and Marit melted back into the gathering.
Bending down, he whispered in her ear, “Be brave, Abria. And remember why we do this.”
He turned to the people of his homestead, clasping her hand. As he began to speak, everyone turned to listen—and watch.
“With the death of your master, my brother Thorulf, and the welcome departure of his woman, I am claiming back my right to this, my father’s land. Together, we can rebuild the homestead for the betterment of everyone.
“But I would be doing that with a heavy heart and little dedication without Abria, by my side. Many of you know of her and how I have come to know her and bring her back here. But many of you believe she is filled with witchery and cursing threats to harm you. There is no witchcraft about her. Only fears and sadness for her loss and the brutality of my brother. Her only protection was the curses of her ancient people and language.
“I am not bewitched by her, as you may believe, but she has filled my empty heart and saved my life, and yours. To prove her love, loyalty and commitment to me, and so to you, she has agreed to publicly submit herself to a furrowing deep in her virgin backside, a humiliation she could avoid with sorcery and witchcraft if she had these powers. Her wish is that she serves you by my side and your due respect will be given to her as she works with me and you, here, and there are no further accusations of witchcraft. Her public ultimate submission and humiliation should be enough to prove her commitment.
“The elders of you have agreed to this. If there is any of you that cannot or will not accept this, step forward. Once the deed is done, it is sealed.”
There was muttering and shuffling in the gathering but no one stepped forward. They had accepted his word. It would be done. She loved him but she trembled inside.
He turned to her and pulled off his tunic. The sweat on his naked, sculptured torso glistened in the heat. His cock was fully erect and jerked as he looked at her.
“Let’s do this,” he said to her only. “I shall be as gentle as I can. If there is pain, have fortitude and remember who you are—Abria, the strong and powerful.”
Reaching down, he pulled her soft, brilliant robe up over her head so all could see her nakedness. Her heart missed a beat and the humiliation flushed her face. She heard the gathering gasp and whisper amongst themselves. If only she had some magic to change this but the blessing of the northern lights was all she had. And she wanted him. To herself. And she would do anything to take him and claim her freedom.
“Abria, turn to face the table and bend down low. Stretch your arms out over it. Inger, Jorunn, take her hands and hold her there. They will help steady you, Abria.” His voice was deep and calm.
Shaking, she stepped up to the table and bent over. He put his hand on her back and gently pushed her down. All these people could see her bottom. She was grateful her face was turned from them so she could not see their eyes watching her submission and the plundering of her bottom. The two servants held her wrists tightly, stretched over the table. She could feel her heart thumping against the hard wood.
“Bring me whale grease,” he called, tersely.
Her soul wanted to cry out with humiliation.
CHAPTER 34
Hurriedly, a pot was brought to him.
He stood beside her, leaned against her. His warm hand touched her bottom and his fingers slipped between her cheeks, finding her hidden hole. Pulling her flesh apart, he showed her bottom for all to see. Shocked voices muttered as they saw her little pink hole. Her breath caught in her throat as it tightened and stretched. Her face blushed with the surging blood of her shame.
His fingers were on her hole, rubbing around it, pushing it gently this way and that way. The wise woman’s words were in her head. This is where she should be. But she could not utter any incantations or fevered spells. This was her submission to him.
Bending over, he whispered in her ear so only she could hear and not the captors at her wrists. And all the time, he gently massaged her sensitive entrance to her backside. Her legs jerked and she was fearful they would give way beneath her.
“It will be as I showed you, Abria. I will grease you to make it easier for you, but when my cock enters you, it will be painful and stretch you wide. And I will go deep. Trust me and bear it.”
The cold, whale grease slid over her hole as he smeared it between her cheeks. There was no mistaking it’s strong smell. It was copious and thick. Each time his fingers slipped over her bud, she flinched with the sensations shooting through her bottom and struggled to hold in the cries churning her gut at each flick of his fingers.
He was taking her slowly but her aching bottom needed more. She was losing control. Her stomach gripped tightly, her jaws clenched against her will, and her body arched to push her bottom up to him.
“That’s my girl,” he muttered, as her body flexed up to him. “Let me grease and feel inside you.”
His loaded, greased finger pressed harder and slipped through her tight rim. The grease oozed out and trickled down to her hot lips. She jerked with his entry. It felt so good. Clenching her fists, she flailed against her captors and tried to tear free. But the sensations in her breached bottom, took her breath. A strangled moan escaped her lips.
“And one more, Abria,” he said, huskily, pushing another finger in and twisting them in and out of her greased hole.
Her bottom was full and stretched. She panted and pushed up to him, whimpers escaping her lips. How would she ever take in his huge cock? Over and over he pumped her and, with every thrust and draw, waves of pleasure shuddered through her. Sweat bound her hair to her forehead and wetted her hands but, however much she struggled to free her arms, her captors held her firm. There was no choice but to feel her deep channel beg for more. Her whole world centered around her greased bottom.
One final time he thrust and drew back his fingers from her inner place, then, slowly, he slid them out, leaving her empty and her body shaking. Struggling to catch her breath, a single sob escaped her lips.
“It is time, Abria,” he whispered. “Keep open for me.”
She glanced back and saw him grease his cock and, with no more time to ready herself, he stepped back to her oozing bottom and pressed hard against her rim. She had seen how big he was and fear chilled her blood. Her body shook. How could her legs hold her up? How much could she take in her bottom?
To each side, the watching people had moved around to watch his penetration. Abria closed her eyes to block them out.
The plundering of her bottom began. There was no going back and he pushed harder to enter her. Her rim tightened against him, and excruciating pain tore through her body as her flesh stretched, forcing her helpless screams from a place inside her.
Through her choked screams, she could hear his laboured breathing. He laid his hand on her back and pushed on. Slowly he was breaching her. She heard him call out.
“Hans, help her,” he ordered, gruffly.
A hand moved between her spread legs and felt her hot, swollen lips and then it moved to her little, buried button and fondled it masterfully. She screamed and writhed against her held wrists, his hard pushing cock wanting her bottom and the relentless teasing of her button by another hand. Her rim eased and with a strangled roar and a powerful thrust, her man speared into her, searing her bottom with soreness. She felt him run himself deeply into her in that one demanding thrust, up to the hilt of his long, thick cock. Choking sobs caught in her throat as she fought to accept the pain, mixed madly with unreal pleasure.
“Release her, Hans,” he growled, holding her hips with his strong hands until they hurt.
The hand squeezing her button and rubbing her lips was gone. She was left speared deeply, her hips held off the table, impaled on his cock. The spasms of pleasure sparked through her and the thought of being here, stretched over a table, naked and watched, being fucked by this Viking she wanted, drove her body for release. Her body made its own choice and she twitched and jerked in unimaginable orgasm, shuddering and shifting on his hard cock, each slip on his shaft driving her pleasure higher, barely breathing with exhaustion. She felt the people watching her but no longer cared. It was her body he had buried his cock in and they had seen it. He had claimed her as his and he was hers. There was no greater statement.
Breathing heavily, he spoke to her. “It will hurt, Abria, but it has to be finished.”
His thrusting began. Sweat poured out of her as she bore the friction on the hot, sore rim of her bottom hole. Tears ran down her face but with each plunging he was hers and her freedom was known. With every thrust he withdrew and plunged back into her bottom with the full, long length of his cock. She could feel him moving deep inside her. Her breasts rubbed on the hard wooden table with the rhythm of his fucking and her legs were wetted with her juices trickling out of her wanting sword-sheath. Each hard thrust rocked the breath out of her but, with his tightening grip on her cheeks, he was close to filling her with his seed.
Gripping her hips and, with the roar of a maddened bear, he forced his ejaculate into her, running through the grease. Her bottom felt explosively full with his long cock filling her deeply and her rim held him tightly, reluctant to release him. Even his withdrawal gave exquisite pleasure as every part of her rim ran over his shaft. But as he left, the emptiness inside her was profound. Her bottom was now his. No longer secret or private. It would always be a place for his cock to lie.
He leaned over her, catching his breath, his hair brushing her back.
“Release her,” he said, hoarsely, straightening up and holding his recovering cock.
Her captors let go and her arms fell loose with relief. She had done it and her sobs were now for her triumph as well as her pain. The gathered people fell back and she felt alone but her sore, greased bottom was still exposed to them. She had to get up and struggled to push her fucked body up. In a moment, she felt his strong, warm arms tuck around her and lift up, holding her against his muscled, sweating body. The familiar scent of mountain musk from his body, filled her senses and mingled with the smell of his powerful fucking.
He reached for her soft, white robe and let it fall over her body, shielding her nakedness. Picking up his own, he threw it over his head and, turning her, he took her in his arms and embraced her.
“It is done, Abria,” he whispered. “You are mine, without witchcraft or sorcery. They know no woman would take the power of that rutting unless she wanted to. They know the power was mine. And look.”
He turned her to look down the longhouse. The people were still gathered and they were silently smiling up at them. One by one they walked up to them and dropped gifts at their feet. And returned to their feasting.
“It worked, princess,” Thorstein said, quietly. “You are free and accepted. And mine. And,” he said, bending lower to her and whispering closely in her ear, “fucking your backside was a pleasure I want to repeat.”
“I wouldn’t want you to wait too long,” she whispered back, reaching her hand behind his neck. “My bottom needs filling.”
She snuggled into him and felt the jerk of his cock. She had found her future and love in an unexpected place. Bitter is the wind that had blown her here but there was no longer any need to run. Life with him would be wild.
CARIAD HAL
Cariad Hal lives in the UK with her husband and four dogs. Apart from her dogs, she manages woodland, writes novels and has many other interests, including making handmade teddy bears which sell worldwide. She is of direct Norwegian descent and has a passion for the Far North - a love of the fjords, mountains and its mystical light.
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Hal, Cariad, Bitter is the Wind
