Duna drew the bunch of thyme to her nose and inhaled deep. It smelled divine and would go wonderfully with the fish she was about to catch.
She’d got it into her head to make Halvor a fish meal, a non-burned one, to make up for the catch she’d ruined. His fishing line had been easy to locate, and the lake only a short distance away. In the light of day she’d felt bolder about the wolves; not only would she see them, she’d be able to call for her master to come to her rescue. It was worth the risk to eat a proper meal. Her stomach was so empty it felt hollow.
She studied the landscape. It was different to home, but very pretty. Fertile and sun filled, with plenty of water, it wasn’t such a bad place to end up.
Not that she’d be here forever. She’d made a vow to herself to get home, to her father, at the first chance she had.
“What in Odin’s name are you doing, wench?”
She started as Halvor’s voice boomed around the small cove bouncing off the large boulders then skimming over the lake. It echoed onto the opposite side of the valley, almost seeming to shake the trees there.
She clasped her hand over her chest and gasped. “You scared me.”
“I scared you!” He whacked his hands on his hips.
His broad chest was bare, damp over his sternum, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the flesh straining over them. His breeches sat low on his hips, highlighting the packs of muscles in his abdomen and the dark blond hair that crept up from his groin.
She turned back to the line. Her heart was thudding. He was clearly very unhappy about her trip to the lake.
“I scared you,” he repeated. “There are many other things that might have scared you more. I told you not to leave the homestead, yet here you are.”
“I wanted to catch a fish, Master.”
“I have no care for what you wanted to do, you disobeyed me.” He stepped up close to her.
The scent of fresh sweat, timber, and earth filled her nostrils.
“Look,” he said, jabbing a finger at the sandy ground. “Wild boar have been here recently. Where would you go if they appeared now? They are not known for their friendliness.”
She tore her attention from the animal prints. How had she not seen them? “Into the lake, that’s where I’d go.”
“It’s very cold.” He gripped her chin and turned her to face him. “Though if you wish, if you do not believe me, I will strip you naked and throw you in.”
She didn’t fancy that. There was no doubt about it; the water ran from the ice in the mountains. “No.”
“No, Master.” He frowned.
“Do you not understand instructions, slave?”
She looked away.
“Do you not understand that disobedience will always be met with a punishment?”
She glared up at him again. Punishment. Surely catching a fish for their meal didn’t deserve a punishment.
“I cannot let this slip by,” he said. “We’re only on our second day as master and slave in my home. You’re learning, which makes it important for the lessons to be consistent.”
“No, please,” she said, swiping her hand over her right ass cheek. It was still a little delicate from the day before. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry is not good enough. Your actions are the reason for my displeasure, so it stands to reason actions are what you must be met with.”
She gulped. He was unforgiving, this Viking who’d stolen her away. Stubborn too. And what on earth did he mean to do to her this time?
He’d made no move to take his shoe off. Instead a tendon flexed in his jaw as he surveyed her.
A sudden tug on her line caught her attention.
“Give that to me.” He snatched it from her. “And go and stand by that big rock.”
She stepped back, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Perhaps now a fish had been caught he’d be more merciful. Her actions had provided something good for them.
Expertly he pulled the fish in, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing. It was a big one, with shiny silver scales and a fat tail.
He quickly unhooked it, then dropped it to the grass, along with the line.
“Why are you not at the rock, slave,” he said, almost in a growl and his eyebrows pulling low.
“I am.” Quickly she did his bidding. Fear washed through her. This was different to yesterday. Her second misdemeanor, and he was clearly determined to prove his point.
Halvor watched Duna move to the rock, her hips swaying beneath the new tunic dress.
He was full of exasperation. Why had she not done as she’d been told? She’d risked herself by coming to the lake without telling him. How could he protect her if he didn’t know where she was? He’d vowed to protect her, and he was not a man who broke his word.
She reached the rock and bowed her head, staring down at its smooth gray surface. “Can I ask you one thing?” she said, with a shake in her voice.
“Please, do not draw my blood.”
Draw her blood? What did she think he was? A barbarian?
“Of course not.”
She turned to him, her pretty eyes wide, and her hair catching on the wind. “You won’t?”
“No, Duna. I have no desire to see your blood, one drop on your heel is enough to last me a lifetime.”
Her shoulders seemed to relax a little, though her small hands remained clenched.
“I swear I will not spill your blood, slave,” he said, his voice a little softer, “but you must learn to obey me and know there are consequences when you do not.”
“I understand that now, Master.”
“Then this could be, and it’s in your hands, little Celt, your last punishment.”
“Yes, Master.” Her eyes were a little glazed, as if filling with tears. “I just hope it doesn’t pain me too much.”
His heart lurched. He didn’t want to bring her pain, but it was the way of masters and their thralls. She’d have to endure what he planned. There was no way around it.
He stepped up close to her. A single tear was rolling down her cheek.
He caught it on his thumb, then drew it to his mouth. It was warm and salty. “I will not give you more pain than you can bear.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“And when it’s over, it’s over, we’re on a clean slate. You will have learned your lesson and I will have forgiven you.”
“Good.” He folded his arms, and was aware of her attention straying to his bare torso. Did his physique please her? Or was she looking at his muscles and hoping he wouldn’t unleash his full power on her? “Now it’s time for you to submit, Duna. Pull up your dress.”
“You are making it worse for yourself.”
She blinked rapidly a few times, swallowed, then tugged her dress up to her knees.
“Higher than that, Duna. You know what I need access to.”
Her expression was full of apprehension. He knew if he were to stoop and remove a shoe she’d be less nervous, at least she’d know what she was in for. But he didn’t want to use his shoe on her ass, not today.
Her fingers were shaking as she raised the dress up to her waist.
He took his time enjoying the way her new undergarment hugged her ass. “Now bend forward, both hands on the rock.”
He was pleased when she did as he’d asked, without complaint or hesitancy.
“Now push your bottom up, so I can get to it.” He placed his hand on the hollow of her back, forcing it into a deep arch. “Up.”
Her buttocks rose pleasingly. They were small but rounded, a good handful.
“Master,” she gasped.
“And your feet apart,” he said. “It will help you stay upright when the going gets tough. Lock your knees too.”
She whimpered but did it.
Halvor could wait no longer. He wanted her ass, his hands on it, and his gaze upon it. He wanted it pink, so pink she’d never leave the farm again without his knowledge.
Gripping the waist of her undergarment, he dragged it down.
She gasped and raised her head as her buttocks were exposed to the elements.
“You have such a pretty ass,” he said, giving into temptation and running his right hand over it. “It’s almost a shame to have to punish it.”
“Then don’t, Master.”
“You know as well as I do that cannot happen.” Her flesh was so smooth and warm, his big hand dark and powerful in contrast to it. He’d have to be careful not to push her too far.
“I’m going to start now,” he said after exploring her creamy buttocks and the tops of her thighs. “You should brace yourself.”
She tensed further.
His first spank wasn’t heavy; he’d rather err on the side of caution.
She grunted and shifted forward.
“Keep still,” he said, sliding his left hand up her back. He gathered her hair into a rough bunch and held it taut, so he had her exactly where he wanted her.
He swatted her again, over the first spank.
She hissed in a breath, but didn’t move this time.
“That’s it, make me proud with how well you can accept a punishment, Duna. Make me proud.”
I will always hate you.
He frowned as her words came back to him. He slapped her again, the opposite cheek.
She cried out.
He wasn’t surprised; that one had hurt his palm. But it didn’t stop him and he delivered four more fast strokes, equally as sharp.
“Master,” she gasped, going up onto her toes. “Please.”
“You have not learned your lesson yet.” He rubbed over his handprints, which were blooming on her skin. “Nowhere near.”
She groaned and tried to hang her head, but could not because of his hold on her.
“Here we go again,” he said. “Try and be brave.”
He didn’t want her to hate him. He certainly didn’t hate her.
He set up a new round of spanking, alternating between buttocks and slapping his palm down with force.
She wailed and cried out. It became one long sob as he got into a rhythm. His hand was on fire. His cock was hard. He wanted this woman to be his in body and mind.
When he paused, he tested the heat of her ass. There was a tremble beneath her skin, and her breaths were ragged.
“We’re nearly done,” he said, his own breathing labored as he gently caressed her ass.
She didn’t reply. Her resignation to her punishment pleased him.
He resumed the spanking. Reluctant to stop now as she was taking it so well and her peachy ass was such a beautiful color, as if it were made for this.
Her jerks on each landing strike were barely existent now. Her moans were long and low and rumbling into one guttural sound.
He stopped, but kept his hand on her ass. “I’ve finished, Duna, but do not move.”
She didn’t reply.
He released her hair and stepped directly behind her.
From this angle, he could easily push down his breeches and enter her. Get some relief for his hard cock. Several fast plunges, good and deep, would be all it would take. It had been so long since he’d entered a woman’s warm, tight cunny.
His cock expanded further, pushing on his clothing to the point of discomfort.
Was she aroused? Had the spanking made her wet for his entry?
He ran his fingertips down the cleft of her ass, slowly, carefully, and watching its journey.
She twisted her head from side to side and stiffened her spine. “Master?”
“Shh,” he said.
“What are you… doing?” Her voice was hoarse.
“I’m touching you, slave, you are mine, remember.”
“Be still and be quiet.” He tapped her ankles with his shoe, forcing her to widen her stance.
He ran his fingertip to her entrance. A pleasing warm wetness greeted him, and he circled his fingertip in the dampness, then held it up to the sun. The moisture glistened, giving him evidence of her arousal. She was also ready for a man. Her body had been traitorous in letting him know the female in her had enjoyed submitting to him and being at his mercy.
“Please, Master,” she said. “I need… a drink.”
“And you shall have one in a moment.” He set his hand on her sore ass cheeks, and squatted down, so he was at eye-level with her cunny.
Like her, it was small, though her lips were plump and inviting. “You’re sore?”
“Yes, Master.” Her breaths were coming quick.
“The sting will soon ease, and it will not return if you’re a good slave.”
“I will try.”
He leaned closer to her, closed his eyes, and inhaled her scent again. It was so alluring. Musky and spiced, slightly soapy too from her bath.
Once more the urge to fill her, to get her tight cunny wrapped around his cock besieged him. It was all he could do to fight it down. If he let his lust take control, she really would hate him, and he’d never have a chance to turn that around.
Quickly he stood and faced the lake. He placed his hands on his hips and stared at a flock of water birds. He took several deep breaths and firmed up his self-control.
It was then he spotted a patch of ginger growing beside the patch of reeds. Quickly he pulled up a long root, withdrew his dagger, and peeled its fibrous skin away. He then shaped it, like a thick, pointed finger with a horizontal bar at the base. The tangy smell was pleasing, the juice on his fingers warming.
Duna hadn’t moved. Her head hung low and her legs were still parted, showing her cunny and the cleft of her ass.
He re-sheathed his dagger and rinsed the ginger root in the lake.
A swirl of excitement caught in his chest as he stepped back up to his slave. He knew this would shock her. It would give her a sensation she wouldn’t forget in a long time. He also hoped it would teach her something about her sensuality as a woman.
“Be still,” he said, gently pushing her right buttock to expose her tightly puckered hole.
“What are you doing?” she asked, tensing.
“I own you,” he said. “Every part of you, inside and out. It’s time for you to understand that, slave.”
“But I… oh?”
She jerked as he set the tip of the ginger plug over her asshole.
“What is that?” she asked on a gasp as she twisted to look over her shoulder.
“Nothing that will cause you harm, but something that will feel strange… and hot.” He applied more pressure. “Now keep still.”
“Why are you doing this?” She tried to buck away but he trapped her with his legs against hers.
“There is a sting in your words, Duna, and insolence in the way you speak to me. I wish for you to have something else to occupy your mind other than hating me, and having this ginger in your ass will do that.”
“You’re sick, you know that.”
“In which case as are many other Viking men who discipline their women this way.”
“Oh, God, help me. That’s burning.”
“The heat won’t grow.” He was enjoying watching her tight ring of muscle open up around the cream-colored root. She was trembling, panting, her body heat was radiating from her onto his flesh.
She groaned as he pushed the plug in farther. For a moment he paused and slid his fingers through her soft folds, spreading the ginger juice into her arousal. But he didn’t push into her entrance; it wasn’t time for that yet.
He smiled at the slickness of her outer lips. She was aroused. Her body was reacting to his attentions again.
“Please, no more.”
“Your cunny tells me a different story, slave. You are enjoying this.”
“You’re an imbecile if you believe that.”
“Really?” He twisted the root.
She groaned and arched her back, pushing her bottom up as if needing more.
Halvor’s grin widened and he gave her what she’d silently asked for. Her asshole widened and took the biggest diameter of the plug before it popped inside her, leaving just the bar outside, so it could be easily removed.
Each one of her breaths was a groan, and her entire body was shaking.
He knew her asshole would feel on fire, as would her cunny lips, but it would reach a limit and then stop. She’d be able to handle it; otherwise he wouldn’t have done it.
“Stand up,” he said, curling his arm around her waist.
She managed to straighten, but then sagged against him and her eyelids fluttered shut.
“Tell me how it feels?” he whispered. “To have my fiery plug inside you.”
“It feels like… you’ve invaded me.”
“How can that be the case when you are mine? Invasion is attacking something that doesn’t belong already to a person.” He lowered his head and held her closer. “And you are mine, Duna.”
“And that kind of answer is exactly why you have ginger root in your ass. Breaking my rules will earn you a spanking. Bad-mouthing me will get you ginger figged, every time.”
He stroked his finger down her cheek, enjoying the way her eyes had glazed and her eyelashes were fluttering. Every now and then her body shuddered as if the ginger was spreading out fingers of heat. This was the most submissive he’d seen her; she was like clay in his hands, ready to be molded. And right now he needed to mold her brain. She needed to learn to think before she acted or spoke.
But I want her, so badly. My cock needs her sweet cunny. I should tip her over again, claim my thrall once and for all.
“Get out of here. Now,” he said, suddenly releasing her.
“Get out of here?” She opened her eyes though her lids were heavy. She was clearly surprised by his change of tone.
“Yes. Go to the longhouse, now, wench. Do not remove the ginger until you get there. When you do you may throw it on the fire.” He released her and turned to the lake once more. “Odin, give me strength.”
He heard the rustle of clothing along with footsteps. Within seconds he knew she’d left his presence. He’d wanted to be close to her, as close as a man could be with a woman. But he’d restrained himself, and now it was damn painful.
He shoved at his breeches, took his cock in his hand, and began to masturbate. There was nothing else for it. The ache would not go away until he found release.
Gritting his teeth, he pumped his erection. His balls tightened, his breaths were coming in short sharp pants. He thought of Duna’s red rump, and of his handprints crisscrossing it like some delicate, perfect weaver’s design. He imagined being that root of ginger invading her tight asshole, fucking her there, bringing them both immense pleasure.
He grunted, his hand moving so fast on his cock it was a blur. He was getting near. He knew it wouldn’t take long.
He moaned long and low, not concerned about holding the sound in.
His abdomen was tense, the sun beat down on his shoulders. It was there, the pleasure. It ripped from him and he roared with relief, the noise echoing around the valley.
Still he didn’t let up. He remembered Duna’s scent, her pretty wet cunny with swollen lips. Another blast of release tore from his cock tip, landing on the shoreline next to the first. Then another and another.
He was gasping for breath. Sweat prickled his forehead, his top lip, and his armpits. It was as if his legs had been taken from under him, and releasing his cock, he staggered backward and sat with a bump on the sandy grass.
“Odin.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the water birds now flying in the opposite direction. “I fear my slave may be the master of me.”
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