He marches me back to our chambers in silence, his fingers laced with my own in a vise-like grip. I want to speak to him, to beseech him—make him see reason—but I know Anders, and I know there’s little point. As we reach the door to his quarters, we are met by the remaining guard.
“See that we are not disturbed,” growls Anders, as he sweeps past the man, pulling me along behind him.
“Yes, my Lofðungr,” I hear him reply just before the door slams shut behind us.
I turn, scuttling to the centre of the room as he approaches me.
“What am I to do with you, my sweeting?” His tone is dark, knowing, and expectant.
I swallow, nervous energy ricocheting around my body. “I meant no offence,” I begin, willing my legs to stand my ground as he looms over me.
He laughs, the smirk still evident on his handsome face when my gaze meets his eyes again. “You meant no offence?” he repeats again. “Oh, really. Is that so?”
I nod. “It is,” I say, my own exasperation evident. “I only wanted to see Magnus banished for myself. Where is the harm in that?”
He shakes his head, and takes a stride toward me that leaves him towering over my small frame once more. “The harm, my sweeting, could have been significant. I asked you to stay here and wait for me, yet you deliberately ignored my request and you did the one thing I forbade you to do. You came down to the throne room to see Magnus…” His tone dims as he goes on until he eventually pauses, allowing his gaze to penetrate me. “Why, Aurelie? Why did you defy me?”
I bite my lip as the anxiety rises in me. “I thought I deserved to see it for myself,” I mumble, knowing how pathetic the admission sounds.
“And why would that be?” he asks coolly. “Why is your desire suddenly more important than mine? Than the king’s? What makes you know better than us?”
I sigh, lowering my face, but his hand is already there, at my chin, propping me up.
“I asked you a question, and you will answer me.”
“I don’t know any better,” I admit, despising the way his index finger holds me in place. “I just wanted to get my own way, Anders, and I’m sorry—I really am.”
He smiles, and the look of it reminds me of the predator who had kept me in bondage in the Viking camp outside Donrose. “My beautiful Aurelie,” he says as his other arm snakes to my waist. “I love you, you know that, don’t you? You have enthralled and captured me. You bring light to the darkness of my life, and will always have my heart.” He hesitates, licking his lips as he leans in to claim my mouth. Stunned by the power of his unexpected sentiment, I yield at once, surrendering to his masterful tongue as it sweeps its own private route between my lips. As he draws away, he leaves me reeling and breathless.
“Anders?” I pant, my eyes blinking up at him for an explanation. His face is calm as he resumes.
“I know you understand me,” he continues, pulling my body flush against his hip. “Perhaps you understand me better than anyone… And yet, even after our union, I find that you still cannot obey me. It disappoints me, Aurelie. Perhaps I need to keep you leashed more often?”
The sudden weight of his upset falls over me and I am filled with remorse, despite his torrid threat to tether me. “My Lofðungr,” I begin, my voice trembling as I go on. “I am sorry. I did not intend to disappoint you.”
“I know,” he says, resting his forehead against my temple. “But you must understand, by flagrantly disobeying my request, you not only disrespected me, but worse—you put yourself in great danger.”
Blinking up at him, I absorb his words slowly. I did flout his instruction, and I cannot deny it, but putting myself in danger? How had that been the case? “I was wrong to defy you,” I admit, my voice absurdly small as I crane my neck up toward him. “Yet there was no danger, my Lofðungr. Your guard was with me the whole time…”
He shakes his head, his finger shifting from my chin to the side of my flushed face. “Magnus made a direct threat against your life, Aurelie,” he tells me, his voice etched with angst as he says the words aloud. “Whilst he was incarcerated, he told the guards that he intends to take you, hurt you, and…” His words catch in his throat, and instinctively I raise my hands to his face to comfort him.
“All is well, Anders,” I reassure him soothingly. “I am safe, and Magnus cannot touch me.”
He nods, drawing in a deep breath as acknowledgement of my words. “I know,” he says, shutting his eyes as the emotion washes over his face. He opens them again, his intense, pale blue gaze targeting me at once. “Aurelie, please listen. Magnus’ threats are real, and they stand until he is banished from the kingdom for good. If anything happened to you, I do not know what I would do…”
His voice breaks as the reality of the threat wins out, and for a moment there is nothing but silence as we hold each other. My arms fall from his face to his broad shoulders, and he pulls my face against his chest. If ever I had doubted how much I mean to my Viking prince, then this is the moment that makes it clear.
He draws away slightly, ensuring that he has my full attention before he continues. “My rules have been evident from the very beginning, my sweeting. My will is absolute, and my instructions must be obeyed. When you defy me, you will be punished. On this occasion, your defiance led to your own safety being jeopardised, and that is simply not acceptable, do you understand?”
I pull in a shaky breath, understanding precisely where this discussion is going. “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I reply contritely.
“You are my everything, Aurelie,” he breathes over me. “My world. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“I know,” I answer him. “I understand.”
He gazes down at me, his eyes warm as he delivers his verdict. “I’m pleased you understand, my sweeting,” he murmurs, reaching down to press a chaste kiss into my hair. “I think you know you deserve to be punished. You know that disobeying my instruction was the wrong thing to do, and you did it for no better reason than to indulge your own sense of righteousness. Am I right?”
I nod, my eyes tearing. “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I respond. “I had no idea that Magnus had made threats against me…” I pause, shuddering at the thought of how much hatred the man must harbour for me. “You’re right,” I concede as I swallow down the idea. “I should have trusted your judgement, and respected your directive.”
He offers me a small smile, drawing me into a hard embrace. “Good girl,” he whispers into the top of my head. “And so, you understand why I am going to punish you now?”
I had known this moment was coming right from the start, and in the usual obscure way, the apex between my thighs throbs at the prospect. Anders is going to punish me! The thought makes me tremble with anxiety and exhilaration. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?” I stammer softly.
His smile broadens. “You know what you deserve,” he murmurs wickedly. “I am going to have to spank you, but because your petulance nearly placed you in the path of Magnus, I have decided to reintroduce you to my lash.”
I still at his words, feeling the weight of his stare as he assesses my responses. The lash. Anders hasn’t used that damn implement on me since we first arrived in Lundborg, and I cannot deny the shiver that the thought produces in me.
I lick my lips, raising my eyes to answer him. “You’re going to lash me?” I ask, hearing the quiver in my voice.
“Yes,” he asserts, his face calm. “I think you deserve at least ten lashes. I want you to think about your behaviour, and understand that how you behave has consequences.”
I lower my eyes out of instinct, listening as he delivers his verdict.
“Aurelie.” The irritation in his tone brings me right back to the present and I glance up to see him waiting for me. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, my Lofðungr,” I mumble. “Ten lashes.”
“At least,” he agrees, taking hold of my hands in his large palms. “Now you will strip and stand by the end of the bed.” He hesitates, considering my fate for a moment. “Hold onto the bedpost, and wait for me.”
I eye him, fear bubbling in my belly, but my feet are already moving toward the place he has instructed me to wait. I inhale a shaky breath, my fingers playing with the laces holding my gown in place until it loosens and slips from my petite shoulders. The fabric pools at my feet, leaving me naked in the large, cool room. I reach for the girth of the wooden post, leaning forward at the hips, the way Anders likes me to present myself for punishment.
The thought makes me tremble with trepidation, although I can already feel the trickle of moisture at my thighs.
The room is hushed, save for the sounds of Anders behind me. The weight of the silence bears down on me, my laboured breathing more than evident as I await my sentence.
“My beautiful captive…” Anders’ voice purrs from behind me, and instinctively I hold my breath, straining to listen to his words.
When none are forthcoming, I blow out the air in one rapid gush of air. “I thought I was no longer your captive?” I say, my voice trembling with anxious desire.
I don’t know why I say it. We both know I am more captured now than I have ever been.
He laughs, the sound low and taunting, and all at once I hear him approaching, his hot breath tickling the back of my neck. “You are my lover, my wife, and one day you shall be my queen, but Aurelie…” He pauses, and I feel one of his fingers trailing an invisible line from my throat to my shoulder blade. I shiver, gulping reflexively at the intimate gesture. “Aurelie, I’ve told you, you shall always be my captive. You know that, don’t you?”
I glance right, finding him in my peripheral vision. “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I reply, my nipples beading beneath me. “I know.”
Anders smiles, and his face descends to my nape. His hot lips press into my neck, caressing the sensitive flesh there, and an unconscious moan escapes my mouth at the heady sensation. And then he is gone, the heat and weight of his body disappearing as quickly as it arrived.
“It is time,” he says, his tone lower than before. “We begin with ten lashes, and we shall see how you fare.”
I nod, trying to muster my mettle from wherever it is hiding. “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I reply, my tone breathy.
The subtle noise the lash creates as it slices through the air is the only warning I receive, and seconds later the cruel impact of the thing lands against my exposed behind. The sound as it lands is loud, cracking through the air like lightning, and making my feet leave the rug below them even before the pain registers. The sting is next, and the hurt is intense.
“Oww!” I call out, unable to contain the burn of the lash.
“Does my lash sting, my sweeting?” he asks coolly.
I still at his tone, indignation flaring in me, the force of which takes me by surprise. The inner battle between my pride and my contrition as intense as it always was. “Yes,” I snap. “Yes, it does.”
The implement is in the air again and this time it lands against the other side of my bottom, making me jump again as my fists grip tightly to the bedpost before me.
“Good,” he muses aloud. “I am pleased to hear it. Whilst you think on the pain, consider also why you come to find yourself in this predicament in the first place.”
He lands the third strike then, catching me off guard, and I draw in a breath. All of my stoicism abandons me at this moment, and tears begin to burn in my eyes.
“Tell me, Aurelie.” His voice is so stern. “Why are you being punished this way?”
The flames at my ass sear into me with such intensity that I have to take another deep breath before I can even answer him. “I was dis… obedient,” I begin, “and disrespectful.”
I brace myself, waiting for the next strike, but instead I hear his words.
“Go on,” he coaxes. “Why the lash? Why do you deserve the lash?”
I sigh, dropping my head between my outstretched arms as the first large teardrop falls past my nose. “I put myself in danger, my Lofðungr,” I answer him miserably.
“Yes, you did,” he replies, and all at once the lash cracks against my skin again, making me cry out. “You are my everything,” he hisses from behind me, the angst evident to hear even in his voice. “I cannot lose you, Aurelie. Not. Ever.”
He punctuates the final words with two new strikes to my punished cheeks, and the momentum of them takes my breath away. I let out a low sob, allowing the tears to come now and not caring who hears me.
“Four more, Aurelie,” he tells me, and his tone has softened.
I nod, sniffing back my self-pity as I reply. “Yes, my Lofðungr,” I tell him without lifting my head.
The remaining strikes arrive and they are just as hard as the rest, harder maybe. Now that I recall how much each hurts, it is woeful to have to wait for the next, and the sting of the previous ones ignite with every new impact. As Anders lands the tenth, I exhale as though I have been holding my breath in anticipation of it. I risk a sideways glance through my tearstained lashes, seeing him watching me.
“Aurelie.” His voice has shifted into that velvety, seductive tone, the one that speaks directly to my wet sex.
“Is my punishment over?” I say, my own voice shaky with the pain and ignominy of my lashing. I am loath to ask, but I have to know what he has in mind. I have to prepare myself.
He moves toward me, closing the space between our bodies with lithe speed. The coarse fabric of his garments connects with my sore bottom, goading me into a reflexive moan. “Do you understand now why I had to lash you?” he asks, his voice low and husky as his left arm reaches for my exposed breasts, cupping them.
“Yes,” I reply, leaning my head back into his hard body. The weight of my emotions is tiring, and his proximity strangely reassuring. “I understand.”
“Then, we are done,” he says, and I hear the lash dropping to the hard floor on our right side. “But if you ever knowingly put yourself in danger again, my little one, then know that I will not be as kind in my judgement.”
I shudder at the warning, but I nod all the same, grateful that my penance is over—for the time being.
“May I let go of the post?” I ask, enjoying the sensation as he nuzzles into me.
“Oh, no, my sweeting,” he chuckles, the dark, delicious sound sending sparks of desire straight to my core. “You shall stay right there—in position—with your legs wide and your very punished behind on display, and I shall claim you once more.”
I swallow, giddy with the things he says, and I comply in silence, splaying my legs and arching my back. His hands are on my body, goosing my flesh as they travel and explore the curves of my breasts and thighs.
“Aurelie,” he murmurs, his tone thick with his own arousal. “Even now—after all of this time—after everything we have been through, you do not understand what you do to me.”
His right hand dips between my outstretched legs, and I gasp as those long digits begin to stroke the wetness he finds there.
“And now, you are my wife…” he purrs, those hot lips just inches from my right ear. “And you are still as errant as ever; still so badly in need of my discipline…”
“Yes,” I reply, my voice barely audible for its breathy rasp. “Yes, my Lofðungr.”
I buck against his hands, flexing my hips to gain more of his digits, desperate to be filled by him once more.
He chuckles into my ear as his fingers press into me, fucking me into a slow and sensual frenzy. “Well, you will always have my discipline, my sweeting,” he answers with a hearty laugh at my response. “And you shall also always have my cock…”
I groan, my fingers turning white with tension as I grip the wooden post ahead of me. “Anders, please,” I moan, my voice croaky with need. “Claim me now, make me yours once more?”
It’s a desperate plea for his manhood, and I twist my head right to see the wicked glee in his eyes as he registers it.
“So frantic for me, my sweeting?” His tone is goading, and I know he is taunting me, teasing me with the prospect of the pleasure only he can deliver.
I nod, accepting with embarrassment that he is right. “Yes,” I implore him, grinding my throbbing nub against the palm of his hand. “Yes, I am desperate for you.”
He smiles, his left hand snaking south from my breasts, navigating my hips and joining his other hand from behind me. I am caught between his two hands, a prisoner to the ecstasy he’s creating. I feel that left hand, the digits running between my punished cheeks and down to the wet pool of desire that his other digits are pleasuring. They capture my moisture, and bring it north to the hidden dark place at my behind.
“Stick out that ass, my sweeting,” he purrs. “Offer yourself to me.”
I gasp, feeling one and then two digits press into my ass, and all the while Anders’ other hands continues to pleasure me, screwing me with an unrelenting rhythm. I do my best to comply, arching my back and permitting him greater access to my behind, and I am rewarded with his hot lips, which graze my throat with passionate caresses. “Oh, Anders!” I murmur, my body writhing in his manmade trap. “Please… please!”
“What do you need, my sweeting?” His question goads me. “Tell your prince about your desire…”
The throaty groan that escapes my lips is a guttural reflex, his fingers driving me closer and closer to the precipice. “I need you,” I just about muster. “I need you inside me. Please!”
I catch sight of his gleeful smile at my right side, and the look of him drives me wild. He has me, as he always has—and as usual, I am completely powerless to prevent his utter domination of me.
“You shall have me,” he purrs at me seductively. “You shall indeed be claimed. I will pound you longer and harder, taking what is mine without question, but first…” His face moves closer to me, his lips scraping the side of my right cheek. “First I want to watch you climax. I need to see you unravel before me, your body shuddering at my command, giving in to my every demand. Do you understand me?”
My head is shaking, apparently in agreement. “Yes, yes, my Lofðungr,” I whisper. “Yes, I understand.”
His smile forms into a hard line, the concentration in his eyes evident as he presses himself back into position at my hip. He switches gear then, the fingers buried deep in between my wet folds accelerating in pace and intensity. I gasp out loud, my knees buckling at the sudden power of his hands.
“Yes,” he murmurs into my ear. “Feel my fingers inside you. Feel each digit as it slides in and out of what belongs to me, commanding you to your pleasure at my bidding.”
I groan, my eyes closing as I squirm like an animal against him, my every essence filled with the feeling of his fingers around me and inside me. It’s as though I am possessed by the strength of his passion, the intensity to which he wants to see me splinter, and then plunder me once again. I am his, and only his. I always have been. Anders was the first man I ever knew, and he mastered me in many ways even before the time his Viking cock first speared me. I am nothing but a vessel for our mutual pleasure, and with each stroke and flick of his hands, I edge nearer to my own.
“Good girl,” he purrs at me, and something about his tone makes my eyes flutter open. He is right there, next to me, eyeing my face as I hasten toward my climax.
I offer him a smile, or as much of one as I can in my current predicament. I like being his good girl, and even now that I am his wife, the power of those words is not lost on me.
The fingers at my rear press deeper suddenly, mastering me and catching me off guard. The sensation of being filled and stretched in both holes is consuming, and I pant against his shoulder at the exquisite depravity of the experience.
“Who owns this sweet pussy, my little captive?” His voice is taunting and his expression dark as he waits for me to answer. He knows that I will gladly acknowledge my submission to him; my husband, my prince, and my master.
“You do, my Lofðungr,” I moan back at him, my hips rolling back, and then pressing forward, caught in the ecstatic web that both of his hands are providing.
“Hmmm,” he replies. “Yes. And who owns this sweet, sweet ass?”
“It’s you.” I can barely get the words out now, my back arching further as my mouth gasps for air. “You, Anders—you own it.”
At my admission, his fingers cease, the inactivity causing my pelvis to buck instinctively. He shifts, manoeuvring his body slightly so that the top of his thumb now nudges against my needy little nub. “Now you will climax,” he growls at me. “Fuck yourself against your master’s fingers, and don’t you dare stop until I tell you to.”
My lips open in response, but there are no words now. There is only the motion of my hips, the rhythm of his fingers, and the palpable passion between us. I writhe in silence, approaching the precipice at speed. “Please,” I gasp, flexing my wetness back against him again. “Now. I’m coming now!”
I’m aware of his lips curling at my admission, but my eyes flutter shut reflexively, my head falling back as the power of my climax overtakes me. It rips through me like lightning, paralysing me with the pleasure that consumes me. My channel tightens around his digits, gripping him as I shudder, wave upon wave of sensation rolling through my tightly wound body.
He stays inside me for a few moments, seemingly enjoying my convulsions almost as much as I do, and then, at last he growls the words I long to hear. “Now it is time, my sweeting. Now, I will claim what’s mine.”
I barely catch my breath as his fingers withdraw, leaving my core bereft of his touch. Anders disappears from my eye line, and his weight presses against my punished behind as he splays my legs wider. Once more, I arch for him, pressing my ass out behind me, a welcome invitation to his cock.
My mind is subdued as he spears me, sliding inside me as though the space were designed for him. In so many ways, it seems as though I was. I gasp, the sound raspy as it catches in my throat. He is always so damn huge, his body dominating me in the most carnal way imaginable.
He slams into me until there is no space between us. I grip the wooden post for dear life, alive with the intensity of the act, and lost in the intimate surrender of it all.
“Anders,” I cry out, only half aware that I have said the word out loud.
His right hand moves from its place at my hips, curling instinctively at my pebbling nipples, and then clamping my breast as he withdraws and pounds into me once more. “You are divine,” he murmurs, his voice from some distant place behind me. “So fucking divine.”
I mewl in response, relieved that my punishment is over and the transgression is forgotten, but more than anything, ecstatic to be caught in his web again. He possesses me this way, grinding into me, and then withdrawing time after time. I squirm at the delicious intensity of the act, the knowledge that he is so deep inside me making me all the more wanton. Then, without warning, his body disappears and the weight of his right arm falls to my midriff, pulling me backwards with him.
“This way, my sweeting,” Anders purrs, his voice a low growl.
Breathless at the change of tack, I turn and see him positioning himself against an animal skin laid out on the floor behind me. I have to suppress my smile as I skip over to where he now sits waiting, the sight of him enough to make my womb contract with need. My eyes crawl over his taut body, the firm flesh tainted only by the many scars of battle he has accrued. His manhood stands proudly at his groin, hovering over his defined abdominal muscles. It appears to be as eager for my arrival as its master.
“Now, Aurelie,” he says, his voice more insistent.
I bite my lip at the admonishment, but I can tell by the expression on his face that he is only jesting. He grabs my left hand as I approach, guiding my body down as I straddle him.
“I need you,” he purrs, his tone full of yearning. “Ride me, my sweeting. Ride me, and bring us both to climax.”
I swallow at the instruction, the notion rather overwhelming. In all of our time together, I have rarely been permitted to take control this way, and the prospect is as daunting as it is exciting. Gingerly I lower my wetness over his throbbing need, relishing the exquisite sensation as I sink myself down and onto him. He moans, a scintillating sound, and lowers himself from his elbows to lie flat against the soft fur below. Emboldened by the response, I begin to move, flexing my hips as I raise my body up his cock slowly, before pressing myself back down against him again. This time we both gasp at the intensity of the union, and our eyes lock for the first time.
Time seems suspended as our gazes meet, my pussy clenching in a reflexive way as we acknowledge each other. It seems my time against the post has clouded my memory, and somehow, I had quite forgotten how devastating he looks, that blond hair swept back from his face, and those pale blue eyes searing me with their passion.
“Ride me,” he reminds me, the command sensual, yet his tone edgy enough to make me move.
I comply wordlessly, allowing myself to let go and relish every sensation of his glorious hardness inside me. His large palms reach for my breasts, cupping them as I slam down against him again. A salacious groan leaves my lips as his digits—so recently inside me—find my excited buds, and squeeze them hard between his index finger and thumb. His ministrations are amazing, and the stimulation at my nipples sends waves of desire rushing to my already soaking core. My hips react to the surge of arousal, grinding against him, harder and faster than I was moving before. I arch my back, drawing in more of his length, and my eyes flutter closed at the enormity of the experience.
“Aurelie.” The sound of his breathless tone draws my eyes open again in a heartbeat. He is clearly well entrenched in pleasure, the ecstatic torment of our connection etched into his handsome visage. “Open your eyes,” he coos. “I want to see you whilst you ride me, and I want to see your face this time when you splinter around my cock.”
His words goad my body, and I splay my legs wider as I flex over him again and again.
“Yes,” I moan. “I love you, my Lofðungr.”
His expression softens at my words. Although our affection for one another has become clear in recent weeks, it is still unusual for me to express the sentiment out loud. The palms massaging my breasts shift, and in a split second his hands are at my back, pulling me down against his taut chest. As normal I am left bemused at the speed of his action, and I lay flush against him, my hips wide open as he resumes control of our lovemaking. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of me is now all-consuming, the long shaft capturing every ounce of my attention. His arms snake around my back and waist, immobilising my body over him and leaving me with little doubt about who is in charge.
“I have you now,” he murmurs into my hair, which is now just below his lips. “And now I will show you just how loved you are.”
I surrender to him at this moment, lost to the intimacy every inch as much as the pain had cast me adrift earlier. He loves me, this man. My ferocious Viking invader is as sincere as he is brutal. He’s the sentimental sadist, if such a thing should exist, and right now he is trapped beneath my hot, writhing body.
My back arches, straining to keep my hips flexed and my eyes locked into his mesmerising gaze. He smiles up at me, the connection intense as his strong arms hold me in place, and all the while his hardness claims me over and over again. I am dizzy with fervour, my needy little nub, so recently satiated, now already close to finding the summit once more. My body is his, and it’s instinctive, wordless. I rock forward, chasing my imminent climax and watching the pleasure build in his eyes.
“Fuck, Aurelie,” he purrs, slamming his erection upward into me. “You feel so good.”
I gasp, wanting to agree yet having no breath to do so. At that moment my arousal peaks and I fly, free-falling into the pleasure. My muscles contract, massaging his manhood as he finds the apex of his own climax. Together we soar, our limbs tangling as we shudder in unison. When I finally come up for air, his mouth is waiting, and his kiss claims me with renewed passion.
Whilst our tongues dance, Anders rolls me left and all of a sudden, I am pinioned on my back, my Viking husband back in control of proceedings.
“Now we know where we both stand, my sweeting,” he muses aloud. “I am here to master, worship, and protect you, Aurelie, and you…” He pauses, raising his head to smile down at me. “You will be loved, cherished, and conquered.”
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