Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
The image his words painted—of being claimed back there, down there where he had his finger… being made to take him in my narrowest passage—sent another pulse of heat through me. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood, trying desperately to hold back the climax that threatened to consume me.
Without warning, he withdrew his finger and lifted me into his arms. I gasped at the sudden movement, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried me toward the hidden door behind the carved pillar. My skirt was still bunched around my waist, my panties askew, and I could feel the cool air against my bare, wet pussy as he descended those ancient stone steps.
The blue lights illuminated roughhewn walls. We emerged into the smaller, more intimate space—the place where he had comforted me and made me come again and again. “My hús,” he murmured to me.
I had barely registered the furnishings on my last visit, but now I found that the room was surprisingly warm, with thick furs covering the floor and the bed, and a large wooden chair that looked both ancient and perfectly preserved. Norse carvings decorated every surface, and the air smelled of leather and pine smoke. He set me on my feet beside a thick cushion placed precisely in front of the chair.
“Kneel,” he said simply, gesturing to the cushion.
CHAPTER 12
Lorna
I sank to my knees on the padded leather, the position now feeling almost natural after everything my Herra had done to train me. My skirt was still bunched around my waist, and I could feel how wet I was, how desperately my body craved release after what felt like a week of denial. The forced orgasms at the horrible meeting felt somehow like they didn’t count—as if they had made my need for a real master’s permission, along with his dominant hands and his hard cock, all the greater.
In front of me, Aksel settled into the wooden chair with that precise grace I’d come to recognize, his steel-gray eyes never leaving my face as he began to unfasten his belt.
“You’re going to tell me everything that happened at the Synergy Group meeting,” he said, his voice carrying that quiet authority that made my insides clench. “Every detail you can remember. And while you speak, you’ll use your mouth and hands to pleasure your Herra.”
My eyes widened as he freed himself from his pants, his thick cock already hard and imposing. “But I… I don’t know if I can concentrate while…”
“You’ll find,” he said, tangling his fingers in my hair and guiding my face closer to his massive manhood, “that serving me properly will sharpen your focus. The submission opens pathways in your mind, just as it does when I fuck you. Now begin. Tell me about the meeting while you learn to worship your Herra’s tól.”
The idea seemed impossible—how could I possibly recount complex details while I did that? But Aksel’s hand was insistent in my hair, and I found myself leaning forward, my lips parting to take him into my mouth. The familiar taste of my Herra’s tól, salt and musk and power, flooded my senses.
“Use your hand at the base,” he instructed calmly. “And your tongue along the underside. Good girl. Now tell me—what happened when you arrived?”
I pulled back just enough to speak, my hand continuing to stroke him. “Horakovsky was waiting in the same conference room where he’d disciplined Mila before.” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, husky and breathless. “Brenteuil was there too, with papers spread across the table.”
It was strange—very strange—but somehow the necessity of pleasing the rigid shaft that jutted arrogantly up from my Herra’s lap relaxed me… as if having that task of shameful adoration took my mind away from the anxiety that the memories of the meeting raised in my head and my heart. At the same time, as the images of the mortifying, lewd scene presented themselves to my inner sight, I felt myself responding with dismaying need between my thighs.
“Take me deeper,” Aksel commanded, pressing my head down. I relaxed my throat as he’d taught me before, accepting more of his length. “Continue.”
I bobbed my head, establishing a rhythm, and to my amazement, the odd feeling of relaxation continued, and even deepened. The physical act of serving him seemed to crystallize my memories. Details I hadn’t consciously registered came flooding back with startling clarity.
“Mmm,” I hummed around him, then pulled back to gasp out, “There were two other men by the door. Guards, but not ordinary ones. They had military bearing, Russian special forces maybe. One had a tattoo on his neck—Cyrillic script.”
“Excellent observation,” Aksel praised, his fingers gentling in my hair. “You’re accessing your unconscious memories. Keep going.”
I took him deep again, my tongue swirling around his shaft, and more details surfaced. Between strokes, I gasped out fragments of memory: “Horakovsky mentioned a naval officer. A name, Krueger. Something about Arctic shipping lanes.” The words spilled from me in rushes between taking him deep in my throat. “The documents on the table had coordinates, but I couldn’t see them clearly from where I stood.”