Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Here,” Sophie said quietly, holding out a small pottery jar. “It’s a special soap. Use it everywhere.”
I took the jar with a murmured thank you, dipping my fingers into the creamy substance inside. It smelled of lavender and other fragrant plants, earthier and more primal. As I began to lather it over my skin, I was surprised by how silky it felt, almost as if it were melting into my pores.
“Make sure you get every crevice,” Mor Astrid called out, her voice echoing off the stone walls. “Your masters will inspect you thoroughly this evening.”
I felt my face flame at her words, remembering Sven’s large hands exploring every inch of my body. Unbidden, a shiver of arousal ran through me, and I ducked my head under the water to hide my reaction.
When I surfaced, gasping slightly, I found Camille had moved closer to me. Her dark eyes were intense as she leaned in to whisper, “We need to talk. All of us. But not here, not now. Just… be prepared.”
I nodded slightly to acknowledge Camille’s whispered words, my mind racing. What could she be planning? Before I could dwell on it further, Mor Astrid’s stern voice cut through my thoughts.
“Girls, hark closely now,” she commanded. “It is time you learned to think properly about your conjugal duties. Sit, and soak, and learn.”
Two feet or so below the surface, the makers of the bath had carved a broad step, that I understood, as I watched my new ‘sisters’ settle onto it, worked also as a seat. I followed suit, all of us turning toward the lined, serious face of Mor Astrid. I felt my cheeks grow hot as she began to speak, her words graphic and uncompromising.
“You should understand by this point that your bodies belong to your masters,” she said, her eyes moving from girl to girl. “But I am also certain that you have not fully understood, at the level that you must, if you are to serve the Sons of Odin as they deserve. Every hole, every curve, every inch of skin is theirs to use as they see fit. You must make up your mind to learn your place ever more completely. You must resolve to take pleasure in their pleasure, to crave their touch and their command.”
I squirmed uncomfortably, acutely aware of my nakedness and the lingering ache between my legs—how the soothing, warm water seemed to increase the reawakened need down there. Mor Astrid continued, her words growing even more explicit.
“Your fisse,” she said, using the crude Norse term that made me blush even harder, “is the sacred vessel of your master’s seed. You will keep it clean, smooth, and ready for his use at all times. When he enters you, you will welcome him with eager wetness, no matter how sore or tired you may be.”
I heard Amélie whimper softly beside me, and I reached out to squeeze her hand under the water. Mor Astrid’s gaze fixed on her, her expression stern, but not unkind.
“And your røvhul,” she continued, making me gasp at the very sound, knowing somehow how obscene it was, “is a special gift to your master. It will hurt at first, yes, but you will learn to find pleasure in the pain, in the utter submission of offering up your most private place for his use.”
I felt my face burning, remembering the intense sensations of Sven claiming my bottom the night before. To my dismay, I felt a twinge of arousal at the memory, my body responding even as my mind recoiled.
“Your mouth, of course, is your Herra’s upon his command. You will kneel and you will receive his upstanding pik there. You have not, though, understood the further meaning of the act. The next time your master fucks your lovely face, think on how he has taken your voice away, and turned your lips into a second fisse for his use.”
I swallowed hard as her penetrating gaze went around us again. The sheer ambiguity of my thoughts and feelings, along with the warm steam, made me feel slightly dizzy.
“Now,” she said, clapping her hands sharply. “It’s time for you girls to prepare yourselves properly for your warriors’ use. You will work in pairs.”
I looked around nervously, unsure of what to do. To my relief, Sophie moved closer to me, giving me a small, reassuring smile.
“Sophie,” Mor Astrid called, “with Amélie. Yvette with Fleur.”
I saw the two girls whose names I hadn’t yet known move toward each other, Yvette with short-cropped dark hair and Fleur with auburn.
“Mary and Camille,” our mistress said, “you are together as the bed thralls of our Overherra and his shield-brother.”
I felt my face flame anew as Mor Astrid gestured to a row of shelves along the wall. There, I saw an array of items that made my stomach churn with apprehension—above all the rubber enema bulbs and shallow enameled metal basins.