Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 96271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I whined into the furs. The pain and the pleasure had begun their familiar, impossible negotiation, the way they had the night before, each one making the other more present rather than less.
“Tell me about your dream.” His fingers moved with the steady, knowing pressure that had undone me so completely in the cell. “Tell your Herra what you saw.”
I almost laughed. His huge phallus moved inside me, filling me to a point that made coherent thought a project requiring significant effort, and he wanted a scholarly report on my unconscious activity. The absurdity of it reached me through the haze, and then the absurdity dissolved, because his fingers moved in a specific way and I lost my grip on irony entirely.
“A longship,” I managed. “I was on a longship… or the longship, maybe… the one… the one from the cavern. Bound to the bench.” My breath caught. “There were men. Three of them. They… they… they…”
I pressed my lips together into a tight line as I tried to keep the rising pleasure at bay. My hips had begun to move, small rocking motions that I hadn’t consciously initiated, pressing back against my master’s unhurried thrusts and then forward against his fingers, caught between the two of them in a way that felt automatic… tidal, even.
“They all… they all used me… f-fucked my… my… my mouth, and… and my… my… my fisse.” The word came out small and hot. “All three of them. While they talked.”
“What did they talk about?” His voice had roughened again, but he was listening. I could feel that he was listening with the attention I had begun to expect from him—total and evaluative, as if everything I said went directly into the same ledger where he had entered beautiful and responsive and very wet.
“The East.” I sobbed as his fingers shifted. “Something stirring in the East. They said… they talked about Ymir’s body. That someone in the East understood the old knowledge, not the same knowledge, but the same root… or… or something like that.”
I had started to cry again, I realized, not from pain and not entirely from the building pleasure, but from a place that seemed to exist between the two, where it suddenly felt as if revelations about myself and about the universe might lie.
“They said if whatever it was learned to use what Ymir’s body holds—the tree would suffer. Yggdrasil would suffer.”
Henrik went very still for just a moment, his fingers stilling as well, and I made a desperate sound of protest that I couldn’t contain.
“The Chinese, perhaps,” he said.
“I didn’t see the girl… the one from… from before.”
Henrik’s fingers resumed, and the orgasm that had been building since I had first felt his hand between my thighs gathered itself from its foundations with a totality that I recognized as what a dominant man, a Viking, could bring out in my body.
“But the tree was there. At the horizon. Over the sea. I could see it from the… the… the bench.”
The words came apart at the end of the sentence, because my body had stopped permitting me to use language. I felt my master’s cock harden again inside me, still further. I felt the careful gentleness in his rhythm give way to something rougher and more fully itself: a warrior taking his pleasure in a woman who belonged to him, moving with the hard, fast, thorough claim of someone who intended to enjoy every part of what he had taken as his own property. The soreness in my pussy had become something I couldn’t categorize as only pain anymore. It had dimensions that pain alone didn’t account for.
“Herra…” I gasped. “I’m going to—”
“Yes,” he said, and his voice had gone fully wild again, the way it had the night before, nothing constructed left in it. “Yes, lille en. You may come for your Herra. Come on my reðr while I use this sweet pussy of yours.”
The orgasm broke over me in a long, rolling wave that seemed to begin at the roots of me, whatever they were, and move upward through my whole body. I cried out into the furs, my fingers clenching in the warm, animal softness of them, and I felt my master’s arm come around me, pulling me hard against his chest, his rhythm losing its last careful quality entirely as my body clenched and shuddered around him.
He came too, with a low, guttural sound that he issued into my hair, his hips pressing tight against my bottom as the warmth of him filled me again. I felt a sob tear out of me at the sheer, perverse gratitude I felt. I didn’t want to examine what it meant and couldn’t stop examining it: thankfulness that he had finished fucking me… that he had given me the gift of his seed, to breed me if the Norns allowed… that he had taught me to know myself in a way I had always forbidden my own mind to attempt.