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)
“Yes,” I sobbed as the third orgasm crashed over me, weaker than the others, but somehow more devastating. “Yes, Herra, whatever you want.”
The shame of my easy capitulation burned through me even as my body shuddered with pleasure. What kind of woman was I, to submit so completely to this stranger’s will? To actually crave the degradation he promised?
When the tremors finally subsided, Aksel pressed a kiss to my shoulder—the first truly gentle gesture I thought he’d made. “You’ll return here in one week. Tell anyone who asks that you’ve been referred to a specialist for a gynecological issue. Female troubles—Takken won’t question it, and neither will anyone else.”
“But my regular doctor—”
“Has already updated her records to reflect the referral. The Sons of Odin are thorough, Lorna. We’ve been preparing for you longer than you know.”
The implications of that statement chilled me, but before I could question it, he was moving. He rose from the bed with fluid grace and lifted me again, cradling me against his chest this time rather than throwing me over his shoulder. I should have protested, should have insisted I could walk, but my legs felt like water and there was something almost comforting about being carried.
He brought me back to the main workshop, setting me on my feet near where my sundress lay folded on the bench. My legs trembled but held. I watched as he moved to his workbench, returning with a small fob that he pressed against the back of the collar to unlock it from around my throat.
The moment it came off, the world seemed to dim. Colors became less vivid, sounds less crisp. I hadn’t realized how much the collar had enhanced my perception.
“Herra?” I asked, turning to face him.
Aksel smiled, and the simple beauty of it, appearing within his neat beard, made my heart skip a beat.
“The collar works to train your body, like a scaffold in some ways. Eventually you’ll be able to go to the tree without it.”
“But—” I started, my brow furrowing in puzzlement. “But I didn’t notice… I mean, when…”
My Herra nodded. “You didn’t notice any difference when I put it on you. That’s because two hours ago you still had no idea how to perceive the world the way a vǫlva does. The collar helped you learn that, along with my hands and my hard tól.”
My face went hot. Aksel smiled more broadly. He picked up the sundress and handed it to me.
“Yes, my lovely bed thrall,” he said, “you need it even more, now, don’t you? And you will receive everything you need.”
He lowered his chin and looked deeply into my eyes, until my heart raced in fear of what he would say next.
“Before I next train you, you are to shave your fisse and your røvhul for me. I want you to feel submissive down there.”
CHAPTER 8
Lorna
The prime minister’s apartments felt even less like home than they ever had before, when I got back from Aksel’s safehouse. I found myself avoiding the bathroom, despite knowing I should shower, because I didn’t want to think about my Herra’s last order.
At last the need to relieve myself overcame my reluctance. Once I had peed, though, I couldn’t deny just how my body yearned for the enormous shower stall and the comfort I had always found there, as well as the space to think amidst the steam. Until that moment, I hadn’t connected that penchant of mine to the ancient traditions of the North, saunas and steam baths to drive away the chill and enhance the sense, but suddenly I felt foolish not to have seen it.
I focused on that as I undressed and turned away from the mirror so that I wouldn’t see the thatch of hair between my thighs that had begun to seem somehow disobedient in and of itself—let alone the welts my Herra’s strap had left across my backside. But as I stood under the shower’s hot spray, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Aksel had commanded. The idea of removing those ash-blonde curls, of baring myself completely like some kind of sexual servant, made my stomach twist with humiliation. And the thought of shaving between my bottom cheeks… I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, water streaming down my back.
I shouldn’t have let my hand drift down. I knew better. But the memory of his hands on me, his voice calling me his bed thrall, the way he’d used me so thoroughly in that longboat—it all crashed over me at once. My fingers found my clit, still sensitive from his touch hours earlier, and I gasped at the contact.
Just once, I told myself, even as I began to circle that bundle of nerves with desperate urgency. Just to take the edge off.
But the moment I started, I couldn’t stop. My other hand braced against the shower wall as I worked myself frantically, chasing something I couldn’t name. The collar was gone, but somehow I could still feel those silver branches calling to me, could almost see the threads connecting everything if I just pushed a little harder, climbed a little higher—