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)
My head spun, overwhelmed by the sounds and scents of sex all around me. I was trembling uncontrollably now, my hips pressing back desperately against Sven’s hand. I felt like I might combust if he didn’t claim me soon.
As if reading my thoughts, Sven’s fingers withdrew from my aching pussy. I whimpered at the loss, but then I felt him move behind me. His large hands gripped my hips, lifting them slightly. I let out a soft cry as I felt the head of his cock pressed against my entrance, hot and insistent.
“I, Sven Hallstrom,” his voice boomed out, filling the cavern, “claim this thrall, Mary, as my own. She belongs to me, body and soul.”
My heart raced. This was it. The moment of truth. I knew what I had to say, what I desperately wanted to say. But the words caught in my throat, choking me with their enormity.
“Speak, lille en,” Sven growled, his cock pressing more firmly against me. “Confess your need. Tell me how desperately you need to serve your master.”
I bit my lip, shame and arousal warring within me. But the emptiness of my aching pussy, the need to have it filled at last, took away my ability to resist.
“I… I need to serve you, Herra,” I whimpered, the words spilling out of me. “Please… I need you to use me, to… to fuck me.” My face burned as I said the crude word, but Sven’s approving rumble sent a shiver of pleasure through me. When he spoke, though, his voice was still stern.
“You are an intelligent girl, Mary,” he said, his hand gripping my back with a little warning squeeze. “Make the pledge you heard your sisters make.”
My tummy flipped, and a little sob emerged from my throat.
“I… I pledge… to give you pleasure with my body, and…” I couldn’t believe the words that came from my mouth, but I also couldn’t deny how my body demanded they be said, “…and I belong to you, to use as you wish.”
Sven’s grip on my hips tightened, and I felt the head of his manhood, soft but somehow hard, too, press more insistently against the virgin opening. I held my breath, my entire body taut with anticipation and fear. Then, with a powerful thrust, he surged forward.
I screamed as he tore through the barrier of my hymen, my maidenhead, my maidenhood, a searing pain radiating from my core. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I buried my face against my bound arms, trying to muffle my cries. Sven was huge, stretching me beyond anything I had ever imagined. I felt impossibly full, split open on his massive cock.
“That’s it, lille en,” Sven growled, his voice thick with lust. “Take your master’s pik. This sweet little fisse belongs to me now.”
He began to move, withdrawing slightly before slamming back in. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through my body. The initial agony began to fade, replaced by a burning stretch that walked the knife’s edge between discomfort and ecstasy.
Around me, I could hear the other girls crying out as their own masters continued their rough claiming. The cavern echoed with the lewd sounds of fucking: creaking wood, grunts and moans of pleasure. I caught snippets of French—pleas for more, cries of “oui, maître!”, desperate whimpers of need.
Sven’s pace quickened, his hips snapping against my upturned bottom with bruising force. The bench creaked beneath us, the ancient wood protesting the vigorous use. My body rocked with each powerful thrust, my breasts dragging painfully against the rough planks.
As Sven rode me hard, seeking his pleasure, my senses seemed to heighten. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the cavern walls, and suddenly I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. The stone was covered in intricate carvings—runes and symbols etched deep into the rock face.
My eyes widened as I took in the images surrounding us. There were scenes of epic battles, longships crashing through stormy seas, and fierce warriors brandishing axes and swords. Interspersed among the martial imagery were more intimate scenes—men taking women in various positions, some tender, others rough.
I blinked rapidly, wondering if I had begun to hallucinate. Was there something in the smoke from the torches? The carvings seemed to move and shift in the flickering light, coming alive before my eyes. I could almost hear the clash of steel, the roar of the ocean, the cries of pleasure from the carved figures.
One image in particular caught my attention—a young woman bent over a rowing bench, her face a mask of ecstasy as a powerful warrior claimed her from behind. With a jolt, I realized the woman had long, flowing hair that looked startlingly red in the torchlight. Was I seeing myself?
Sven’s hand suddenly tangled in my own hair. The flash of arousal from the little act of mastery brought on a sudden orgasm of a kind I’d never imagined. I reared back and screamed in helpless ecstasy and I realized that despite the shame of it I, Mary, was the one bound to the bench with her new Herra’s cock in her no-longer-virgin fisse. A Viking warrior was using me for his lustful enjoyment—like the girl in the image, long ages after… more than a millennium since the Northmen had terrorized my Irish ancestors.