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)
And then it was all gone and I was back in my Herra’s lap, tightly held and gently kissed.
As I came down from that strange high, I became aware of the other girls reaching their own orgasms. Camille’s voice rang out in a strangled cry of pleasure, while Sophie’s climax was marked by a series of high-pitched whimpers. Fleur let out a long, low moan as she shuddered in Jens’ arms.
For several moments, the hall was filled with the sound of heavy breathing as we all recovered. I felt boneless and satiated in Sven’s lap, his arms still wrapped securely around me. He pressed another gentle kiss to my temple before he drew his head back to address the whole table.
“Well done, girls,” Sven’s voice rang out. “You’ve pleased us greatly this morning. Now, you will clean up the hall, and then you will have an hour of free time before your next lesson.”
As we began to clear the table, I caught Camille’s eye. A silent understanding passed between us—we would find a way to talk during our free time. My heart raced with nervous anticipation as I gathered the empty trenchers, careful not to let my expression betray my thoughts.
The cleanup process was efficient, but thorough. We scrubbed the long wooden table until it gleamed, the intricate carvings along its edge coming to life under our ministrations. The scent of lemon and herbs filled the air as we worked, replacing the lingering aromas of our masters’ breakfast. By the time we received Mor Inge’s grudging approval, it almost began to seem normal for six naked girls to clean up a subterranean Viking mead hall.
As we finished our tasks, Mor Astrid had appeared in the doorway. Her stern gaze swept over us now that Mor Inge had proclaimed herself satisfied, assessing our work with a critical eye. Mor Astrid nodded curtly. “Come along, girls,” she commanded. “It’s time for your rest period. Thank Mor Inge for teaching you how to serve your masters.”
I blushed as I thought of what Mor Inge had seen as the other girls and I had taken the cocks of the Sons of Odin between our lips and then screamed out our pleasure. I couldn’t meet the older woman’s eye as I murmured, like my new sisters, “Thank you, Mor.”
We followed Mor Astrid through winding stone corridors, our bare feet quiet on the cool floor. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows on the roughhewn walls of the passageway. I tried to memorize our route, noting each turn and landmark, but the underground complex seemed to shift and change with every step.
Finally, we arrived at a heavy wooden door. Mor Astrid pushed it open, revealing a cozy chamber beyond. “Welcome to the Hall of Rest,” she announced. “You will spend your free time here.”
The room was unexpectedly inviting. Plush rugs covered the stone floor, their intricate patterns reminiscent of the knot work I’d seen throughout the complex. Comfortable-looking chairs and low couches were arranged in small groupings, perfect for quiet conversation or solitary reflection. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with an eclectic mix of ancient tomes and modern paperbacks.
In one corner, a chess table stood ready, its carved pieces glinting in the warm light of oil lamps. Near the opposite wall, I spotted a shelf filled with board games and puzzles. It was a strange juxtaposition—this cozy, almost normal-seeming space existing within the heart of our captors’ underground lair.
Mor Astrid made her way to a desk in the corner, and settled herself there, her sharp eyes never leaving us as we hesitantly explored the room.
“You may read, play games, or engage in quiet conversation,” she informed us. “But remember, girls—I will tolerate no talk of discontent.”
I caught Camille’s eye and nodded subtly toward the chess table. We made our way over, trying to appear casual as we settled into the chairs on either side of the board. I picked up a white pawn, turning it over in my fingers as I considered how to begin our conversation without arousing Mor Astrid’s suspicion.
“So,” I said, pitching my voice just loud enough to be heard across the table, “do you want to be white or black?”
Camille shrugged, her dark eyes darting briefly to Mor Astrid before meeting mine again. “White, I suppose,” she murmured.
I set up the pieces, my hands trembling slightly as I arranged the delicate carved figures on the board. The pieces were beautifully made, each one a miniature work of art. The kings bore a striking resemblance to Sven and Erik, while the queens had an otherworldly, Valkyrie-like quality to them.
As Camille made her opening move, she leaned in slightly. “I think I could find my way back to where we came in,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.
My heart raced at her words. I moved a pawn forward, trying to keep my face neutral. “Are you sure?” I breathed, not daring to look up from the board.