The Viking's Captive(19)

And he had to say she was taking it well. But then again, from the moment he’d decided to grab her, take her as his captive, he’d known she was different. She had fight in her, a will to live, and a stubborn streak that would be hard to break.

He brought the sole of his leather shoe down once more on her offered buttock, layering the shoe-shaped redness his swat would create over the previous ones. Anticipating the jolt of her body, as he continued to deliver the discipline, he tightened his hold. He was nearly done. Each quivering buttock was almost on an equal number of slaps and of a matching delightful shade…

He paused for a moment and explored his handiwork, enjoying the heat that radiated onto his palm. Her skin had appeared virginal, now it was his, burning with his mark.

She moaned, kicked her legs a little, and clasped his calf. Her small hand was nothing more than a kitten’s paw. But her slight frame, her tiny hands and feet, delicate features, just added fuel to the protective streak in him.

How can I protect her if she won’t obey me?

He had to set down rules if he was to keep her safe. This first spanking would start growing her trust and dare he say it… respect.

He gripped the shoe, slapped it down again. This was the last one, and he didn’t hold back, gave her a good hard whack.

“Ouch! Please, no more. I beg you, Master.”

Part of him was sorry it had ended, but equally he was glad it had.

Will her pain ever become mine? Will she ever truly become a part of my soul and my destiny?

He shook his head to rid his mind of such a ridiculous thought. She was a slave. The lowest of the low. A thrall. He needed to remember his place as master, and not allow her to affect him… much.

He tossed his shoe to one side, gripped her waist, and pulled her upward so she was half sitting on his lap, her tender ass not in contact with anything.

Her face was flushed, her cheeks wet, and her eyes were misty. She was breathing hard.

He stared at her chest rising and falling. Her pert breasts were pushing at her clothing then retreating over and over. A sudden urge struck him to see her chest, to explore her shape, witness the color of her flesh… her nipples.

Reaching for the base of her dress, which was rucked around her waist, he tugged it upward.

“No!” She tried to fight him, but her efforts were of little hindrance to him.

Quickly he had her dress off and discarded on the floor. He’d have to organize new garments for her; what she had was in a sorry state.

“What are you doing?” She clasped her hands over her small breasts, hiding them from his view.

Her breaths had sped up further, adding to his pleasure at having a near naked woman on his lap. She was flushed, a little damp with sweat, and despite her naivety he could sense the spark in her, the passion that lurked beneath the surface.

“You are mine,” he said, gripping her wrists, “and as such I wish to inspect my property.”

“You have tormented me enough already.” She frowned and tensed her shoulders. “Leave me be.”

“I will… soon.” He pulled her arms away from her body, exposing the gentle globes of her slight breasts.

Her nipples were the palest pink and barely bigger than a tunic button.

“Ah, that pleases me.”

“You’re a brute. I don’t want you looking at me.” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

“I needed to look,” he said.

“Why?”

“To see if you had been with child.”

“What? How would you know by looking?”

“If you’d carried a bairn,” he said, “these pretty nipples of yours would be large and dark. As it is I can see that you have never given birth in your twenty-one summers.”

She clamped her lips together.

Halvor could resist no more. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue over her left nipple.

She gasped and jerked.

He repeated the action, enjoying the pliant peak against his tongue and spreading saliva around it. He then pulled back a little and blew gently, knowing the action would cool her skin and peak her nipple.

With satisfaction he watched as the flesh of her areola contracted and her nipple became a tight twist.

He glanced at her face. Her lips were slightly parted. She’d stilled, eyes closed, as if absorbing the sensations he was creating.

Smiling, he repeated his action on the other breast, using wetness and air to stimulate that nipple.

She released a jagged breath as he took each nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugged, elongated, and rolled.

“Master,” she gasped.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed. He was enjoying her responsiveness. For a woman who had no care for him, her body was reacting quite beautifully.

He released her nipples and cupped the heavier underside of her breasts. A little more weight on her and they’d be the perfect handful.

She moaned as he gently massaged her, then flicked over her taut nipples.

“Your breasts are enjoying me,” he said.

“Leave me alone.” She was panting, her back arched as if pressing into his touch. “Now.”

“Is that what you really want?” He took her right nipple into his mouth and sucked.

She groaned and squirmed on his lap. His cock was semi-hard and he enjoyed the brush of her thigh over it through his clothing.