The Viking's Captive(27)
She hesitated.
“You are making it worse for yourself.”
She blinked rapidly a few times, swallowed, then tugged her dress up to her knees.
“Higher than that, Duna. You know what I need access to.”
Her expression was full of apprehension. He knew if he were to stoop and remove a shoe she’d be less nervous, at least she’d know what she was in for. But he didn’t want to use his shoe on her ass, not today.
Her fingers were shaking as she raised the dress up to her waist.
He took his time enjoying the way her new undergarment hugged her ass. “Now bend forward, both hands on the rock.”
He was pleased when she did as he’d asked, without complaint or hesitancy.
“Now push your bottom up, so I can get to it.” He placed his hand on the hollow of her back, forcing it into a deep arch. “Up.”
Her buttocks rose pleasingly. They were small but rounded, a good handful.
“Master,” she gasped.
“And your feet apart,” he said. “It will help you stay upright when the going gets tough. Lock your knees too.”
She whimpered but did it.
Halvor could wait no longer. He wanted her ass, his hands on it, and his gaze upon it. He wanted it pink, so pink she’d never leave the farm again without his knowledge.
Gripping the waist of her undergarment, he dragged it down.
She gasped and raised her head as her buttocks were exposed to the elements.
“You have such a pretty ass,” he said, giving into temptation and running his right hand over it. “It’s almost a shame to have to punish it.”
“Then don’t, Master.”
“You know as well as I do that cannot happen.” Her flesh was so smooth and warm, his big hand dark and powerful in contrast to it. He’d have to be careful not to push her too far.
“I’m going to start now,” he said after exploring her creamy buttocks and the tops of her thighs. “You should brace yourself.”
She tensed further.
His first spank wasn’t heavy; he’d rather err on the side of caution.
She grunted and shifted forward.
“Keep still,” he said, sliding his left hand up her back. He gathered her hair into a rough bunch and held it taut, so he had her exactly where he wanted her.
He swatted her again, over the first spank.
She hissed in a breath, but didn’t move this time.
“That’s it, make me proud with how well you can accept a punishment, Duna. Make me proud.”
I will always hate you.
He frowned as her words came back to him. He slapped her again, the opposite cheek.
She cried out.
He wasn’t surprised; that one had hurt his palm. But it didn’t stop him and he delivered four more fast strokes, equally as sharp.
“Master,” she gasped, going up onto her toes. “Please.”
“You have not learned your lesson yet.” He rubbed over his handprints, which were blooming on her skin. “Nowhere near.”
She groaned and tried to hang her head, but could not because of his hold on her.
“Here we go again,” he said. “Try and be brave.”
He didn’t want her to hate him. He certainly didn’t hate her.
He set up a new round of spanking, alternating between buttocks and slapping his palm down with force.
She wailed and cried out. It became one long sob as he got into a rhythm. His hand was on fire. His cock was hard. He wanted this woman to be his in body and mind.
When he paused, he tested the heat of her ass. There was a tremble beneath her skin, and her breaths were ragged.
“We’re nearly done,” he said, his own breathing labored as he gently caressed her ass.
She didn’t reply. Her resignation to her punishment pleased him.
He resumed the spanking. Reluctant to stop now as she was taking it so well and her peachy ass was such a beautiful color, as if it were made for this.
Her jerks on each landing strike were barely existent now. Her moans were long and low and rumbling into one guttural sound.
Enough.
He stopped, but kept his hand on her ass. “I’ve finished, Duna, but do not move.”
She didn’t reply.
He released her hair and stepped directly behind her.
From this angle, he could easily push down his breeches and enter her. Get some relief for his hard cock. Several fast plunges, good and deep, would be all it would take. It had been so long since he’d entered a woman’s warm, tight cunny.
His cock expanded further, pushing on his clothing to the point of discomfort.
Was she aroused? Had the spanking made her wet for his entry?
He ran his fingertips down the cleft of her ass, slowly, carefully, and watching its journey.
She twisted her head from side to side and stiffened her spine. “Master?”
“Shh,” he said.
“What are you… doing?” Her voice was hoarse.
“I’m touching you, slave, you are mine, remember.”
“But…”
“Be still and be quiet.” He tapped her ankles with his shoe, forcing her to widen her stance.
He ran his fingertip to her entrance. A pleasing warm wetness greeted him, and he circled his fingertip in the dampness, then held it up to the sun. The moisture glistened, giving him evidence of her arousal. She was also ready for a man. Her body had been traitorous in letting him know the female in her had enjoyed submitting to him and being at his mercy.