The Viking's Captive(29)
“Get out of here. Now,” he said, suddenly releasing her.
“Get out of here?” She opened her eyes though her lids were heavy. She was clearly surprised by his change of tone.
“Yes. Go to the longhouse, now, wench. Do not remove the ginger until you get there. When you do you may throw it on the fire.” He released her and turned to the lake once more. “Odin, give me strength.”
He heard the rustle of clothing along with footsteps. Within seconds he knew she’d left his presence. He’d wanted to be close to her, as close as a man could be with a woman. But he’d restrained himself, and now it was damn painful.
He shoved at his breeches, took his cock in his hand, and began to masturbate. There was nothing else for it. The ache would not go away until he found release.
Gritting his teeth, he pumped his erection. His balls tightened, his breaths were coming in short sharp pants. He thought of Duna’s red rump, and of his handprints crisscrossing it like some delicate, perfect weaver’s design. He imagined being that root of ginger invading her tight asshole, fucking her there, bringing them both immense pleasure.
He grunted, his hand moving so fast on his cock it was a blur. He was getting near. He knew it wouldn’t take long.
He moaned long and low, not concerned about holding the sound in.
His abdomen was tense, the sun beat down on his shoulders. It was there, the pleasure. It ripped from him and he roared with relief, the noise echoing around the valley.
Still he didn’t let up. He remembered Duna’s scent, her pretty wet cunny with swollen lips. Another blast of release tore from his cock tip, landing on the shoreline next to the first. Then another and another.
He was gasping for breath. Sweat prickled his forehead, his top lip, and his armpits. It was as if his legs had been taken from under him, and releasing his cock, he staggered backward and sat with a bump on the sandy grass.
“Odin.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked at the water birds now flying in the opposite direction. “I fear my slave may be the master of me.”
Chapter Eleven
Duna peered around the rock. He’d told her to go to the longhouse. And she’d taken several fast paces there, wincing as her undergarments rubbed on her pained behind and the ginger had shifted inside her ass, but then he’d spoken and grunted, and there was something unique in his tone—something she’d never heard before and was compelled to listen to again.
So she’d stopped behind a rock that was half under the cover of a hawthorn bush, and turned to see what he was doing.
And now, watching him yanking his big, hard cock, she wondered if it had been wise to pause.
Sure, she’d seen his manhood when he’d risen from the bathtub, but now… now it had grown to an enormous size.
Is this what happens when he punishes me? When he touches me? When he puts a ginger plug inside me?
He had his manhood in his fist, pumping his hand along the length over and over. Judging by his moans she wasn’t sure if he was enjoying himself or in agony.
A crescendo was quickly reached. And in that moment she found him beautiful. His body was pure power and strength. Virility oozed from him and flooded the air around him.
She cupped her breast, squeezing her nipple through her tunic in a way she liked—in the way he had with his mouth. Her ass was so full, so hot, her cunny damp and trembling. Shame filled her the way the ginger did, but she couldn’t deny there was something pleasing about the heat around her most intimate hole.
Halvor’s shoulders hunched forward and liquid released from the end of his cock. He roared, a pleasure-soaked yell that caused a flock of water birds to take to the sky. More liquid landed on the shoreline, the sunlight catching its arc through the air.
Duna squeezed her nipple harder and clenched her ass. A full body tremble attacked her, starting in her cunny and winding up her spine to her scalp.
Halvor suddenly sat back on the ground, ran his hand through his hair, and said something she didn’t catch.
A sudden shard of fear went through her. She’d disobeyed him again by not going directly to the longhouse. And something deep inside her knew he’d be unhappy to know she’d watched him taking action with his cock.
Silently she stood, picked up the hem of her dress, then weaved her way back along the narrow path to the house. Her heart was thudding, her ass stung, and her head was filled with the image of Halvor’s big cock.
Luckily her new boots were soft and quiet, and she made it indoors feeling sure he wouldn’t find out about her most recent disobedience. Her ass would never cope with another spanking; two in two days was enough for anyone’s buttocks. And to get spanked with the damn ginger in place. Would she even survive that?
She bent over the table and pulled up her dress. The cool air washed over her hot buttocks but she ignored that; the invasion in her bottom was the more pressing matter. After carefully feeling for the ginger she located the bar that she guessed would remove it. Pulling it a little, she was aware of a thrum of need in her cunny, right over the point Halvor had rubbed her the day before.
Quickly she shoved her fingers to that spot. It was instinctual to copy his actions and she rubbed gently but swiftly.
She caught her breath. The movement served only to increase the want inside of her. It was as though a pressure was building, a desire for something but she didn’t know what.