The Viking's Captive(37)

“You have. And when you’d been doing so well at carrying out instructions, slave. I haven’t had to spank you for a long time.”

She could hear the disappointment in his tone. It made his voice deeper, dragged out the last few words of his sentence.

Staring at her feet, she wriggled her toes within her boots.

“Bend over the table,” he said.

“I do not understand.”

“I think you do, bend… over… the… table.”

Nerves swirled within her belly, memories of her previous spankings filling her mind. She was glad there was no ginger root in the house.

“Now!” he commanded, his tone sharp.

She started, her eyes misted. Rushing to the table, she pushed a small wooden board used for slicing bread aside and bent over. Her breasts pressed against the surface, and she went up onto her toes.

“Pull up your dress.” He strode to the fire and held his hands to it, as if warming his palms. “Quickly.”

Reaching behind herself, she dragged at the material of her dress, her fingers fumbling in the folds. All the time she had one eye on him, watching what he was doing, wondering how he would spank her. With his shoe? His heated palms? Or did he have some other implement in mind?

“Right up.” He turned to her, his muscles rippling beneath his skin. “You know full well where your punishment will be delivered.”

She did as instructed.

The dress was at her waist, her ass in the air, covered now only by her white undergarments.

He stepped up to her.

Resigned to her fate, she rested her cheek on the cool surface of the table.

A sudden yanking of her undergarments made her gasp and jolt forward.

Cool air slid over her ass cheeks.

The pose was familiar now, bared to him, but still a wave of humiliation went through her. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of how she must look to him in this position. So immodest, so vulnerable. He could, and would, do what he wanted with her.

An image of him working his cock by the lake besieged her. She snapped open her eyes, almost afraid he’d see into her mind.

He should have done it in private.

That thought replaced her last one. She’d touched herself, of course she had, but never when anyone would see her. Not that she’d truly understood what all the fuss was about. Her friend in the village had said playing with her cunny made her breathless and she struggled to keep her mind. Apart from that one time with the ginger, almost at this very spot, that hadn’t been Duna’s experience.

“You have added some meat to your bones,” Halvor said, smoothing his warm palms over her ass cheeks. “That pleases me for I was fearful for your strength and stamina come the winter.”

“I only want to please you, Master.” As she said it, she realized she did… mostly. Bringing a smile to his face with a good meal, making him laugh with a comment gave her a warm, mellow feeling inside.

But there was nothing warm and mellow about this moment—she was in for a good spanking, she knew that with every piece of her heart.

“You should be able to take your punishment better,” he said, “with more flesh. But do not fear, that won’t affect my treatment of you.” His work-roughened palms caught on her skin. She imagined his hand spanned her buttock entirely as he rubbed over each one.

“Thank you,” she said.

He set his hands on her shoulders, pressing her into the table. “I do not wish you to move from this position, slave.”

“I won’t, Master.”

“I want my hands free, not keeping you captive.”

“I will do my best.” Her ass was tingling already, as if the skin there knew what was coming. Her heart beat so fast she could feel her pulse in her temple.

“You will understand when I start.”

She bit on her bottom lip. She’d reached the point she just wanted him to begin so it would be over.

There was a small clunk to her right.

He’d picked up the bread board.

She gulped. It was made of solid oak, the surface flat and wide. She was sure it would deliver a wicked spank.

She didn’t have long to ponder the fact.

Whack.

“Ouch!” She jolted, but tried not to push too far up the table. Heat seared over her right cheek.

Whack.

She tried to hold in a yelp, but failed. Her left cheek had taken the strike this time. Now that was on fire, the same as the other one. The wooden board delivered such an even spread of pain.

He used it again, once on each cheek.

Her eyes welled with tears. She curled her fingers so tight her nails dug into her palms.

“This is a fitting punishment for your crime. A hen lost her life this eve.”

“I know. I am sorry.” She deserved this. She’d been so neglectful. Poor hen had done nothing wrong. It had trusted her to care for it. She’d let it down.

“Now remember, keep still, this is the start of the real punishment.”

The start?

“Oh, God.” She moaned and went onto her toes. How would she keep still if the smacks pushed her up the table?

The wooden board came down on her again, each cheek. He then set up a steady rhythm alternating between the two.

He wasn’t throwing his strength into it, the strokes were fairly light but the sheer number of them, layering up the heat had her groaning and twisting her head from side to side. Plus the size of the board meant so much flesh was punished on each spank.