The Viking's Captive(39)

Oh, that feels good.

“What?” A shard of unease sliced through him. “What did you see?”

She was silent.

“Tell me. I can easily pick up this board and continue to tan your hide, thrall.” He had to know.

“I saw…

“What? Tell me…”

He hoped he’d sounded serious, because truth was, he didn’t think it would be good to get her buttocks any more stained. She’d taken all she could. But he had to know what she’d seen.

“I was disobedient,” she whispered. “I stayed, behind a rock. I saw you take your own body in hand and what you did to it…”

He stared down at her. She truly was a Celtic wench of the worst sort. “You saw. You watched. But I told you to…”

She screwed her eyes up tight but continued to stroke his cock over his breeches. “I know. I couldn’t help myself. I… you… it fascinated me.”

A wave of embarrassment heated his scalp and cheeks but he quickly rid it. Her seeing a natural, male experience wasn’t something he should be ashamed of. “I told you to go to the longhouse and keep the ginger in your ass until you got there.”

“I know, Master, and I did keep it in, but I didn’t go straight there, and for that I beg your forgiveness.”

He pressed his lips together, both enjoying her touch and holding in his anger at her disobedience.

Again.

“Stand up,” he said. “Rearrange your clothes.”

“But, Master…”

“Do it.” He stepped away and pushed his hands through his hair. If she didn’t hide her ass, he’d grab hold of it, the reddest section, and plunge into her cunny, or maybe even her ass. His cock was uncomfortably hard.

She obeyed him, for a change. And quickly stood, pulling up her undergarments and pushing down her dress.

“What do you want of me, Master?” She came to stand before him. “For I know I must be punished for watching you in a private moment.”

He stared at her flushed face and her wide, pleading eyes.

“Master.” She gripped her hands beneath her chin. “I beg you, tell me what I can do to atone for my disobedience. I never should have watched you.”

Still he didn’t speak. He watched her mouth as she spoke, saw the tremble in her lip.

She made a strange sobbing sound, closed her eyes, and sank to the floor, crumbling with her hands still clasped tight at her throat.

“Duna.” He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. “What do you think I should do with you?”

“Spank me, Master.”

“Do you want that?”

She shook her head. “No, my rear is on fire.” She blinked rapidly.

“I agree, it would not be good for you, and I never want a punishment to do you harm.”

“Thank you, Master.” Her attention slipped from his face to his groin.

For the grace of Odin, just her gaze on him made his cock surge.

“Touch it, again.”

“Master?”

“My cock.”

She swallowed, then reached forward and cupped her palm over his long wedge of flesh.

He held in a groan.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Yes… more.”

She began to stroke it, the way she had when she’d been on the table.

His balls tingled and he tensed his belly.

“Take it out?”

Her gaze locked on his. Her lips parted but she didn’t speak.

“It’s not a complex task, thrall, just a button or two.”

She set to the assignment, her fingers shaking.

It seemed to him she was going super slow; his impatience was growing. This was rapidly becoming a hardening that would have to have a conclusion. He’d need to get release.

His breeches loosened and he shoved at them, allowing them to sit at his thighs. His cock sprang forward, and she rose up on her knees, so it was level with her face.

He grasped it in his fist. His pulse thudded against his palm.

“It’s… it’s so…”

“What?” he asked.

“Big. I never thought they could be of such a size.”

“I’m a Viking warrior, Duna, you really think I’d have a small cock?”

“No, but…”

“But nothing, you should accept it, the way I accept you are a small Celt woman with only just enough meat on your bones.”

She reached out, with the tip of her finger, and stroked over his slit.

He held his breath as she circled his glans, exploring his shape.

She then nudged his hand, as if she wanted him to release his shaft.

He did, and she wrapped her small fingers around it.

He groaned, a long low sound that rumbled around his chest.

“You like that, Master?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “More, move it, the way you must have seen me do, at the lake.”

She smiled. “I can do that.”

And she did, working him root to tip with both of her hands. Her fingers were a tight circle around his length and she got the pressure just right.

“Will I still be punished, Master? For watching you?”

“No, no, not if you do this right.” The pressure was building. He clenched his buttocks and locked his knees He caught her jaw again. “Open your mouth.”