The Viking's Captive(55)

Halvor’s cock twitched.

“Master, you should ensure I don’t make that mistake again.”

“And how should I do that, woman?”

“Mark my bottom, Master.” As she’d spoken she’d pushed at her clothing, exposing her peachy bare ass cheeks. She tipped forward over the table, so her buttocks were lifted and presented perfectly to him. The breadboard he’d used to spank her on previous occasions was ready for using.

There was a familiar rush of blood to his groin. His wife’s ass, when red, was one of his favorite things to see, touch… kiss.

But he didn’t want the board, not this time.

“It’s a very serious error, Duna.” He reached for the buckle on his belt.

She was facing him, and her eyes widened as he slid it free, folded it in half, and gripped it over the buckle. “I understand, Master.” There was a slight shake in her voice.

“A serious error, one that nearly cost us our lives, requires twelve lashes with the belt, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You may cry out, for this will hurt, as it is intended to.”

She closed her eyes and clenched her ass.

“No, little one, that will make it worse, you know that.” He stroked her bare bottom. Her skin was smooth and warm. He adored the round, pert shape of her buttocks.

She relaxed under his touch.

“Now place your hands in the small of your back,” he said.

As her wrists crossed he took hold of them with his left hand, in the right he held his belt. He’d need to keep her in place for this lashing; it would be tough to take.

“Please, Master, I am sorry.”

“You would be more sorry had we eaten poison.”

“I know. Yes. I would be. I would hate myself.”

“You will never forget this lesson.”

“I won’t.”

He was keen to get started, so she’d always remember the near miss, and never forget to show him mushrooms in the future. But equally he knew the perfect white skin of her ass was about to be stained red.

“I’m ready,” she said, her fingers digging into her palms.

“Try and be brave,” he said, then pulled back his arm and swung the belt over her right cheek.

She cried out and lurched forward but he had her held tight.

Quickly he brought down the next lash, over her opposite cheek.

Again she squealed and he had to hold her firm to stop her from scooting off the table.

“It’s not drawing blood,” he said. “I would never do that to you.”

“Oh, but it hurts so much.”

“That’s what it’s supposed to do.” He flicked the belt down again, twice, over the first stripes that were already appearing.

“Oh, oh…” she wailed.

“Never again will you attempt to cook us poison.” He held her tighter and thrashed her again, several times. He didn’t put all of his strength into it; that would be too much for his delicate wife to take. He gave her as much as he knew she could handle.

She wailed and sobbed, writhed within his hold, bucking against the table.

The next two strikes had her dancing on her toes and flicking her hips from side to side as if to escape.

He paused before the last four slaps of the belt to allow her to catch her breath. Her ass was red and glowing, she was trembling, and her bottom shook delicately as he admired it. His cock was rock hard and surging against his breeches. He was well used to that now when he delivered a spanking.

“We’re nearly finished,” he said, eager to set down the belt and feel the heat radiating from her ass. “Four more strikes.”

“Yes… Master.”

He gripped her wrists tighter, held the belt firmer, then raised his arm and brought down the strip of leather. He sliced it over first her right then left buttock. Without a break he repeated the action.

Her wail was long and guttural and echoed around the longhouse. He knew she’d never pick the wrong mushrooms again, or attempt to cook them. This was a lesson she’d well and truly learned.

Releasing her wrists momentarily, he quickly used the belt to bind them together, so her hands were trapped in the small of her back. “Stay there, stay still. I have not finished with you.”

“Yes… Master.” She was crying, which she often did during a spanking. Soon he’d comfort her.

Standing behind her, he rested his hands over her buttocks. She gasped and went onto her toes, shifting on the table.

“The belt marks you in a very pleasing way,” he said, tracing over the swollen welts. “Though I dare say sitting down today will not be comfortable.”

“As it shouldn’t be after my mistake.”

“True.” He reached into his breeches, loose without his belt, and tugged his cock free. Wrapping his fist around his shaft, he began to masturbate. “Do not move.”

“I won’t, Master.”

For the love of Odin, his wife’s ass was beautiful. Red and quivering, her cunny lips just visible and sparkling with her moisture.

He worked himself faster and his balls contracted.

“Master,” she gasped.

“Duna.” It was nearly there, his release. He gripped her left cheek with his free hand and squeezed, digging his fingers into her stained flesh.