Ægir’s Bride Ch. 03

Kirsty smiled as she watched Monika swing on her play set. The day was chilly and a bit grey. Those dark clouds over head were just another reminder of him...and last night. She dropped her head and toyed with a blade of tall brown grass. Even that would be gone soon, hidden under the white of snow, she mused.

Breakfast this morning had been tense to say the least. Unlike the café yesterday or dinner last night, everyone was not talking all at once. In fact, no one talked at all really. She caught Bjorn looking at her across the table a couple of times. She tried to smile reassuringly at him, but it did not seem to work. Those dark circles were still present beneath his green eyes too.

Sven too did not have much to say, only answering his uncle's questions a couple of times. Or she assumed they were questions. She would talk to Petrine when she came out of the greenhouse. Maybe she could order an online language course. She was certainly tired of not knowing what the people around her were saying.

Of course, he was the most silent. Although that was not all that unusual. He sat directly across the table from her. Never once did he look up though. Damn, the man. She had woken up alone in that damned monstrosity that passed for her bed. Torture device was more like it. Hell, her whole fucking bedroom was.

The bed with its four huge posters and metal rings all around it. She remembered photos on that site of women suspended with rope in mid-air. She bet they could do that there. So why did that idea excite her as much as it frightened her?

She had explored the room a bit after she finally found the energy to get out of bed...and forced her shaky legs to work. The wardrobe she had come to realize could double as a St. Andrew's Cross with three of those rings across the top as anchors for roping. To make it worse the ancient mirrors on the doors would reflect everything back to her. She would see every blow before it even hit...if her eyes were open anyway.

And that damned chair...the one that she had thought at first was some oversized captain's one. It was more like a fucking throne. She had shivered as she ran her hands across its ancient wood. It too had three rings. On at the very top of the high back, through a laughing Loki's nose. The other two at the ends of the arms through the snouts of dogs, or she thought they were supposed to be dogs anyway.

Of course, the one thing she had wanted to explore the most: that damned trunk, which she supposed was their 'toy box' only larger than the one on the boat. It had been locked when she woke up. So besides the rope and that horrid tawse she had no idea what else might be in store for her.

She had jumped up from the floor and wrapped the quilt tighter about her when the door to her room opened. It was only Petrine though. Only her mother-in-law. Kirsty looked once more towards the closed doors of the greenhouse. The woman had disappeared in there over an hour ago and she had no idea what she was doing. She thought about knocking, making certain that everything was all right. But she was in charge of Monika just then.

Thinking about that room...that was now hers...but it had been this woman's before. Mikael's words from last night about the things his parents might have done in there, well, maybe disturbing Petrine was not the best idea after all. Talking about her marriage and how it worked with the woman had been bad enough yesterday, that was most definitely one conversation she was not ready for.

BDSM? Bondage. Domination. Submission. Masochism. She had checked all the boxes last night in that room with him. She shifted on the hard, cold ground where she sat. She was still sore this morning. Walking was not easy. Then again neither was sitting. Was it from the stiff leather of the tawse that he had used, not on her bottom, but on her...front? Or was it from his fingers and tongue stuffing her fuller and fuller, more than most cocks ever could?

Pain slut. His words tormented her. She had had enough trouble trying to come to terms with her need to submit to a man in this feminist world in which she lived. But she had never for once thought that final M masochist would apply to her. She would have sworn that pain did nothing for her. Until last night...

She fought back tears as she looked around her. Monika had moved on to her sandbox that was protected from the elements beneath a play house that rose a good five feet above it. The whole thing showed such careful planning and construction. She would have loved to have had such a thing with 'her kids.'

'Her kids,' her clients she should say. Her hand rested on her coat just over her lower abdomen as she watched the little girl play. They had never been hers. All of them had merely been borrowed for an hour once a week or so. Calling them that was just her way of making her life seem like it meant something, like she had some purpose.

But today another therapist would simply step in and take over where she left off. Some of them would not even notice. For others, of course, the transition would be much harder, but she knew that they too would adjust eventually. She was so easily replaceable. She always had been. The email from her supervisor authorizing her sabbatical just proved that.

Now there really was nothing tying her to that old life. Her flat mates had confirmed that they would be happy to look after Little Miss. Actually they had begged and pleaded if they could keep her. Kirsty still was not sure about that though. Even though Petrine had a couple of cats, mousers as she called them, this place was more than large even for Little Miss to join the family.

This place...the Holding. It truly was breath-taking. Petrine, Monika and she had wondered around a bit more after they had cleared up the breakfast things. It was acres and acres, one of the larger islands in this area. Most of it remained fully wooded though there were a couple of good sized fields like this one which housed Petrine's greenhouse and Monika's play area. Another housed Olaf's cabin and a wood working shop. A third was simply blanketed with late autumn wildflowers.

This place was so beautiful and peaceful. Peaceful in a way that she had craved her whole life. While she knew that she was not on the autistic spectrum, Kirsty had always wondered if something was not wrong with her. Sensory processing disorder perhaps? London had just always been too much. Too loud. Too many people. All rushing around, most with no real place to go or be. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment as she leaned her head back and inhaled the fresh clean scent of pine and sea. It reminded her of them.

She forced her eyes open again though they seemed so fucking heavy right now. She had no idea how much sleep she had gotten last night. But this felt unlike any exhaustion she had ever known. Not even after her rare all night binge in uni with her girlfriends had she felt this...She frowned as she tried to find the words to describe it. Tired? Yes, more like exhausted, knackered.

But at the same time her whole body thrummed with some weird energy. She supposed it must be something like what her kids with ADHD, hyperactivity, felt like. Nervous energy. She just could not sit still or force her mind to focus, not for even a moment. The two were at complete odds and it felt like they were warring inside of her, like they might even tear her body apart in this battle.

She felt like her whole skin just did not fit...like it was itchy and scratchy all over. To make it worse, one minute she was freezing cold and the next she was too hot. She reached up and felt her forehead. She did not feel feverish, but still perhaps that was it. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She had after all just been through an ordeal that would weaken most people's immune system. Kidnapped and taken hundreds...a thousand miles from home?

Home? Just that word made her want to burst into tears. What was it anyway? Certainly not the damned one bedroom in a flat she shared with two other women to whom she barely spoke. Not the boarding schools that she had been sent to from the time she was seven, so that her parents could concentrate upon what was truly important...their careers as consultants, doctors in the vast National Health Service. Hell, not even the large brick home in one of the better neighborhoods in north London where she had lived on school holidays, where her earliest memories of nannies and housekeepers were formed.

She shook herself. What was wrong with her? She had thought after speaking with Bjorn and Petrine yesterday that she was coming to terms with everything. Every? Thing? Kidnapping? Being married...to three men? Hot sex unlike any she had ever had...with not one partner...but three. She supposed she could count Mikael...even if it was not intercourse as such. And kinky bondage, domination, submission and now even masochism.

Fuck her ex-boyfriend Raj for giving her that damned tablet as his final present on Valentine's Day...just a couple of weeks before informing her that he was going to marry his cousin from India. Fuck those damned e-books that had gotten her so worked up about BDSM. Fuck Captive Brides most of all. And especially fuck Raquel Graffen and her sick imagination about Dom brothers who captured women to seduce and marry them. And fuck, her new reality where that was no longer just fiction.

She shivered. But it was from more than just the cold that seemed suddenly to be overwhelming. But this time it was not a single one, she was actually shaking. Her whole body trembling as if she had a high fever and chills.

"Kirsty?" she heard the soft voice and looked up. Her mind clouded even more just then. The older woman with the long silver hair and kind green eyes looked down at her. She knew that she should recognize her. That she knew this woman, but her name escaped her. "Look at me, Kirsty," the woman commanded. Commands? She was good at those...wasn't she? It seemed that something else was missing.

But right then she did not care, she was floating...just floating. She remembered this. Remembered him. Then it was not so fun anymore. She was falling. Falling so fucking fast. Everything around her was spinning so fucking fast like that ride at the fun fair.

Green eyes? Someone else had green eyes like that too? But she could not remember who just then. But it did not matter. "I think I maybe sick...have caught something," she tried to whisper though she was not certain any sound came out of her throat that was so dry at the moment.

Warm arms wrapped about her then. She gave up and just leaned into them, closed her eyes.

***

Petrine looked at her daughter-in-law. "I'm going to fucking kill him," she swore. She looked over to where Monika was playing on the climbing frame. She could not leave either of them unattended. Not now. And there was no way she could carry this woman to the boat where her boys were probably all working on the nets. Olaf's cabin was just over the ridge, but if the damned man was in his wood working shop then he would not hear her screams over the machinery.

But she had to try. She took off her own coat and wrapped it around the younger woman, "Everything will be all right, Kirsty," she tapped her face lightly, just enough to rouse her and get her to open her eyes. "Listen to me, sweetie. This is drop, just sub drop, that's all," she did not add that it was the worst she had ever seen or let on how scared she really was. Sub drop was after all...shock. The body's response to trauma. "Damn, Mikael. Damn him to hell," she whispered under her breath as she began to scream at the top of her lungs..."Help!"

Monika looked up. She could see her granddaughter beginning to panic, but what option did she have right now? She could not leave either of them. She felt tears forming in her eyes as panic rose. She knew what to do...of course she did. She had dealt with this herself a few times...though never this bad.

But other than keeping her as warm as possible with her coat, there was not much she could do. The house was too far. She probably could not even get the girl to her greenhouse...although she should try. Water...she needed water, but that too was at the house. Chocolate? Herb tea? All of it was out of reach just then. Especially what she needed most...her son's comfort. Fuck him. She was going to lay in to Mikael's ass when she saw him.

She opened her mouth to try screaming again when he appeared out of the trees. "What is it, Mama?" he yelled as he continued towards them. She noticed that Bjorn was only a couple of steps behind her middle son.

"What's wrong?" he panted. "Monika seems fine," he shrugged.

It was the last thing that Petrine wanted to hear from her son just then. Bjorn leaned down next to her, he seemed more in tune with the situation though he did not speak. She passed the woman's limp body off to her youngest son as she stood up.

She was not a small woman at five foot eleven inches, but her sons, all of them, towered over her. But right now, that did not matter at all. She poked him in the chest. "Your daughter is fine, Mikael. It is your wife you should be fucking worried about. What the hell were you thinking? She is your WIFE. Not one of your whores. Or those pathetic subs you play with in the clubs. Where all you have to do is hand them a bottle of water, wrap a blanket over their shoulders and give them a couple of pats...'there, there.' It is fucking called...after care. Have you never fucking heard of it?"

Her son's face clouded over as he looked from her red face to the ground where his younger brother was holding the girl and brushing her red hair back out of her face. The pained look in Mikael's eyes that were so fucking much like his father's almost made her regret her harsh words...almost...but only for a moment.

Then Sven appeared out of the woods in one direction and Olaf from the other. Both men spoke at the same time, "What is it? What's the matter?" Of course her husband had to add...'old woman' for good measure.

"He's the matter. My idiot son, that's what's the matter." She stared at all of them in turn, "Have none of you ever heard of a little thing called sub drop? After care? Any of this ring a fucking bell?" She was so angry that she was trembling. She could see her sons all blushing as they looked at the ground.

It was the first time that she had ever spoken openly about it. Any of it. She supposed that all of them had put the pieces together as they grew up. It was after all her husbands, who had introduced the boys to the BDSM clubs once they were old enough. Places like Amsterdam and Saint Petersburg had some of the best.

But she supposed that none of them wanted to connect the dots. Wanted to admit to themselves that if their fathers...then their mother? Maybe she should have forced the issue sooner though. Made certain that they saw things from the woman's perspective. The submissive's. And she probably was not doing any of this right. But she was mad right now. Madder than she had been... in a long time.

"Bjorn, help me get her to the house," she commanded. "Mikael, take care of your child."

Then she was spinning. Until she stared up into the dark grey eyes of her husband. She recognized that color. Knew that she was not the only one who was mad at the moment. Well, that was just too fucking bad. Whatever the Old Man had to say would wait. Right now, she needed to get the girl back to the house. See to her properly.

His eyes never left her face as he spoke, "Sven help Mikael take your wife back to the house. Son, you know what needs to be done. Bjorn, watch your niece for a few minutes. Your mother and I need to 'talk'."

Petrine knew that she should listen. She had not seen this man like this in...a very, very, very long time. Maybe too long considering that she did not have the wisdom to shut up while she could. She shook her head, "No, Bjorn and I can manage. Monika is scared. She needs her father."

He leaned in even closer. He was quiet when he spoke, too quiet. "As you told our son last night, right now his wife needs him more." He crowded even closer into her personal space, brought his face right next to hers until she could feel his whiskers abrade her cheek. "Open your mouth again, Rachel, and it is double. Do you understand me?"

He drew back and all it took was a look to send them all into action. Though Mikael's shoulders were slumped and he would not look at any of them, he reached for the woman. Bjorn drew her tighter into his arms and shook his head, "No, I'll take her."

"No, this is Mikael's job and you know that, son. Besides your mother is right," he said as he looked over to where the little girl was cowered in the corner of the sandbox. "Monika is frightened. And besides her father, she likes you best. Give your wife to your brothers, they can manage."

Petrine could see that he wanted to argue. She smiled...at least her youngest had some sense. Then again she had had more of a hand in raising him so of course it was logical that he could see things more from a woman's perspective.

But her smile froze when she saw him looking at her. Bjorn reluctantly released his burden to his brothers and stood up to go to his niece. Mikael and Sven draped her arms over their shoulders and half carried and half dragged the semi-conscious woman towards the house. She noticed that Sven's face was almost as dark as Bjorn's.

But neither of her sons' came anywhere close to the dark grey that flashed in his eyes. That was when she realized. She was in trouble. Big trouble as he crooked his fingers and motioned for her to follow him. She thought about running. It would not be the first time. Maybe she could even out pace him...this time. She was close to a decade younger after all. But then what? Run where? And if speaking would warrant double, what additional punishment would running earn her?

She sighed. No, it was best to go with him. To get this over with. As quickly as she could. Although she doubted very seriously that it would be all that quick or that it would be over with any time soon. She would likely need extra cushions for a few days from the looks in those eyes. For the first time, she really felt fear. It had been almost thirty years since she had faced a real punishment, but something told her that was about to end.

***

Mikael stared at the woman...his wife. Their wife, he reminded himself as Sven pulled back the quilt and helped him get her into the bed.

Damn it, his mother was right. He had screwed up. Big time. And while no one had ever actually died of sub drop...how would anyone know though? This was as bad as he had ever seen it. "Fuck," he cursed as he pulled her boots off. He messaged her feet, trying to get circulation back to her extremities.

"I'll grab what you need downstairs," Sven said as he headed towards the door.

And wouldn't you know it, Mama had to let him have it in front of his brothers. Not that he did not deserve it. He should have known better. He had been playing these games for close to fifteen years. But Mama was right about that too...dealing with drop in a casual play partner was very different. Besides adequate hydration, which idiot that he was, he had not even seen to that last night, thinking that she looked so beautiful and peaceful as she slept. He had not wanted to disturb her. Or that was the excuse he had used for not waking her. Not looking at the anger, disgust and hatred in those eyes after what he had done, how far he had pushed her, was much closer to the truth.

Too fucking far, he sighed as he reached up and pulled down her skirt and tights in a single motion. He was not sure whether he wanted to laugh or scream when he noticed that she wore no panties beneath them. One thing about their wife...she was about as naturally submissive as they came. He had made that command without consulting either Sven or Bjorn. But then again too he had not really expected her to remember and obey something he had casually tossed out in the heat of the moment.