Ægir's Wife Ch. 01

His words that should have thrilled her instead disgusted her, but still she could not deny her body's reaction to the erotic picture he painted. She closed her eyes tight to hold back the tears of self-loathing. What was wrong with her? Why could she not control her need with him? Knowing that he did not feel the same way towards her that she felt for him. The love that she shared with his brothers. That he might never. Still she could not deny him anything?

She felt his weight that had crushed her against the floor shift, then he slipped from her body. She cursed at how empty she felt. Empty. Void. Like nothing. No one.

Then she felt the soft, coolness of the washcloth as he cleansed her beginning at her shoulders and back where their sweat combined. She sighed as he stopped to rinse the cloth in the bowl of warm water that she had prepared earlier, another of his instructions. Though she had altered them slightly, adding just a touch of his wash so that the water was scented as well as soothing.

She wanted to cry again at how gentle he was as he washed her tender ass. If that was not bad enough, when he was finished he bent and softly kissed each of the cheeks of her ass. He placed another tender kiss at the small of her spine as he whispered, "Så go ei pia."

She searched her memory for a translation, but sometimes she felt that she was fighting a losing battle in her efforts to learn the language. Sven especially seemed to prefer the local dialect that could be so different from the Norwegian that she was studying through an app on her tablet. With this one, she caught enough to know it was some form of 'good girl.' "Takk herre," she answered with her limited knowledge of the local language that she had managed to pick up from Olaf and Petrine.

His hand on her shoulder lifted her and turned her to face him. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss across her knuckles, once more the perfectly considerate Dom. His eyes were the most intense blue as he studied her face for a long moment as if considering what to say then. For a split second she would have almost sworn she saw a glimpse of true tenderness in them, rather than the icy cold of the sea that they mimicked.

Then he dropped them, looking away from her face. His face scrunched into a dark scowl then as he dropped her hand. His finger traced over the faint white mark on the swell of her left breast. Mikael's mark had healed quickly and completely.

"Ka i hælvette?" he growled as his other hand gripped her upper arm so tightly that it was painful, that he might even leave bruises.

She shook her head, not understanding anything he said other than 'Helveti' or simply hell. "I don't understand," she whispered as much at the sudden change in him as at what he said.

***

Sven glared at her as he felt the anger rolling like waves in a storm. She was not the one he was angry with...not really. But she was the one there. For the moment anyway. "What the hell? It means what the hell. Specifically, what the hell is this?" he demanded as his finger traced the offensive mark once more.

She smiled. And he changed his assessment of the situation instantly, hell, yes, he was angry with her too. Mikael would have never dared such a thing without consent. Problem was as 'their' wife his brother had failed to get consent from everyone involved. He inhaled deeply and reminded himself to remain calm, not that he had had much luck with that at all this night. Not the way he had promised himself he would with her. "I asked a question, wife. What is this?" he shook her what he would consider gently, just to snap her out of whatever silly daydreams woman had.

Her face darkened. He watched as the sweet sub disappeared and his warrior wife returned. He prepared for another 'go fuck yourself,' but this time he was determined to get the answers he wanted. He gripped both of her upper arms and shook her more solidly. "Do you not understand, Kirsten? Ka i hælvette? What the hell? What the fuck? What is this? Do you need French, German and Russian too for good measure? Because I promise you, dear wife, I will get my answer."

He lowered his face towards hers until they were nose to nose, "Then I will punish your ass and kick my brother's."

Why did she have to look so incredibly cute with her face scrunched up like that? But this time he was not going to be swayed as he stared her down and waited for an explanation. They remained like that, a childish game of chicken to see who would look away first, for several long moments. Then he gripped her arms more tightly and stood up, dragging her with him. He slowed down only long enough to grab the towel off the floor and wrap it about his waist.

"What are you doing, Sven?" she demanded as she tried to cross her free arm over her tits and down between her legs at the same time, but only a gorilla's arms would be long enough for that and their wife might be a fool but she was no monkey. He said nothing as he threw open the door and dragged her out even when she tried to dig her heels in.

"What do you think you are doing? Let me get dressed. Damn you," she cursed.

He shook his head as he ignored her protests and pulled her further out the door. He turned left and used whatever force was necessary to drag her after him. It was not like the bruises on her upper arms would be the only ones he had ever given her. And right now, she should be damned grateful it was not that long, soft red hair that he was using to drag her with.

Besides it was only a few feet down the hall, past his own bedroom to his brother's. He pounded loudly on it, "Din satans hæstkuk!" he screamed through the door, not giving a damn that he had just called his brother a devilish horse cock almost loud enough to be heard in the village. He heard a shout through the door, but was not certain what Mikael said or even what language he used.

It was Bjorn's door though that opened first. His baby brother looked almost as shitty as he felt just then. He was still wearing his clothes, though they were wrinkled and his feet was bare. His long hair looked tangled as if he had been running his fingers through it like he did when he was thinking.

"What the fuck, man?" he demanded in English, whether for her benefit or because his little brother had always been more comfortable with English. Another thing to thank their sainted mother for.

Sven was just about to explain...if it could be called that, when Mikael's door opened and his brother filled the door way clad in his jeans only. "Hva I helvete?" he asked in traditional Norwegian.

"Ja, ka i hælvette. What the hell is that?" he demanded pointing to the silvery white letter 'M' that marred Kirsty's tit.

Mikael sighed and his shoulders slumped, "Æ e lei mæ," he mumbled.

Even Bjorn glared at Mikael as he too saw his brother's mark on her body for the first time. "What the hell were you thinking? Okay, I never got it, but knife play is your thing. But this? Damn it, Mikael. How could you? Without even fucking asking us?"

Kirsty squared her shoulders and for the first time dropped her arms, "Asking you? Why the hell should he have to ask either of you? It is my god damned body and he had my consent."

Sven could no longer trust himself not to throttle her so he shoved her at his baby brother, "You deal with your wife. This is between me and Mikael now."

Bjorn reached for Kirsty and it was a good thing, otherwise she might have stumbled and fallen so hard had he pushed her.

"Damn straight this is between us, big brother. I said I was sorry. I should have thought it through more before doing something so permanent. I made a mistake. I admit that. But that is no excuse for how you are treating her. Then again you always treat her like a piece of meat, don't you?" Mikael stood toe to toe with him.

"Makes it easier to deny how you really feel for her. Or maybe I am wrong about that. Maybe you don't give a gods be damned more about her than you do any of the rest of us. Just servants, vessels to be used, like Ægir's Captive. Well, here is some news for you. Bjorn and I might take your shit, but we are not about to let you treat her like that."

Sven blanched at his brother's accusation, but he was not to be deterred. He was not the one, who had done anything wrong here. Maybe he could have or should have been gentler with her, but that was beside the point. He had done nothing that left permanent damage.

Bjorn nodded his head in ascent with Mikael as he shrugged out of his shirt and wrapped it about their naked and shivering wife, "He's right on that one, Sven. Be mad at Mikael, I am. But leave her out of this. She did nothing wrong."

"Dokker e nokken førbanna tøffelhælta," he replied to Bjorn.

"Fine, you made your point before, big brother. Slipper heroes. Pussy whipped. Whatever you choose to call us, but we mean it. No more. If you cannot treat Kirsty with the respect that she deserves as our wife, then stay the fuck away from her," Bjorn said as he drew her against his body and used his thumb to wipe away tears that were gathering in the corner of her eyes.

"As for me, I said I was sorry. There is not much more that I can do about it now. But honestly, neither of the two of you have that much room to talk. You, Sven, with your obsession about breeding her like some damned livestock," Mikael accused him.

Then turning to their younger brother, "And Bjorn, did you fucking think for a moment how messing in her head with that orgasm conditioning shit might affect us? I mean what if somehow or the other, it all got screwed up and she could only come on your command. Where the fuck would that leave me and Sven?" Mikael asked.

Bjorn nodded, "Touché, dear brother. Though that does not seem to be a problem since it is the words and not the man, who says them that seems to be the trigger."

Sven whirled on Bjorn, "Trigger? Orgasm conditioning? Is he fucking talking about what I think he is, baby brother?" Bjorn blushed as he nodded his head and looked down. "What the fuck were you thinking? That is serious stuff, even experienced Doms don't dare go screwing in someone's mind lightly."

"Experienced Doms? And what makes you such a fucking expert, dear brother? A string of married whores that none lasted more than six months? Since when did you make a fucking commitment to anyone?" Bjorn turned on him, "So don't go giving me advice on being a Master. I might not have dozens of women under my Dom belt, but that is for one simple reason...I take it seriously."

"I may have only topped in clubs a few times, but that was because I chose to wait for something worth having. Wait for a woman that I loved...and was committed to. So you are the last person on this planet that I want advice on how to care for what's mine from. Cause nothing and no one has ever been yours."

"So if you will excuse us, I will go and do that now...take care of what's mine," he drew her closer and kissed the top of her head before turning to Mikael. "When you are through with him, join us if you want. Assuming that either of you can still move after what I fear is to come."

***

Sven felt the cold wetness of the mud seeping into his bones, a couple of his ribs in particular that were likely broken. His brother had given as good as he got. As family tradition dictated after Bjorn had taken a visibly shaken and still angry wife back into her room, he and Mikael had both dressed and agreed to meet in the 'fighting' fields as only the males in the family dared to call his mother's beloved wild flower patch at the far back of the property. Not even the fifteen minute ride on the four-wheelers had managed to cool either of their tempers.

They had gone at it the moment they got there. The Northern Lights, which they had grown up with and long since taken their beauty for granted, proved more than sufficient lumination for their tussle. Though Sven doubted that many boxing champions had fought as long or as hard as they had. Fought until both were bloody, bruised and broken. Fought until they both collapsed in the mud that bordered the small stream that cut through the field and separated the Holding from their neighbor's property at this point.

"He's right about that too you know," Mikael's voice broke the night that was eerily silent as winter ones often were without even the occasional hoot of birds of prey.

"Right about what?" Sven tried to lift himself up using his elbows but quickly collapsed back into the oozing brown sludge when the pain in his side proved too much for him to endure without fainting.

"If you cannot treat her with respect then it is best if you stay the fuck away from her...until you can," his younger brother managed somehow to raise himself into a sitting position.

Sven considered Mikael's words. Maybe they were right. Maybe he just was not cut out for this marriage thing. If his brothers were to be believed for any type of human relationship, even family. He felt the sharp shooting pain across his chest, but was glad to blame it on the broken ribs. He nodded his head slowly as he heard another vehicle approaching.

"Ja, agreed," was all he said as his uncle drew the other four wheeler to a stop a few feet away.

"You two feel better now? Get anything settled?" Olaf asked as he held out his hand and helped the mud monster that was his son to his feet.

It was Mikael, who turned and held out his hand to him. He braced his other arm about his chest and he reached for his brother's hand, "Ja, they can have her," he said with guttural curse as he fought back nausea and dizziness from the pain.

His uncle shook his white-grey head slowly, "You sure that is what you truly want, son?" Olaf asked as he too reached out to try and help steady Sven as he got to his feet.

"I am not your son, old man. I am no one's son," Sven shook the man's hand off as he pushed Mikael aside too. Though he was not sure if he could make it as far as the ATV, he was determined to try. He managed to make it though, by sheer will.

"Du kainn sjite i deinn eine nævven og ønske i deinn aindre, og så kainn du se kaslags nævve du får mæst I," he heard his uncle say.

Sven smiled, he wanted to laugh at his uncle's words, 'You can shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which you get most in.' Another of the colourful local sayings that just about summarized his life. He revved the engine and took off across the field too quickly. He paid for it with another sharp shooting pain in his chest, but he supposed he should be thankful at least the broken ribs had not punctured a lung.

Yeah, maybe this was for the best, even if it would be living hell watching them, the two of them, his younger brothers, touch and love her. The woman that should have been his too. He thought about the sons he would never have with her. Maybe that was for the best too. He knew all too well what it felt like to grow up without a father. No, this was for the best. He would love and groom whatever nephews she gave him, just as he did his niece.

And her? How long would it take to forget how sweet her cunt tasted? How tight her ass had been? How perfectly she had assumed the submissive pose even from that first time? He had never felt more a Dom, more a man than he did when she knelt before him. But that too was over. He would find a way to live with it.

He turned the vehicle towards the boat. Yes, moving onto Ægir's Captive would be a good first step. Give him...and them a bit of space. Of course, it was the lucrative winter fishing season now so they would all be on the ship more than in her bed. Not that the thought made him glad or anything.

***

Thanks to all those who have written asking (begging? pleading?) for more. Sorry it took so long but I have been working on a novella based loosely upon Joy through the Tears for an anthology I am doing with some other awesome Lit writers.

And on the long awaited Labor's End...the second book in the Sergeant Mike novella series. I am still working on that one...so bad news to follow the good...it may be a couple more weeks until Chapter 2 of this story. But as a tease...Bjorn and Mikael have planned a VERY special Christmas present for Kirsty.

Oh and you may notice a few changes with this story from Ægir's Captive and Bride. I have a Norwegian friend who is helping me with the translation...and he convinced me to change to the setting to this rustic, isolated and abso-fucking-lutely perfect region in Northern Norway called Lofoten (search the web for pics...it is amazing). The best part is not only are there almost no cops so these guys can get away with kidnapping their brides...but they have the most wonderful sayings. Slipper heroes? Devilish horse cocks? Come on...how perfect is that. So a huge thank you to the real Bjorn for his translations and interesting insights into local culture and lore!

Enjoy!