Ægir's Wife Ch. 05

But still there were hundreds of people out there. Most of them thin...fashionable...perfect. Worst yet...SHE was out there. Parading around in nothing but a thong. With her perfect, apple size breasts. Her perfect long legs without a single dimple or sign of cellulite. Her tiny, little, tight ass.

And worst of all, her perfectly flat tummy. Even after a pregnancy, not a single stretch mark and certainly no sign of a muffin top that so many women complained they could never seem to lose. Hell, she had a whole fucking cake worth of it...and she had never even been pregnant.

She touched her round tummy, not that she would mind. Not a thousand muffins. Not if she really were pregnant. A baby. Her own baby. With Bjorn. Not that it could change how she felt about Monika, nothing ever could. But as she had said to that woman, a baby brother or sister would just make things...

She sighed, who was she kidding? A baby could not make any of this better. She felt the tears gathering again as they approached the small crowd gathered around the cross. She fought panic and the need to turn and flee as fast as she could when she saw the perfect form strapped to it at the moment.

She would have done just that except for the firm hand at the small of her back as Roz whispered, "Head high and shoulders back. Remember you have two things that she never will. Her child and that man's love. And if you don't believe that, look at his face, sweetie."

Kirsty swallowed as she forced her eyes to do just that. He looked a bit sheepish. She could almost imagine him as the little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

She sighed, Roz was right of course. None of this was his fault. How was he to know that woman would be here today any more than she had known her friend would be? And he had not fallen for the woman's sweet innuendos. In fact, he had been almost as vitriolic as she had been.

He held out his hand as Roz pushed her the couple of feet towards her husband. Bjorn brought her fingers to his lips and brushed a kiss across the back of her hand, "You look lovely, Kirsty."

She studied the wooden floor as she mumbled, "Thank you, Bjorn."

"Oh come on you two, you'd think this was your first date or something. Hell, I'd think with a body like his, you'd have demanded to see it naked by now, especially when it comes to baby-making time," her friend said a tad too loudly.

"Fuck," Bjorn cursed. "The baby? Maybe we should not..."

Kirsty nodded her head as she looked up at him, grasping at any excuse she could to run from this spectacle. "Of course, the baby..."

"Oh, do not worry about that, dearie," crooned the thickly accented feminine voice.

Kirsty looked over Bjorn's shoulder to see her rival donning a black silk robe over her naked and now pink skin. "Mikael and I played regularly throughout my pregnancy with no effects on the child. And as I am sure you know by now he is much more sadistic than baby brother ever could be."

She squared her shoulders at the woman's words that were laden with so many insults to all of them...Mikael, Bjorn, herself, but there was one she would not tolerate, "Monika. Your daughter has a name...in case you have forgotten it."

She turned and brushed a kiss over Bjorn's lips as she tenderly caressed his cheeks. "We can't let her win," she whispered against his lips.

He smiled and nodded as he bowed courtly at the waist, "After you, my darling wife." He held out his hand as he helped her up to the wooden X-shaped structure. He bent to secure the leather straps about her ankles.

Kirsty leaned her head against the padded wooden cross bar that no only provided additional stability for the structure but also offered comfort for the sub. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She tried hard to focus. To get into that head space.

Still the idea of being put on display like this before so many people. Even though the sarong style wrap that Roz had loaned her covered far more than Greta's thong did, she felt exposed. The material was thin, almost transparent, and it hung and clung to all her curves. Curves? Nice way of saying...your fat ass.

Her breath caught as she felt his hands begin to slowly caress up her calves, "Open wider for me, sweetheart." His voice was low and hypnotic as his other hand grasped her ankle and moved it closer to the wooden bar.

She felt her heart skip a beat and it had nothing to do this time with the anxiety she felt at being so exposed to all those people...and everything to do with him. Her husband. And she felt closer to him in that moment than she had in months. All of the rest began to disappear as she felt those hands secure the other ankle.

Her eyes opened widely as his hands once more began to caress her legs, except this time it was not just her calves as his fingers danced along her inner thigh. She held her breath as they went higher and higher. He would not dare. Not in front of so many prying eyes. But he did as they slipped between her legs and caressed her sensitive cleft from her clit back to her ass.

He tapped it lightly, "Good girl," he whispered when he felt the hard red glass end of the butt plug that he had bought for her.

She jumped as she felt his hand make contact with her bottom, driving the plug deeper inside her ass. She could not stifle the moan as another landed on the other cheek. She felt her body crushed against the soft firmness of the cross as he slid his body slowly up hers.

"Fuck, all the gods in Asgard, do you know how good you smell, sweetheart? I had almost forgotten how sweet your pussy is when you get turned on. Damn it, I wish there were not so many people around. I want to tongue your sweet cunt so fucking much," he whispered as he pushed his hard cock against her ass.

The plug became almost an extension of his cock as it gently fucked her ass, rubbing against her g-spot from the other side. She bit her lip and reminded herself, "You do not have permission to come," his deep whisper matched her thoughts.

"Yes, Sir," she moaned as she slithered between him and the cool, firm padding, turned on as she had not been in months, even more so knowing that her relief would have to wait. She felt the furred lined leather cuff tighten about her wrist.

"I think she is warmed up enough. Other people are waiting, you know," the cold, masculine posh British accent interrupted. Kirsty could not help but turn her head to see the older man in black leather with his arm draped over her shoulder. She stiffened at the look of triumph and disgust on the woman's face.

"You are the one, who said we couldn't let her win, my love," he whispered as he secured the cuff around her other wrist. His hands slowly caressed and kneaded her tense shoulders as they brushed back from her shoulder the thick braid that she had woven it into. His teeth nipped that sweet spot where her shoulder met her neck.

"Good girl," he said as she pushed back against his cock and moaned. His fingers raked across her shoulder slowly, crisscrossing her skin and raising blood to the surface.

"Please, Bjorn," she pleaded as she felt the wet begin to soak her knickers. She jumped when his teeth sank painfully deep into the same spot he had so tenderly nipped before. "Oh..."

His hand make contact hard with her bum, "Please who?"

Kirsty stifled the giggle. His teasing might have put her in a hopeful mood at the moment, but she dared not spoil it with a real punishment. "Please, Master."

His tongue licked an oval on her shoulder before he placed a single soft kiss in the center, "Do not forget again."

She whimpered when she felt him move away, the cool air caressed her back but it was not his touch. Then she felt the sweet caress, "Thor," she sighed.

He began as he usually did with a series of lighter blows which built in intensity. She leaned against the wooden structure and allowed the erotic play of the falls upon her skin to clear her mind.

There was no real pain, merely deep pressure like a masseuse kneading tight muscles. She lost track of time as the blows fell. Minutes turned to hours then mere seconds. It was not subspace, but she skirted its edges.

His nails scraped across her skin and she moaned, her body pushed back to rub against his, "Good girl, I was beginning to wonder if you were still with me, sweetheart." She felt the warmth of his lips near her ear, "It has been too long since I had you on the end of my floggers if Thor alone can do this to you. Can you manage Hermóður, my love?"

"Yes, oh please. Please, Master," she pleaded for the stingy flogger that was her favorite of the sons of Odin.

He kissed the spot at the very center between her shoulder blades. Then he was gone again. She felt alone and bereft as she had since coming back to this place. She whimpered.

It turned to a moan as the first blow landed on the exact spot that his lips had blessed. She felt the thicker, stiffer leather bite into her skin and she embraced the pain. She welcomed it. Her body craved and pleaded for as much as he could give.

She felt the blows each of them individually as they melded together into one. Some moments she wrapped her arms tighter about the wood and others she danced upon her toes as it sank deeper and deeper into her flesh, as her soul sank deeper and deeper into the pain that he gave her.

Just when she would have slipped into the abyss of light, embraced the peace and disconnected from all else, it stopped. She did not even have the energy to open her eyes to see why, "Bjorn?" she called out in confusion.

She could feel the wet of his perspiration as his lips once more tenderly administered to her tender flesh, "I am here, sweetheart." His hands caressed up and down her arms as he kissed across her back.

"So fucking beautiful," he whispered. For a moment, she almost believed it was her that he spoke of. But it must be the pattern of raised pink lines that criss-crossed her back like an intricate lattice works upon some ancient temple.

"How are you doing?"

"Gooood," she slurred the word, but she did not care at that point. She had long since forgotten that they had an audience even.

"Would you care to meet Týr.? The god of war. I picked him up for you today," he leaned his head between her shoulders and the wetness stung and soothed her skin at the same time.

"Yes, yes, please, Master," she pleaded.

His hands caressed slowly down her arms from her finger tips that were raised high above her head, "No tingling?"

She chuckled, "Oh, loads of tingles, Sir, but only the good kind."

His fingers slid slowly down her arms across her shoulders and down her back. Then they detoured as he reached around her body, he cupped a breast in each hand and kneaded it softly. His thumbs brushed the peaks as her body rubbed against his like a kitten pleading to be pet.

She whimpered when he abandoned them, his hands instead lovingly exploring her stomach, "Only a taste, my love. I know how very much you want it, but until we are certain. Until I do some research. I am sorry, but I will not risk it. Not you...or our baby."

She smiled as butterflies danced in her tummy. Why should that surprise her? But this time they were so strong she swore she actually felt them physically.

She nodded and forced her eyes to open by sheer will. She turned her head just enough to see him. His face had never been more beautiful.

Maybe the woman had a point. Maybe such sheer masculine beauty should be shared, but at the moment she was enjoying having it all to herself. "I understand. I would not want to risk our baby either."

He smiled and bent to kiss her lips, "Thank you, my love. I know what you are sacrificing," he whispered.

"Sacrificing? No...your baby is so much more precious than a mere taste of heaven."

"Asgard, woman," he teased as his hand connected with her bottom. "I will not have you polluting the little Viking warrior with this heaven shit."

She chuckled, "You just remember that they counted shieldmaidens among those warriors."

"Oh, how can I possibly forget when I'm married to you?" he teased as he stepped back. "Ready, my love."

She turned her head back and rested it against the padding once more as she whispered, "Yes, Master."

She could not stop the scream that erupted at the first blow. It stung worse than Mikael's tawse on her bare, wet cunt. She sucked in air, deeply as she tried to gather her composure and brace for the next one.

"Hlín, my love?" She smiled at how worried he sounded.

"No, Master. A bit more please."

There was a long pause and she thought perhaps he would deny her. "Ten. No more. And you will count. That way I know you are not getting spacey on me, understood?"

Once more she had to stifle a laugh, oh, her sweet, gentle giant. "Yes, Master."

But when the next blow came, she quickly reassessed her assessment of his sweetness. It felt as if the flogger had bitten into her flesh, so deeply that he had opened it.

It was the very type of pain that she craved and adored. The type that could so easily send her to subspace, but since that sweet escape was clearly off limits this time, it just plain hurt. "One," she whimpered. "Thank you, Sir."

The next hurt even worse as her fingers buried into the pleather padding covering the cross. "Two, Sir."

The third had her dancing on both toes and pleading, "Three, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

She screamed out as number four landed between her shoulder blades. Before the number could pass her lips, she felt his body brace hers.

He did not bother unbuckling the leather straps about her wrists. Instead he merely released the D-clamps that held them to the cross. His hands rubbed her arms firmly, bringing blood back into them rapidly.

"Just when the show was getting good too. The little sub wimps out. Oh, wait, it was the Dom, who wimped out," that posh Etonian accent broke through the fog.

Bjorn turned his head, though his body still bracketed and protected hers, taking the brunt of her not so unsubstantial weight. "This is no fucking show for your pleasure or anyone else's. Have you forgotten that 'safe' comes first? Safe. Sane. And consensual. Or are you that stupid and selfish that the safety of your sub comes after your perverse need to inflict pain?"

"I'll have you know, young man, that I was a Master while you were still in diapers." Was it her imagination through the hazy fog of pain or did the man's voice actually rise an octave?

"You've really come up in this world, haven't you, Greta? Pompous old men suit you so well," he said as he turned his back to them dismissively.

What happened next she was not certain, the room seemed to break into applause though her brain was too muddled to tell for whom the crowd cheered.

Suddenly, a bottle of water was pressed to her lips. "Drink this, suga," intoned Roz's soothing voice as she opened her eyes to stare into her friend's smiling face.

She wanted to say 'thank you,' ask what was happening, where was Bjorn. Then she felt strong hands about her ankles, releasing the cuffs there as well. Then there was a soft blanket about her body. Its warmth was comforting but it chafed against her raw skin.

"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered as he drew her body protectively against his.

Why was he apologizing? What had he done? She stumbled a bit for a moment, but there was no danger of her falling. Not with Bjorn on one side and Roz the other.

As they made their way forward and the crowd parted for them to pass, she stepped forward. "You never did have Mikael's penchant for pain and blood, but what you do with those floggers is true art."

She stared at Kirsty as that pretty face contorted into a mask of hatred, envy and disgust. She tried to push something into the pocket on Bjorn's trousers, but it looked more like she was trying to...

Kirsty's stomach rolled at the very thought of it. She pushed Bjorn aside and raced back towards the bathroom. Once or twice she would have stumbled and fallen if Roz had not managed to stay right by her side every step of the way.

She barely made the stall as the limited contents of her stomach exploded from her open lips. Roz's arms wrapped about her shoulders as hers encircled the porcelain seat. Even when the last of what little she had eaten and drank that day filled the bowl, her body was still trembling with the spasms as she dry-heaved over and over until she practically collapsed onto her arms.

The rest just sort of blurred. How she got out of the stall and out through the packed room to the taxi that miraculously appeared was beyond her. The next thing she remembered was Bjorn passing her off to Roz's arms as he reached into his pocket to pay the man.

It fell on the floor then. The glossy, black and red business card embossed with the golden letter 'G.' The whole fucking world knew that trademark. She gathered all her strength and pulled the handle on the door as it swung open into the cooler night air. She shivered as it hit her sensitive skin, but she did not have the energy to both grasp the blanket about her shoulders and make a run for the front door of their building.

She chose to make a run for it. Wasn't that the story of her life? Always running? She made it through the lobby. She did not bother waiting for the lift as she took the stairs the three flights to their flat. She was winded and on the verge of another bout though she was not certain whether it was tears or vomiting as she pounded on the door of the flat.

Georgia opened the door, but Kirsty did not give her the chance to speak as she pushed past her and even her little girl in a rush for the loo once more.

How had she not noticed the resemblance before? The woman's child was as breath-takingly beautiful as she was. But her pulchritude was not marred with hubris and greed. It was pure. And if she had anything to say about it, it would remain that way.

In the end, it was both. Crying and vomiting at the same time was more of an art form than people realized as her arms cradled her head. She did not know how long she sat there on the cold floor before Roz appeared. Her friend ran a tub of warm water that stung her back but soothed and calmed her taut nerves.

She must have dozed off in the tub because when she opened her eyes it was his face she saw sitting on the loo watching her with a worried look. "I'm sorry. Going there was a bad idea," he said as he spread out an extra-large bath sheet, lifted her to her feet and enveloped her in its warmth.

She just nodded. She did not have the energy to argue at the moment. She just wanted bed and sleep. She would deal with everything else tomorrow.

***

Bjorn crawled into bed next to his wife. He reached for her as he always did, but she moved away. He was not certain if she was asleep or still awake. But after over an hour on video chat with Mikael and their mother, he was in no mood for an argument with her. He thought about forcing the issue, about moving closer to her or simply pulling her into his arms even if she fought him.

He ached for the comfort that he found only in her arms. He was so tired. Bone fucking tired. He needed her so badly.

But he simply could not risk rejection. Not from her. Not now. So he turned on his side and faced the other wall. His back to the very thing that he needed more than air or water.

His wife. But he was not even sure that she was. Not by the standards of this fucked up place for certain. His eyes stung as he fought back tears in the dark.

What if she really was pregnant? What then? This was no place to raise a child. No fucking way for them to live. He could barely breathe his chest hurt so badly. What was to become of them? Any of them? Even his mother looked thinner, paler even older. For the first time in his life, the woman looked her six decades.