Breaking the Barbarian: Ch. 01

"We have brought you food," said a soft voice, distinct from the woman who had healed me.

A slot opened at the base of the door. In slid a wooden tray containing a loaf of bread, piles of fruits and vegetables, and a bowl filled with sizzling fish. Alongside it was a cup of dark red wine.

The sight of that feast distracted me from my curiosity about those manacles. Stale bread and poorly-cooked fish had been my only sustenance during the long voyage. I lunged like a starving wolf, kneeling beside the food and devouring it within minutes. Sweet and savory sensations detonated within my mouth.

Gods, I had never tasted grapes so sweet and spices used to season the fish were downright heavenly.

I washed down the frantic feast with a few gulps of wine, and groaned at the sweet taste of it. Rising, I wiped the crumbs from my mouth.

My hand went numb and my eyes fluttered.

The wine.

They'd put something in the wine.

Swaying, I managed to brace myself against the bedpost. My vision blurred as the door opened.

Six nuns entered, all wearing the same embroidered dark blue robes and veils as the woman who had tended to my wounds. One of them wore a necklace made of vines and bright blue flowers. Within her hands was a long iron chain.

"You drugged me," I murmured, helpless to do anything but sway as five of the nuns closed in.

"Of course we did," came the cold, crisp reply from the woman holding the chains. "We heard of your bloody exploits upon the beach. You are a killer. A reaver of the frigid north. We had to take precautions. Do not worry, it will soon wear off."

The women guided me to the center of the room. As three of them steadied me, the others looped the chains through the manacles dangling from the wall, then placed other sets of manacles around my wrists.

I tensed, though the effects of the toxin prevented me from doing more than that.

Moments later I was bound: my feet braced against the floor, my arms spread high and wide. True to the nun's word, the numbness faded after but a few moments.

The nuns stepped back, forming up alongside the woman with the necklace of vines.

"Your name," she said, her voice as cold and firm as the manacles about my wrist.

"Anvarr, son of Eyvald and Valgerd. Of the Red Omen clan of Kovgaard."

Despite my fear and confusion, I managed to raise my chin and give her a defiant glare.

"You must be the Mother Superior."

"Indeed. I have the honor and blessing of being Mother Superior Isidora, the steward of the Sisterhood of the Blessed Chain. It is my duty to protect and guide my Sisters from harm...which is why you are bound and helpless."

"Why? I pose no threat to you. I only killed those men on the beach because they meant to kill me."

She crossed the room in three long steps. Now that she was mere feet from me, I could catch a glimpse of her face beneath the veil: thin, with a prominent but pretty nose, and tanned skin. Long dark curls framed her face. Icy gray eyes glared at me through the veil.

"I do not speak of those wastrels you butchered. I speak of the harm you did to Sister Catriona."

I blinked.

"What?"

"You struck her, despite the fact that she saved her life."

"I did not strike her. In a fit of anger, I merely grabbed her wrist because she mistook my foe for a friend. It was a rash reaction, nothing more."

"It is a grave sin to harm a Sister of the Blessed Chain without permission."

Without permission. That made no sense. Did that mean Icould have harmed Catriona had I simply gotten approval first?

I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the notion. The laugh shifted to a grunt of pain as Isidora slapped me across the cheek. Despite the influence of that numbing agent, pain flared throughout my face.

"Sister Catriona," Isidora said, snapping her fingers.

The healer-nun stepped forward, her head bowed low. Isidora reached out, taking the younger woman by the hand and raising it.

Doing so exposed a thin, faint bruise upon the young woman's wrist.

"I am sorry," I said through gritted teeth. "It was a rash mistake. I was wounded. Half-mad with pain, hunger, and anger."

"Our holy scriptures provide no exceptions on the matter. You harmed a Sister of the Blessed Chain. For this, you must be punished. But first..."

Isidora reached out and took me by the chin, tilting my gaze upwards.

"Why are you here?"

"I do not even know where 'here' is."

"The Duchy of Etmorra."

I blinked, vaguely recalling the name. If memory served, it was an imperial duchy not far off the mainland's coast. Some of the older men of my clan had shared stories of traveling there to trade or to sell their skill as mercenaries. They'd said it was a beautiful and verdant land, far more bountiful than the frigid plains and forests of our Kovgaard. From what little I'd seen of the place during my fevered journey to the convent, I could not disagree.

"I did not intend to come here. I was hunting down my brother."

"This 'Hoskuld' of which you spoke."

"Yes."

"Just as striking a nun is a sin, so too is the taking of a kinsman's life. Your words invite more punishment."

"The only punishment that matters is punishing my wretch of a brother," I growled.

Despite the fire in my voice and gaze, I couldn't help but beneat her faint, cold grip upon my chin.

"And did your kinsman do to deserve such ire?"

"He challenged our king, claiming he could be a better ruler. King Ulrik agreed to the trial by combat, but Hoskuld feigned sickness the day before the trial. Rather than allow our clan to be shamed, I stood as his champion. But it was all I ruse. Even as I was fighting for my life against King Ulrik, Hoskuld was sneaking into the royal treasury.

"When all eyes were upon that bloody duel, Hoskuld made off with a fortune in gold and trinkets. Ulrik was moments from taking my head when word arrived of the theft. To redeem my clan's honor, I was forced to swear a blood-oath to hunt my brother down."

"We have heard of King Ulrik...his infamy spread far and wide after his attempted invasion of Fellhaven. You must be quite the warrior, to have stood against him."

Her hand left my chin and brushed over the scar on my cheek.

"Delivered by the king's blade, I presume?"

"Aye." I closed my eyes, dispelling the terrifying memories of Ulrik's blade hammering against my shield, and the searing pain inflicted by his savage slashes. "We caught up to Hoskuld but a storm struck our ships during the fight. I awoke upon the shore. And when I saw what those soldiers had done to that little village, I attacked them. And now here I stand. In chains."

I opened my eyes, resuming my fiery glare.

"I see no deception in those eyes," she said. "Rage and fear, yes. But no lies. You have satisfied my need for answers, yet not for retribution."

Isidora stepped back.

"Sister Catriona, it is time to administer the Rite. Sister Miriam, see to that armor and tunic of his. The sweat, blood, and seawater have practically ruined it already."

Another nun stepped forward. I continued to glare at Isidora as Miriam unstrapped the ring-mail. It clattered to the floor and the nun drew a knife. I gritted my teeth but did not flinch as she made three precise slashes upon my tattered tunic. The knife passed just barely over my skin, enough to make me aware of the blade but not enough to break the surface.

"You've quite a talent with that blade," I said, grinning as the sundered tunic slid down to the floor. "How do you find time to practice knife-work in between all the praying and gardening?"

Miriam said nothing, sheathing the knife as she stepped back to join her fellow nuns.

Another nun handed a flogger to Catriona: the handle was covered with script similar to the writing contained in the books. The ends appeared to be made of silk rather than something genuinely dangerous.

I bit back a laugh. This was hardly punishment at all.

"You may proceed, Sister Catriona," Isidora said.

The young nun stood before me, her hands trembling as her grasp tightened around the flogger.

"For the sin of harming the holy flesh of a Sister of the Blessed Chain, I sentence you to ten lashes, and the Rite of the First Torment."

"Fifteen," murmured one of the other nuns. "The punishment is fifteen, Sister Catriona."

The young nun cleared her throat.

"Yes. Fifteen lashes."

Catriona stepped forward and brushed the silken strands over my chest. I grunted at the soft, tender caress of that fine material, arching my back a little.

It had not been that long since I'd enjoyed a woman's touch; I'd made love to a witch back in Kovgaard immediately before setting sail, as part of a ritual to bless our voyage. And though past lovers had bound and teased me before, I'd never endured something quite like this. So exposed and helpless in front of so many pious women...

I shivered.

Despite my confusion about the convent's strange practices, I didn't find the situation to be entirely unpleasant. That witch I'd fucked before leaving home had gnawed at my neck and clawed at my back, granting me no end of painful delight. The tool in Catriona's hands was but merely another instrument of joyful agony.

And if I could ensure the harshness of war, I could endure a novice nun's punishment.

Catriona dipped the flogger lower, brushing the silken strands over my stomach. Through the thin veil I saw her wide brown eyes dip lower, staring at my crotch for a few moments. I shifted against the manacles, finding myself growing hard beneath her gaze and the soft teasing of that silk.

The other nuns stood silent and motionless as Catriona circled around me, the silk brushing over the toned muscles of my arms and back.

"So many scars," she murmured, the silk tracing up and down my spine. "So much hardship."

"You tended well to my wounds," I said, smirking. "You need not hold back."

"I was not planning to, Anvarr."

Iron slipped into her voice with that last word.

A light pain flared in my back at the first strike upon my back. It wasn't nearly enough to make me flinch or wince.

"Remember your training, Sister," Isidora said, her voice low and hungry. "It's all in the wrist."

"Yes, Mother Superior."

The next strike was a bit harder than the first, but still not enough to ignite anything but a faint gasp from me.

"Perhaps you should take over for her, Mother Superior," I said.

"You would shatter beneath such attention," came the cold reply.

The next strike against my back was strong enough to send me rocking forward a little. The chains rustled above me. My grin widened.

Again and again the young novice struck me, the silk raking and slashing against my back. By the time she'd reached the tenth blow, the pattern of pressure and friction was enough to make my skin burn.

After another strike, she at last found her strength. Two rapid slashes in a row actually caused me to bite my lower lip to muffle a grunt of pain. Heat flared across my back, rippling down into my loins. My thighs quaked.

The next strike turned my grunt into a groan. The strange harshness of that silk inflicted upon me a gentle agony I'd never quite experienced before. The sensation danced right on the edge of pleasure and pain. Catriona delivered a caress and a sting in equal measure.

"The last one, Sister," Isidora said. "Make it count."

I braced myself.

The final blow did not land. Instead, the silk brushed over my back, down towards my tensing buttocks. Catriona moved to stand in front of me.

She placed the handle of the flogger beneath my chin. For a moment she stared at me, panting a little from the exertion of the silken torture. Her wide brown eyes looked me up and down.

"I wish to reserve this last strike, Mother Superior."

"Granted."

I flashed Catriona a wolfish grin, my body still tingling from her wondrous onslaught.

"And what does that mean?" I asked.

"It means that Sister Catriona can deliver that last strike upon you at any time she wishes. Under any circumstances. It will serve as a reminder of your place, and of her responsibility."

"Why hold back, Catriona? Did those fourteen lashes tire you out so much that-"

Catriona let out a hiss, pulled back her hand, and slapped me across the face. Murmurs rose from the other sisters as my head snapped back. My taunting laugh rippled through the cell.

"Sister Catriona," Isidora growled. "You were to deliver fifteen blows with the silken lash. This Rite does not involve punishment with the open palm."

"I apologize, your holiness," Catriona said, trembling and taking a step back. "His impudence is..."

"A test," murmured another nun. "Saint Morwenna sent this warrior to our shores as a test, Sister Catriona. For you. And for the rest of us."

"And perhaps as a gift," mumbled another nun.

"Silence," Isidora hissed. "Senior acolytes such as yourselves should know better than to speak of such things in front of an outsider."

She moved to collect the flogger from Catriona.

"You also sentenced him to the Rite of the First Torment. Or do you reserve that as well?"

"No," Catriona said, fire creeping back into her voice. "I will conduct it and burn away his insolence. If you would but assist me, Mother Superior."

"Of course. But given your skills, you hardly need the aid."

"And what is this new Rite?" I asked, my grin darting back and forth between the two nuns. "I hope it's as soft and comforting as those lashes."

"You have endured pain and withstood it well," Isidora said. "But there are other tools and weapons at our disposal."

Isidora murmured something to Catriona and tapped her shoulder. After a deep breath, Catriona lifted the veil and set it aside.

Though I'd caught glimpses of her face through the veil when we'd met, nothing had prepared me for the soft, innocent beauty now on display. Her brown eyes looked even wider and more doe-like now that they were uncovered, and she had plump, red lips that begged to be kissed. Licking her lips, she tucked her short, dark red hair back behind her ears.

Without a word, she fell to her knees before me.

"This hardly seems a punishment at all," I said, grinning despite the shivers racing through my body.

Catriona's thin fingers deftly undid my belt. I sighed as she wriggled the fabric down my tensing thighs.

Her eyes fluttered at the sight of my achingly-hard prick.

"Before I begin," Catriona said, her warm breath washing over the tip of my cock. "You must make a choice. You can take another fifteen lashes, or I can proceed with this particular punishment."

I let out a long, throaty laugh. While another fifteen lashes might inflict a bit of lingering discomfort, Ihad to choose this new punishment, even for the sake of mere curiosity.

"Make your choice," Isidora said, her voice still low and cold. "Do you embrace the lash or the Rite of the First Torment?"

"Get to work, Catriona," I said with an impudent grin at the kneeling nun.

Snarling, Isidora gripped the back of my hair, tugging my face to the side and forcing me to meet her gaze. Even through the veil, I could see fury gleaming in her gray eyes.

"Disrespect her again and you shall suffer far more than the lash, Anvarr. Answer her question: do you embrace the lash or the Rite?"

Another laugh escaped my lips.

"I already told you, I-"

She slapped me. The impact sent a jolt through my body, causing the chains to rattle and shake.

As the sting fled my cheek, I managed a grin.

"I embrace the Rite."

"Good. Sister Catriona, you may begin."

Through the veil I could make out a proud, hungry smirk upon the Mother Superior's face. She released my hair and stepped back.

"Sister Catriona may require further instruction in the use of the lash, but she requires no guidance for this particular skill. Before long you shall find yourself begging for the lash. Or worse."

Catriona closed her eyes, placed her hands together, and bowed her head.

"Saint Morwenna, Queen of Surrender and Queen of Conquest. I beseech thee for your aid and guidance. Grant me the power to break and the strength to tame."

Her eyes flashed open, filled with a hunger that caused me to flinch back. By the fangs of the gods, I had never seen such fire in a woman's gaze before.

It didn't look as if she was about to pleasure me...

She looked ready todevour me instead.

Those soft lips parted and her lips descended, taking the full length of my shaft into her warm mouth. I let out a trembling laugh and leaned my head back.

With a snarl, Isidora reached out, gripped my wild blonde locks, and forced me to look back down.

"Do not dare avert your gaze from her holy work."

Catriona stared up at me, her gaze wide and hungry, silently demanding that I keep my eyes locked with hers. With her mouth sealed against the base of my shaft, her tongue licked and teased alongside the underside of my cock. Her mouth tightened, clenching and sucking around my length.

I let out a soft grunt. Gods, the woman's control was impressive indeed...

Unblinking, she pulled her lips back at a slow, agonizing pace until she reached the tip. Catriona gave it an almost chaste little kiss before sliding all the way back down, taking me to the hilt once more. Wide brown eyes stared up at me while her tongue bathed the underside of my cock, and then she slid back up again.

Again and again, she moved with perfect poise and control. Not once did she whimper or gag. Her hands rose to settle on my trembling thighs. Sharp nails scraped over my muscles and she let out a muffled giggle against my twitching prick.

My eyes fluttered as the tension in my core shifted. I moved as best as I could within the chains, my hips bucking against her mouth. Her nails bit into my thighs again but she did not otherwise protest, instead persisting with that slow, agonizing torture.

And yet it would still be enough. The lashing, the teasing, the sight of those warm brown eyes...

Not long now. Tension rippled through my stomach and loins. Waves of bliss echoed from deep within me. Pressure surged through my cock, my lungs strained...

Just a few more moments. One more lick or bob of her head and I would be undone.

Catriona stopped, her lips sealed around the tip of my cock.

My growl turned into a sob of need. The chains rattled as I tried to buck against her mouth, desperately seeking that one last burst of sensation to send me over the edge. Her grip tightened on my thighs, keeping me in place.

"Fangs of the gods," I cursed, my head thrashing.

Isidora gripped my hair again, forcing me to look back down at the wicked nun kneeling before me.

My body reeled away from its peak, my climax denied by that cruel mouth. For several moments Catriona's mouth lingered upon the tip.

Only then did she begin to move again, repeating that same cruel, slow pace up and down my shaft.

As Isidora gripped my hair, keeping my gaze locked with Catriona's, the other nuns looked on in silence.

Twice more Catriona repeated that wondrous torture, using the perfect pace to draw me right up towards the edge of my climax. My heart pounded in my ears, my chest heaved, and my thighs ached from tensing for so long. The agony of it all made the discomfort of the chains fade; the rest of the room blurred, and I'd have forgotten all about Isidora were it not for her cruel grip of my hair.

"Do you repent for your sin against Sister Catriona?" Isidora said, the icy tone slicing through the haze afflicting my senses.

My only reply was a broken little moan. Catriona continued her work and Isidora repeated the question.

"Yes," I blurted out after a deep breath.

Joy and relief erupted through my body, certain that my repentance would soon lead to the mercy of a long-denied climax.