Freya Save Me!

"She feigned confliction and lamented and finally confessed to having had a vision from the gods that she dared not share before then. I was tied to the altar for Freya so that the light will continue to return. Not one of them dared to question any of that woman's story for fear of the chieftain's wrath. After all had left, my father crept back to the altar and cut my ties. He slit the throat of a suckling pig on the spot so no one would suspect anything had gone awry."

"And left you to wander by yourself?"

"Yes. He told me to head south. That there was another village not terribly far. I must have gotten turned around." She didn't want to seem as helpless as she was, but he had saved her. He already knew.

"I know the village he spoke of. I will take you. You can start a new life."

Something like panic shot through her body. Inexplicably she knew she was safest right where she was. This was the man Freya had delivered her unto. "Sir, I beseech you, I do not wish to be sent off to start a new life elsewhere, to face threats unknown. I can be useful to you, I swear! I can cook and sew, tend to your home for you, I have some ability with a weapon, if I have one. I helped with one of the wolves last night!"

"Ay, you did. But as you can see, I live simply enough. I have no need for someone to care for this," he said, waving his hand at his humble home. "When my chieftain needs me, I am there and rewarded well enough. Enough to last until he needs me again."

"I...." She didn't know how to broach this next facet of her argument. But she was nothing if not a survivor. The dangers here were known and she could accept this life, even find pleasure in it. "I am aware that many find me pleasant to—"

"You do have a pretty face. Too pretty. This life is not for you," he sneered.

"I do not let it go to my head, sir! I know the usefulness of a pretty face, and a pretty body. I can be a comfort to you in other ways. I require very little. And I would not find displeasure in warming your bed, if you would have me."

He was looking off into the dimly lit room, thinking over her proposal. He'd had his share of women. In truth none had been as beautiful as the one before him, offering herself to him so freely. In his bones he knew she'd be trouble for him, in one way or another. But he'd never been one to shy away from a good fight. And he could feel his want for her quite acutely in the moment.

She knew it was a risk, offering herself to him. She was no common whore; they both knew that. But she knew the life of a berserker could be a lonely one, and she'd proven last night she could handle herself with him. Still he said nothing, and the tension was killing her.

Moving to kneel in front of him, he was aware of her movements, though his eyes were not on her. Putting her hand on top of his thigh, she began lightly stroking his leg, watching for any kind of reaction. He still refused to meet her gaze and so she dared to move her hand up, finding his shaft already throbbing for her.

A flattered and coy smile crossed her lips as she nimbly untied his pants. Her hand wrapped around him, forcing a guttural moan from the man. "Don't start what you can't finish, girl," he growled through clenched teeth. He finally looked down at her, her soft face twisting with a rage he found adorable. He could see she wanted to tell him off again, remind him that she was no girl. It became clear she was going to show him instead.

She put her lips on the top of his cock as she continued to stroke the shaft. She may not be well versed in fucking, but this was how her and the chieftain's son had spent many a night before she felt ready for him to take her. The man's head fell back as her tongue massaged his cock, her hands massaging his balls. Her saliva rehydrating their mixed juices from the night before, stirring her on at the taste. His strong musk compelling her as she tried to take in all of him while her tongue continued to move with a firm consistency.

She began to bob her head up and down his shaft with a steady rhythm that she could feel he liked. He grabbed her hair roughly as hips began to thrust upwards slightly. His moans spurring on her own wetness. When his balls began to tighten in her hand she pushed herself to take more of him, pressing her tongue against him tightly as she sucked, ready to accept his load. His hips bucked up harder, pushing even more of him into her, forcing her to fight back her gag response as his load shot down her throat.

As she licked and sucked him clean, he ran his fingers through her soft golden hair. She looked up to find his eyes intent on her. He was breathing heavily, having enjoyed her thorough efforts. She smiled seeing his expression, and he brought his hand to cup her face. His thumb rubbed her chin and pulled at her lip. Her eyes never left him, though her lids did grow weary, and she had to hope her proposal would be accepted.

"If you're going to serve me, I suppose you'll need a few things. I'll go into the village and retrieve some supplies I'm owed. I'll leave you with a weapon, but I get no visitors out here, human or otherwise. It's to stay that way, do you understand?"

She nodded vehemently. Excited that he was letting her stay, not entirely sure what guests he thought she'd have. Everyone she knew thought her dead. Likely even her father, who'd given her a slight chance, would wonder if she even could survive out here.

"Thank you, sir! I will serve you as best I can." He knew she spoke the truth. Watching her as she peeled the eggs for him, he couldn't help but contemplate what he may have gotten himself into. He was used to eating the eggs raw, but even he could appreciate the care in her efforts. And in all honesty, he did find her captivating- her beauty and her temperament. He couldn't believe all those fools that had left her to die, all for some ridiculous notion. If anything, this woman was a gift from Freya and leaving her to die would do nothing but anger the great goddess. Now it seemed as though she was to be his gift from Freya.

He left that afternoon and wouldn't return until the next afternoon. Meanwhile she'd collected what useful flowers and herbs she could find. It had been a late frost and many plants still miraculously held onto enough life to have some vitality. She hung them up to dry inside his house where she could. It was still rather dark inside, but the fresh aroma put her at ease for the evening. That night she huddled alone under his bearskin. He wouldn't have normally left it, but he wanted her to have something for the night. His smell clung to it like honey on a child's face, and it gave her an uncommon amount of comfort.

He'd left on foot and returned with a horse pulling a loaded cart, weighed down with a freshly slaughtered deer, along with a goat tied to the back of it. He'd brought back several fine furs and skins, dishes for cooking, eating, drinking horns, spices, more smoked meats, and some building materials. She was a bit surprised, but of course knew better than to ask about it all. She knew their chieftain relied heavily on the services of his berserkers and paid them well. Hers seemed to live a spartan lifestyle, having little need or desire for possessions.

She thought she saw him fighting back a smile at the sight of her. But any sign of it was quickly gone. Meanwhile she let hers gush freely. They worked together, bringing in the supplies, settling the animals, and stripping the deer he'd killed on his way back. "I'll need to build them a shelter," he said, watching her as they stood outside and she scratched the top of the goat's heads.

"I hope I have not burdened you. I was sincere in saying I need very little. You didn't need to—"

"I was owed these goods and had merely taken longer than I liked in retrieving them." His cold, harsh look told her his motives were not to be questioned. But she was no fool, and she did know better.

"What are their names?" she asked without thinking, deferentially changing the subject. "I beg your forgiveness, sir. But what should I call you?" The thought hadn't occurred to her earlier, but now she felt foolish not knowing, given how things had unfolded, intimately and otherwise. She had no regrets and was beginning to wonder at the extent that Freya really had been looking out for her.

"Bjørn," he grumbled, somewhat amused at her affection for the animals. The name suited him. He did remind her of a bear, after all. Not that she was about to say so to him just then. "And you, my fair maiden?" The new title shaded with a bit of sarcastic flourish.

She let out a small, sardonic laugh. "I am no maiden, as you well know. Although I do prefer that to you calling me girl. My name is Yrsa."

"Yrsa," he let the word hang in the air, "I have some things for you." He grabbed a large package made of cloth and held tight with a thick strand of colorful weaved threads. "They may not be the quality you are accustomed to, but they will serve you well out here."

She opened the bundle to find several fine, sturdy dresses and a well-made pair of shoes. "Thank you, Bjørn. These are wonderful. I don't know how to repay you." She was beyond beholden. Many had gifted her with useless trinkets, but nothing had ever been given to her that she appreciated in the way she did these.

He grunted and cleared his throat, pulling something from inside his tunic. His hand outstretched as his eyes looked elsewhere, he muttered the words, "Glad Yule," and she sheepishly took his gift. It was a delicate box and inside she found a comb made of antler with two intricate raven carvings.

She was not a vain woman. But like most of her people, keeping oneself presentable meant a great deal to her. She'd spent a good part of the day combing out her hair with her fingers, but it wasn't the same. Overjoyed with the gift, but more so at the idea that he'd thought of her in this way, and that Yule was still to be celebrated, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

For a moment he was surprised at her affection. She still wore the thin ceremonial shift dress they'd left her to die in, bloodied and stained as it was. He couldn't help but notice the visible pink of her nipples through the fabric as they had worked together to unload the cart. Now as she embraced him, her firm breasts pressed against him, he wanted nothing more than to rid her of the dress and rid her of any reminder that she'd been abandoned. He knew the feeling all too well and wished it on only his enemies.

She felt foolish for a moment, having rushed to hold him like this. She was a burden to him, and she needed to remind herself of that. She pulled away from him timidly. He caught her face and kissed her roughly as he grabbed her, holding her to him, pressing their bodies flush to one another. Surprised at the feeling of his lips on hers, his arms around her, she hesitated for but a moment. As she began to return the kiss, fervently, she felt his sudden hardness press against her, pulling a desirous moan from deep within her. With a growl he pulled away from the kiss, much to her surprise. When he began pulling her dress off she thought she understood.

He threw the dress to the side and stepped back, taking in her beauty. Her supple skin was flawless. Her golden locks fell around her shoulders and her vivid eyes trembled slightly as she watched him appraising her body. For a moment she thought to cover herself, but she knew that wasn't what he wanted. Instead she put her arms behind her back, clasping her hands together, her chest jutting out ever so slightly more than with her natural pose.

He came back up to her and ran his hands along her figure, noting any part of her that jumped or squirmed at his touch. He spent extra time and attention at her breasts and the nipples that had teased him so. Starting at her neck and moving down her arms, his calloused hands causing her body to shiver at nearly every sensation. Finding the shallowest part of her hourglass figure, grabbing at her waist for a moment, making her inhale sharply at the rugged embrace. His hands fell down her curves, down her hips. He turned slightly to the side as one hand moved up to her plump ass and followed along her back, the other hand moved up her front slowly, barely dipping into her slit. But it was enough to feel her wetness, and to make her whimper.

He made no attempt to hide his pleasure at the effect he had on her. She shivered again under his touch. It was freezing but still he admired her in the cold, her nipples now painfully hard. "Go inside but do not get dressed. Build up the fire," he commanded her. As she hurried into the house he grabbed a pail and headed for the stream. She looked over her shoulder as she went inside, smiling to herself. Maybe this life wouldn't be so bad.

When he returned he placed the bucket of nearly freezing water by the fire, just as she had. He washed her hair and started to clean her. She didn't dare protest. He seemed to be enjoying her this way, and that was what she was here for after all. And if she was honest with herself, she enjoyed his attentions and his touch, far more than she thought she would.

She sat at one end of the bed, naked, and began to comb her hair. He sat at the other end, watching her as she put her clean locks into braids. Occasionally she'd steal a glance at him while she worked, smiling innocently whenever their eyes met. She wondered to herself if maybe she actually was still a girl, acting like a giddy fool around this bear of a man.

When she finished she turned to him with a small but genuine smile, sure of what he'd been waiting for, but not as certain as to how to begin. She walked over to him and gingerly placed her bare self on his lap. He began rubbing her outer thigh, enjoying her soft, smooth skin. She leaned into a kiss, letting her hands delve into his hair as his hands dug into her flesh. It was clear he wanted her, but he broke the kiss and told her to get dressed. Fear and a bit of hurt ran through her, wondering what she'd done wrong.

It must have shown on her face for he felt compelled to comfort her. "Do not fear, my lover. We have work to do yet before this day ends. If I were to take you now I do not believe we would leave this bed before the morrow, or perhaps the next."

Satisfied with his answer and reasoning, they began at their tasks. He safely tied the horse and brought the goat inside for the evening, keeping it cornered and contained. She made up the bench that had been his bed into a more comfortable one, laying down hay, covering it with wool, and finishing it with some of the furs on top. She stowed away the house supplies he'd brought back underneath and together they strung up the meats alongside the herbs and flowers she'd put up the day before.

He'd brought back some roasted boar, plenty of mead, and an assortment of hardy vegetables with which she made a heavy stew. She'd grow a bountiful garden in the spring for him, but for now they'd rely on their other supplies to get them through the winter. It was the third day of Yule, and she couldn't help but wonder if the boar they ate had also been sacrificed to Freya. Her people had never been the most devout. Their sacrifices were rarely left for the gods. They believed the act and the blood were enough to assure them their blessings.

It wasn't like the old days.

"At least there is a use in the boar's sacrifice," she mused somberly.

"It may be of little consolation to you, my gift from Freya," she could feel her face heat up at his pretty words, "but I am quite pleased with their other sacrifice. Although I doubt this is where you wanted your life to be."

She looked around his home thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "Here I know my purpose. I have a role, meaning, and I hope to make you happy. In that, I have a life, something I did not have days ago."

"And what is your purpose here?" He enjoyed her body, true, but he also enjoyed her, her company, her care, her smile. She was candid and honest and unafraid. Something he hadn't found in any other woman.

"You," was all she said with a heartfelt smile. A simple and honest answer, her genuine response.

That night he took her like young lovers soon to be separated. Their kisses deep and passionate and urgent. He held himself up as he zealously sheathed his cock into her slippery opening, slowly retreated to begin anew. He watched her face writhe in pleasure as she grabbed his sides, her legs wrapped around him, head thrown back as she moaned and came and called out his name. They lost track of the number of times her cunt spasmed in ecstasy until they both could take no more. Her walls began to tighten around him once more as she neared another climax. In a moment of pure erotic exultation she called out, "Freya save me!"

Between his own grunts and heavy breathing he teased her, punctuating each set of his words with an especially hard thrust. "Your...goddess...is going...to tire...of your...pleas!" Looking down at her, a glint of mischievous pride in his eyes, he continued to rock her body, making her moan and squeal in pleasure, watching for her rage that he found so endearing.

Between those moans and gasps for breath she yelled back defiantly, "She...would be...honored!"

His amused 'harumph' at her bold and amatory appraisal was quickly replaced with a beastly roar as he shot his seed into her, coating her insides, again biting down onto her shoulder.

They laid together, bodies slick with their shared sweat and juices, panting. He held his weight mostly off of her, not wanting to cause any discomfort but refusing to remove himself away or out from her. He licked where he'd broken the skin until the minuscule drops of blood stopped. Her hands combing through his hair all the while as their bodies and lives continued to entwine with each other.

As they settled for the evening, his strong arms wrapped around her as she curled her body onto his. Her head against his bare chest, she fell asleep quickly to the rhythmic sounds of his heartbeat. He lay awake far longer, feeling her smooth skin and warmth against him, taking in her scent and exceptional beauty. He'd never had anyone this way. Abandoned as an infant, shunned as a child, he couldn't recall a time when he wasn't alone. As a man he was useful to many, and he had certainly taken comfort in that. He was also useful to her, but this was different. She had called him her purpose, but she said it out of obligation, and that gave him reason enough to fear she would one day leave. He wasn't yet ready to admit it to himself, but she had also become his purpose. Not out of obligation, but from love and desire. He'd felt instantly protective of her, possessive even. She was his, just as he was hers. He knew he'd give her the whole world if she asked. Unbeknownst to him, he was quickly becoming the whole world to her, and not out of any obligation.

The next day began late as he woke to her slowly swaying back and forth, riding his cock. He'd always been a light sleeper, it's how he survived, but with her in his arms he had finally slept the deep sleep of a truly satisfied man. As he watched her move back and forth atop him, face twisting in pleasure, hair trailing down and framing her perfect breasts that jostled with the movement, he had a sudden realization - she had ruined him, in all the best ways.

When he did manage to pull himself away from her, he set to work building onto their house, making a shelter for their animals. She helped where she could. And when she couldn't she busied herself with a handful of straw and the ribbon from the bundle he'd gifted her yesterday. She had nothing to give him, but she hoped to surprise him with this small trinket she was crafting.