Laresa's World Ch. 04: Famke

Famke struggled along the beach. The going was tough as the fierce gusts of north-western wind blew sand into her face, the tiny grains stinging her skin and nearly blinding her. She was cold and her feet were sore from trudging across the dunes and the vast expanse of the beach, but she dared not go back yet. Her stepfather would expect her to come home with at least one bale of goods from the ship that was wrecked last night.

With a shiver Famke remembered his greedy look when the alarm had sounded. Every able-bodied man that lived near the lighthouse rushed out to team up the horses and launch the rescue boat, whenever the bell tolled. But not him. Her stepfather was not from the island and most people shunned Simon. Simon the Sneak, they called him behind his back.

Not that the islanders weren't on the beach today. All families were out, combing the beaches. It was part of living on the island. The men all felt they were entitled to some compensation for risking their lives first. Unlike Simon, who never lifted so much as a finger when a ship was in trouble. In fact, he never did anything. Famke heaved a sigh. The only thing he ever moved was his bottle of gin.

The tall girl squinted against the glare of the sun on the waves. In the distance she could make out some dark shape. It looked like a crate or something and she hurried along, glancing back to see if anybody else had spotted the object.

Famke inspected the crate and thanked her good fortune she'd found one still unbroken. She couldn't read the lettering on the side, but thought it looked like Russian. Maybe it was vodka. Simon would like that. As she bent over to lift the crate, something half-buried in the sand caught her eye. To her surprise it was a gold ring with a big, glittering stone. It looked beautiful and she slipped the ring on her finger, just to see how it would look on her. With her hand outstretched she admired the ring and its amber stone. She touched the ring in admiration, but all too soon she remembered she had to get back.

It wouldn't do to let her stepfather see the ring on her finger. He'd be furious if he found out she had been mucking about with his merchandise. Although the ring had slipped onto her finger easily enough, she couldn't get it off again. Famke tugged in panic but all she accomplished was a red and painful finger. Twisting the ring this way and that, she felt a sudden warmth and with her mouth wide open she saw a woman forming in front of her.

"Yes, Mistress? What can I do for you?"

"Who? How?" Famke stuttered as she looked at the delicate figure dressed in gauzy veils that seemed much too thin for the cold spring day.

"I'm Laresa. Your genie, Mistress."

"Genie? As in Aladdin?"

Laresa nodded and smiled. "Yes, except that I live in the ring. Shall I give you the rules?"

"Rules?" Famke sat down on the crate, no longer worried about it being damaged or not. "You mean you're a spirit? And you can do things for me?"

The petite woman nodded, her white-blond hair flying around her head as the wind caught her tresses. Her sparkling eyes had the color of the sea, changing from grey to green to blue and Famke even saw a hint of violet in them.

"Actually, a genie, or you can call me a djinn. And yes, I can fulfill most of your wishes."

Famke giggled with nerves. "A fairy tale genie! I guess I better think carefully about my three wishes, then?"

"No, Mistress. There are limits, but you can wish as often as you want to."

Famke was quick to decide. "Get that ring off my finger first, then. My stepfather will kill me if he sees me wearing it."

Laresa smiled a bit sadly. "Are you sure, Mistress? The ring is yours as long as you keep to the rules or until you lose it."

"No! I have to get it off. I have to." Famke felt the panic rising again. "You don't understand; he'll be so angry. What am I to do?" She started tugging at the ring again, but it was stuck on her finger. "I wish I was a thousand years away."

Still trying the move the ring, Famke felt dizzy and for a moment she thought the world was swirling around her. She blinked her eyes and looked at the genie. Laresa was smiling broadly, sweeping a bow as she gestured towards the sea and the beach.

"Your command, Mistress."

Famke frowned. She wanted to ask the genie what she meant, but she felt something odd. She looked down and saw her clothes were gone. Instead of her skirts and boots, she was wearing a long piece of cloth, cinched at the waist with a belt. And her feet! They were encased in soft leather coverings. Besides that, she was lacking any underwear as well. She jumped up and looked around. The crate was gone; replaced by a piece of driftwood. The beach looked strange too. It was as if she was much closer to the tip of the island.

With a hand above her eyes she gazed out at the clearly visible sandbanks. They should have been a lot farther out to sea; not this close. Famke turned around to look at the dunes and back at the tiny figures of the others who were combing the beach, but there was no one there. The dunes were different too, closer. The beach seemed less broad.

"What have you done?" Famke looked at the smug genie.

"You asked, so I brought you a thousand years away."

"A thousand years away? You mean ... what year is this?" Famke was getting a horrible suspicion as she looked at her changed clothes again.

"Uh, well, I think I was too quick. It's a little more than a thousand years." The genie actually blushed. "It's the year 835. But the place is the same."

"835? Oh, my god. That's the Middle Ages. Well, almost." Famke sat down again. Her legs were trembling so much she was afraid she'd fall.

"It's what you said." The genie sounded defensive, perhaps even hurt.

"I know, but I didn't mean it."

"I can take you back, if you wish, Mistress."

Famke bit her lip. Going back meant she had to face her stepfather. And this time in history had always been one of her favorites. Maybe ...

"Laresa? Is it all right to look around for a while? You can take me back again later?"

"Yes, Mistress. You can call me anytime, or twist the ring."

"Okay, Laresa, I think I will explore for a bit. Can you stay with me?"

The genie nodded. "I need to sleep inside the ring once in a while. But I can come with you for now."

Famke smiled as she made to shake hands with the small woman. "Well, Laresa, I'm Famke. Let's go explore. Do you know anything about this place, or this time?"

"It's still Ameland, your island in the North Sea. Only, people in this age call it the Frisian Sea. There is a small settlement on the southern tip, but there are no people living on this side."

"And the time? You're sure it's 835? Wasn't that when the Vikings were raiding the coasts of Europe?"

Laresa nodded. "Yes, they attacked Dorestad last year."

"I wish I could have a look at a real Drakkar, a Viking longboat." Famke sighed at the idea of actually seeing something from remote history.

"By your command."

"No!" Famke screamed, but it was already too late.

Hugging the sandbanks was a sleek boat, the sides lined with shields and a square sail in top.

"It's real. A live Drakkar filled with Vikings. Are you nuts?" Famke whispered in shock. "I was just thinking out loud ... Now, what do we do?"

Laresa shrugged. "You wished something, Mistress. It's my duty to make your wishes come true."

"Damn, I'll have to mind my words with you around, won't I?"

"I'm sorry you're not pleased, but it's not my fault. I'm bound to do as you wish." The genie sounded positively upset.

Famke looked at the longboat. It was a beautiful ship, with long clear lines. She thought it was too far away to make out the people but she went rigid when she saw movement behind the shields. Within moments she saw the sail coming down. Dark dots appeared at the side and she realized they were putting out the oars.

"Quick, they're rowing in. They can't find us. We have to hide ourselves."

She turned and fled across the beach, running to reach the dunes. The long garment was hampering her and she hitched it up, freeing her legs to take longer strides. By the time she reached the first row of the protective sand hills, her breath was coming in short gasps and her legs hurt. Running across the shifting sands had been hard, but she had managed it.

Darting through the gap between two low knolls, she turned to look back. The longboat was close to the shore and she saw a man jump into the knee-deep water. A new wave of fear gave her legs strength and she raced down into the hollow and up the next row of dunes. She was desperate to reach the forested area that was behind them.

With a cry of dismay Famke stumbled down the last dune. The land beyond was a salt marsh. It would literally take ages for this place to turn into firm ground that supported the trees she knew were there in her own time. The few shrubs around the edges offered pathetic cover, but she couldn't think of anything else. Scrambling she worked her way under the thorny branches, praying that the yellow of her dress would blend in with the browns and greens of the land.

As she tried to catch her breath she attempted to think. A weapon, she needed something to defend herself if they found her. The belt around her waist held a knife, but she didn't know if it would be useful. It looked like bronze and the weight was reassuring; it wasn't very long, though.

Just as she realized she didn't see Laresa, a sudden sound made her stiffen. Somebody was coming. Famke held her breath, afraid to give herself away by the tiniest noise. Her eyes darted nervously around, trying to see without moving her head.

"Hah!"

The triumphant cry nearly had Famke jumping out of her skin. She looked up, straight into a pair of gleaming grey eyes. She tried to scramble away but a large hand gripped her arm and hauled her to her feet. Although she was a tall girl, she had to look up to the weather beaten face. This guy was huge, she thought.

As he looked her over his face split in a wide grin.

"You. Whot plouce?"

Famke looked bewildered. It was hard to understand him as his accent made the words sound wrong. She shook her head. At the same time she tried to tug her arm from his grip.

"Let me go!"

The sound of his laugh was a bit frightening. The rumble seemed to come from deep inside his broad chest as he pulled her closer.

"No go. Whot plouce?" He gestured around with his free hand.

Struggling to get away Famke kicked his shin, but the soft foot covering was not very effective. Maybe she should use the knife after all, she thought. She gripped the bone handle. It was as far as she got. The man was quick to grab her wrist and wrenched it until she dropped the knife.

"I said ... let-me-go!" Desperate to get away, Famke aimed her next kick higher and her foot contacted with his knee.

His grunt was followed by a string of unintelligible words, but his tone was clear enough. He shook her by the arm.

"You Roman?" A big fist took hold of her dark hair, tugging her head back so she was forced to look up into his eyes.

Famke tried to shake her head, but his grip prevented much movement. She had understood his question though. No doubt her dark hair made him think she was Roman. She didn't much look like your typical blond Frisian.

"No, not Roman." She didn't think it would do much good to tell him she was Frisian, he probably wouldn't believe her.

He grunted something that sounded like "Gud." He tugged on her hair again. "Whot plouce, speak."

With both hands holding her he stamped his foot on the ground and repeated his question. Finally Famke understood him.

"Place. You mean what place? Ameland."

He frowned. "Omeland?"

Shaking his head and muttering some more, the man started back to the beach while pulling Famke along. His grip on her hair was painful but he suddenly stopped. Turning her around she saw a gleam entering his eyes and that big grin appeared on his face again. With his fist still in her hair he released her arm to cup her breast.

Famke gasped in shock. Of course, she had been fooling around with some of the young men in the village, but their touch had never made her feel like this. Her eyes widened as she felt a spark shoot down her body straight to her clit. She tried to back away, but it was more an automatic reaction than a real wish.

The Viking pulled her head further back and bent his head. His lips came down on hers, and she was amazed at the heat and passion his kiss ignited in her. Or perhaps it was his hand still fondling her, rubbing the hardening nub of her nipple that had her head spinning. He shifted his attentions to her other breast. Famke moaned softly at the incredible heat that coursed through her body.

She could feel the moisture welling up between her legs, which reminded her she wasn't wearing anything besides the woven piece of cloth. The thought excited her further and she arched her back, pushing her body against his hands.

His laughter seemed to reverberate down to her core and she kissed him back, licking his lips and opening her mouth to his tongue. His hand left her breast and she made a sound of disappointment, only to realize he was pushing her down on her back. The shifting sands cushioned her fall and he landed next to her with his knee between her legs.

Famke felt deliciously wanton as she lay there, her legs kept apart by the knee of a stranger, wanting him to fuck her. As if he could read her mind, the big man yanked up the yellow cloth and gazed at the dark curls that hid her slit. In response she spread her legs wider. His hand, rough from working the longboat and fighting, slid across the soft skin of her thigh until it reached its goal. A broad finger probed her entrance and discovered her slickness.

"... slampa ..." His grey eyes looked down at her as he licked his lips.

The sudden thrust of his finger inside her body made her cry out and he grinned as he nodded. She couldn't understand what he said next, but one word, 'slampa', sounded surprisingly like slut.

"Yes, slut. Fuck your slut." Famke wiggled her butt and reached for him.

He swatted her hand away though with a fierce frown and added two more fingers moving in and out of her slit, making her even wetter. His thumb found the hard pearl at the top and he pressed down until she squealed and squirmed.

In a swift movement he freed his cock and Famke only got a glimpse of the massive tool before he buried it in her pussy. Just like the man himself, it was huge and stretched her walls, filling her completely. A few hard jabs sent her over the edge.

Gasping for breath she moaned and writhed under the sweating body that kept pounding away. The Viking bent his head and bit the hard peak of her breast through the cloth. Famke climaxed again and as she felt her body spasm around his cock she heard him grunt something that sounded like 'Thor'. He threw his head back and shoved his cock as deep in as it would go. Mashing his pelvis against hers, he came hard, his seed hitting her cervix.

Famke knew she was grinning like an idiot, but she was unable to stop herself. Never had she been this satiated. Even if it was a bizarre encounter, she wouldn't have missed this for the world. Still on her back, with her legs spread wide, she turned to look at the Viking.

To her surprise he was already standing. He adjusted his tunic and reached down to her. As if she was a child he hauled her to her feet. Famke tried to smooth down her dress and he grinned as he swatted her behind.

"... slampa ... gud ... not Roman."

Famke had no idea what he was saying, but she was not really interested. Walking on clouds after the most incredible sex she ever had, she just followed along. Until they crested the last row of dunes and she could see the beach again.

From history books she knew a Drakkar could hold up to forty or sixty warriors. Down at the beach she saw at least twenty men, all huge like the one who had captured her. With a lurching stomach she came down from her cloud. One incredible fuck was fine, but twenty? As she was shepherded down to the beach she thought about the genie again. What had Laresa said? She had to twist the ring to call her. Or could she call her anyway?

"Laresa?" Famke whispered, praying the genie would be able to get her out of this mess.

Once again she felt warmth emanating from the ring as the genie materialized, hovering next to her. A quick glance showed Famke that the Viking was oblivious to the petite woman floating a foot above the ground.

"Can you take us back now?"

Although she had spoken under her breath, the tall Viking looked at her with a raised eyebrow, probably wondering what she was muttering about. The last thing Famke saw was the look of bewilderment on his face and then she stood halfway to the sea, spotting the dark shape of the crate sitting near the flood line. The specks of the other beachcombers in the distance confirmed she was back in her own time.

I hope you enjoyed this addition to the chain. Please let me know what you think. Votes and comments are greatly appreciated.